"I can't tell what you're thinking," George finally says, breaking their unbearable silence. His voice was pleading, begging for clues. Dream remains silent, and for once, George absolute hates it. He hates it so much that he feels sick. "Please tell me what you're thinking," George whispers, his voice low. He remembered when Dream had said that to him, voice raw and vulnerable, eyes filled with all the guilt in the world. And now here George was, not at fault, yet he was still the prey of miscommunication. "I don't know," Dream says slowly, "what I'm thinking."
It all happened by accident, really. Dream was supposed to pass his computer science class, not fall in love with the cute guy who sat in the front row. (The funny thing is, Dream can read minds. Literally. He can hear everyone's thoughts. Falling in love hadn't been an option... at least, not until this perfect, British asshole decided to ruin that for him.)
