Be here with me?

~chapter eight~

tw: mentions of homophobia, Brandon, slight panic attack?

George's POV

The movie had just finished and I was pretty happy, I felt good. We watched 'Moana' because it seemed like a good movie to watch. Plus I felt happy seeing Dream get all giddy watching the princess sing. He's a big softy deep down, but his protective side is cute too. Thinking about it now, I don't think I thanked  him.

"Hey Dream?" We were  walking towards his bedroom.

"Yeah?" He still hadn't looked at me, he was getting his shorts from his dresser. Assuming he would go change into them.

"Uh, thank you for helping me earlier tonight. I don't think I said that  before."

"Thank you? Thank you for what?" He still wouldn't look at me, but I didn't think much of it.

"You saved me from getting punched by that guy, I mean hell you beat him up."

"Well he was going to hit you, I was obviously going to hit him for even thinking of it." He paused all movements and then continued, "Couldn't let that pretty face of yours get hit now, hm?"

"You idiot." He did his classic wheeze but still didn't turn around, now I was a little confused.

"I'm going to change in the bathroom, you can change out here, I suppose you hurry cause I'm a quick changer. That is unless you want to put a show."

"DREAM." I was definitely red right now, good thing he had already gone into the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Both Dream and I were done getting dressed and I told him I would be back. Shockingly he still wouldn't look at me so I felt the need to do something. I went down the hall to his kitchen and opened the freezer. Thankfully, he had an icepack. I knew his hand would still be hurting since he hit that man hard.

I headed back to his room with the icepack and he was just on his phone, he looked a little troubled.

"Everything alright?"

"Hm? Oh yeah just Sapnap."

"Oh, well I brought you an icepack for your hand, I know it's a little later but it's better late than never."

"Oh thank you." He grabbed the icepack and sat up against the headboard with his back pressed against it. I copied his movements just scrolling on my phone.

"George."

A dark pit grew in my stomach, he sounded serious, a little too serious. "Y-yeah?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"George don't do that."

"What. What do you want to know."

"Why couldn't you stay in London? Why were you crying on your birthday when I called you? What... what happened at your parents?"

There it was. The million dollar question. What exactly happened at my parents? The fact that my Dad yelled at me? Shunned me? Called me a disappointment? A no one? A sorry excuse of a nobody to call son? Or the fact that my own mother, the woman who birthed me turned her back on me? Or maybe the weird brother-in-law who gave me his number and eyed me like a piece of damn meat and felt up my cheek. How was I suppose to tell him that. That I liked the same gender, that I was bisexual. How would he feel about sharing the same bed as me? I don't mean to be a disappointment, I can't control it. Especially not when my feelings, are for him. Why is it so wrong to love someone? The very family who always left me as the black sheep finally killed me, they ripped my heart out and basically threw it out the door alongside me. Aren't parents suppose to mend their kid's broken hearts? Not break them?