7 reason why we don't work. (DNF)

The Dream (George POV)

To my Dream,

I'm thinking about you. God, I'm always thinking about you. My brain never stops ticking and turning, filling my head with thoughts and feelings and desires, all for you. Only for you Dream. I can still remember the day when my hands grasped your waist, wrapping around you. Oh, how I want us to be there, three years ago, next to me. All we were thinking about was each other, and that was all we needed. My problems faded away into thin air when you kissed me Dream. Please come back, come back to me, come back to my love, my affection. My dear Dream, I need you back.

Love, so much more than your friend,

George.

George was asleep, but restless, tossing and turning in his sleep. Anxious terrible thoughts filled his subconscious like waves in a vast sea, so great and powerful they had the ability to envelope and grasp his mind.  Sweat dripped down his forehead and he slammed his fist on his pillow, causing the bed to make a loud creaking noise. His head was filled with blurry images and thoughts, but what stood out was one feeling: desire. Desire for love, for affection, for the mere touch and grasp of someone who loved. And out of the shadows of his mind and the images that haunted him from his past stepped a tall man. The man was hidden by dark reflections of the huge brick buildings surrounding him but George could see enough to get a glimpse of him. The man was wearing a dark gray long t-shirt covering most of his arms, but was tight enough that it framed his muscular figure. He had a pair of blue jeans on and was wearing something, something that felt familiar, but George couldn't pinpoint it.

His mask! That was it, the man was wearing a familiar white circular mask covering his face, with a small black smiley face painted onto it. Dream! George felt a burst of relief seeing his best friend who he cared so deeply about instead of a unfamiliar tall figure. He ran to Dream, wrapping his thin long arms around Dreams torso, and tilting his heads upwards to see Dream's face. Dream, instead of hugging hi back, took off his mask. George's face turned white, for he had been waiting for this moment his whole life, to see the face of his best friend, the person who had saved him through all of his tough times. But he wasn't ready, nor would he ever be, George turned away but out of the corner of his eye saw that Dream's face was in fact a blurred imagine. He was disappointed, but relieved at the same time. But then Dream did something that turned George's face red as the drops of blood that stained Dream's mask in his hand. Dream bent down, grasped George's face with his hands, and gently kissed his lips. George couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, the air rushed out of his lungs and his face was frozen.

He remembered all of his memories with Dream, the times where he laughed so hard he fell out of his seat gasping for air. When Dream had comforted him with his smooth like honey voice, when George had promised that they would see each other, face to face, and they would hug. They would hug for hours and hours, their arms wrapped around each other, never ready to let go. Just the two of them, like how it was now. Except they were kissing.

Fuck this, George thought, and quickly brought his mouth to kiss back. Suddenly, all of his memories, dreams, and fears were gone and it was just him and Dream, it was perfect, and it felt right. But it was oh so wrong. George sat up suddenly gasping for air, and panting and sweat trickled down his forehead. Dream. It was all a dream. He turned his head, secretly, even though he wouldn't admit it, hoping to see Dream's blurry face staring back at him. He just wanted to relive that kiss, over and over again, never stopping. He sighed, reaching his hand over to grab his hoodie and pull it over his bare chest. he felt the comforting touch of the soft fabric as it enveloped and wrapped around him. George rubbed his blurry eyes, and stood up to walk to the hallway, passing his familiar surroundings, and his worn out and dirty gaming chair, he would sit in to call Dream. Dream. The memories of his dream came flooding back, but he suppressed them, trying to trick a part of his brain into thinking it never happened. That didn't work.

George, trying to distract himself, shuffled down the hallway to cook his breakfast, hoping after he would be able to get back to laughing and talking to his two best friends, Dream and Sapnap. The two people who saved him when he needed them most, who gave him everything he has today, But after his dream, one particularly stood out that he had to talk too. He shook that passing thought away and focused on frying his single, pitifully small egg for his breakfast at- he checks his watch- 3 pm. Great.  He served up his egg, eagerly shoving his drawers open and grabbing a knife, a little too quickly. It slices the edge of his finger, and he curses loudly in pain, dropping the knife and grabbing his finger. The knife, falls to the floor making an ear-splitting clang and then rattles softly as it hits his counters. He drops to the floor to pick up the knife and throws it in the sink. He then get s new one and eats his eggs, and just as he is about to finish he hears his phone ring. He shoves the last bite into his mouth and runs frantically to answer his phone before the call goes away.

George clears his throat quickly then says in a sourly cheerful voice, "Hello, George speaking how may I help you?" He falls quiet and hears a burst of familiar giggles erupt on the other side of the phone. It sounds a suspicious amount like the voices of his two friends. "DREAM! SAPNAP!" He shouts in disbelief into the phone.

"That's us!" Responds Sapnap teasingly, but his voice is muffled for some odd reason and the quality is terrible. George suddenly remembers something, something that changes the situation greatly.

"How did you get my phone number?" George questions, "It only works if you're in..." he pauses and stands numb. "You can't be."

Over the phone, George hears the sound of Dream snatching what seems like a heavy phone from Sapnap and brings it to his mouth, so close that George can hear his uqick breathing. His cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"George," Dream shouts. "We are in Brighton!" George can almost hear his smile over the call, his wide grin and the soothing rythym of his voice echoes in George's head.  Then Dream's words began to sink in and suddenly he's numb and the world seems to fade around him, until its just George and Dream, but this time only a few miles apart instead of 2000.