Limerence

Chapter eighteen

George was hyperventilating again. His chest hurt, as if his heart was being pressed by some invisible force. He tried to get oxygen to his lungs, but the air wouldn't get there. He felt uncontrollable tears running down his cheeks. He digged his nails into his skin with enough force to draw blood.

He was walking around his room, pulling his hair trying to get himself together.

It wasn't helping.

He knew his panic attack was coming any second now.

His crystallized eyes were not helping the situation. He looked the room that surronded him and he felt like the walls were caving in. Every second that passed made him feel more and more suffocated. It was like there was less and less oxygen to breath.

If this had been his first panic attack, he would've definitely thought he was going to die. It was probably one of the worst attacks he had had.

He had to control himself if he didn't want to break down.

He tried to reach the glass of water that was on his desk, but he only managed to get to the chair behind the desk before falling onto his knees. 

He didn't even know how he got to that point.

It had been about an hour since Dream left, but George couldn't stop thinking about what the blond had told him.

Could it be possible that he was still in love with George?

Could it be possible that he lied to him to protect George?

Or was he just manipulating him?

He knew there was no way of knowing the answer for real because he didn't know Dream anymore. He didn't trust him anymore to believe him when he told him that he still loved him.

He was just a stranger to George.

It was weird, because George genuinely thought that he had moved on. It had been one of the hardest things he had done, but he thought it had finally stopped hurting. 

When he thought about Dream, he didn't think of the person who broke his heart, he didn't think of the person he had put in a pedestal so many years ago. His memory didn't even hurt anymore.

Dream was just a peson who didn't love him the way George deserved to be loved.

And that was okay.

But when he saw him again, he realized how much he had missed him. He realized that he hadn't moved on. He missed his lover, but more important, he missed his best friend.

He heard a faint knock on the door.

"George?" it was Prince Clayton. His voiced sounded muffled by the wooden door. "Are you okay?"

George couldn't move. He couldn't say anything. He tried to tell him to go away, but his voice wouldn't come out. He wanted to scream, but a sob came out instead.

The door opened abruptly and The Prince came in, wearing a confused expresion in his beautiful face. When he saw George's condition, it shifted to awe. He was still in his velvet suit, impecable as always, which meant the ball had just ended. 

He locked the door behind him and sprinted to George. He kneeled in front of the advisor, the same way he had done the first time they kissed.

"George!" The Prince's voice sounded like he was miles away. He tried to hold George in his arms, but the brunette shove him away. He didn't want to be touched.

And that was it. That was the last straw. He knew he reached a point of no return.

It was getting even harder to breath, and Clay realized inmediately.