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An arrow hit.
Heterochromatic eyes snapped to the point of impact, where the arrowhead was wedged into hard Blackstone. The shaft of the arrow was on fire, and George hadn’t seen that in a long time. There’s footsteps in the distance, but George paid them no mind, because he’s in the middle of nowhere, and there’s an arrow on fire.
To himself, he mused.
“What was that?”
Footsteps got closer, and the sudden motion of a body appearing pulled George’s attention from the fiery weapon. Confusion turned to disbelief, shock coursing through his bloodstream and turning skin warmed by the afternoon cold.
“Dream?”
“George.”
Dream moved around in front of him, warm and clean and alive, clad in netherite, shield in one hand and axe in the other. He was moving. His mouth was moving, speaking. Speaking to George. Right in front of him. Right there.
George thought he must dreaming.
He didn't know what to say.
He didn’t know where to start.
“Was that arrow you?”
“What are you doing here-“
“W- Was that arrow you?”
Silence lay heavier than it ever had before in the space between them. They were both silent for a moment, and the absence of noise allowed them to take in the presence of the other after so long.
It’s been so long.
“Y- Yeah. There was a creeper… I killed the creeper.”
An explosion went off to the side in lieu of Dream’s words, proving his point.
“You have damage arrows?”
This isn’t how this was supposed to go.
“… Yeah?”
“… Oh.”
The silence between them was awkward, unusual, uncharacteristic, unfamiliar, painful. It somehow hurt more than the silence of Dream being locked away in the prison for a year.
It hurt. And George hated it. Despite everything, he could see how Dream hated it too. How his words were hesitant, how he was distant, unsure, cowering away from George and avoiding eye contact. And it hurt, because despite everything, an ache in George’s chest begged for jade eyes to meet his again, but the universe was cruel, Dream was living proof of the fact.
Jade eyes remained trained on the grass below them.
If he didn’t know Dream better, he’d assume the other was afraid.
Maybe he was.
Maybe he should be.
“So, you’re out of prison, huh?”
Addressing the elephant in the room was hard. Hard in the way that made the saliva in George’s mouth turn acidic, it made Dreams muscles tense. But George was the one to do it, because of course he was. George was brave. An old friend had told him so.
Dream inhaled sharply before speaking hesitantly.
“Yeah.”
A sly smile broke out over scarred skin.
It should scare George. It should scare him like it scares everyone else on the server. Instead, it makes him sad. He sees the traces of innocent youth, naivety and the memory of someone who chose to love rather than to hate in that smile.
It should scare him. Instead he wants to cry.
But he doesn’t. Because he is brave. And that someone does not exist anymore.
“How does that make you feel?”
It was taunting.
“Did you miss me?”
Dream finally met his eyes. Jade iris’s glint in the moonlight. In another life, George would’ve called them beautiful. However in this one, something malicious, something angry swum amongst the shades of green that George couldn’t see.
Where there was once kindness and ardour, there was now anger and mania.
Yet the words Dream spoke were tinged with something softer.
He still cared.
If George were weaker, it would have made him melt. He would have crumbled at Dreams feet and spat poetry about how agonising it was for Dream to be locked away, how hard it was to mourn the loss of his best friend, how hard it was to watch half of his soul rot, decay, and then be whisked away, confined to a cell and surrounded by hellfire heat.
But he was strong. He was brave. And he was proud of himself for only faltering slightly when he spoke.
“Y- You were in there a really, really long time.”
George met Dream’s stare with matching intensity, and the lack on an answer seemed to make Dream falter.
Green eyes begged. Surrender to me.
Brown eyes defied. In your dreams.
When Dream spoke, he sounded defeated.
“Yeah. I wa-
“Why were you in there for so long?”
“I, I don’t know, they- they wouldn’t let me out. I had to be broken ou-“
Liar.
“I thought you were meant to be smart. I thought you could’ve got yourself out.”
George spoke haphazardly. Carefree attitude feigned through an aching heart. It rendered Dream shocked, and George felt a little strike of pride in the way that Dream stuttered, clearly unexpected of how little George seemed to care.
God. If only he knew.
“I- I, I also built the prison.”
“Yeah, but-“
“I- I’m smart equally on- on the inside-“
“I- If you were smart enough you would’ve considered a situation where- you’d be in the prison? You’d have like, a back door? Or something- That was like, Face ID’d or something for you."
George’s hands flailed and his head shook as he spoke, his tone pitched up in the slightest. He took a breath. Calmed himself down.
You were meant to get out. Why didn’t you get out?
When Dream spoke again, it was with unsettling calmness.
“I thought… I had a plan. But, it didn’t really work out. Anyw- why- why do you care? Why are you asking me?”
The tone returned, taunting, yet underlaid with care, and George felt himself splitting at the seems. Threatening to break.
But he wouldn’t.
“Well like, I- I’m just walking and you just acted like nothing happened, I just show up and you’re like ‘Oh. George. Hey.’ What’s like- It’s literally been like, uh, how long’s it been? Like a whole year. Longer. I don’t know.”
Flood gates cracked, and he felt himself rambling. Pain in his chest squeezing the words from his lungs, pushing them out hurriedly, as if keeping them bottled in for a second longer would kill him.
“So long.”
He tried not to let pent up hurt seep into his tone, tried to keep himself nonchalant.
Dream’s eye twitched. George felt his chest constrict, intense and suffocating, yet kept speaking.
“You’re just here? In full netherite, you’ve got your shield, your stupid axe.”
When you bottle up hurt for too long, it manifests into anger. From the slightly, slightly taken aback look on Dream’s face, he picked up on the fact.
“Look at me. What do I have? How- How do you come out of prison, after a year, looking like that.”
“And I have nothing.”
Dream was looking at him, yet this time, green eyes weren’t angry, or taunting, or hurt. They looked sad.
George couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Dream look sad.
As soon as the vulnerability was there, it was gone. Dream looked away as he spoke.
“Because, I don’t know, I just- I already had stuff on the outside that I just, I just got.”
The sun was rising, and marigold rays poked through the trees, hitting the pair where they stood. George squinted his eyes momentarily as a golden ray shone against Dream’s armour and reflected onto the plastic of his glasses. When he shuffled a little, and looked to Dream again, he was met with the latter already staring at him.
George felt his breath catch in his throat momentarily, because morning light was always kind to Dream, no matter how many wrongs he committed. Morning gold made him look young, it blurred the imperfections on his skin, scar tissue turned back into unmarked porcelain under welcoming sunlight. His eyes looked bright, bright in the same way they had when he was young, when he would look to George and smile at him as if he were the sun himself. When they would sit together on tree branches and mountain tops, be pressed together in a wooden boat or huddled close in snowy plains, watching the sun rise over whatever horizon they were looking at that day.
That glow, golden and warm and beautiful, made him think of fingers running through his hair, a hand stroking his cheek, lips pressed against his forehead, a mittened hand clasping his own, a smile pushed against his lips, an arm wrapped around his waist, soft words spoken into his ear as he looked up to the stars,
You’re the bravest person I know, you know that right?
Golden glow of a sunrise was a replica of the way Dream had once made him feel.
Which is why he so very often slept until the glow of the sun disappeared from the sky altogether.
He blamed a break in his tough resolve on morning light.
“Here, have some stuff.”
He dropped multiple items. Dyes, maps, feathers, stone, string, flint, iron boots, bamboo, concrete.
Dream picked all of it up, stuffing it into his inventory.
“Do you have anything for me?”
“No? I don’t have anything for you, why would I give you anything?”
The words was incredulous, as if Dream couldn’t believe George would ask such a thing.
It made George’s cheeks red, both his embarrassment and newfound anger.
He changed the subject.
“What’s with- Sapnap told me you were like, threatening Kinoko or something?”
Dream paused, staring at George with a look he couldn’t quite discern. It made him unsettled.
“Where is Kinoko?”
George cocked his head, glasses knocking against the bridge of his nose.
“What do you me-? What?”
“Like, where- can you give me a tour? Give me a tour around? I’ve never seen it… I kinda wanna see it-“
George wasn’t stupid. He was a fool, but he was not stupid.
“Sapnap said you- I’m not going to show you where it is.”
Dream stepped closer.
“What?”
It was soft spoken, and George felt his heart strain under the weight of familiarity, a tone reserved only for him, from a long time ago.
He stepped back.
“Why would I show you? Like-“
“It’ll be just like old times-
George spoke over him.
“You’re being weird-“
“You could give me a tour-“
He didn’t dare entertain the idea.
“You’re being weird.”
“How am I being weird?”
It was silent for a moment, Dream stared at him with feigned innocence in his eyes. George knew what he was doing. Knew he was trying to get under his skin, weasel his way into George’s soft spots using saccharine words and cotton candy glazed eyes.
Once upon a time, he would’ve let him. He did let him.
Once upon a time, Dream loved George for George’s benefit.
He refused to let him do it again. No matter how badly he wanted to. He knew if he let Dream love him again, it would only be for the blonde’s own benefit.
So, he refused to break.
“I don’t know.”
“Look, George, I’ll show you the inside of the prison, and you show me Kinoko.”
Playing the fool made him a genius.
“How do we even get in?”
“We just go through the portal.”
“Okay. Fine. Show me the prison.”
Dream began to walk. George followed him, not once taking his eyes off the aforementioned. A large opening came into view, shimmering purple lit up a long hallway. The colour was cold, uninviting. George supposed that was the point.
Dream stopped walking just before entering the opening. George almost rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming.
He had always been able to call a bluff. Especially Dream’s.
“Okay, I can’t show you the prison because I don’t have the-
“Wh- You just said you’d show me the prison?”
George felt fire ignite in his belly, rage burning hot against his skin as he walked closer to Dream.
“Okay, look- I was-“
“You-“
“I was lying-“
They were talking over each other now, voices raising in both heatedness and volume, challenging the lava that burned hot inside hardened Blackstone walls. If someone were to observe the two from afar, they would look like they were dancing. A tantalising tango of long overdue argument. George took one step forward, Dream took one back. Vice versa.
“You just said-“
“I just wanted to see if you would show me Kinoko-“
“You were lying.”
Dream took a breath. George was ready for Dream to try and justify the lying, was ready to shut it down completely.
Nothing could have prepared him for what Dream said next.
“Why didn’t you come to visit me George?”
He stepped into George’s space, and this time George didn’t step back. The words were loud, spoken with un unusual kind of anger. Still molten hot, but George heard the tightness in the back of Dream’s throat, recognised the signs of Dream’s resolve cracking. He would recognise it anywhere.
George was still angry himself, but he felt less alone in his pain.
Green eyes bore down on him, accusatory and angry and fiery and hurt.
George couldn’t bring himself to meet the gaze.
“I, I didn’t know how! I didn’t even know I could. How-“
George could feel the hurt coming off of Dream. Seeping through his pores into the liminal space between them, flowing over his skin like ice cold waterfalls. He wanted to reach out, to take some of the pain, make that god-forsaken pitiful glint that swam in green eyes disappear by pressing his fingers against closed lids. He ached to touch. To hold. To take the pain from a body he used to adore so much. He hated the way he still wanted those things. How he still ached when Dream ached. How Dream’s pain was still his pain, even after so, so long.
Instead of reaching for Dream, he walked away as he spoke.
“Look at it! Look at this prison, this is not normal prison. This is- This is, You have messed up so far beyond anything, you- look at this. This is not prison, this is-“
Hell. Dream’s hell. Techno’s hell. Sam’s hell. Bad’s hell. Ranboo’s hell.
George’s hell.
“I don’t even know. This is- You don’t get visits here.”
George looked up at the Blackstone walls with disdain. If he squinted his eyes hard enough, he could see the ghost of himself, one year younger, standing at the prison’s entry. His younger self mirrored his current position, looking up at the too-tall walls. The only difference was that the ghost of who he once was was crying. Tears staining porcelain cheeks, soft hiccups coming from a rattling chest. No matter how many times he wiped his eyes, the tears had kept coming.
George remembered that day. It was one of the first bad ones, back when Dream had only just been taken. It was his first visit. He had fully intended on going inside, trying to see Dream. Instead, he had stopped at the entry, and cried. He sat there for hours, crying into the material of the jumper he had bought for Dream. Because despite the lava that surrounded the prison, what if it got cold at night? The poppies he had picked for Dream had wilted in his hand, the vibrant red colour had faded to a muddy brown, and George couldn’t bring himself to give them to him, not when they weren’t the vibrant red that Dream adored so much.
He let the guilt rot him from the inside out, and he cried himself to sleep on Blackstone stairs that night.
When he woke up, he reminded himself of what Dream had once called him, and he walked away.
That day, he truly became the bravest person in the world.
When Quackity had told him there was no way they would’ve let him see Dream anyway, things became a bit easier.
Yet guilt still gnawed at his insides.
Dream pulled him from his thoughts.
“There is. There is a visiting system.”
George felt his blood run cold. Nights where he would lull himself to sleep, trying to convince himself that trying to visit Dream was impossible anyway suddenly became all too fabricated.
When George spoke, it was quiet.
“There was?”
“Yeah.”
George wasn’t sure if he’d ever sleep again.
“I guess… I just assumed there wouldn’t be-“
George wasn’t sure if he was trying to justify his reasoning to Dream, or to his own conscience.
“Look at it. Do you think someone would let me in here to see you?”
He gestured to the prison wildly.
Please understand.
“But, you didn’t even ask.”
Dream stepped forward, inches away from George, and stared straight at him as he said it. George stared back, dumbfounded.
I didn’t think you would care so much.
He didn’t say it. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
Dream looked sad. He looked so, so sad. And the guilt that nestled into George’s chest, made itself a home his bones threatened to consume him whole. But George didn’t let it show. Didn’t let the fact that it felt like his insides were splitting, leaving him bleeding out under his bones show on the surface.
Every breath felt like a stab wound, and yet he breathed steadily. Brave until the end.
“Well… I don’t know-“
Dream stepped away. Breathing became a little easier.
The silence was heavy. Heavy and loud. Louder than their small screaming match before. George was afraid to speak, afraid that whispering would be enough to deafen him. Breaking hearts and blistering organs had never been so loud in his own ears. He wondered if Dream could hear it too.
Dream spoke before it could break him.
“Look, all is forgiven if you just, show me Kinoko.”
Maybe Dream had succeeded just a little, had weaselled his way in, just a little, because George folded, turned to observe the different directions around him.
Just a little.
“Uh… I don’t know the way actually. It’s like really far away as well, it’s-“
“Just, which way is it? Point which direction.”
“Uhh-“
George turned 180 degrees, back towards Dream, and quickly pointed his sword to the mountains in front of him.
“It’s like that way, I think. I don’t- I don’t really know.”
He wasn’t sure if he was being vague for himself, or for Kinoko.
Maybe he just wanted to keep Dream for little while longer. Savour the presence for just a little while longer.
“Oh. Okay.”
Dream didn’t move.
“It’s like, somewhere there.” George trailed off.
Dream still didn’t move. George was a little confused, under the impression that Dream would’ve taken the lead and run with it. Him staying put was ten times more surprising.
Maybe he’d changed.
George didn’t want to entertain the idea, but it plagued a fragile mind.
Instead of bolting, Dream turned to George, hope alight in green eyes.
“How much do you like Kinoko?”
“Well, I like it. It’s like, it’s all nice. The houses are warm. We’ve actually, well, last time I was there, there’s a community of people, not like now, like, no one’s even here, it’s just empty.”
You’d love it. You would have loved it. I want you to love it. Come with me.
Come home with me.
“All I have is this fish.”
George threw the fish at Dream, who smiled a little and picked it up gingerly. It made George smile.
“And you.”
Dream studied the fish in his hands as he spoke.
“Well how would you feel if, like, there was no one there. What if you joined me?”
George felt hope alight in his chest. Sunrise glow threatening to dethaw a broken heart as Dream spoke.
Yes. George wanted to scream. Yes, God, a thousand times over. Yes.
“And we burned it all down?”
George stared at Dream. And he laughed.
“Burned? What? Burn Kinoko?”
“Destroy it. Blow it all up.”
The sun dipped below the horizon again, and George felt nothing but cold. The smile fell from his face, and he felt his fists ball up at his sides.
“Why would I do that?”
“Cause.. Look. Sapnap has my armour set. And we can get it back, and you can have mine that I’m wearing right now.”
George squeezed his eyes shut. Memories of Dream fastening his own armour set around George’s smaller body back in the war for L’Manburgs independence played behind closed eyelids. He remembered Dream taking his sweet time and making George promise that he would come back to him without a scratch on his body. He remembered the care Dream had buckled the chest plate with, how safe he had felt on the battlefield, wrapped in Dream’s second skin. He remembered the soft kiss that Dream placed against the forefront of his netherite helmet, the way George had felt the love on his skin even through the purple material.
“Be brave, George.”
George focused back on Dream’s rambling, ignoring the phantom touch of lips on his forehead.
Not the right time.
“You said you need armour, you can have all the armour-“
“Well, I do, but like-“
“And all you need to do is just blow up-“
“Why would I-“
“The entire thing.”
Dream was speaking so softly, so calmly. All it did was tick George off further.
“Why would I destroy- Why would we destroy- Why do you want to destroy Kinoko?”
Dream stepped forward. Eyes wide, excited, buzzing with pent up energy.
“Because then Sapnap would have to give me the armour.”
George was silent, trying his best to make sense of the plan. He used to pride himself on knowing Dream, knowing his every move, his next step, his thought process, everything. But he couldn’t pick any of that. Not this time.
That didn’t mean he was going to give up.
“Wh- What’s the logic? We destroy Kinoko, and therefore Sapnap’s like-“ George held out his hands to Dream, mocking the high pitched voice Sapnap sported once upon a time, “Have the armour!”
Dream laughed. It was not kind. George shook his head.
Unbelievable.
“Is that what you’re saying?”
Dream glared at him. Slithers of green shining between blonde eyelashes.
“Yeah.”
George flung his hands down by his side, and refrained from running them through his hair. He was worried it might fall out due to emotional stress.
“Do you realise how stupid you sound?”
The words were nasty, said with a bite disguised in passive aggressive softness that had Dream’s eyes widening.
George knew what was coming.
Then came the yelling.
“You’re stupider than-“
“Look. I’m just trying to help you whether you like it or not-“
“Look. This is you. That’s what you look like right now.”
Dream looked over to the fish George had dropped on top of a yellow concrete block.
“What, a clown?”
“Yeah.”
“George.”
And then Dream pushed him.
“I’m destroying Kinoko whether you like it or not, okay?”
“Wait, stop.”
“George…”
George shoved back.
“You can’t destroy Kinoko.”
They stood a good distance from each other. George ignored the betrayal running through his bloodstream, both given and received.
“I’d never hurt you. You know that right, George?”
“I know, I’d never hurt you either.”
Dream had smiled. Morning sunshine shining through ivory canines.
“Please. You couldn’t even if you tried.”
“Oh, what are you going to do? Stop me? You already pointed me in the right direction-“
Dream was running. George saw it coming. He ran after him, repeatedly calling his name. He hated the way it bordered on desperate.
“What are you gonna do? You gonna come catch me?”
“You can’t destroy Kinoko-“
Dream stopped in his tracks, only to turn around and push him. Again.
“Dream, stop!”
“You couldn’t even catch me, George.”
The words were playful, frighteningly so, and executed with a less playful shove.
“Why are you hurting me?”
“George-“
“Why are you hurting me?”
“You’re an idiot.”
And maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea to snap in that moment, maybe it made him stupid, maybe it made him a fool.
It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t afraid.
“How am I an idiot?! I’m protecting the city!”
I’m protecting you too. Why can’t you see that.
“You’re not protecting anything!”
Dream started yelling again, and marched forward. George ducked out of the way, ending up on the ground. Not focusing on what Dream was saying, instead begging him to show mercy, trying to climb back to his feet.
How did we end up here.
“Stop! I don’t have any armour! I don’t have a shield-“
Dream stopped, back turned to him, and looked over his shoulder. He took in George, bleeding on the ground, and for a split second, George saw fiery regret flash over jade eyes. George had always been able to pick what Dream was saying through those eyes, and if the pure and utter brokenness in them was anything to go off, this fight wasn’t over yet.
Dream breathed slowly, in and out, and George watched the chest plate expand with the motion. Dream had his head angled up to the sky, and he ran both hands over his face, applying pressure to his eyes.
Holding back tears.
Vulnerability was rare, and short lived, but it gave George a little bit of hope.
However when Dream turned, George couldn’t see any softness left in green eyes, nor any anger. No passion, no love, no kindness, no sadness, no joy, no resentment, no regret, no excitement.
He saw nothing, and it was the first time Dream had scared him.
“Look here. Look, you can have a shield. There you go! I have an extra shield, just for you.”
Dream threw a shield at George, purple enchantment glimmering in the sun. George moved to pick it up hesitantly, not wanting to get too close to Dream.
Stranger danger.
His hesitancy was proven when Dream struck at him, axe coming down on his armour before he could block the blow with the shield.
“Dream.” He stood on shaky legs with a groan, rolling his shoulder to check it was still in place. Once he deemed all his bones were still in their sockets, he turned to face the other, who was still stone faced.
George sighed, and looked down.
“Dream, why are we fighting? It’s not funny.”
It wasn’t funny. Not like how it used to be, when they would playfully fight in the grass, with sticks instead of swords, with smiles instead of scowls. When Dream would playfully kiss all the grazes on George’s knees better, and run away giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush.
A hand grabbed his chin gingerly, and forced him to look up. When he did, Dream was so close that George could see the dusting of freckles against his nose. They were fainter then what they had once been, George wishes they were still that dark shade of brown.
When Dream spoke, his voice was quiet enough that someone standing a meter away wouldn’t have heard it. His voice was low, low enough that it rumbled through his entire chest.
The hand against his chin moved to his hair, brushing messy brown curls back. Fingertips scratched against his scalp, and George desperately tried not to lean into the tender touch, ignoring familiarity.
“Let’s destroy Kinoko together.”
George looked up at him, umber eyes begging under stubborn defiance.
“I don’t want to destroy it…”
“Come on, me and you.”
Be brave.
“I don’t want to destroy it.”
“Look, we can be a team, just like old times.”
George let himself imagine it. Imagined giving in, surrendering to his heart, going with Dream, following him to the place he called home, and burning it to the ground. He ached, and he hated himself for even entertaining the idea, let alone feeling the smallest pull towards acting on it.
Because it was all he wanted. A life with just him and Dream. One dipped in marigold sweetness, where it was just them, as a team. A life where they’re stay up talking until sunrise, and Dream would glow in the morning sunlight. Where they would tussle in overgrown grass, laugh at the way they were both covered in lime stains, and Dream would kiss his scratches and scrapes. Where they would lay under a blanket of stars, and instead of looking up at the marvel of the night sky, Dream would be looking at him.
He wanted to bring Dream his favourite flowers. To bring him jumpers made of the softest wool when nights were cold. He wanted to come home to the Dream he knew, with food to cook and a smile on his face.
He wanted a life where Dream would look at him and call him brave.
But if raiding Kinoko, setting everything alight, burning his own hometown, destroying everything him and the people of kink had worked for was what it took for Dream to call him brave again?
George could live without it. He’s had the pleasure of living with it once.
Once might have to be enough. That doesn’t mean he won’t bargain for twice.
“But, okay- How about, let’s just like, let’s just destroy something else?”
Dream stepped back.
“Look, George, If you’re not with me-
George stepped forward. Please listen.
“Listen, I’ve got a good idea!-“
Dream stepped back.
“If you’re not with me-“
George stepped forward. Please.
“Let’s-
Dream stepped back.
“If you’re not with me, you’re against me George.”
George didn’t move.
They stared at each other.
George let himself be desperate.
“Let’s just destroy, like, Tommy’s house or something! Tommy’s dumb, and stupid.”
George knew it was low. Knew it was a cop out, knew that he was practically begging Dream to stay by saying that.
Remember? Remember how much you hated him? I would do that for you.
It didn’t change anything.
“Look his house is right here, look!’
George turned around, and stalked off.
Dream followed.
“Make a decision. Right now.”
George continued.
“Look his house is-“
Dream shoved him, George stumbled.
“Are you with me? Or are you against me, George?”
“Look, let’s go-
Another shove.
“George?”
“Let’s go- Tommy’s house is-“
Another shove, George’s ankle gave out, and it caused him to turn around and yell out in pain.
“Make a decision.”
“Stop!”
“Make the decision.”
“Stop shoving me!”
Dream didn’t listen.
“Make. The. Decision.”
The words were punctuated with a push, each one of them, George felt broken.
“Why are you hurting me!?”
I’m going to die. I’m going to die.
“Are you with me? Or are you against me, George?”
George looked to Dream, and his vision was blurred. He faintly registered wetness against his cheeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to wipe them.
George walked backwards, with every step, Dream followed.
They did nothing but stare at each other for several moments. George caved, and bared his all in a single word.
“Dream.”
Jade eyes softened only momentarily, before stoning over into hard, unfeeling grey.
George knew he had lost.
“Now.”
George stayed silent, whipping his head around as he tripped slightly over his feet. When he turned back to Dream, he was closer than before.
“Three.”
“Dream.”
Please don’t do this.
“Two.”
George had lost.
He turned to run. But Dream had always been quicker.
“Stop!”
Dream caught up in seconds, sticking a netherite boot clad foot in George’s path, tripping him badly enough to have him seeing stars. His head hit the hard dirt below him, and his vision swam as he scrambled to his knees.
Through ringing ears, he heard the crunching of netherite boots against the grainy dirt. A figure came into focus, and blonde hair caught in unforgiving sunlight.
Dream stood over him, axe flipping in his right hand, shield protecting him in the other.
Cool metal found itself under George’s chin, keeping his head angled upward to look at Dream.
Despite everything, George looked up at Dream, and still saw the man he loved.
Despite everything, George looked up at Dream, and he smiled.
Despite how much he wanted to close his eyes, he kept them open, staring up at Dream as he raised the blunt of his axe.
Brave until the end.
“Bye George.”
For himself, George hoped that he had good dreams, and his head didn’t hurt when he awoke.
For Dream, he hoped the pain of hurting his first, and final attachment was worse than the pain of George’s head hitting the ground.
He would never know it, but it was.