Beauty In Death [DreamNotFound]

chapter thirteen

George reckoned that if him and dream were akin to something, it would be oil and water.

They repelled each other and were unable to mix but when they did, they could start fires that swarmed the oceans surface with an indescribable heat, so powerful that it could not be put out even by a thousand fire engines. These fires were neither ugly nor beautiful, only hot flames that danced and licked at one another, uncontrollable and unstoppable.

He wasn't sure who was which though.

Maybe he was the oil, a malignant black with dark pools of nothingness. Dream was definitely the water, dazzling and clear, encrusted with sunlight that shone diamonds on the surface, a relief to dehydrated throats, a sanctuary for unfortunate organisms, a blessing for religions. Water plays a big role in so many peoples lives and George imagined Dream did the same, he sure did for him. Dream was George's life line in this arena, the muscle in the fights and the brains in the strategys. George owed it all to him which was why he was so inclined to stick by him and do his best to assist, even if that ment getting his hands dirty.

George had never killed anyone before but for dream he'd bleed himself dry.

The first man George had ever killed had been for Dream. In the first few seconds of his time in the arena George had dived his knife into the back of the opponent who was towering over the serpent eyed man. Thinking back to it now the man he killed seemed to be the strongest competitor, with a large frame and a firm grip around his sword but George had killed him easily at the sight of Dream yielding under his sandpaper hands before he even knew who he was. With him out the way that put Dream back on top as the most superior player in George's eyes.

From where he was walking behind Dream, he could tell that was still the case now. Since the games started George noticed that everyone now seemed to have tense shoulders, hunch backs and heads that hung low with guilt and exhaustion but not for Dream. He walked with his head of golden locks held high, like a Greek God coming home after conflict and George wanted to treat him with a battle hero's welcome every time he returned. The crease between his eyebrows was almost always smoothed out and he never seemed stern or tense, he was always calm, his arms falling loosely at his sides, swinging with each step he took.

George struggled to keep up with him, Dreams pace faster than usual, maybe he wanted to out run him and loose him in the woods. Slowing down, they came to a stop at the base of a large tree. Dream motioned to the squirrel running across the bark and George didn't even hesitate to get out his bow, shooting the creature straight between the eyes.

Cooking the squirrel was hard, they both worked in uncomfortable silence as they used sticks to create something to toast the animal with, rotating it to coat all sides in warmth. It was like there was an ice wall between them, eachother visible through the other side but blurry to the eye, George wanted to chip away at the frost and breakdown the barrier that Dream had placed between them but it was no use, he couldn't shatter it. Dream was cold and quiet, unbelievably quiet. If George thought he didn't say much before he was saying less now.

They sat on opposite ends of the fire, eyes trained on the sparks that danced in between, spitting at their knuckles. Dream glowed under the iridescent light of the fire, his skin kissed with a sunset orange. George thought about the first night they had spent together basking in the heat of the fire, Sapnap too busy with food to notice George's longing eyes lingering over Dreams neck. Sapnaps death had happened all to quick, he didn't even know what had caused it. He wondered if that's what dream was thinking about now, with his head hung low, empty eyes staring blankly forwards.

George opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't want to talk about it." Dream interrupted before he even got the chance to get a word out. He closed his lips in defeat.