Wilting Flowers of Love (A DreamHusband Angst)

Wilting Flowers of Love

He loves me.

His thoughts were crusaded by storms of insecurities, a pink, soft petal dropping onto the grass. Sickly, perfume burned in the sun. Taking deep breaths, he kept thinking to himself. It'll all be okay.

He loves me not.

Their noses rubbed against each other as they chortled like children, his hands submerged into his lover's curly black hair.

Euphoria held them together as they laid across their bed, the sheets folded, their blanket kicked to the side, their fan spinning its blades, the wind exploring the jungle of their room.

"Corpse...?" He whispered,

"Mhm...?" He hummed, eyes closed, though smiling at Dream's voice,

"Do you...ever think that could get married?" He giggled, his hand rubbing against Corpse's waist, lifting his t-shirt up slightly.

"Hm...Yeah... I want us to be together, forever."

He loves me.

Silence reeked across the house, they slept together, they ate together, they watched TV together, but love was the only thing that never brought them together.

It was getting colder. More empty. Their love for each other was draining.

Dream spoke to Corpse, taking him outside, having dates. It always ended up with Corpse on his phone. He smiled at his phone more than Dream has ever tried.

"Hey Corpse...?"

"Hm?"

"You--You love me, right?"

"Huh? Oh... Of course I do! Why would you think I wouldn't... " He didn't even look up, not sparing a single glance at Dream.

He loves me not.

Corpse stared at the texts. He knew it was wrong, all of it was wrong. He admired Dream's dedication, he held onto the relationship as tight as he could, only Corpse could be the one to pry his fingers off of the ledge of the building.

He loves me.

"Dream," He says, his breath frosted by the cold weather of December.

They walked slowly, the park felt dead, bare. Nothing was between the two, almost as if they were strangers. Their laughters etched in dirt.

"Yeah?" Dream asks, Corpse trembles slightly, feeling dizzy slightly, wanting to collapse into the abyss of darkness.

"Do you remember when you asked...If I loved you...?" Corpse questioned, his eyes fixated on the pavement, cheap sneakers buried inches deep into the snow.

Dream hesitates, "... Yes... Why?"

"Dream--I was lying."

Late night winter. The two stood in front of each other, bewildered.

"... What?"

"I lied, Dream. I don't love you..." He admitted, culpability consumed him, he was a coward, unable to look at Dream in the eye.

"Why...? Did I do something wrong... ?" His eyes were lustrous, brimming with tears and fear. Corpse couldn't stand Dream's facial expression, his eyebrows arched upwards as silence loomed over them, he didn't have the courage to go on. He couldn't go on.

Dream was wrecked.

All the years of being together, how many was it?

Too many.

"Dream... You didn't do anything wrong... I just - I just don't love you anymore." Corpse whispers, "I fell out of love, Dream. I'm sorry."

-He loves me not.