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6

"George."

"Dream."

The tension in the air was so thick, Dream was adamant it would wrap around his neck like a python, willing to suffocate him. He didn't realise it, but his eyes began to burn with tears, surely it couldn't be true, surely it was a joke.

"You're alive" Dream stuttered, his words shaken and his hands trembling. George was sat beside him on the couch, fair distance between them.

George hummed, nodding slowly, " 'course, Dream-" George had bitten his lip raw, a thin line of blood began to run from it, he brushed it tongue over it to clean it, too anxious to care. "You have to understand." His own voice shook greater than Dreams, Dream shook his hand standing, George startled sitting up a bit in shock at the sudden movement.

"You cant- you can't do this." Dream raised his finger pointing. his tone growing greater with each word. "You can't just leave for- for years! and come back- it's not- i don't- fuck-" He broke down, head in hands as he cried. George was frozen on the spot, tears falling from his eyes slowly as he watched his friend break down in front of him. "The fake name? The stupid lies- why did you lie George." He choked out. George didn't move, neither did he speak. He was adamant he wasn't even breathing. "What was it George? You hated me and Sap so much you didn't want to see us? so you abandoned us? Look how that worked out! Sapnap hates me! He moved away because of you- he hates me. I just- i don't get it- why would you leave." He wasn't making much sense through his rambling, in honesty he was saying a lot of things he didn't necessarily mean, he was distraught.

It was understandable. In the back of his mind he was convinced George had passed away, it wasn't like he knew his address, it was well known George didn't talk to his family anymore due to conflict in him becoming atheist which was against their strict religion. So Dream couldn't even ask his family, neither did George have many friends around- well many was an overstatement he had none besides Tommy, wilbur and Jack. But even they didn't know where he lived as he was so closed off. So when George went missing, of course Dream assumed the worst after the first year. There was hope at the start, that he'd come back. But after weeks turned into months, and months into years, it just made sense that he had died- or moved on. It was easier to live with the thought of George passing away than dealing with thinking about George abandoning him. So he grieved.

Dream grieved. He'd cut off everyone around him, he didn't even talk to his mom or sister for a year and a half- moving without telling them where he had gone. Sapnap wanted nothing to do with him and hadn't reached out since the argument they'd had. For the two years without George it was hard to accept. He lost his career, his friends, his family. Sending him into severe paranoia. He never left the house, deactivated all of his social media's, was severely malnourished and in an awful depressive state. It was grief, to him, George was dead. He was never coming home. So to how have him sat in front of him. For it to actually be him, it was the weirdest feeling.

Almost as if it was a ghost, a dream, anything but real.

"Dream, please" His voice was weak, broken, followed by a broken sob. Tears pouring down his pale skin across a freckles cheek and falling from a clear chin. "Please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you," He breathed, looking up from his hands and up at his friend, "i could never hate you. I just need to know." He pulled on his bottom lip, running a hand through his own hair, "I just need to know why."

"I can't."

"Cant what?"

"I can't say it Dream, i can't."

"What, why?"

"I just, i can't." He'd never heard George's voice in such a tone, it was so weak, so fragile. He trembled and shook his eyes not stopping the tears that fell, he was in an awful state. Dream himself was in a similar one, a headache pounding in his temples, sobs falling from his lips every moment he breathed.

"Why can't you? Because you don't have an excuse! You just- you didn't want me around anymore- you must've hated me so much you couldn't face me- was it because of me George? Because i was too much? Because i- because i" He chocked, "Because i fucking loved you George."

"CANCER." George stood up, now stood opposite Dream, finger raised pointing at him, his legs shaking and threatening to buckle. "It was cancer Dream. Not you. Not Sapnap."

"What?" Dreams features on his face fell, the guilt seeping in, how could he be so selfish, assuming everything was because of himself, he didn't once stop to think about George, about the possibilities.

"I was really sick, Dream." George continued to shake, his voice still hesitant with the words he spoke, looking down at the floor to afraid to look up at the man before him.

Dream didn't say a word, he just stepped forward, pulling George to his chest, holding him tighter than he'd ever hold anyone before.

"I'm sorry George."

And George began to cry, gripping onto Dreams shirt, bundles of it in each of his fists as his tears seeped into the light grey material leaving wet patches.

"I'm so sorry George," Dream continued to cry himself, whispering sorry's as he held George.

They stood like that for a while, Dream gently swaying him, he didn't ask questions, he didn't question him. He for once did what a good friend would do, he let him cry, he let him get it out. He didn't yell nor did he make it about himself. He just held him, and when George's legs gave out, he caught him, guiding them to the couch. George curled up on Dreams lap, his head in the nook of his neck, tears still streaming from his eyes despite the minutes that had passed. Dream rubbed circles on his back letting him cry, until the crying became delayed and his breathing had settled, with delicacy and extreme carefulness in his movements, Dream glanced down. George's eyes were shut, letting out small breaths, he had fallen asleep. Dream let out a sigh of relief knowing his friend had finally calmed, now his mind began to race questions.

His hand found it's way to the back of George's hair, running through it gently as he tried to process everything that had happened.