They were the last ones standing. Dream and George stood in the middle of the whole arena, right in the middle of the thicket of trees and lovely flowers that bloomed, the sun shining on the open space where trees didn't dare to grow and in the deep darkness of the forests were dead bodies hidden in the vantablack shadows. They were perfectly hidden and it looked like a death forest, Dream knew the bodies that fell before him were not fake, and that the people bleeding out weren't sleeping, neither was the oozing red liquid red fruit punch.
There was no such thing as teaming in this secret and cruel government game, and Dream couldn't bear to swing the long sword and plunge it deep into his friend's chest.
He had to make a sacrifice. And he wasn't going to give up his friend for the pleasure and sake for the sick fucks that monitored this revolting event.
"Hey George… I think you should win the money by yourself." Dream said, in a shaky and shallow voice. His eyes behind his mask, and he was glad he had it, he didn't want George to see his tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes.
George turned around, his own sharp sword clutched on by his hand, as he tilted his head slightly. "What? No! Dream, I want you to win this. To win your money back."
"Money is nothing compared to our friendship."
"Well, yeah, I know but I'm doing something for you. Eliminate me, Dream, and we can split the money if you—"
"George… I'm sorry. You really don't get it do you?. . . Did you really think all the dead people here were just… illusions?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"A guy told me… that the slaughter we would do and what we have done, was no joke."
Dream's grip on his sword became shaky, the dried blood that stained the blade, reflected a small bit of George's analysing face before the young british widened his eyes in horror. He spun his head around at the real, dead corpses, before he started coughing and gagging in his own mouth. He dropped his sword in horror, his face contorted into a deep pit of realisation and shame. And finally, the crystal tears that would poke their ways out of George's eyes finally fell. George looked at his hands, his whole body was trembling with fear and guilt. He had murdered people.
He had murdered innocent people who had thought the same about the event; a harmless game and in which everything was assured to be sugar-coated. He'd consider himself lucky that he didn't actually die in this facade of a benign game, but he considered just killing himself to repay the lives he's taken, at least paying the price in where he thought he belonged.
"George… this won't end until there's only one of us standing." Dream said, his tears flowing down his cheeks that were covered by his trademark mask, sobbing and clutching his sword as it slowly lifted… "And you know what George? I want you to have the money. I want you to live a happy life. I want you to smile for me. I want you to tell me as a hero to your children once this is done. Heck, I'll be honored if you named one of your firstborn after me…" Dream chuckled, his voice was clearly breaking and cracking, and the masked man knew George heard it. "But for now, George, promise me, one thing.".
George immediately cut Dream off in a state of panic, predicting what Dream was gonna do, George shook his head slowly, before frantically shaking his head and screaming as Dream had positioned the long blade at his chest.
"NO! DREAM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" The british man yelled, his scream so loud it tore his voice box. He thought if he screamed loud, it'd at least stop Dream. "STOP IT! Take, that SWORD AWAY! Dream, listen to me," George said, taking steps closer to Dream, "We'll find a way out, you can fly me back to Florida, we'll live together we'll—" George's voice became squeaky and pitched, his tears flowing like a broken tap, his incoherent sobbing that eventually matched with the slobbery of his snot that trickled slowly from his nose. Dream cut his best friend of four years off, slowly taking off his mask with a free hand, revealing his puffy eyes along with a tear-stained face.
