suddenly // dnf, gream, dreamnotfound

Mission

A/N TYSM FOR LIKE 270 READS IM SO EXCITED :))

clay pov//

He wakes up slowly, eyes blinking slower and then faster. The room is pitch black, and George is in his arms. Do I wake him up? What time is it?

He reaches for his phone and taps the screen without waking up George. 1:07 am.

He looks at George in his arms. His breathing is steady, chest rising and falling with each breath. Clay stares at him for a bit. Sure, it's a little creepy, but something about George with his guard down just soothes Clay in a way. So vulnerable, but protected at the same time. I'm here.

Clay smiles and unwraps himself from George carefully and quietly. He releases a breath of relief when George doesn't wake up. He moves slowly as he gets up out of bed and closes the door behind him as he exits the room.

He stands there, clueless for a moment. His mind fogs up and his stomach twists but... why? He breath is interrupted and he tries to steady himself.

Suddenly, it hits him like a wave. And he's drowning in it for a moment, and then he's swimming. His cheeks warm up and he clutches his stomach, which is flying with emerging wings.

It's tonight. He has to do it now. George is a asleep. He's awake.

He knows what he needs to do.

Clay goes to the island and quickly, frantically, pulls out a notepad and paper. He scribbles fast - but legible - that he's leaving and will be back soon, sometime in the morning. He signs it with: "Love, Dream." He re-reads the note. Again. And then again. Trying to steady his breathing, to keep him from not falling over.

I'm doing this.

He finally sets the pen down with a faint slap. He looks around at the quiet house, as though it's yelling at him. Clay feels trapped in a way, but the walls seem as if they're just getting wider and wider.

He quietly runs to the door, light on his feet, and throws on his zip up that was on the chair. He then kneels down and ties his shoes on, breath heavy, but lightening up little by little.

He opens the door and the outside air chills him with a sudden breeze. He breathes in the cold air, the light sting dancing down his nostrils.

He gets in his car and turns the key, the car roaring to life. Please don't wake up George. He waits a moment, then reverses the car into the street. He shifts the gear and starts onto the road. He pulls over for a second and pulls out his phone.

Blue roses near me

—

He pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. He moves swiftly, his mind set on the prize.

"Hello, how can I help you sir? And why are you here this late??" a lady asks him, sitting at a desk parallel from the door.

"Why are you guys open this late? I need blue roses."

"Fair point. Follow me," she responds, and stands up.

—

He exits the building, flowers in his hand. He had even asked for a container so that they wouldn't fall or break. God forbid anything happened to George's flowers.

He looks over at the pot in his front seat. He pats the rim of the pot. He pauses, and then he buckles the seatbelt over the flowers carefully. Nothing in this universe will go wrong.

He pauses in the car, his hands on the wheel. He nervously taps the outside of it. What's next? He rethinks the entire situation out in his head. He thinks, hard, and strokes the wheel with faint stress. He opens the car window and breathes the sting again. He can feel it slightly start to warm up as night turns to day. Very, very slowly, taking its time.

He reaches out for his phone and clicks the app he was looking for. When is it? He scrolls and looks. 6:13am. Okay. "Okay," Clay says to himself. He tightens his grip on the wheel. He can do this.

He looks at the time on the dashboard of the car. 4:26. He didn't realize the flower shop was so far away. He had been listening to his playlist (stuffed with love songs and longing) for a while, but he had never actually realized how far it was. He would make it home just in time for his last stop, and then he would be ready.

He reverses out of the parking lot, going onto the road again.

He makes his last few stops at Home Depot and Bed Bath and Beyond. He makes a few searches on his phone, recharges his car with gas, and finds the spot.

Within a little while, he's ready.

—

In the car, parked in George's driveway, he hesitates. He's gotten dressed, and he's all cleaned up.

His hand hovers over the call button. He would wake him up and he would come in the car, and then he would tell him. He would do it. His thumb shakes, tempting him. Mocking him. Press it, you're all prepared. It will be fine.

Suddenly it rushes over him. He remembers the night when they had felt it. It was there. He remembers. George will, too, right?

The call button mocks him. It stares him straight in the face, burning a hole in his eyes. His eyes cross on accident. He uncrosses them and his trembling thumb twitches and hits the call button. Damn it. I could have at least done it a little more gracefully. 

He shakily raises the phone to his ear.

After multiple rings, he answers.

"Clay?" George asks, his voice whiny and sleepy.  George. God. "Where are you? Why are you calling me? Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine, George," he assures him, bouncing his leg now. Well, not fine, per say, but safe. "Anyways.. um... can you get dressed and come outside? I'm in the car."

"What?? Why? Clay it's the middle of the morninggg."

"Just um... dress nicely. Ish. You don't need to like, shower or anything, just put a shirt on and come. I could care less about it actually."

George yawns on the line and Clay's stomach turns. "Okay, Dream, whatever you say. What are you planning?"

"Just come. Do you want me to stay on call while you get dressed?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be right out." George makes a noise that Clay assumes is him stretching. Clay can hear his bones crack over the phone.

"Okay, George. I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Dream."

"Bye, George!" Clay smiles to himself and hangs up. He drops his phone in his lap and runs his hands through his hair. I can do this. It's just George.

Just George. Clay's heart skips a beat.

His hands sweat and he rubs them on his pants. "It will be fine," he says to himself quietly. "Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear. Stop it stop it stop it...."

Clay shakes his hands out and breathes, trying to calm himself down.

Eventually, George comes out of the house. He locks the door behind him and when he comes closer into view, he is as beautiful as ever. His heart beats faster and faster as George opens the car door. He bends his head down into the car.

"What are you doing?"

His hair is messy, and it's perfect. Clay wants to run his hands through it. His shirt is buttoned up all the way except for the top one, and he's wearing sweatpants. He's so utterly beautiful it makes Clay's heart churn.

"Dream? Hello?"

"Oh. Sorry. Just get in, I have a surprise."

"Is it bad? Will I hate it?"

His stomach drops for a second. "No. At least... I hope not...."