Living Together // DNF

6

*TW: drinking

It was much quieter in the kitchen, with only a few people drifting in and out to refill their drinks. But Dream barely even looked at anyone, only taking a slow breath as his eyes scanned over an assortment of bottles; some filled with alcohol, others with soda or juice.

His focus was on the glass bottles filled with alcohol, his hands clenching tightly as he shoved them in his pockets; subconsciously recalling the all too familiar burn as the liquid slid down his throat, only to be covered by a blissful haze once the alcohol started to take hold.

He exhaled slowly, pulling his hands back out of his pockets as he stepped closer to the bottles, his hands shaky as he reached for the nearest one. His fingers closed around the neck of the bottle, hands stalling at the cap as he briefly thought about how easy it would be to pour himself just one shot.

What harm could it do, really? It probably wouldn't even have any effect on him, and it's not like anyone would find out.

He spun the cap, watching as it clattered to the counter, reaching for a plastic cup before pouring a little bit in, his eyes locked on the clear liquid as he took slow breaths. He couldn't deny that he wanted to do it, or that perhaps he even missed it.

But there was a voice in the back of his head; the very same voice that used to tell him to do it, to drown out all of his problems with drugs and with alcohol. Only now, it was telling him to stop; screaming at him not to do something stupid, that taking even one sip would be erasing all of the progress he had made over the years.

And he knew that the voice was right, but it wasn't like he was going back to using drugs, it was just one sip of alcohol. People drank all the time, the house was filled with people drinking at that very moment, so why should it matter if he joined in?

He shook his head, trying to erase the clashing thoughts in his mind as he set the cup down on the counter, his hands still gripping the plastic as he squeezed his eyes shut.

But his eyes popped open as he felt a smaller hand cover his own, warm and familiar as it slid the cup away, replacing it with their own hand. Dream turned his head, his breathing slightly uneven as green eyes met golden brown eyes.

"George," Dream spoke quietly, his voice shaky as he gave the brunette's hand a squeeze, "I'm sorry, I didn't...I just-"

But George's hands were cupping his face now, his voice soft and calming as he said, "Dream, look at me. It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong, okay?"

Dream nodded, but he still felt guilty even though he hadn't done anything, his voice still shaky as he responded, "I didn't drink anything, George. I didn't...but I was going to, I wanted to."

George exhaled a breath, his eyes still locked on Dream, his thumbs rubbing soothingly against his cheeks as he answered, "it's okay, Dream. You didn't do it, and that's what matters. This just proves how much you've changed, how far you've come. The old you wouldn't have even shared that much with me."

Dream nodded again, his hands moving to George's waist, pulling him into his arms.

He knew George was right, because if he had been anything at all like his old self, he would've downed multiple shots without even hesitating. And he knew that he would've lied to George about it afterwards, which was something he wouldn't be able to do now.

His relationship with George had taken precedent over most things, and he wouldn't throw it all away over one stupid lie. And he never felt the need to lie to George anymore anyway, because the brunette had proven that no matter what, he was there for Dream.