The Tragic and the Pure - DreamNotFound

Chapter 19

George POV

Sticks shattered beneath boots, crystalized air flowing from parted lips as two figures shot up the mountainside. George's calves ached from the uphill run, silently coming up with hundreds of revenge plans for when he caught the idiot.

Unlike him, Dream didn't seem to have broken a sweat. He dashed ahead, occasionally checking on the human prince over his shoulder.

George nearly caught him twice, once when Dream slipped on wet leaves and another when he got tangled in a thorn vine. Those close victories sent his last reserves of stamina pumping through his veins. 

"Oh Dream!" He shouted. "I'm right behind you, idiot!" 

The pair ran past the bathhouse into the forest beyond. George panted, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead despite the cold air. At least the trees were beginning to thin, sending fresh waves of wind.

Any more of this and he seriously feared collapsing. 

Dream suddenly skidded to a halt. 

"Huh?!" Startled, George barreled straight into his back. He wrapped his arms around Dream's middle, not one to give up a victory, as they toppled to the ground.

Dream let out a muffled "oof", taking the brunt of the fall. He laid front-down, the prince sprawled over his back. 

George's arms were crushed beneath him, letting out a groan. "Urgh, why did you stop..." 

A flower petal the lightest of purples floated past his nose, cutting off his words as his eyes widened. Is that...?

Dream grunted as George scrambled off his back, an excited, bubbly feeling rising from his feet all the way to his head. The world was dark, the sky mostly black with thin trails of fire as the sun said goodnight, yet the ground was aglow with lilac light. 

It was luminescent flowers. Petal lips closed and plump, a gentle glow trapped inside.

"Snow flowers! Look, Dream!" He spun around. "It's-"

The dirty blond stood behind him, a knowing smile on his lips. 

In an instant, George understood. "You brought me here on purpose?"

"I saw them last year and hoped they'd be blooming by now," Dream said. "You've always loved plants; especially flowers."

George's heart did a strange little leap. He stepped onto a flat stone that shone so silver it was as if a chunk of the moon had been carved out and dropped to earth. Snow flowers licked the edge of the stone, swaying softly in the breeze.

Catching a quick flash of something unusual, he crouched down to part the sea of glowing flowers. Without thinking, he muttered, "Roses..."

He lifted one, cupping the delicate thing in his palms. Its beautiful scarlet color had long since turned black, the edges crinkled and decayed. The roses would surely return come Spring, but...

"This is where you got it from, isn't it?"

... but why did his chest feel so stuffy?

Dream didn't deny it. "Yes."

George stared down at the rose that reopened the wounds on his heart and played an opening act on the next stage of his life. Everything took a turn the night Dream was revealed to be back. How much time had passed for the same flower patch to wither?

"I kept it, you know." He protected the rose in his hands, stroking the crinkled edges with his thumb. "All of it. The rose, the knife, and your creepy note."