Take Your Time

18. One To Two.

December 3rd, 01:29 a.m.

30 minutes left.

There he was, sitting in the blistering cold, his breaths becoming visible in the air. I am where I have to be, fighting against myself as I try to avoid an old promise.

He stared down at the paper. The paper full of words he wished he could say. A paper used to write down his much saying thoughts... That no one was ever going to hear about.

And although it became difficult to breathe, the easier writing started to become. The soft noise of pen on paper broke the night silence, along with quiet sobs and the tears that fell down. Turning the note into a soaking wet paper with inkt stains. It wasn't meant to be read, if that was even possible due to the sloppy handwriting.

It didn't matter.
At least he was leaving something behind.

Dream took a moment to breathe, but even at this point, he didn't know what he was crying for. Everything he once cared for was gone, and it will never return the way it was. That's just how easy trust can be broken by betrayal.

He throws the notebook to the side and scoops closer to the end of the roof. He laid down on his back and let his head hang over the edge. Taking a good last look at the -now upside down- world. Honestly, he wouldn't care if he fell. But he rolls over, and pulls himself back up. The only unfortunate thing would be that it wasn't the right moment yet.

So that's why he's taking his time. Hanging and leaning over the edge, building up enough adrenaline to actually do it.

George bursts through the door and curses something under his breath, his palm pressed against his aching rib cage. His face is bright red and his lungs feel on fire. He's gasping for air as his eyes land on the boy sitting near the edge. His heart dropped, realizing Dream's face was bright red, too. Not from blushing, not from running a mile...but from crying.

George stepped back. Realizing that he was the villain all along, manipulating Clay to get what he once wanted and needed so badly,

Money.

Dream finally looks back. His stomach turns at his sight, it's George. It's a sickening and shameful feeling that he ever trusted him. George stud there, motionless. There he is again, the old Dream that refuses to talk. It's starting all over again. Like deserved and expected.

The cold wind burns on his face, the warm tears feel painful on his stone cold cheeks. It burns. George slowly got closer and grabs Dream's hands. But Dream shook violently as George helped him get on his feet. "DON'T- Don't do that." George demanded when he saw that Dream started walking towards the edge. Nevertheless, Dream keeps moving but it's no use. George catches him by his arm and looks into his eyes... And Dream realizes George isn't pissed, but instead, frightened.

He struggled to get Dream back but managed to harshly shove him down onto the roof. "Clay! Listen to me. What the hell are you doing??" George's voice cracked as the pieces finally clicked in his mind, "You weren't...actually going to jump, right?"

In silence, George looks down at him as Dream pulls himself up. He's ashamed to look directly into George's eyes or say anything and so, the question remains unanswered. The sky is getting cloudy, and some strong breezes come their way, but no rain drops yet.

They stand there, no words spoken or movements made for God knows how long. Maybe a few seconds, perhaps minutes? "Why?" George managed to ask, followed by the weak and trembling words; "You won't leave me, right?"