Who Lies in the End?

Ch 49: 22 "I'm just so sorry."

George's hand nearly dropped the mask that burned his palm, but he gripped it until his knuckles turned white. He was afraid that the sound of ceramic against the floor would shatter this precarious moment.

His breath came in short gasps and his heart couldn't decide if it wanted to race or stop altogether. Fear and dread pooled in his stomach as his body told him to run, but his mind forced him to stay. It was hard to keep his face blank as he stared up at Dream. They were still so close, and his wide eyes had a perfect view of who sat before him.

Dream's lips were pressed in repressed emotion and his jaw was clenched in rage. There were scars along his lightly tanned cheeks that were hard to see under the mask. Now, though, they were clear in the candlelit room. The most prominent one started at the base of his left jaw and traveled up his skin towards his cheekbone.

However, the scar didn't reach skin.

Instead, the faded wound dipped into a dark expanse of black that stretched across where Dream's eyes should be. There wasn't skin or structure, just a swimming pool of black void that flickered with white specs. The incorporeal area started right where his nose would be and stretched up into the blonde hairline. Sitting in the center of that depth, where George assumed Dream's eyes would be were two grey lights, akin to an enderman; in fact, aside from the muted color, George knew for certain that the eyes of an enderman stared back at him through the void that consumed what would be Dream's face.

He didn't flinch as a hand traveled to his own and slipped the mask out of his grasp. Even as Dream settled the ceramic over his head, George couldn't tear his eyes away. That image was forever burned in his mind and it settled a dark feeling in the back of his mind.

Dream gently pushed George back so he could hop off the table and wander towards his items. The light tap of footsteps weren't enough to jostle George from his frozen position.

George whirled around when his thoughts began to race. Dream stood in the center of the room, looking anywhere but at him, "I'm sorry."

Dream shrugged but his shoulders were tense, "It's fine."

George shook his head, "It's not fine. I should have asked and now you're mad-"

"I'm not mad, I'm just upset," he sighed in frustration and tapped his fingers against the thigh, "In all honesty, I kinda forgot about what I actually look like," his head dropped in what George could see was shame.

The brunette stepped forward, his legs feeling like lead, "It's not that bad. Just kinda shocking."

Dream's dry laughter sounded more like a scoff, "Yeah, because your reaction totally read 'this is fine'."

"Dream, I'm serious," he paused to take a calming breath, "I just didn't know what to expect, and you never alluded to anything."

"For a reason, might I add."

George waved his hands, trying to find proper words, "To be honest, I just imaged that you had scars or something that you just didn't want others to see."

A small, genuine chuckle bounced out of Dream as he turned away from George, "You weren't completely wrong. I have scars, but that's not what I want to hide."

George slowly smiled as the air turned less hostile, "So, are you like Ranboo?"

The outlaw shuffled his feet as he searched around the room for some distraction, "No. Ranboo is an actual ender-kin, while I'm more-" he paused to think up the right word, "-cursed, you could say."

George took another step closer, "Is there any way to fix it?"

Dream looked over to George and the brunette would be lying if he said his heart rate didn't pick up. Despite the mask completely covering Dream's face, he still knew what sat underneath, and it made his skin race with goosebumps. He could envision those anomalous eyes boring into his own and pinning him to his spot.