Just One Night // DNF

39 - Happy Birthday

A/N - 6000+ babes; aghhh buckle up my little Oreos. Get a snack, something to drink, and a comfy spot to read<3

(No quote😧)

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George could barely feel his feet. He could barely feel his fingers wrapped around the neck of the vodka bottle. He could barely feel his tongue sitting in his mouth. He could barely feel his brain functioning, everything a quiet hum in blissful silence and peace.

But what he could feel was the cool pavement seeping through his hoodie. He could feel the bumps and pebbles of asphalt digging into his back. He could feel his eyes burning—wetness running down to his temples before dripping into his hair. 

George just stared up at the stars. He loved the stars. He remembered when astronomy was a big part of his person. But now, as he looked at the beautiful firey balls in the sky he seemed to have really forgotten how it felt like to love something as much as he loved space. He seemed to have forgotten how pretty they were. Right now, though, he wasn't in the right mindset to be thinking- remembering- about anything.

His body felt numb, his mission in doing so working. He seemed to have forgotten what had him spiraling in the first place. All he could really remember was his mission to get out of that house and go somewhere quiet. To make everything quiet. To make everything stop. His brain, his heart, his mind, his life. He remembered that he felt miserable. That was an awful feeling, he remembered, I don't want to feel like that again.

George lifted the bottle and took another drink, the burning in his throat a distant feeling of pain that he ignored. He felt like he was floating on a cloud. He blinked. Smiled. Yes, he decided, the stars are quite pretty.

-

Dream's POV

It has been 15 minutes. Dream stood against the table that he and George had played soda-pong on and he was starting to worry. Did he get lost? No, he's been here before and knows it like the back of his hand. Did something happen? Did Aubrey get to him and do something? Dream's head was swimming with thoughts because he had suddenly got a really bad feeling in his gut. 

Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out exactly what.

Dream sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket. He had a few texts from his mom about how she and dad wouldn't be there for dinner and that he should eat without them, one from Valerie telling him to be safe at the party he was currently at, and one from Nick asking where he was.

Ignoring them all, Dream clicked on George's contact and quickly typed out a message: 

Dream
Hey you alright? Where are you?
sent at 11:12pm

There was no response, even a few minutes later so that's when Dream finally caved and called him. He waited as the phone rang. And rang. And rang until it reached George's voicemail; "Hey, you've reached George Founders, please leave your name, number, and message after the beep and I'll call you back as soon as possible! Bye!" before the beep ensued. Dream didn't bother leaving a voicemail and hung up, his head racing. That isn't normal. Something definitely happened.

Dream knew George was going through something in his head and mind that nobody could completely understand. Dream understood some, but not all. Not when George hasn't expressed every single thought that ran through his head. Dream didn't expect him to, nor would he ask him. But he knew that George wasn't okay, and it seemed that only Dream was completely aware of that. 

It pissed him off, actually. That George's friends were close to him but didn't realize the signs of depression and anxiety. That his best friend, and Dream's childhood friend, Nick hadn't done much. He couldn't pin the blame on them though, because nobody was responsible for what George did but they could have been there for him. They could have at least tried to visit when George was obviously spiraling down a dark corridor with no intention of getting out. They could have tried, but they didn't. They were his friends, and they didn't do anything. And it pissed him off.