𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕄𝕖 - Ⓓ Ⓝ Ⓕ

~36~

It was a pain that Dream has never felt before in his whole life as he fell to his knees, his body erupting with torturous emotions as he was overcome with grief, his vision fogging and blurring the motionless image of George as Dream cried, staring helplessly at the friend that he had failed to save.

His hand was grasping his shirt over his chest, his choked cries getting muted by the harsh hurricane raging outside, although to Dream, it felt as if it was happening inside his own mind, thrusting him into turmoil. He struggled to breathe, all of his thoughts getting tainted by the painful memory of George, and Dream tried to think about anything but the dead body on the floor, or who the person used to be. He couldn't think right now. He couldn't do anything right now.

An arm wrapped around Dream, forcing his face to press into someone's shoulder, and Dream leaned into Sapnap, his arms falling to his side when he couldn't find the energy within himself to hug his best friend back. He could hear Karl moving about in the room, trying to be quiet, although he couldn't stifle his own weeps as he moved closer towards George.

All the air left Karl's lungs as he gazed at George's figure, the older brunette unnaturally pale and limp with his mouth slightly opened, and he couldn't help but flinch when he looked at George's eyes, feeling sick to his stomach when he realised that they were lidded and half-open. A small part of him wanted to reach down and shut his eyes like they did in all those movies, but he couldn't find the courage within himself to get too close to George, let alone touch him.

He had the foresight to pull the blanket from Dream's bed and looked away as he laid it over George's body, knowing that he couldn't look at his fellow brunette any longer. He knew that George deserved better, in a way, and felt like it was disrespectful to cover him with a blanket and just leave him there for the time being. He felt horrible, both emotionally and physically, and knew that he had to take control over the situation, just like George would have done. He was the oldest, now.

Karl sniffed and rubbed at his face in frustration, trying to keep his emotions in check for a moment, and walked on unsteady legs as he approached Dream and Sapnap, feeling empty as he placed his hands on both of their heads.

"L-Lets –," he coughed, clearing his throat as his voice cracked from his mental strain and tears as he struggled to be strong. "Let's go downstairs. Take deep breaths, you two." Karl took a few deep breaths himself, knowing that he should probably follow his own advice or he was going to be as limp as George on the floor, although he would probably be alive and not –

And not . . .

And not dead.

It suddenly hit Karl all at once: George was dead.

He stumbled backwards slightly before he regained his footing, a hand pressed to his thrumming heart, and forced himself to keep trying to console his friends and just pog through the pain, as Tommy would say.

Oh god. Tommy.

How were they supposed to tell everyone? How were they supposed to break millions of people's hearts when they tell them that their favourite brunette had passed away? How were they supposed to tell everyone that it was a possible suicide? How will they tell his family?

George's face flashed beneath his eyelids as he blinked, the Brit smiling as he laughed openly, staring at the camera as gold tousled his soft hair in the dying sunlight, and he felt tears fall down his cheeks when he opened his eyes again, knowing that George would never get a happy moment like that again. He'd never laugh again, he'd never stay up for hours with his friends and watch the sunset as it rose for his friends, and he'd never describe the stars to Karl again, like how he did when he went star gazing alone.