A Demonic Dance

Chapter Fifty Two: Trust

Just want to apologise in advance if I'm not reply to comments as my usual exited self, my cats health is depleting really fast so it's just not really a happy time at the moment

My A/N will still be cheerful as I wrote most of them in advance but yeah. Also thanku for 25.5k reads!

Two weeks.

It's funny what can happen in two weeks.

Bad and skeppy had left back to America, albeit reluctantly but go they did.

Two weeks.

It's funny what can happen in two weeks.

George had barely coped 30 minutes. Now it had been two weeks.

The snow that night may not have settled but the cold sure did and soon enough Brighton's streets were icy, each breath a cold mist that frozeevery surface it touched.

Not that George would have noticed.

It had taken four days of breakdowns and spontaneous attacks to his furniture for everything to really set in. For the reality of what had happened to take him by the hand and engulf him.

It had taken the rest of those weeks for him to shut himself down completely. It was part grief and part desperation. I mean, what else was he supposed to do?

Once he had, eventually, pulled himself together he had devoted the time he wasn't spending curled in a ball, looking for Dream.

'Never, no matter what leave within 5 miles of me.'

It must have been the most useful command George had ever given, because at least he meant Dream wasn't really gone, but at the same time it most probably meant hell for Dream. He most probably still thought the human despised him -I mean, who wouldn't after what he had said- and knowing you had to stay away from someone you loved while never actually being able to leave them sounded like hell.

It did however help the fact that it made Dream easier to find -not that he even knew what he would do when he found him. He was desperate. Maybe everything really hadn't sunk in, maybe he was still confused. What he did know however was, as stated earlier, he had fucked up.

He had been laying on his bed when it had happened, struggling through another Dreamless night (In the context of the demon and dreams in general). He'd been so consumed with emotions: guilt, anger, regret, frustration. He had been lying there, nothing to do and no one to hold, left alone with his thoughts.

And his thoughts had led him to Dream's face.

Dreams face, his smile, his laugh, the thousands of tiny freckles that crowned his nose, the way his mouth curled before he did something stupid or the look in his eyes before he leaned in, ready to pull George into a kiss.

Dream's face, his frowns, his screams, his cry's, the worry that corrupted his face as the human was hurt; the distress and sorrow as Georges words had sunk in on that night.

His thoughts led him back to Dream, standing in the apartment after speaking with the male demon, back to the way his smile grew as soon as he saw the human, the look in his eyes.

At first, when he looked, he had found nothing. But now he was beginning to believe maybe there was something. Maybe he had seen love in those eyes. Maybe, like always, he had just been too blind to see it.

Maybe all of it had just been for nothing, procrastinating over something that should never have been procrastinated over in the first place.

That was the first realisation that had come to him, and the second realisation, was that he'd fucked up and he needed Dream back.