What I Meant By Forever

Final Kiss

Dream opened the car door and George got in. The taller boy drove and the shorter smoked to calm his nerves. He still hated this idea. His leg started to shake the closer they got to the warehouse, which Dream noticed. Looking at his best friend, he felt himself melt.
"Calm down, George," he reassured, "I won't let anything happen to you."
"That's what I'm afraid of," George muttered, taking a drag.

They got out of the car, George throwing his cigarette to the floor and stomping on it to put it out.
"You ready?" Dream checked.
"As I'll ever be," George smiled.

There was a back door to the warehouse, one they'd only ever used once as kids.
Back then, they'd been caught and screamed at for disobeying their father. Now, they were determined not to get caught.

Dream's father was in a small, bland room, one way glass ensuring that the outside could see him but he couldn't see the outside. One guard stood outside the door. One guard in their way.

"Rock paper scissors." Dream whispered.
"What?"
"Loser has to deal with the guard."
"Are you insane?" Dream-"
Dream wasn't listening. Dream had already started to countdown to rock paper scissors.
"Dream, stop."
"Rock.." Dream began.
"Dream-"
"Paper...."
"DREAM"
"Scissors-"
"DREAM-"
"SHOOT."

George lost. He hit the guard over the head with a crowbar.

The boys stood at the glass, listening to the interrogation.
"You work for Soot. What the hell were you doing on this side of the city? Spying?" He boomed.
"No! I told you a million times-" the hostage whined.
"You're lying to me, so I'm gonna give you three seconds. You can tell me the truth about what you were doing or you can get a bullet in your fucking head, you hear me?" He threatened.
"1..."
"It's too late now."
"2..."
"I warned the other guy they'd come, but he didn't listen."
"3."
A gunshot rang out, bouncing off the walls. George's ears rang, as did Dream's. There was silence for about a minute, and then a deafening crash.
"Shit," Dream cursed, "shit, George, I think that's our cue to leave!"
He grabbed George's hand and dragged him out of the way they had snuck in. George stopped in the empty yard.
"Woah, Dream, shouldn't we go back and check on your Dad?" George reasoned.
"George, that was Wilbur Soot. My father is dead, and you will be too if you don't haul ass to the car right fucking now!" Dream screamed. George's eyes widened.
"Wilbur Soot? He's here?" He panicked, and as he spoke Dream's eyes flickered to the rooftops.
"George, look out!" He warned, pushing his best friend out of the way as another gunshot punctuated the air.
Everything seemed to slow down, as if the air had turned to honey. Slowly, the brunette felt his hearing return, the sound of gunshots and explosions in the night air giving him a a headache. Dream was lying on top of him, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist, his heart hammering in his chest hard enough for the other boy to be able to feel. George felt something warm oozing through his clothes and for a moment, he had a terrible feeling he had been shot. Then Dream rolled off of him, and his heart dropped even more.
"Oh my God."

He sat up, swinging a leg over so he was kneeling over the top of the younger boy. He held his hands to the bullet wound, blood covering his hands in a matter of seconds.
"No. Absolutely not. You are not going to die," he demanded.
"God, even now, you're fussing over me like a nagging housewife," Dream chuckled. George rolled his eyes.
"That was such a dumb move," he scolded, his hand on Dream's cheek. The mob boss' son pulled the businessmen's son closer to him, hooking his fingers into the neck of his shirt.
"George, can I tell you a secret?" He whispered.
"Go ahead," George replied, his breath hot on Dream's ear.
"I have always loved you. And I don't mean in the way of friendship, I mean that ever since the day I met you, I have been head over heels in love with you," he smiled. George raised his eyebrows and said something really witty and intelligent like, "uh."
Dream laughed at him and kissed him lazily along his jaw. George gave in and pulled him in, kissing him roughly and angrily, as if it were Dream's fault that he was bleeding out and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
"I'll never stop loving you," he promised as he kissed the dying boy.
"Never do," the other replied.
Soon they were both out of breath, and Dream was almost out of blood.
"Why do people have to die?" George muttered, his cheeks flushed and soaked with tears. He stared down at Dream, his eyes glittering with love, the stars reflected in them like a million tiny fires.
"I didn't have to die," Dream reminded him, "I chose to."
George didn't know it, but Dream's last words would haunt his nightmares until the day he died.
"I took a bullet for you, love."