tw: death
"what keeps you up at night?
what keeps dream up at night? it might be the beaming light outside, it might be the bad sleep schedule that makes him sleep at 2 am. it might be the birds chirping and the crickets outside at dusk, it might be nature's singing or the way he's just not tired.
it might be because a particular moment keeps replying in his mind or the nightmares that haunt him.
it might be the past and the way he can't move on, the way he can't let go. it might be because he can't cut off the string that binds him to the chains with the past.
it might be the fact that he can't forget, that the memory would always be in his mind, haunting him every day and every night, the way that the silence in the dark would make the voices louder, the memory vivid.
it might be the fact that on one particular night at 3 am when george was driving back home from a trip, a drunk mess crashed into him.
it might be the fact that george was bleeding, unconscious and dream had no protection to give.
it might be the fact that the loud sirens still ring in his ear while he had no idea, sound asleep.
it might be the fact that one night, george's mother called and sobbed to the younger boy.
it might be the fact that the news broke the poor boy into pieces.
it might be the fact that his heart was shattered into millions of little pieces that no one could pick up, not even himself.
it might be the fact that he had to sit anxiously as he booked a plane ticket to england.
it might be the fact that he couldn't protect the divine angel that he swore he would.
"the past, i guess."
it haunts him to death, he hates the past. he can't let go of it.
those are the only reasons that he could think of.
it hurt so bad.
the call he got from george's mother — he was heartbroken.
the scream he let out on his friend's stream — he cried every single night.
he wished that he was still here, he wished that they could've at least met.
and that the meetup didn't have to be dream sitting on a blue plastic chair, running his thumb over george's delicate fingers while he was on life support.
"why?"
"my friend died."
he died, just like that.
he wished that they would've just ran away to a lonesome town, nowhere to be found so that he didn't have to die a painful death.
he wish he could open his eyes again and hear the soft voice of george again.
and the worst part was that
"why did it hurt so bad?"
"i loved him."
fin.
YOU ARE READING
honey kisses
Fanfictiondreamnotfound oneshots :) i only write fluff and angst. i do not wish to write smut, lime or lemon though i will mention sexual themes sometimes but on very rare occasions. i only ship their minecraft personas! if they are ever uncomfortable with sh...
