Torn Souls

18. You, me, and no one else.

Unless you have been gifted with being a morning person, mornings tend to be quite miserable. Despite the baby yellow rays reflecting off of the dew filled plants and the birds greeting the sun, most people would simply rather return to their comfy cozy mattress. In most unfortunate cases one's eyes grow heavy and unopened causing for a conundrum.

Luckily for George, who lay tangled in his lovers arms, it was only Saturday. However, the soft breaths of his said lover trickled down the back of his neck kept him awake. After living in his bland apartment for three years, he took notice of the considerably darker than normal living room. Then to the noticeably bigger couch and blankets. Someway- somehow, he had been moved into the comfort of his bed.

He didn't mind though. George snuggled further into Dream's arms. His back met against his chest. Even through the thin material of his shirt, he could feel the spark between them. Their bodies fit together like a puzzle. It's almost as if they were built for each other. He wondered if it was selfish to wish Dream hadn't died. Was it selfish for him to wish that Dream's heart was still beating and his body was warm and he was a living human? Or was that a rational wish?

George's soft fingertips traced up and down the ghost's forearm that was casted over his waist. He could only hope that they were written in the stars and were still meant to be. That whatever enchanted euphoria this was would never disappear. Unfortunately, any sensible person understands all good things, such as this, must come to an end. In this case particularly, death.

A sharp inhale came from behind him, placing George back into his surreal reality. A gasp escaped his mouth when Dream's arm squeezed his side unexpectedly. He looked over his shoulder to the man behind him, who was now stretching and making that odd noise one makes while stretching. He chuckled at his scrunched up face before flipping to his other side to face Dream.

"Don't laugh at me." Dream scoffed as the other snuggled back into his bare chest. His hand combed gently through George's deep chestnut hair. "What do you want to do today?"

"Stay right here. With you." He took in the fresh earthy scent that latched itself to Dream. "It's my day off so I'm not going anywhere." He protested tightening his grip before there was even an argument.

"Not even getting something to eat?" Dream smiled in admiration at his ridiculousness.

"No." He assured. "I don't want to see nobody. Absolutely no one."

"Oh... I guess I better go then." The ghost frowned and summoned a fake tear.

"Oh shut up. You know what I meant." He rolled his eyes in false annoyance, Reaching to wipe the fake tear. "It'll be just you, me, and absolutely no one else."

However long George initially wished to stay in bed, did not happen. It was around noon when Dream began to grow restless and tired of the boring, bland, and dim bedroom setting. Did he have to carry a grudging George into the living room and to the windowsill? Yes. However, he now had his favorite monster in hand and a nice look of the city in the oh so glorious sun beams.

"It's quiet in here." George noted, sitting crisscross facing Dream. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, green irises looking over the burnet's shoulder and down into the noisy traffic below. "No no. I mean like, there's no... enjoyable noise." They both knew George liked the noisy traffic, it reminded him he wasn't so alone. "Okay- you know what I mean. Shut up."

Dream only laughed at his ridiculousness. "And what do you suggest we do about this?"

"I feel like you're patronizing me." He crossed his arms and gave Dream a side glare. This only fed into his laughter.

"I- I am not." His laughter turned into wheezes, eventually getting the brit to join in. "No seriously, what do you want to do?"

George pondered, unsure of where to go with his 'its too quiet' statement. "Okay, we could... exchange music? Like favorite songs you know?" He jumped from his place and walked to the coffee table, picking up the remote and flipping on the tv. "We have cheap tv. And stolen Netflix. But who doesn't? It has youtube too." 

"To be fair I had 'stolen Netflix' too." Dream laughed as he hugged him from behind, resting his chin on the top of George's head.

"Shut up. You're- you're such an idiot." He muttered while clicking on the youtube icon. "We'll make a playlist. I'll add one and then you add one and then I'll add one."

Before long, they had a playlist that was about an hour long. They took a moment to examine the differences. To describe George's choices, it was like dancing on an empty stage in a big theater in front of a thousand empty seats, only dreaming of a broad-way life. Or maybe running through the streets of downtown Manhattan on warm summer nights. On the other hand, Dream's music could be described by old converse and baggy clothes while laying in an overgrown field of grass waiting for the afternoon thunderstorm to come. Some songs were as if he was some villain in a make believe story though.

Going back to the first song, George pressed play and tossed the remote to the side. Without a moment's hesitation, Dream had spun the other to face him. George's right hand locked in with Dream's left. Even their hands were the right size, fitting like two halfs finally becoming a whole. The brit was held close by an arm on the small of his back.

It was awkward when they first started dancing. They stumbled over each others feet, occasionally bumping into furniture. Even as Dream tried to spin George, he would stumble. But they wouldn't stop laughing. Their laughs together overpowered the melody's that quickly took as background noise. It was like a joyous symphony of newfound happiness. They continued long after their playlist ended.

Dream knew that their dancing made them look like a couple of fools; but the smile on George's face and the happiness in his laughter could keep him going forever.

Eventually they slowed to a stop, the brit collapsing against his chest. He attempted to calm his laughter and heavy breathing. "You are terrible at dancing."

"Oh come on- like you didn't almost bust your ass like five times." Dream defended.

"Yeah because of your ungracefulness." He leaned away and pressed a finger into the ghost's chest. In which he scoffed and looked offended. "It's true."

"Yeah well... whatever." Dream plopped down on the couch, signaling for the other to join him. "Are you a rule breaker George?"

"No. I wouldn't consider myself as one." He raised an eyebrow, wondering where he was going with that question.

"Well I am. Especially if I'm hungry. You know how I make things appear?" George nodded his head hesitantly. "We aren't supposed to do that but I don't care. I'm hungry- starving even." Technically, because he was a ghost, he didn't actually get hungry. But George was not going to eat alone.

"Fascinating." George didn't bother asking questions. The food was good. That's all that mattered now. He hadn't had an actual meal in years, so it felt like Christmas.

"You know, I don't mean to judge- but your apartment is very dreary." Even though plain light grey walls helped with natural light, it felt big and empty and hollow. The only source of color and life and even an ounce of happiness was the window.

"Well we could decorate it together." He wasn't quite sure how he wanted it done. But as long as Dream was there, they'd figure it out and it was sure to come out quite nice. "Just not today. Tomorrow though."

No matter how much joy the day was filled with, George quickly grew tired. His energy level often felt like cheap batteries you can buy at dollar stores. They never last long. And they hardly last long enough to get through a major task. And if they did last, they were not very strong.

So even in the early twilight hours of that Saturday, he fell asleep quite quickly. Even as he tried to fight it, wanting to soak up every second he had with his lover. His eyelids fluttered slowly, taking more and more energy with each blink. Eventually, he gave in, sinking into Dream's body smiling softly as sleep took his consciousness.