Inferno // dreamnotfound

e p i l o g u e

Wow.

It was finally the day. 

Nine years and the one thing keeping Dream from insanity was the fact that he might possibly see George again. In the back of his mind, it sounded ridiculous. After all this time, how could he at all expect George to have kept his word about being the one to pick him up?

You might be thinking: how could he have possibly have gotten such a small sentence for what he did?

Well, with a combination of offering the police Wilbur and information about the type of operation they had going on and that they could only tie the casino incident to him and that was considered second-degree manslaughter. All of that meant he had to serve a minimum of nine years before he could get out on parol.

Even if it meant getting beaten up, Dream made sure to stay peaceful the entire time to ensure he'd get out as soon as possible. And it all paid off because now he would finally be free of it. 

He'd never have to commit a crime again and could just live out the rest of his life trying to make up for it in any way that he could, although he knew the guilt would never leave.

After changing into casual clothes - a strange look compared to the orange getup he'd sported for almost a decade. Dream looked at himself in the mirror, his hair was far overgrown, slight stubble now formed on his chin and jawline and a few more lines than before.

But it was only now that he finally saw himself. 

The handcuffs were removed for the last time and he was ushered out to the waiting area, where he made a phone call.

"Hello?"

That voice. It seemed to be a melody in Dream's ears after not hearing it for so long.

"Hi, George," I said, my throat suddenly go dry as the other side went silent.

"C-clay?" the voice came now as more of a whisper of disbelief.

"Yeah, it's me," I breathed with a smile. "I can't believe you remembered my voice."

"How could I forget?" he said softly. "Do you need a lift, then?"

"Yeah, I'm out now, at last," Dream said.

"Ok, I'm on my way then, hold tight," George said before whispering a 'goodbye' and hanging up.

Dream took a seat on one of the PVC coated chairs that would normally stick to your legs but the tattered sweatpants protected his. His knee bounced unconsciously in anticipation of finally seeing George again. 

Not long later, the door creaked open and a different, yet familiar pale figure came through. Dream's eyes widened at the sight and he shot up from his seat, much to George's surprise.

"George."

"Clay."

Barely taking their eyes off each other, they strode across the room, landing in a tight grip of each other. They just stayed in silence, just basking in the pure existence of each other in the same room and actually touching.

"My God, did I miss you," Dream spoke quietly into George's hair. George giggled at the feeling.

"Yeah, I missed you a lot, too," he replied warmly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But we can talk about all that stuff later," Dream told him quickly.

"Do you have somewhere you can go or...?"

Oh yeah. Dream had lost pretty much everything obviously, and because he gave up Wilbur, the orphanage was no more (the children moved somewhere else) so he couldn't go back there. Not that he wanted to though.