if i could drown in you, would you let me

i want the world

Dream hadn't noticed he fell asleep. One moment he was awake desperately waiting for a text from George, and the next, he was sitting in a field of tall grass basking in the warm air. He inhaled deeply, the scent of wildflowers brushing against his nose. His hands splayed behind him, clutching the blades of grass underneath him. A light touch on the back of his left hand sent Dream reeling. Finger's laced through his as Dream screwed his eyes shut. He was too scared to look.

"Dream," whispered George, his voice closer than it had ever been before. It was so solid. It sounded so real; he was so desperate for it to be real. "Dream, look at me." Dream turned his head, keeping his eyes closed. He shook his head slightly. "Why?"

"Because you're not here, you're never here," he replied, breathing heavily, trying to will away tears from forming. George's free hand came to cup Dream's face, his fingers sweeping over Dream's jawline.

"I'm here," said George. Dream could hear the smile in his voice, that perfect, damning smile. Dream leaned forward, his head crashing into George's shoulder, George's arms reflexively wrapped around him. He opened his eyes to see George's chest in front of him. Maybe this time was different. Maybe this time George wouldn't disappear.

"Do you promise?" Asked Dream, his voice muffled by the fabric of George's hoodie. George chuckled.

"I promise." Dream hesitated. George pulled Dream's hand to his lips. "I promise," he whispered into Dream's skin. His warm breath sent a chill down Dream's spine. Dream looked up, and for a moment, he was there. George's smiling face looked down at him, his head framed by the sun.

"Hi," he smiled down at Dream. His George was this close. Dream melted in his gaze. "You stupid, stupid boy." Dream's smile vanished.

"All it takes is one glance, and I've destroyed you," he laughed, pulling away from Dream.

"George, what are you-"

"Just shut up, will you," spat George. "You think I could care about you like that? You disgust me." Dream shrunk against George's words as George grew bigger in front of him. An axe slipped into George's hand. George lifted it and swung directly for Dream's head.

Dream's eyes shot open. Another nightmare had torn through him, leaving him trembling and covered in sweat. George had never done that before; there had to be a first time for everything, though. Dream was losing his mind. That's the only explanation.

He rolled over, reaching for his phone—five unread text messages: two from Sapnap and three from George. Sapnap had texted just like George had to ask if Dream was okay. He didn't bother responding.

my text from earlier didn't send lol

i was just saying that if you needed to talk i'm here

u okay? youre not responding

Dream recalled his nightmare, the look of glee on George's face after he had successfully tricked Dream. Dream shook his head as if it'd erase the memory. This George wasn't like that. He wouldn't ever do that to him. George wouldn't trap him just to cut him down, not on purpose. He was checking in on a friend. Friend. That word was like poison flooding Dream's veins.

yeah im fine i just fell asleep

He wanted to say more. He wanted to say so much more. "Friend." He choked down the word as if saying it out loud would help. "We're friends."

thanks for checking in on me

Dream sat up, still sweating bullets. It couldn't just be from his nightmare, could it? He walked to his thermostat. Shit. Not only was he in hell because of George, but now his AC wasn't working. Great. Dream's phone buzzed in his hand. George already responded.

anytime dream

Wasn't it super late for him? Why was he still up?

dude isnt it like 3 where u are?

why are you still up

Dream prayed he sounded casual enough. George had to see right through him. He had to see how much Dream cared, how their friendship was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

i just couldnt sleep

why did you take a nap so late

Dream shook his head. don't change the subject

im not. Dream could practically hear George's laugh rolling off that text.

whatever lol. Was that too harsh? So much for seeming casual. i didn't mean to, i just kinda fell asleep

what woke you up? George asked. 'You,' thought Dream. 'You did.'

the heat. i guess my ac is broken. He responded; it was a good excuse. George would never be the wiser. He would never know the feelings that Dream was harboring. He could never know.

damn that sucks

wait, i have the perfect song for you. The message came in a few moments later, a link to Sweater Weather. Dream fought the smile that was threatening to take over his face.

very funny george

George responded with a smiley face. What the fuck was Dream supposed to do with that? How was he supposed to maintain a conversation with that? Dream tossed his phone onto his bed before dropping his head into his hands.

He didn't have to maintain the conversation because sometimes conversations have natural ends. What was George supposed to say to what Dream said? Just because Dream never wanted to stop talking to George didn't mean George felt the same. Dream knew George didn't feel the same way. He thought that they were friends. Friends, friends, friends, friends.

Friends don't infiltrate other friend's dreams. Friends don't make you feel like you're going to explode with a smile. Friends laughs don't sound like the beat of an angel's wings.

Dream was burning, metaphorically, and literally. He stood with a groan to shower, to wipe away the stink of sweat and rage. He slid to the door of his bathroom, shedding clothes along the way. He stepped into his shower, smoothly turning on the cold water. He stood there for a moment with eyes closed, just letting the water embrace him with freezing fingers. He deserved this, the stinging needles piercing his skin carried by the cold water.

He felt tears start to leak out of his eyes as he placed a hand on the shower wall to steady himself. His thoughts, his dreams, his nightmares were all haunted by the ghost of his friend. He tormented his memories, the faintest smile always pressing against the recesses of Dream's mind. Dream hung his head in shame.

He needed to move on from this, this obsession—this fixation. He could do it if he wanted it enough. He could just choose to move on. And God did he want to move on, to go back to normal. To a time where his every moment wasn't consumed by GeorgeNotFound. It was pathetic.

Dream used to be able to joke without care, to laugh freely. He didn't have to think and overthink every word that came out of his mouth. He couldn't pinpoint where it changed. He couldn't tell you when or where he realized he was...

He couldn't tell you when or where he realized he cared for his friend more than a friend should. It just felt like two distinct periods—a time of camaraderie, of silly little youtube videos and speedruns. And a time of torture, of hell, of the Dream SMP.

Dream wants too much, that's for sure. But not for the first time, and not for the last, the thing he wished for most of all was time. Time to change, to fix things, to go back in time. Dream always wanted what he couldn't have. Always.