Category Four //dnf//

1.8

Dream stared at him, slowly backing sway.

He smiled.

"Oops." Guilt. He turned him away like he had many times.

Nothing felt the same. The same meaning the same as the other times he's shut the door on George and turned a blind eye to him. How could he do this if he loved him? He thought of his sad words he cried to him in hopes he would understand.

He did.

He understood too well.

The long road home only held more questions and pain. Thoughts, and rain. The storm quietly died down still with harsh wind punching Dream's body as he walked home.

He could care less about the tire he would feel later the pain of later. Because that was later's problem. Everything was always later's problem. Everything.

Everything was always his fault. His fault.

Everything.

Worry built up. Thoughts of prison and shame. He knew he had to give up eventually. Eventually. Sooner or later he would come clean. He preferred sooner rather then later.

What's it worth saving a life not worth living? This life wasnt his to live. His only hope was gone.

It was his fault. Just like everything was.

Each step brought another weight on his shoulders. A ball and chain attached to his feet as his mind throbbed with thoughts and rushing memories. He thought of all the good times he had ever had. His SMP, his streams George.

George.

George.

He realized his entire world revolved around George like he was his sun. He was his sun.

Sun.

Sun.

Sun.

He felt his body move along the sidewalk. It was empty. Wind pushed him every now and then, knocking him around if he let it. A wakeup call. George's words clung to him. Spoke to him.

'WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR HEAD?!' He thought.

"What the fuck is wrong with my head.?" He repeated.

Everything seemed to move slower. Maybe it was everything all at once coming down.

A reality check.

Time waits for no one.

He's now reminded about that every few minutes. Pictures of George were shown to him by his mind. Almost like a way of saying,

'Look what you did look what you did you you did look what you did look what you did-' his thoughts were cut off as he heard someone behind him.

"Dream!" It sounded just like George.

George.

He looked sound, fog and mist from the heavy rain laid low to the ground. Puddles formed and a small lake ran down the street.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Was there ever anything in the first place? Probably not. The slim chance there was anything, if there was anything, has been stolen anyways.

"I guess I shouldn't have got my hopes up." He told himself.

"Rather live in despair if it meant my hopes wouldn't be crushed." Dream continued down the sidewalk.