George had no idea how to feel.
They had won.
He had killed Xeno- the man who'd caused so many problems for him- with his own hands. He felt guilty for doing so, but he always did.
And the hunters were all dead. The ones in the overworld had been killed, and the ones in the nether were all finished off and taken care of. All of the injured were safely transferred back to the overworld, and the rest were in the nether, still fighting the blazes, but with the weight of the hunters' presence finally lifted off their shoulders.
This was it, it's what they've been working for, what they had risked everything for.
They were so much closer now, so much closer to beating the game. They had basically secured the blaze rods and the spawners; there were no hunters in sight.
They had won.
They had won, with 4,000 deaths and a broken friendship.
They had won, but it wasn't a victory. It never was.
George sighed, resting his head against the tree behind him.
He couldn't comprehend his own emotions, feeling as if his mind was sinking deeper and deeper, it was almost like an endless ocean, an ocean that was nothing but his thoughts. His never ending, ever changing thoughts.
Everything was piling up on him, all his sudden realizations and questions, finally answered.
And it wasn't even Dream to tell him.
He took deep breaths, taking in the time alone he finally had.
He couldn't face his friends, he just couldn't.
From the moment they had gotten back to the overworld, George hadn't spoken to Dream, Dream hadn't spoken to him. He just ran off into the dark oak forest to recollect his thoughts.
There were no attempts between the two were ever made to start a conversation.
And he couldn't have gone to Sapnap and Bad for advice either. They were both back inside the nether, they were both still risking their lives.
Besides, he didn't want to talk to Sapnap, because he knew. Just like Dream, he knew why he was kept out of the game.
He knew and he didn't tell him. They all knew and they all never told him.
It was too much, too much rushing down on him.
Their trust was broken, and both of them knew it.
He wanted to be angry at Dream, he already was. He couldn't quite tell if this anger was right, if it was justified, but that didn't matter to him. He didn't want to think about it anymore.
If anything, he was more hurt.
Hurt because he was shoved away from the game, kept away from doing anything at all. Secrets were hidden from him, from the friends he trusted, from the friends he thought trusted him.
Hurt because they never told him anything, hurt because he knew nothing.
People doubted him, his own best friend doubted him, at this point, he even doubted himself.
His breaths were shaky, as he leaned onto the tree behind him. He was so tempted to cry, to let all his emotions drip out.
God, he had so many emotions to let out, so many things he was bottling in.
He was always bottling it in wasn't he? He was always pretending. They were always pretending.
Pretending that they were fine, pretending it was nothing. Shoving away the conflict to deal with it later, holding it in because they didn't want to face the risks.
The risks of losing a friendship, of breaking what little they still had. It was more fragile than he told himself it was, and he didn't want to be the one to crack it.
So he blinded himself to every little conflict, every small issue. He never made a big deal about them, he never spoke his true feelings about them. He didn't question Dream, he didn't pry his best friend for answers.
He told himself it would be fine, that it was already fine.
Only it wasn't fine, it was never fine.
And that simple lie caused his emotions to accumulate even further, shoving him into this mess of thoughts he was now sinking into.
He walked over to the lake in front of him, sitting by the water's edge. The shimmering deep blue water that almost reminded George of himself. Clear as day, and yet the deeper it got, the harder it was to see.
And yet somehow it was still calming, and he placed his hand in the water, ruffling the smooth waves, relishing that cool feeling.
He felt so used to the nether at this point, the dryness and heat of it, that this felt so unnatural.
He looked over the water, staring back at his reflection. He looked horrific, there were eye bags under his eyes, small cuts and burns all over his face that were yet to heal.
He really shouldn't have survived that.
He didn't want to think about it, how he didn't deserve to live through it.
There had been so many instances where George had almost died, so many instances where he messed up and had just relied on being saved.
There were so many lives that had been lost, so many people who had died in front of him.
Dream was right.
He really shouldn't trust him.
He couldn't defend himself, The wither effect, his wither effect, put them in so much danger. He messed up, and that almost got them both killed.
George held his breath, watching his reflection blur as droplets of water fell onto the lake.
The rain suddenly poured around him, accompanied by his tears, the ones he'd been trying so hard to keep in.
But he needed to break down, he needed to let it all out. He'd been holding it in for so long.
And yet there was no one he could turn to. His friends were in the nether, and he just couldn't face Dream. He didn't want to.
His tears slowly fell into the water, the droplets concealed within the rain. He felt so fucking useless, so hurt, and pained, and tired.
To join this game was his choice, and he didn't even know if it was the right one anymore.
He had given up everything to be here. His safety, his family, possibly his own life.
He had sacrificed all of that because he had to free the game, to rescue the players trapped in here.
That was just his excuse, because in reality he logged on for his friend, to check that he was safe, to make sure that he wasn't actually dead, that he actually did respawn. To reunite with him, because deep down he knew that he missed him, he knew that he missed Dream.
And because he didn't want him to die, he couldn't have him die.
The only issue with that was, he had no clue if it was worth it anymore.
Because Dream didn't trust him, which made everything seem so one sided, it made George feel so hurt, so lacking.
He sat there, still like the environment surrounding him. There was no sound, only the soft droplets of rain falling around him.
It was quiet, just like George was trying to be. His weeps were soft, almost like whimpers. As if he didn't want anyone to hear, to find him. He wanted to be alone.
He needed to be alone.
To organize his doubts, his emotions within him. To fix himself, or at least try to.
All of a sudden, the rain stopped, and the droplets stopped hitting him. His reflection cleared up, and he quickly noticed the red in his eyes, strained from the tears he was letting out. Strained from the tears he had long bottled in, finally being freed.
And as he looked back into the water; he noticed a familiar figure behind him, a familiar smile that haunted him wherever he went. In his dreams.
In his nightmares.
That smile, it was a reminder of their lack of trust, how his friend didn't trust him enough to even so much as show him his face. 4 years, and he didn't even know that much. 4 years, and there still was no trust.
A smile that was so emotionless, so empty. It was just blank, still and unmoving, like George wanted to be.
George wanted to be hidden away too. At least then it would be fair. He wanted to have his own secrets, he wanted to do the same that Dream did to him.
Leave him with nothing, no trust, no words. He wanted to distance himself away from him, he wanted to be what Dream now was to him.
And yet he knew that he could never bring himself to do it.
That smile, it was a barrier between the two, one so plainly obvious and in sight. No one else wanted to mention it, no one wanted to invade their friendship, their privacy, their trust.
But that friendship crumbled on its own.
It crumbled when Dream pushed him away, when their secrets were spilled out. It fell apart, just as their trust did too.
No, their trust never existed. That trust, it was only a dream, something George had hoped he would gain, something he pretended was there for his own sake.
Dream quietly stood above him, holding his hoodie above his friend, stopping the rain from reaching him.
To George, he was completely expressionless, empty. Standing completely still, only waiting for George to say something as the rain poured around them. That mask, it made him seem that way.
Under there, was pain, emotions that Dream was pretending didn't exist. Under there was an entirely different person.
One that George couldn't see. A person, that to George, never existed.
George only ignored him, turning away from the reflection of the water, not bearing to look at him. He hugged his legs, trying not to look at him, to get reminded again.
Because God knows, he didn't need another reminder.
A reminder that Dream didn't trust him. He didn't want to know that, he didn't want to think about it.
He wanted to ignore it, he wanted to pretend it wasn't true. He wanted to continue lying to himself, for his sake, for their sakes. To keep this friendship intact, to prevent any conflict.
He wanted to continue doing what he had been doing for the past few years.
And Dream just stood there, no words leaving his mouth. He was too scared, that he would say the wrong thing, mess everything up again. He knew he messed up, he knew that he got himself into this situation.
Now it was just a matter of whether he could fix it.
It was silent, the only sound being the rain falling around them as George desperately tried to wipe away his tears, looking away the entirety of the time.
Though their atmosphere couldn't even be considered tense anymore; if anything, there wasn't even an atmosphere at all.
It was just empty.
Void of words, void of either of them expressing anything to one another. Just two idiots, bottling up their feelings, only waiting for it to explode.
Waiting, that wasn't ever a good thing, was it?
"W-we should go inside." Dream said, struggling to get the words out of his mouth. He wore no expression on his face, his mouth was completely concealed by his mask, but his voice was pouring with emotion.
He, himself, was pouring with emotion, but he was still hiding it.
They were always hiding. They were always pretending.
George didn't bother looking back at him. He couldn't respond, he needed his time alone, to collect his thoughts.
They remained silent.
They remained empty.
So empty, yet so drowned in emotions.
Dream swallowed the air beneath his throat, gently placing an arm on his friend's shoulder. "George, listen, we need to talk."
He was right, they did. They really did.
But George just shuffled away, refusing to so much as look at him. He couldn't, he didn't want to.
"I'm sorry George."
He knew that already, he was sorry too. Sorry for being such a burden, for even so much as being there in the game, with him.
This was his fault, wasn't it?
He looked away from him, sitting still for a while longer. It was silence, and neither of them could bear it, it just seemed too unnatural for them. Like they had just met, like they had never seen each other before.
Because they really haven't. In the four years that they had known each other, Dream never even bothered to show his face. That was normal, it kept parts of them separated that way.
Except this felt so different, so closed off. The barrier between the only growing, despite being right next to Dream, George felt so far away from him.
Like they had never even known each other in the first place.
George held his breath, before quickly standing up, briskly walking away back under the nearest tree.
He kept his eyes focused straight in front of him, as he sat back down, looking towards the ground. It honestly didn't matter where he was going, as long as it was away.
Anywhere but here. Anything but being near him.
He didn't want Dream to see him like this, not like this.
But his friend followed anyways, taking a seat next to him as he rested his head on the tree. His movements were so gentle, every step being so soft, like he was trying not to disrupt his friend, like he was trying not to be there.
He knew this might be making it worse, he knew this could send their friendship plummeting down even further. And yet he couldn't just sit still, he couldn't just watch it.
He had to fix this mess.
And yet even when he turned around to face George, a slight movement that could have easily gone unnoticed, he didn't look back.
It wasn't just because George couldn't see it. He noticed these things, these little things about Dream. He always noticed them.
It was simply because he couldn't look back. He couldn't bear it, he didn't want to.
He didn't want to be reminded that Dream didn't trust him, he didn't want to accept that.
He wanted to keep pretending.
He moved even further away, and there was still silence, the obvious divide between the two.
The silence was taunting almost, just waiting for someone to speak, to break the fragile atmosphere they were stuck in.
Dream sighed, gently touching his friend's hand. "Please, George, talk to me." His voice was so desperate, so pained. And George glanced back at him, to face his friend, to see his expression. Only to be met once again with that smile. It was so fake, yet so taunting.
George turned away again, ripping away his hand and bringing it back to his chest. "What do you want?" He finally said, trying so hard to sound fine, like he just didn't care, as if he wanted his friend to leave.
He wanted to sound angry, he wanted to sound like he didn't need him.
But his voice just came out in cracks, small broken cracks, his tone faltering, trying so hard not to break, to not just crumble in front of him.
Because God did he want someone to open up to, someone to hug and comfort him. That person was usually Dream, the person he would run to for all his woes and troubles.
He wanted to cry in front of him, he wanted to break down with him, so he'd console him like he usually would, so that he'd be with him through it all.
Like he always would.
And yet that always was starting to feel like a lie. The emotions were always so one-sided, Dream would never truly tell George anything, and yet George never failed to speak out everything.
George trusted Dream, and Dream didn't trust him back.
So it made sense that at the same time, he wanted to run away from him. He wanted to cut these ends, he wanted to feel the same way. Make it fair, make it normal. He wanted to get away from the reminder, and Dream was that reminder.
This was his sea of emotions, broken in pieces, so conflicted, so torn.
George suddenly stood up, not bothering to look back. To just get away, get away from all of this.
"I swear I didn't mean to kill them." Dream said, almost as if he was pleading, pleading for George to listen as he grabbed his hand. "I didn't know they couldn't respawn, I didn't know, if I did, I wouldn't have done it!"
But George only stood there in shock, gritting his teeth as he turned to face back at him. "Are you kidding me Dream, do you honestly think that's why I am upset?!" He snapped, looking back at his friend, tears threatening to fall.
He didn't bother trying to stop them, holding his breath as Dream struggled to come up with a response.
"You think I'd hate you for killing people?" George yelled back. "Do you really think I would hate you for something so stupid?"
What followed after was silence, Dream choking on his breath as George looked away again, letting go of his hand.
"I understand, Dream. You had to or you would've died. That's how it works." He shot back. "It's the reality, that's the kind of game we're in."
"What I don't understand is why you kept it from me; why you hid it?" He continued, trying his hardest to hide the hurt in his voice. It was practically spilling out, pouring out. "You didn't trust me enough, did you? You thought I'd be the type of person to leave you behind because of that?"
Dream only paused, looking away because he had no words, no response to that.
George was right.
While he was sinking in his own emotions, flooded by his overwhelming thoughts, Dream was drowning in guilt.
It wasn't considered wrong, it was even considered normal in this world. They were used to it. That's how they survived, that's how they'd beat the game.
Killing people wasn't a crime. That's why to Sapnap, Dream had done nothing wrong.
Killing people was just a part of the world they lived in, the unavoidable.
But there were people who didn't think that. There were people who would whisper about it, talk behind his back about it.
He was killed, and yet he had respawned. Somehow, he had respawned.
He killed someone, and that someone was gone forever.
That's what Dream was known as. To some people, they hated him out of jealousy, to others, they hated him out of anger. To some it was a mixture of both, jealous that he had the fortune to respawn, and blaming his accidents, his irreversible killings, as an excuse to hate him.
They called Dream a murderer.
Dream called himself a murderer.
And he was afraid George would become one of them. One of the people who would despise him for it.
It was stupid of him, but that's how thin their line of trust was. That thin line, now broken.
He was too afraid of losing him, of losing George. Of George hating him forever because of it, of his mistakes, of his own guilt.
Well that backfired, didn't it?
"I've known you for years, and you still think I'd just walk away, as if it meant nothing. As if you meant nothing to me." George said, aching in his own words.
The rain fell around them, enveloping the space between the two.
"You don't. You mean more than that." He spat out, before attempting to walk away again, only to be grabbed by Dream, this time on the shoulder, both hands twisting him to make him face his friend.
He tried moving, he tried walking away, and yet he couldn't. Not because his friend's grip was strong, Dream's hands were practically just falling on him. Gentle without question, tired, and scared.
Dream's hands felt scared, there was not an ounce of grip on them.
And yet George couldn't move, he just didn't have the strength to. He tried walking away, he wanted to, and yet he couldn't.
He didn't have the strength to leave Dream, he didn't have the strength to not trust him. He couldn't do that, because if it meant losing him, he would never be able to do it.
George tilted his head slightly upwards, for the first time looking back at Dream since they arrived back into the overworld. George didn't want to, he was even so much as avoiding being near him.
But Dream almost seemed different, like he wasn't even himself. His hair was all messed up, and his shirt was still dirty. He couldn't see his face, but George could tell that whatever was under there, wasn't so pleasant either.
The sight was almost pitiful, he seemed so stressed, so fearful.
They had won already, and yet Dream was still scared.
And as George's eyes made its way to Dream's torso, he winced, noticing the large bandaged up wound with blood still seeping out of it. A cut that he watched form right in front of him, a painful wound he couldn't stop.
He absolutely hated the sight of it, a wound he gained from protecting him, a wound he gained from fighting Xeno in order to save George.
George got out uninjured, he got out completely fine, completely safe. He was okay, and forced to stare back at Dream, who left himself half-dead.
But Dream didn't even seem bothered by it, not in the slightest. It was the least of his priorities, he was the least of priorities. He only stepped closer, gently lifting up his friend's arm as he examined the wound.
And his touch was so gentle, so soft that George didn't even bother pulling away. He couldn't, not with Dream like this.
Not with his hands shivering as he held up his arm, a small detail George didn't notice, something he barely even spotted. But it was there, Dream was scared.
"Just come back with me for a bit, we'll treat your wither effect." He said, lightly tugging George on the hand, to which he didn't move.
Dream's own cut wasn't even fully treated, George could tell. It was sloppily bandaged, done as quick as possible just so he could hurry away. Hurry back to George.
To risk his life again, to risk that wound bleeding out again, just so he could make sure George was okay.
He was doing it again, risking his life for his friend. And not letting his friend do the same.
George let out a hollow laugh, pulling his hand back with as much force as he could. "You're such a fucking hypocrite."
Dream stopped, looking back at his friend, his head low. "No, but George we should treat this, and fast."
George stepped back, not bothering to listen to him. He was fed up with this, with his friend's clouded and stubborn judgement.
Him thinking that it was fine, to let himself die, and let George watch him.
"You always do this Dream!" George yelled, watching as his friend stepped back in shock.
He had been bottling it all up, and now he was on the verge of breaking down.
These were the words he'd been trying to keep in for so long. He was finally going to say it.
"You protect me, and keep me away from danger, but you don't let me do the same." He choked on his breaths, watching as Dream's expression stayed the same, refusing to change from that simple smile. "You keep fucking almost dying, and you get mad at me for doing that same thing."
He grasped his friend's hand, pulling him back. "But you keep putting yourself in danger George."
"Yeah, and so do you." He shot back. "I had to watch you get stabbed earlier, you wouldn't even let me help!" His voice was shaky, even so much as the memory of causing him to break.
"Because you'd get hurt." Dream said, trying so hard to stop himself from raising his voice, from screaming his emotions out. "You already got hurt earlier, and I didn't want it to happen again."
"But look at you Dream!" George countered back. "You almost died too, do you not know how it would feel, if I was the one who lost you."
Dream stepped back, watching as George's expression shifted into tears.
Pure, raw tears. Nothing held back, he didn't bother doing that anymore, he didn't bother pretending anymore
Not if that meant Dream could die again.
Not if it meant putting his life at risk.
The atmosphere shifted around them as George's expression wavered and faltered between his breaths.
His storm of emotions, he was finally letting them out.
"You're always like this, you go out dreading if something happened to me, but you're a fucking hypocrite because I have no idea what the fuck I'd do if something happened to you!"
Dream stepped back, looking away from him.
George was right, and he knew it.
"But unlike you, I trust you. I know you can live, I actually believe in your ability to survive. But you, you refuse to put any faith in me, any at all."
His voice was filled with the same mix of emotions he was. It was angry, but on the verge of breaking down. It was hurt, and it was trying so hard not to be.
"George, it's skill. I've just had more time and practice than you."
"Yeah, and who's to blame for that?" George shot back. "Who's to blame for me not being with you all this fucking time?"
"I didn't want to put you in danger too!" Dream yelled. The composed lie he had been wearing was gone now, it collapsed right in front of him. He wasn't fine, he wasn't calm. He never was.
He was never emotionless like the mask suggested him to be, he was never perfect like he wanted to pretend he was.
He wasn't always happy, he wasn't always smiling. That wasn't who he was, that wasn't who anyone was.
Frankly, that was impossible.
"Sapnap was already stuck in here, I couldn't bear dealing with you in this game too." He admitted, his voice still in pain, still filled with anger.
"But what about me Dream? You don't know how I felt, I couldn't do anything, I just had to watch you die!"
"But you would've been safe there." Dream argued back. "Now you're just forcing me to let you risk your life over and over again."
George clenched his fists, looking away with a hurt expression in his eyes.
"Do you not fucking see it?" George shot back, grabbing onto Dream's shirt. "That's the exact same thing you're doing to me, only I literally couldn't do anything."
"George-"
"Every night, I couldn't sleep. Every fucking waking hour of the day, I was worried about you. I couldn't do anything, I had no control of the situation. I was just watching you die."
He was breaking, the very memory of it causing him to shake.
Everyday, he was filled with fear, worrying and crying himself to sleep. He couldn't do anything, and it was Dream's fault. All he could do was hope, hope and pray while the people he cared about most died around him.
Dream had died, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"You're being selfish, Dream."
His eyes shot up in shock, him stepping forward. "How am I being selfish, I'm literally doing everything I can to protect you!"
"And you're not seeing it from my perspective, how I care about you too, Dream. How you're just pushing me away in your attempt, your failed attempt at keeping me safe."
"You don't have to care about me George, I don't deserve it." He said, looking away, out at the rain.
He was too guilt-ridden.
Guilty for having killed someone, for having killed people he didn't know could not respawn.
Guilty for being alive, for respawning when others around him died.
It wasn't his fault, but the guilt ate at him anyways.
"You're always like this. You don't see, you don't understand." George spat out. "You never do, you never did."
Silence followed, as the rain around them fell.
"Do you know how it feels, to be pushed aside all the time, to be shoved away as nothing but a burden?"
"You're not a burden, George."
"And you say that but you treat me like one, and you know what I am. I should be dead and I know it, you were right."
"So you acknowledge that you almost died?"
He looked away, biting his lip before nodding.
"In that case, what do you want to do, do it again?" Dream fought back. "You tell me you now you almost got yourself killed, and yet you're out here wanting to tell me that I was wrong in trying to stop that?!"
George looked back at Dream, tears falling from his eyes.
Pouring like the rain surrounding them, carrying the emotions he'd been holding back for so long.
"I-I don't know."
He really didn't. He was so confused, so conflicted with himself. And that part of him was coming crashing down.
He didn't even know what outcome he wanted out of this, what he was looking for.
"Of course you don't. You're here arguing with me over what?"
"I don't know anymore, okay?" He leaned back on the tree, sinking down hugging himself as the rain grew colder and colder.
And Dream sat next to him, keeping a safe distance away, but neither spoke.
Both were too filled with their own emotions.
Only difference was George wore his heart on his sleeve, in his voice, his expression, and his words. People could so easily tell what he was thinking.
But within himself, his feelings were a mess, he didn't know how he even truly felt about the situation, if he was even in the right. People knew what he was thinking, people could practically read his thoughts.
People knew, and yet he didn't know. He doubted himself, being drowned in his own thoughts and emotions.
And Dream hid all of it behind a mask, away from the eyes of the public, away from the eyes of his own best friend, both figuratively and literally.
He knew how he felt about the situation, and it's simply that he hated it. He hated the risk and the chance of death. He was angry and guilty, but he kept it to himself, refusing to let anyone in.
Two different people, expressing their feelings to one another as the rain continuously poured around them.
No one spoke for a bit, no one even so much as looked at one another, neither could bear doing so.
The atmosphere wasn't tense, but it wasn't empty anymore either. Rather it was missing, longing.
George sat there hiding his tears under his goggles, his little shield to hide away his emotions, his way of pretending, of continuing to pretend.
Dream's demeanor softened slightly, looking at his friend. "So then what is it George, what do you want?"
But George didn't answer the question, rather he hugged his legs, silently looking back at his friend. "You know, I'm scared, Dream." He choked out, as if he was hesitating to say it.
"Of what? Of you dying? It really doesn't seem that way."
"I don't know either." He replied, his heart aching a little bit at his words.
He really didn't know anything. Not about this game, not about his friend, not about himself.
Things he thought he knew, he didn't anymore.
He thought Dream trusted him. But that turned out to be a lie, one not only Dream told him, but one he told himself.
"And what do you know?" Dream asked, looking back at George who turned away in response.
He sighed. "Nothing, apparently."
"Then why are you scared?"
"Cause I almost died, isn't that obvious?"
There was more, they both knew it.
George took a deep breath, sighing to himself. "And maybe because you almost did too, maybe cause it seems you're never ever going to understand me."
"Why's that?"
George let out a quick empty chuckle. Hollow, empty, not exactly forced, but one that might as well never have existed.
If this was Dream's attempt at solving things, at fixing this mess, it wasn't going to work.
"You just don't get it do you?" He spat out, watching as Dream lightly shook his head. "You don't trust me Dream, and at this point I don't even trust myself."
"George, I trust you." Dream said in an attempt to make George feel better, to cheer him up.
George scoffed, a pained expression on his face. "That's a lie."
It really was. It was a white lie, clear as day.
Dream didn't respond, he couldn't respond, as he knew George was right.
He didn't trust his own best friend, because he was scared the moment he did, he would lose him.
He couldn't trust George because he meant too much to him, as ironic as that may be.
That if George knew everything about him, that if he gave George everything, he wouldn't like it. That he wouldn't like the rest of himself, that he wouldn't like Dream.
So instead, he kept pretending.
That smile on his mask, that was him pretending.
"It's cause I'm afraid George." He finally said, choking on his words for George to look at him in shock.
"You're afraid of trusting me? That sucks." George replied nonchalantly, looking back out onto the lake, surrounded by the pouring rain.
Dream could still sense his anger, but it was more or less covered up, the only thing left in his voice being a strange sense of hurt.
Hurt from not being trusted by his own best friend.
"I'm sorry George."
"I know." He replied, not looking back at him. "But that doesn't change anything does it?"
George was trying so hard to sound emotionless, how much he wished he was. He wanted this to not matter to him, he wanted Dream to not matter to him.
But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't shake him off.
The person who didn't trust him whatsoever, was the person George trusted most.
"I was scared of losing you George." He choked. "I was scared you'd hate me for it, like others do."
Like Dream does for himself.
But of course George already knew that. He had already spoken about it just moments earlier, how it hurt him. George wasn't that kind of person, Dream was too important for him just let go of him that way.
Dream just meant too much to him, for one reason or another.
But hearing Dream say it, hearing those words come out of his mouth, it just meant so much more to him. That he was actually telling George how he felt, rather than hiding his emotions away for him to find out himself.
That small thing, it mattered a lot to him.
George smiled, though he didn't even mean to, looking back at his friend. "I'm never going to hate you Dream. I could never hate you, I know that now."
Dream looked back at him, watching George's expressions shift. Watching his emotions shift. "What makes you think that?"
He smiled again, he didn't want to. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be hurt. He was, and yet he was still smiling.
"Because God, you don't know how much I want to hate you right now Dream. You don't know how much I wish I could, but I just can't." He admitted. "I can't hate you, and it fucking sucks."
George chuckled, leaning back onto the tree. "You kept me away from you for so long, you kept so many secrets, hell- you don't even trust me. But I still can't hate you." He looked back at his friend, a soft, no longer fake smile on his face.
Dream smiled, as George looked away again, his expression shifting back to what it was just moments before.
"Believe me, I've been trying to."
More silence, and for the first time that night, it was a quiet, comfortable silence.
"George?"
George didn't want to respond. He wanted to run away, the pain in his chest suffocating him. He was still angry, he was still hurt.
He wanted to snap, to just crumble down. He wanted to hate him, to hate Dream.
But he just couldn't fucking do it.
"Hmm?" He hummed back, his head still buried in his legs as he looked back at him. "What is it?"
He wanted to just stand and run so badly, he wanted to just walk away from him.
But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He still found himself shifting towards his friend, staring back at him as the rain around them fell.
He couldn't hate Dream, no matter how hard he tried. And he just had to accept that.
"I trust you, George." Dream said, obviously smiling under his mask. "I really truly do."
He chuckled, looking away averting his gaze back at the lake. "No, you don't, and that's fine. You don't have to, you really shouldn't actually."
"No, George. It's a promise, I trust you." Dream repeated.
He hugged his legs, shivering in the cold. "It's fine, Dream, I don't mind anymore, there's no need to pretend you do." He said, the anger from earlier slowly fading away, instead being replaced by a strange sense of acceptance.
Him trying to accept that things would always stay this way, that he'd have to live with this as their friendship, this hollow mess. That Dream would keep secrets from him, that it would never get further than it was right now. He was telling himself that he was okay with that, that it was fine.
But that was a lie. Another one of his built up lies.
He wanted Dream to trust him, he wanted that more than anything in the world. He wanted that feeling of knowing that George would be the first person he runs to when he has a problem. He wanted to be what Dream was for him.
Though he never would, and that was just something he'd have to accept.
And maybe he was fine with that. Maybe that was okay.
If he had to pick between continuing this thin line of trust they had or cutting it all off, he was fine with it.
He could deal with being pushed away, he could deal with what they had. All he wanted was that he never lose him, that he never lose his best friend.
And he knew why he couldn't lose him, and it sucked.
But the fear in the back of George's mind was still there, taunting him. That he could still die at any point in time, that they were still stuck in this game.
That his problem was nothing in the grand scheme of things, that he was nothing.
They were still in danger, he had just risked his life for this. His wither effect was still there, and he was still carrying that same fear. That fear that followed him wherever he went, that fear that had just become a part of him.
And yet even though he knew that compared to the prospect of death, this little issue between them was absolutely nothing, that didn't even matter to him.
For now, Dream was more important.
He just didn't want to mind it, not now, he just wanted to put it all away. He was bottling up his feelings again.
At this rate, he'd have to get used to it.
"I love you George."
George snickered at the sudden statement, not bothering to look back at him as he rolled his eyes. "And where the fuck did that come from?"
"My heart." Dream dramatically said, placing his hand on his chest.
George laughed again. "My God, you're such an idiot." He said, giggling as he suddenly remembered why Dream meant so much to him.
Because just like that, he was smiling.
He always had that effect on him, that ability to brighten his day whenever he felt like it. Dream carried his heart with him, George had unknowingly given it to him.
He hated that.
And yet when George looked back to face his friend, something was different about the teary eyed smile Dream wore on his face, for it wasn't fake, it wasn't even covered up.
He almost had to do a double take, tilting his head slightly to the side as he examined his friend's expression.
Because it felt so real, it almost felt like a dream.
And yet it wasn't.
Slowly, George pulled off his glasses, holding his breath. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing, only sitting still, not bothering to say a word.
He couldn't say a word, he had none.
No words to describe what he was feeling, no words to describe what this actually meant to him. He couldn't think of any, he didn't know what to say.
He was absolutely speechless.
And as Dream looked back at his friend, making eye-contact with him for the first time, George just blinked back in shock. This was real, they were actually seeing each other.
The people behind the screens, the two best friends who were too scared of losing one another.
Their emotions were out, their secrets were out, and George could finally admire those beautiful green eyes, the ones he'd been waiting years to see.
Because finally, after all this time, Dream could truly trust him.
And that trust, it meant everything.
Dream had taken off his mask.
[A/N]
Im so sorry this was late, there was a lot of work put into this chapter.
I genuinely have no idea how good or bad it is, I really don't. I hope its at least acceptable for a scene as important as this lol.
Also, I don't think I can post a chapter on monday. This was 7k words btw, so I hope it was worth the wait.