feel my hands. (dnf x gream)

Chapter Twelve: Communication

He knew. He knew that George had to leave sooner or later, so why did it still hurt?

"Y—you just said you weren't going to leave though." His tongue was heavy and numb.

"I know, Dream. I'm—"

Dream cut him off forcefully. "No, you can't go. Sapnap's going too, you can't leave." He was going to be alone again; contact reduced to a screen and green rings. He didn't want that. He wanted to feel George beside him, not see him through a computer. And worst of all, what if they reverted back to their old ways? Went back to ignoring the elephant in the room?

George pressed a cool palm to his forehead. "I know that and I'm sorry, Dream, just let me explain."

Dream quieted, and for a moment, George considered texting the number on his phone to call the entire thing off. He detested the wounded look on Dream's face. He wanted it gone.

"Dream, I'm very thankful that you told me everything," he dictated carefully, "and I'm sorry for lashing out earlier. I was stressed, and it was in the heat of the moment. I'm not upset with you." Dream nodded begrudgingly, casting his eyes to the corner of the room. "I think... I think it's time we have a talk?"

The younger recoiled, tension latching onto his limbs. He repeated the words calmly, his expression unable to match the words that he echoed. "Um. I mean..."

"We've been having communication issues, right from the very start." A wince found its way to George. "It's messing everything up."

A talk? Dream was everything except ready for a talk. He sensed that George could see it, too. But if George was ready... maybe this is where the line is drawn, he thought to himself, maybe this is where you see the maturity difference. George really is mature, now that I think about it.

He hated the idea, though.

There's a 1 in 7.5 trillion chance that it ends up good. He bit back a smile.

But what if it made everything awkward? A talk, at the expense of their careers? He knew George liked him. He liked George too—he liked him a lot. But he didn't want to start something that wouldn't end well, something that would end like... last time. Like Sam.

What if George got bored of him? What if George decided that Dream wasn't who he expected him to be? What if George met a cuter guy or a smarter girl? Was it worth it? It was only reasonable for him to hold onto this fraying string for as long as he could; it wasn't going to last, so he might as well make the best of it.

"What do you say?"

He pouted childishly. "No."

"Dream, we need to talk."

"We do not."

George huffed. "How am I supposed to figure out your feelings, then? If you don't voice them to me?"

I don't expect you to. Sorry, George, but I want to protect what we have. Dream decided then that it was a good moment to give him the silent treatment.

After a few minutes, George took his wrist and led him back to the couch, sitting him down. Dream didn't dare look anywhere but to his side, fearing that if he did meet eyes with the older, he'd crash completely.

He hadn't missed the thoughtful expression that passed over George's face.

"I have three days. I can stay one night after Sapnap, and then I'm going home."

"Home is here."

"Yes, right here. Sitting beside me."

Dream was no longer sure if he wanted to ask the question, but it dipped below his tongue and into the air before he could think it over. "Then are you... are you coming back home?"