forgottenn

whoops!

"Um.."

"I can explain. Just don't tell anyone.."

He called it. The worst thought he could think of, and it was exactly it. A small child in a sonic hoodie, staring right at him.

"...Fuck!" He threw his car keys on the ground.

"Calm down! Why are you so mad?-"

"You had a son with my ex-husband!"

"Yeah, your ex! Move on Fundy! Hes not yours anymore!" He walked with the child into a room, and  walked out the room empty handed.

"Now, he's sleeping. So dont yell ple-"

"Whats its name." Fundy interrupted. He was fed up with him.

"It? He is a he." George was also pissed off.

The tension was hot in the room. Both death staring eachother. George already knew about his plan some how. To get back at George, and earn Dream back. But as his husband, he obviously wasn't gonna ket that happen.

"Connor. His name is Connor. He's mine, and Dreams adopted son." George finally stated. Making sure Fundy knew, and heard. Loud and clear.

"Wow. Thats an awkward name, couldn't get any worse could it?" Fundy said crossing his arms.

"First, shut the fuck up about him. Second, who names their kid Fundy? Must've been high or something." Georges confidence and attitude grew as Fundy was gone. Old him would usually give up right now. But he kept it going now.

"George? Pft, not like yours is any better. Now people can actually tell your british." Fundy sat down on his couch.

"What makes you think you can just sit here, and make fun of my son infront of me? And my-" George noticed the door, no handle, with cracks in it, barely hanging onto the doorway. "My door!" He yelled, forgetting about Connor, and not being loud.

"You broke my fucking door!" He ran over and tried holding it up. "Wheres the handle?"

Fundy sat there on his phone. Paying no attention to him. This was intruding, or a break in if you thunk about it.

"Fundy! Give me the god damn door handle, and leave!" George had steam coming out of his ears, he was mad. Like really mad now.

Fundy liked it. He was getting in his head.

"Alright, alright." He put his hands behind his head, and walked out. Getting in his car, and driving off.

George gently closed the door, and put a chair on it as the lock. "Finally-"

"Wait, the door handle..."

Fundy never returned it. 'A gift.' or a 'souvenir' He called it. Stealing, and intruding. As well as stalking.

A criminal was on the lose.

George kicked the chair. It hurt, but he was so mad he didn't care. Connor suddenly started crying again, and ran to get him. As he started walking over, the doorbell rung

Shit. He's home..

"Im.. home?"