Love Bites

Chapter 13: Mending Faith

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It's a quiet night at George's place. The two are seated in his living room. The sounds of the night dance outside the house, but nothing comes in. The house is silent, save for the sound of George's pulse in his ears. He wonders if Dream can hear it. Telling from what he knows about vampires and their enhanced senses, George knows he probably can. His fingers twitch restlessly at the thought, still struggling to embrace the full ramifications of Dream being a real, actual vampire.

A vampire that is currently sitting an arms length away from him on his couch. Calm. Not attacking him.

It's strangely comforting. Not in the normal sense, but knowing that Dream is able to control himself around George, and actively chooses to stay, well...

It makes him feel selfish. So, so selfish. Dream is this way for him. For him alone.

Although surreal, he loves it.

He feels a finger tap lightly on the back of his hand, catching his attention, looking up into Dream's uncertain expression expectantly.

"George, I haven't been completely honest with you." Dream says slowly, almost sounding as if he didn't want to say it at all.

Oh.

I thought we were done with secrets.

How much else could he have hidden from me? What else could I not know after all of this?

George looks at him, not upset but feeling tense and hurt. His muscles are tight beneath his skin. He waits, prompting Dream to elaborate.

"When I was a kid," Dream sighs, collecting his thoughts. "I-I quickly realized I'd have to hurt a human whether I liked it or not if...I wanted to live like other vampires."

George nods, unsure of where this could be going. It makes him uneasy nonetheless.

"And one day, there was a boy. Only looked a little older than me." Dream says, voice shaking for an unknown reason. "I'd tried to kill him. But I soon realized that...I didn't have it in me." The words are forced out of his mouth, the whole conversation feeling as though his teeth were being pulled.

George stiffens, imagining a ruthless, young Dream attempting to kill another boy. Even after seeing him kill that other vampire before, it's a hard image to make in his head. Dream wasn't a killer at heart. It's weird to consider that he could do such a thing to a human, let alone a child. He nods, withholding judgement for the time being. "Okay..."

"It was too late by the time I realized I didn't want him dead. He was already...bleeding out..."

How familiar.

George feels an unease rising in his throat, feeling as if something were about to crash in on him. What does this have to do with me?

"B-But, he didn't...he didn't die, George." Dream mutters, gaze narrowed down at his own hands which were now retracted in towards himself, his frame trembling slightly. "But I remember the worst injury I left was..."

A pause. George stares him down, needing to know what was so important that Dream of all people couldn't say it out loud. So he pushes, voice low. "What?"

Dream sinks into the couch cushions. "I left a really deep gash...in your left shoulder."

George stares. He feels suspended in time, and everything clicks at once.