cw: discussion of a past vehicular accident
"You already know this, but I died three years ago, almost four years ago now. My best friend was visiting me in London at the time. He was in the country for a couple days for some sort of event. I don't even remember it anymore. It seems so long ago.
"Everything happened on the last day, I think. It was a rainy day, and I'm already not very well known for going outside. But my friend—he's the type of person who doesn't like to sit still, the type of person who always needs to be working on something to feel satisfied with himself. He was very kind to the world and to everyone around him. I guess that's why he bugged me to go outside with him in the rain so much.
"It was fun, though, for those first few hours in the rain. I remember we walked all over the city, me yelling after him when he ran out from underneath the umbrella. I was the one holding it, and I didn't wanna be standing next to some wet, stinky person, you know?"
Dream had to chuckle at that. George's smile brightened as he continued talking, hundreds of memories flashing by in his eyes.
"It was really fun. I think my life only got better as I grew up. That was when I had the freedom to just go out and do whatever I wanted, and I wasn't rich or anything, but I had the funds to do most of the things I wanted to do. My friend was the same way, too, though he was a tad older than me and was more settled in life."
Huh. Nobody Dream had spoken to mentioned going to the UK to visit George. The only meet-up he had been told of was the large hangout in the US.
"How'd you two become friends then?" Dream asked. Maybe that might clear something up.
"Oh, he was looking for developers for his Minecraft server. I applied, and I guess I stood out to him or something, because we talked a lot one-on-one after he accepted me as a developer and played a ton of Hunger Games together. Like, a ton of Hunger Games." George laughed, looking up at the ceiling as if he were peering back into the sky, trying to see through all its secrets. Thousands of memories flashed by in his eyes. "But what really brought us together was computers. He didn't really code while my job was coding. I didn't really get involved in hardware, but he loved that kind of stuff. He straight up offered to build me a computer when mine was dying. It was kind of meant to be, you know?"
Dream cycled through the names in his head. Punz, Alyssa, Ponk, Callahan. None of them matched the description. Who was this? He felt like he should know.
"I miss him a lot," George said, his voice quiet. He shifted his gaze back down to the floor, and the brightness that had been present on his face darkened to dull. "I, um... I guess I don't really get to miss him, though."
Again with the cryptic wording. What did that mean?
"So, on the day I died," George said. The words seemed heavy, like they were weights too heavy for him to lift. "Well, it was on the last day of that London trip. We somehow hadn't boarded a double decker—you're familiar with what that is, surely—the entire time, and he said he didn't want to go back without having boarded one. It was raining, so of course I agreed. Though looking back, maybe I shouldn't have.
"We waited at the bus stop for a couple minutes. Or an hour. I never really had the best grasp on time, and when you're with your best friend, time goes by way faster than you think it does.
"When the bus finally came, he was so ridiculously excited," George said with a grin. "I know you Floridians don't really have double deckers, but I didn't think he'd get so excited about it. He was smiling and laughing and everything. We went on the top floor and just... looked at the world."
His grin softened into a warm, soft smile, millions of memories flashing by in his eyes. "It's a bit sobering, to be honest. That experience of looking out at the world and seeing people pass by with the rain pittering on the windows—that's unforgettable. That's a level of calm I've never seen in my life. Well, my living life at least.
"We just stayed on the bus for a while after that, watching the world pass by us. I don't think we spoke to each other on that entire bus trip. I appreciated that. I hope he appreciated it too. I don't regret not speaking, but I do wish...
"Well. I suppose I shouldn't talk about that." George pursed his lips and frowned. Whether he was frowning at the world or at himself, Dream couldn't tell. "The only time we spoke to each other on that bus aside from that entire beginning part was when, was when... was..."
Dream's throat tightened at the way George's body tensed. "George, you don't need to—"
"No, I do. I need to." George paused, but his voice was strained. "We were at the front of the bus, and I just... got that feeling, that awful feeling when you know something awful's about to happen but you know you can't do anything about it. I saw it, you know. I saw that we were about to crash into the bus ahead of us. So I—So I..."
George sighed. His body slumped over, and he looked smaller than he ever had before. He had transformed from the George he knew now to the conflicted, torn angel that had fallen from the sky all those months ago.
Dream reached out to set a hand on George's shoulder, but George snapped away.
George crossed his arms, his muscles so much tenser than he had ever seen them before. Billions of memories flashed by in his eyes, all of them shattered into as many pieces as there were stars in the sky. "I, um... My body acted quicker than my mind did. All I could think about in that moment was him—where he was, where he was looking, if he would survive something like this.
"He was still looking out of the side window. Everything was still normal to him; it was just a normal day to him. As far as he knew, everything was still as fine as the entire trip had been up to this point, and he was happy—he was happy! I... I wanted to protect that."
"So, I, um..." George frowned and glared at the ground. "I moved in front of him and pushed him back. I don't know why I thought that'd be enough to protect him at the time. A crash of that caliber must've had more casualties than just me. But uh..." He paused after that for some time, his eyes glazed over and dull. Shards of broken memories were scattered everywhere. "Yeah. I don't remember what happened after that. I think I died."
That was a strange way of phrasing it.
"You think you died?" Dream said.
"Yeah. That's the last of my memories. I don't really know what happened to him either, if he lived or died. That's why I'm not supposed to be a guardian angel, Dream. I couldn't protect him." George's voice was quiet at the end of that, quieter than a tear dropping onto the floor. He had nothing left to say, and judging by the way he had his wings curled around him, he didn't want to say anything further.
But that wasn't right, was it?
As far as Dream knew, all of George's closest friends had been on that special 404 world: Punz, Alyssa, Ponk, Callahan. But none of them were dead. Nobody had indicated throughout their conversations that they had ever been involved in an accident, even less so that they had personally been with George when he died.
There was one person he was forgetting though, someone Dream hadn't met yet. That was—
"Hey," Dream called. Was this a good idea? Almost certainly not. But it was the only option he had left. "About your best friend... was his name Bad?"
And this time, George had nowhere to run and nothing to hide. The truth was already out anyway.
He stayed silent.
"George."
"You know the answer."
That was true.
"I'm—" Dream chuckled despite himself. "George, he's alive."
George's body tensed.
"George! He's alive!" Dream leaned forward and held his hand out in front of George's hand. His heart raced—whether it was from George or the sudden revelation, he would never know. "You saved him, George. Just like how you saved me all those times."
George took his hand, his grip both firm and uncertain. He set his wings back just far enough for Dream to see his face. And his face was blotched pink, his eyes watery but not yet to the point of tears. "I—I didn't. The entire thing was my fault anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to think about me again."
Dream's heart ripped at the guilt and shame written on his face. Those emotions didn't belong on George's face. "George, how could it be your fault? If anything, you're probably the reason he's still alive."
George remained bitterly silent.
Dream offered him a smile and squeezed his hand. His heart lurched when George squeezed back. "No, I know. Let me show you something."
George leveled an uncertain look at him but stood up with him, their hands still connected. They walked to where Dream's computer slept and sat down in their respective seats. It was a familiar enough routine.
Dream ran his finger across his keyboard to wake up his computer before logging onto Minecraft and subsequently Munchy (though he didn't fail to notice how George's grip on his hand tightened). Time ticked by slowly as the screen loaded.
"George," Dream said quietly as he scrolled to the golden helmet. He watched George's eyes widen when the numbers "404" faded into existence above the hotbar. "Look. Do you remember this?"
George's following laugh was stifled, but he laughed nonetheless. Some of the tension in his body dissipated. "Oh my god, I haven't seen that in a while. Yeah. Bad and I were testing the cross-server inventory system Callahan set up before that. Bad asked me what he should test it with, so I just gave him a golden helmet. I didn't know he still remembered that."
"Well, watch this then."
Dream right-clicked, and the world loaded into view chunk by chunk. He released George's hand and moved his character back to the front of the room before sliding the mouse and keyboard closer to him. "Take a look."
George slowly, hesitantly took the controls, then mumbled to himself as he read each sign. "You're my favorite person. Love you. Rest. To my friend, to my brother, to George. Rest now, George. You're the best part of me. You've done enough. Rest now, my friend."
Then he fell silent.
Dream took his hand again.
"Best friends," George said, his voice strained and his eyes shiny from tears yet to come. "Always, forever. I love you. From... From Darryl."
Those billions of memories—they gravitated back towards each other, reconnecting seamlessly.
"He remembers me," George said. "He's not mad at me!"
Dream offered him a warm smile as George stared at the screen. He spoke softly, careful not to burst the aura of awe that had formed around George. "You know, this entire world—all of this was Bad's idea. He made all of this for you, to commemorate your life." He set a hand on George's shoulder. "You're so loved, George, even after death. By me, by Bad, by everyone who worked on this world, and by everyone you've touched the lives of. You're still so important to them, to me. You've changed lives. Don't ever think you weren't supposed to become a guardian angel. I think that's a role fitting for someone who was so warm and kind in life."
George looked around the Minecraft world, then took his hands off the controls, his chest rising and falling along with his happy laughter. But now tears were free to stream across his face, and he fought to gasp for air.
"George?" Dream called, turning to face his entire body towards him.
George leaned back in his seat and took hold of Dream's hand with the brightest, yet simultaneously saddest grin he had seen from him. "Dream. Dream!"
"Yeah?" Then Dream's heart fell. "Wait, are you mad I knew about this?"
"Dream..." George laughed again and wiped his eyes with his other hand. "No, I understand why you did. I don't think I would've reacted well if you told me before now. It wasn't the right time then. But..." He looked up at Dream with shimmering eyes. "It's funny. I've known everyone on this server for years and years and years. I miss them so much, but it's not painful. I just realized it hasn't been painful in a while. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because of you."
Those words took his breath away. George continued speaking regardless.
"Being around you feels so natural I forget I'm not alive sometimes. When I'm with you, I forget about everything bad that happened to me throughout all those years I was dead. All those people I had been assigned to in the past, everyone I knew in my past life—I've always been told I was a sort of unpassionate person, but something about you makes me feel things so much more deeply than I ever had before. You just—you're an inspiration to me, Dream. And... And—" George cut himself off to laugh and rest his head on Dream's shoulder. He gazed up at Dream, and finally, Dream recognized that emotion in his eyes.
"I love you," George sighed like it was the easiest thing in the world to say. And maybe for him, it was. "I love you, Dream."
And that was the final punch that knocked all the wind out of Dream's lungs.
George chuckled. "Come on, I didn't say all that embarrassing stuff to get radio silence."
"You..." Dream's mind short-circuited. Every process his brain used to figure out what to say next, how to respond—George had single-handedly shut them all down. Adrenaline crackled underneath his skin as if he was set on fire.
"You're such an idiot," Dream laughed as something warm built behind his eyes. "I just... George." The imminent tears broke into a waterfall as he cried into a hand. "I love you. I love you so much."
"Dream." George's voice was breaking now. "Come here."
Dream melted into George's touch as he wrapped his arms and wings around him. He flung his own arms around George, pulling him as close as he could.
They stayed like that for a while, shielding each other from the realities of the world. Whether their tears were from celebrating newfound revelations or from mourning the past and what could've been, Dream didn't know. He couldn't. But Dream knew this was where he felt safe; George was his home. And he hoped, no, knew George felt the same way.
Come morning, they woke up in each others' arms.
george's story isnt entirely clear yet. thats intentional. emotional people kinda make shitty storytellers D: (including me!) theyll talk more about what happened in the next chapter. bear with me, and apologies.