obsessed | dreamnotfound

03.

June 11, 2021.

It's been almost a full year since the relationship fell. Two lovers broke apart, both going separate ways to continue their life. Nothing else to lose, just damage that you couldn't heal.

A scar in one's heart. A heart that shattered and just tore to a million of broken pieces of agony, suffering the pain of losing the one he loved, the boy he was obsessed to marry. He drained himself with memories he couldn't have in the present, he lost his path that he couldn't find anymore, he lost the road he'd departed away from—the road that was supposed to lead to a happy ever after.

There was nothing. Dream was gone, he left. Leaving George with grief, distress, and the feeling of experiencing eternal loneliness for the rest of his living years. He could only remember enjoyable memories that were stuck in his head, filling his thoughts every second that passed through time. Random voices of Dream echoing through the chamber of his mind.

The brunette tortured himself as he reminded himself of Dream, his—forever? The perfect boy who could've been his for the end of his life, was gone. George's mind played Dream—his pretty and soft pink lips that George could just placed his lips on against forever, his appealing emerald eyes you always got lost in and that you could never take your gaze off the enchanting sorcery, his warm-hearted smile that was always kept on his face, his tea kettle wheezing laugh, his fluffy dirty blonde hair.

George wanted to picture Dream all day, play random thoughts he could think of, his head playing videos of him loving the blonde. Kissing him, touching him, keeping that boy in his engaging grasp forever.

Yet, George was still lost without him. He lost hope for his future, only desiring to go back to the past and relive that special moment. Thinking he could've did something different and keep Dream for himself, so he didn't have to go through the shame of losing him.

George was nothing.

The air was cold, the morning was early, and the brit felt drowsy, just burned out. His body laid still, in a messy position as he laid in bed, being tiredly awake but he lost motivation to do anything.

A beeping sound went off, George moving his face into a pillow, an annoying groan as that beeping sound irritated him much. He smacked his alarm to silence as he slowly got up, he barley even got sleep... again. His body felt weak and his eyes stayed half lidded, he wanted to rest, stay in his bed all day.

George sniffed, bags under his eyes. His body just felt terribly revolting, just nauseous with a sickening headache. He grunted with a small shiver that went up his spine, goosebumps popping out his skin.

The tired brunet's feet touched the floor, he looked around with misery, his room being a mess and a old burned out cigarette smell flowed through the room's atmosphere. George sitting his back on the wall, his eyes shifting over to his alarm's time — 5:30 AM — George letting out a dejected sigh.

The boy took a bottle off the stand next to his messy bed, a bottle of whiskey. He popped the cap off and just drank the thing with no hesitance, the burning sensation of the strong drink demolished his throat—as he gulped it down like he had nothing to lose.

George set the bottle back down, wincing a little as he let the strong alcohol sting his mouth. He started to get out of bed with his body that stood weakly, he lumbered through his house and trembled over to his kitchen. He plopped onto a stool, resting with soreness.

It was cold, his body was weak and his eyes were already weary of staying open, like he could just tumble to the floor and knock out, he wanted rest but he didn't want to sleep.