DSMP One Shots and Short Stories

Haunted By Regrets (Kinda DNF)

      Hello again! This is a short kinda DNF thing we've got here. This is in the vein of Dreamon fanfiction, but not quite. It explains itself okay, so I won't give too much away! Remember, it's a rough, unedited story, so I apologize for any writing errors!

      Have fun, I hope you enjoy the story!

                                      Doodle

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      "You promised you'd show me your face!"

      "Hitler promised not to invade Czechoslovakia, George. Welcome to the real world."

      George frowned, crossing his pale arms over his chest. What was he thinking, making deals with a possible demon? He knew better! Well, he thought he knew better, anyway.

      "What is your problem, Dream? I did your dare, I stole the key, and you promised I'd get to see what's under your stupid mask!" George snapped, his voice getting whinier by the second. Dream's lips curled into a smirk under the white edge of his mask, and the look itself was enough to make George's heart skip a beat, even if he was upset with him.

      "What if I give you something better?"

      George pushed his clout goggles up onto his forehead, his eyes narrowing. Better than solving the mystery of what this ghost looks like? He doubted it. But, with an aggravated sigh, he gave in and asked, "What? What is better than seeing what's behind the mask?"

      Dream's semi-see-through form solidified, something George had come to realize meant he was going to mess with him. He shoved himself backwards from the end of the bed, towards the wall. He never knew what was running through Dream's mind. Sometimes he was the sweetest person ever, his voice smooth like strawberry milk, and other times he was mean, rough, his face contorted with the evil plans of a thousand minds. He could never tell which version he was until it was too late. Dream stepped right up to the edge of the bed and leaned down a bit, his shadow looming over George.

      "What about a kiss, Gogy?"

      George felt his face go red. A kiss? A kiss? A burst of anger, longing, and a million other feelings crowded his chest until he couldn't keep them hidden anymore.

      "You're kidding me, you're absolutely kidding me. First, you show up in my house out of nowhere, haunt me, make me feel like I'm insane, then you show yourself! You show yourself and start being helpful, acting like the real Dream, gain my trust, tell me you'll show me your face- the age-old want of everyone!- then ask me to steal the stupid key from Sam! I don't even know what it goes to, what it does! You tell me it's a prank, a joke, but I can see right through you, literally most of the time! Then you tell me it was a lie, that I don't get what I want, and offer me a kiss? Seriously? Get out, go away, I don't want to deal with you anymore! I don't want to be your friend, Dream, I don't want to see your face, and I don't want a stupid kiss!"

      The room swirled with energy as he finished, his chest hurting from his lungs trying desperately to keep up with his words. Something wet slipped down his cheek, and he realized he was crying. Anger, he decided, was to blame. Dream was standing there, his smirk long gone. A deep, shadowed frown took its place. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed George's shirt collar, yanking him forward and up, a couple of inches from his face.

      "Don't you ever speak to me like that, George. You think this is all some silly game, that I'm here just to mess with you, but it's not, and I'm not. You think you can just tell me to leave? You think you can just stop being my friend? That's not how this works. I control our path forward, not you. This isn't your game, this is mine. I'm not your Dream."

      George was shaking, his hands trying to pull Dream's away from his shirt. He was still crying, but it was less from anger now and more from fear. Fear of what he'd done, of what Dream could do. The masked man's voice sounded evil, demonic, and George was sure he'd have nightmares about this exact moment going forward. He started to shake more as he realized Dream was right. He couldn't do anything about this. This Dream was a ghost, a spirit, a demon, he couldn't just get rid of him. More tears started to roll down as a sob started in his throat. This wasn't his Dream.

      Dream's face shifted from its shadowy, evil look and back to a soft one, concern etched over what little face was visible. His hands loosened from George's shirt, a small 'god damn it' leaving his lips. He pulled his hands back and shifted to wrap George in a hug, resting the scared man's head in the crook of his neck as he spoke softly. It was such a contradiction from the demonic attitude he held just moments before.

      "Shh, George, it's alright, I didn't mean to scare you... I can't help it sometimes, you know that. I would never hurt you," He whispered, his hands drawing soothing patterns onto the back of George's blue shirt as he bounced to the rhythm of silent sobs. George's hands wrapped around Dream as if they'd done this a million times before, holding him tightly as his mind raced. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists, grabbing Dream's shirt.

      "I'll give you some time alone, alright? Get some rest, Gogy."

      With that, Dream vanished completely. It happened so suddenly that George's arms went from hugging the living hell out of Dream to flying back into his torso, causing him to hug himself quite aggressively. He looked up and around his room, using his palm to wipe away some of the tear tracks from his cheeks. When he realized Dream wasn't coming back, his chest started to heave harder. It didn't take long for him to find himself curled into a ball, arms wrapped around his knees as he sobbed into his chest, rethinking everything he'd done. He wanted Dream back, but not this copycat of him. He wanted his Dream. His chest ached more and more with the thought. His Dream, his Dream, his.. Dream. He knew he couldn't have him back. He was dead. He was dead, and this Dream was all that was left.

      The thought rolled on repeat in his head, only stopping once George realized he wasn't crying anymore, wasn't thinking. He was just sitting there, in the darkness of his room, wrapped in his own arms. His eyelids were heavy from the tears, the yelling, the emotions. He pulled his arms away from his knees and fell to his side, his head just barely hitting his pillow. It took all his motivation to kick his shoes off and pull up his cover. He drifted off quickly, his mind too tired to form thoughts.

      Once he was certainly asleep, Dream reappeared off to the side of the bed. He watched him, his lips pressed together as the voice inside his head clamored for a fight. He fought it off, though, and walked closer to the bed, stopping beside George's sleeping head. He looked so beautiful like this, his brown hair all messy, blue and brown eyes closed, his lips barely parted with the words of his dreams, his nightmares. Dream reached carefully down to his head and pulled his clout goggles off, smiling at the fact that George had fallen asleep with them on. One of his hands lingered beside his head before drifting down, the backs of his fingertips gently brushing over his cheek. George's sleeping form seemed to lean into the touch, making Dream smile even more. He pulled his hand away and leaned down to his ear, the moonlight glinting through his shimmering existence.

      "I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise. Not even myself," He whispered, then stood back up, admiring him for a second more, before vanishing for the last time tonight. The room stood still and quiet, the only noise coming from the soft breaths of the sleeping boy. Chaos would surely ensure tomorrow, but for now? All is calm.