This is kind of a shorter chapter as it's just about picking George up and the car ride, so yeah. The next chapter is gonna be way longer, promise. Anyways I update everyday 1-2 chapters a day. Please vote and write suggestions, it really helps <3
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He was standing outside George's flat. It wasn't the most appealing place, with flaking paint on the exterior and unkempt plants, but it wasn't terrible. His breathing became faster by the second; he didn't want to move, and yet he couldn't. He was going insane. 'All right, breath buddy, here's your chance. You'll see George, no problem..., no problem. The voice in his head practically screamed at him, "Own up you shit, this is your shot!" Well, he did take his time but eventually did. DING! His hand grabbed for the doorbell. From the outside, you could hear the doorbell sound ringing; I guess the walls weren't that thick, but he obviously already knew that.
He stood there, his eyes icy blue like the winter sky, eyes he never forgot. He was standing right there in front of him. He longed that this non-living pain would never end. He was dressed in a white skirt and a baggy top that he thought was cute. He adored him so much that he could stare at him for hours.
"Hiya Dreamie," George exclaimed in his thick British accent joyfully.
Dream replied, mesmerised, "Hi again Georgie, you look incredible."
"Well, you don't look half terrible either, so are we going now or are you going to stare at me all night?"
"Oh, right. Though you wouldn't be standing alone." He retorted, winking at the other in an attempt to tease him.
The blonde took his hand in his and led him down the steps to his car.
"Wow, fancy, I had no idea you drove such a fancy car."
"I wouldn't call it fancy, but you're right, it's not awful."
Dream rested his palm on the other's thigh, recalling all the nights they'd spent together in this car only to realise that George didn't recall any of them. While he was still processing information, a flustered George stood next him, his pale skin turning his cheeks pink. He'd never been so near to Dream before, so real. Maybe a hug, but nothing on the scale of this.
"After you, pretty boy.
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Sacrifice - dreamnotfound
RomanceDream was sad, depressed in other words. Since George's death, he'd been hating himself, blaming himself. He just wasn't the same. Simply heartbroken. Every night, he'd cry and even dream of his death - which was more of a nightmare than it was a dr...
