The Audition (dreamnotfound)

sour

TW: body tracking/body image, ed, purging

dream's pov

   It was hard to be patient when the love of his life was just minutes away.

Of course Dream was going to respect George's decisions and he would wait however long it took, but it hurt to just see him laugh and smile because of someone else, and not him. He wanted to be the one to hold his hand, he wanted to be the one to make him laugh, he wanted him.

It just stung to know that Dream threw away his chance because of false hopes, when his real passion was standing in front of him, all of that time.

Sapnap and Karl were lucky to have George in their lives forever; Dream was jealous of that, he envied them.

It wasn't spiteful, he truly did love Sap and Karl, but they had George; he didn't. Even if Dream didn't want to be jealous, which was the case, he just couldn't help it, even though the reason why he lost the treasure was because he threw away the key; he threw away his heart.

It was almost as if he was sour.

__________

George's pov

George was just glad that he finally let his emotional walls down, and he was free of his punishment to himself. He did feel a bit guilty for letting Dream down, but then again, he didn't leave; Dream did.

It wasn't his fault that the blond did what he did. It wasn't his fault that he didn't get the record deal and Dream did. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't perfect.

But it still hurt; it really, really, really stung.

During the manipulative phase within the relationship, George fell into a massive pit of depression. He would contemplate whether he was good enough every single day, staring at his body and him just seeing imperfection. Lifting his shirt, all he would see is a warped version of his actual stomach because, obviously, his body wasn't good enough for Dream.

Why would it be good enough for himself?

He would eat, yeah, but it wouldn't stay in. George hated himself for it, but he just couldn't help it. He hated his body for the way he saw it, so he forced himself to do something about it, he forced himself into the bathroom; he forced himself to give all of his hard work to recover up.

His mother didn't help, seeing as she was already a mess drowning in her own problems and, of course, alcohol.

The only good thing that came out of it, though, was George would never drink alcohol and poison his already deteriorating body; he saw the damage it could do to people. He wouldn't let the liquid danger destroy his life any more; he refused to turn into his mother.

Don't get him wrong, he did love his mother, but she was just not ever a true parent. All she was, was another drunken soul trying to drag George down with her, not wanting to, but she cared more about alcohol than her son.

It was traumatizing, to see his only parent left just see him as second place. All George ever was, was second place.

But it was okay with him. He was just being over dramatic, right? So, he pushed all of the memories of his sorrowful childhood away in the back of his mind for safe keeping, letting Sapnap and Karl fill the void of empty happiness.

But, on the bright side, at least he could make amazing songs based on all of his trauma and bring them to the garage, where all of his band mates, including one of the people who hurt him the most, waited patiently, being pleasantly surprised every time.

It wasn't any different today.

"1, 2, 1, 2 , 3, 4!" Dream shouted, instantly strumming the guitar he held in his hands, it being quite an intense and upbeat song. Before he knew it, George went up to the mic and began to sing, his voice full of passion; you could tell he was born for this.

"I'm so insecure I think,

"That I'll die before I drink."

"And I'm so caught up in the news,

"Of who hates me and who hates you."

Karl strummed his guitar perfectly, with Sapnap behind him banging on the drums slightly, perfectly timing each hit, while Dream loudly played the guitar as if he was born with the talent. Nothing could have been better that rehearsal; well, excluding how George felt.

While his vocal cords and memory of the lyrics did all of the work, all he could think about is how tired he was; not physically, but mentally.

"I'm so sick of seventeen."

"Where's my fucking teenage dream?"

"If someone tells me one more time,

"'Enjoy your youth' I'm gonna cry."

"And I don't stick up for myself."

"I'm anxious and nothing can help."

"And I wish I'd done this before.

"And I wished people liked me more."

George sang the chorus with such ache in his voice, yet no one could tell because none of them truly knew him. All they knew was what he wanted them to see, and it was perfectly fine with all of them, because he was okay in their eyes.

Fake it 'til you make it, right?

If George pretended to be happy and pretended to be okay for long enough, then maybe it wouldn't just be a false hope; maybe it could be reality.

Dream strummed the final chords on his guitar and ended the song, Karl instantly jumping up and down from the pride he had in all of them. It was an incredible song and just an amazing practice for everyone, besides a certain lead singer.

The feelings that were brewing inside of him was just history repeating itself; he was going back inside of the dark place he swore he would never return to.

Dream was just bringing out the demon of depression inside of George, and although it wasn't his fault, it would always be that way. Maybe he was wrong in saying that there could possibly be a future between them; it was just giving the blond false hope.

For now, all George could do, was hide inside of his own smile, begging that everyone would only see the outside, and only would see the smile.

But it wouldn't last that way, because people cared about him.

Just, not the people you would expect to care. 

(1083 words)

A/N listen to goodbye by bo burnham starting at 2:40. it sums up present and future George in this story really well:) also sorry for the short chapter but whatever it will do