7• Everlasting epinephrine

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Epinephrine: another word for adrenaline.

(George POV)

Ive been awake since dream fell asleep. It's 4:02am.. Tears stain my face and the soft pill beneath my head. Dreams body is pressed into the back of mine, his arm drooped around my waist, the warmth suffocating between us.

Thoughts pile into the front of my mind as his breaths blow against the small hairs on the back of my neck.

I can't do this to dream. He doesn't need a dead weight to carry around. It was my fault last time what if I'm just some bad curse? Oh god I cant do that to him.

Another round of tears fill the tear ducts in my eyes. My sobs are muffled as I try to not wake up dream. I suffocate myself. Push my head so far into the pillow that I nearly loose my breath. I scratch at my eyes and squeeze them shut so hard I see colours.

Nothing works.

I slide out of dreams grasp ever so carefully. My gaze drops down to his relaxed face, the beauty of him really glows at night. The disappearing moon shines through the glass balcony door, illuminating every eyelash, I could count them if I wanted.

I walk to the bathroom on the other side of the room with quiet footsteps. Only once inside i click the light on, my ghostly presence coming into full view in the gleaming mirror.

God I'm pathetic.

My existence seems to carry around a dark cloud against the whiteness of the en suite. I look terrible. Eye bags drag far down my face, starting from my almost black eyes. I notice my skin looks more pale than usual, almost matching the brightly painted walls. The hoodie dream lent me after we came in from the storm drags at my skin as it droops down my smaller figure. It loosens around my shoulder blades and reaches down to my thighs. The black sleeves overflow my hands, they are so long it stretches out nearly double my arm length.

I wipe at my face aggressively, hoping that whoever is looking back at me in the mirror will disperse with it. Giving up only when my face turns a deep shade of crimson red. I turn on the taps so very slightly that I can barley hear the dripping of the water.

I watch as the liquid fills my cupped hands. Reaching down, I splash the water across my face, the moisture drips down my chin and leaks into the opening of the hoodie, it sends a relief of life down with it.

Dawn begins to rise over the horizon. The night sky gets outweighed by the early morning, full of bright oranges and yellows. A cold wind picks up and small droplets tap at the window as i stand in the bathroom arguing with my thoughts.

Leave or stay?

It's like a constant war. The same phrase pinches at my mind as it gets repeated over and over again.

I don't want to leave but I have to before something breaks before it cannot be fixed. I miss the subtle aches when the touch of dreams presence sent goose bumps rolling down my back.

I wish and wish and wish to crawl back into bed with him. To be engulfed by the warm grasp and melt into the flames of love, to drown in his eyes and loose my breath in the hurricane of his words. I wish to be stuck at his side, our hearts sewn together and our lips forever crashing like the waves of the pacific on a misty morning.

Instead, i sigh at my appearance, my shoulders dropping as anxiety rips at the flesh in my stomach. My jaw tightens and my finger nails dig into my palms. Almost drawing blood. If I'm going to do this, I need to do it now.

Like ripping off a bandaid.

I'll be gone before he can fall in love with me. 

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Racer 404 || (dnf)Where stories live. Discover now