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George woke up the next morning just as happy as he was last night. He looked over to his side but the other side of the bed was empty, besides a pillow that replaced where Dream was.

"Dream?"

George got up and ran to the bathroom. It was empty. "He's downstairs." George thought. He ran downstairs, going from the living room, dining room, spare room, and to the kitchen. His breathing started to get faster and a panic attack was coming on.

"Dream?" He kept looking over and over in the same rooms. "Dream? Where are you?"

He stopped and stood in the middle of the main hallway. Trying his hardest not to breakdown. "He went to get me food. That's where he is, and he will be back soon." George tried to convince himself. He noticed stuff on the kitchen counter and he ran over to it. Hoping it was a note saying he would be back soon. His wallet, keys, and charged phone were all next to the letter.

I'm sorry I had to leave without telling you. I decided it was best for the both of us. Even if it doesn't feel like it. But we weren't supposed to love each other. We probably weren't supposed to meet each other either. I loved the time I had with you, I wouldn't trade anything for the moments you sat on my lap and we would talk for hours. Or on our walks when you rode on my back. Or when we would just lay in bed silently in the mornings because all we wanted was to lay in bed together all day. But we also argued, and yelled, and hit each other. And that wasn't healthy, it wasn't okay. It wasn't okay for me to keep you hidden from the world like I did. And it was never okay for me to do the things I did to you. That's not how you treat someone you love. I wish I never did those things to you. And that's why I wish I never talked to you at the bar. Because you deserve better than what I gave you. You deserve better than me. But I will always love you. Bad picked up food for you, so please take care of yourself, and don't do anything stupid. I'm sorry.

Love,
Dream ♡︎

***-***-****

George was on the kitchen ground crying and hyperventilating. He immediately opened his phone to enter the phone number on the bottom of the letter and found that it was already a contact on his phone. He quickly called it and tried to breathe regularly, trying to remember all of the times Dream would help him calm his breathing.

"Please pick up, please come back, please don't leave me." George ranted to himself as the phone rang. Voicemail. "No.. Dream come back, I want you back. I n-never got to tell you that I love you. I never said it. Please just come back."

He kept calling over and over. He was having a panic attack, all because the person who kidnapped him and hurt him left. Eventually he decided to leave a voicemail.

"Dream, I need you to come back. Please come back. I need to tell you something important. Please just come get me and take me back to your house. Please..." he stayed quiet for too long and heard his phone beep and send the voicemail.

He resorted to texts. Begging him to come back over and over again. He knew Dream was on his phone. He saw the read receipts until a few minutes later when Dream disabled them.

"No, he's coming back. I just need to wait for him. He'll be back soon." George told himself. He went to his living room and sat at the couch, staring out the front window.

And he waited there. Crying. Every so often trying to call again, and texting him again. Until it was dark outside. He didn't eat, drink, or move from the couch all day. He just sat there waiting for Dream to come back.

He fell asleep on the couch. Then it was repeated. This time he did leave the couch a few times, and that was to use the bathroom. But other than that he just stayed on the couch. He was too sick to eat. The feeling he had made him physically sick.

Another day passed without eating or drinking. It was the third morning without Dream. But George still told himself that Dream was coming back. He heard keys in the front door. He excitedly ran over and opened the door, his face immediately fell. It was only Wilbur.

"George?" Will said. "You're back?" George and Wilbur hugged. "Where were you? Why are you so sad? And skinny..?"

"I haven't eaten or drank water in a few days." George told him.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't, I feel sick. He left me without saying goodbye, or even telling me. I keep calling and texting him but he won't answer." George said, crying.

"Who?"

"Dream,"

"Who is Dream?"

"The person who- never mind."

"It's okay, we can talk about it later. But first let's get you food and water." Wilbur said. "I'll help you get better. Then we can talk about it, and report that you're back."

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