Don't Give Up On Me - Dreamnotfound

15

George was frozen, and it took him what felt like hours to get his voice back.

"When?" His question carried double meaning; when did he apply, and when is the appointment. "Never mind, how can we cancel it?"

Dream stared at the table like a little boy caught in mischief.

Silence.

"We can't."

George slammed the table, standing up. Dream winced, still refusing to make eye contact.

"We have to!" George insisted. He sat down quickly, realizing that he was frightening Dream.

Silence. Dream picked at the tablecloth uncertainly, shoulders forward, his body language clearly conveying the message 'leave me alone'.

But George couldn't just leave it at that. Euthanasia? Seriously. He took a deep breath. "Then we'll just not go." George resolved and stood up to leave the table.

"Wait."

George paused in his steps, then slowly, hesitantly, turned around.

"I have to go. Please." Dream's voice was quiet, soft...

Desperate.

George shook his head fervently. "No, I-" George paused. "Let's talk about this later, okay? I-" He walked back to Dream. The blonde boy looked up uncertainly, slowly meeting George's gaze. George leaned in, then planted a gentle kiss on Dream's forehead.

Then he walked away, mouth set in a straight line.

-

George didn't speak for the rest of the day. He'd already gotten Dream situated in the guest bedroom, and he was currently lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. By busying himself throughout the day, uploading a video and scrolling through Twitter, he'd managed to put off the thoughts he was avoiding for the day.

But now, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, those dreaded thoughts had come back to haunt him. George shifted his position on bed, trying to get comfortable. His phone lit up with a notification, but he ignored it, flipping over onto his other side.
His throat felt dry, so he sat up. He swung his legs over the bed, wrapping himself in one of his hoodies that he snatched up from his closet. George pushed the door open, walking to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the shelf and poured himself a glass of water, downing it quickly. He went to put the glass away, but when he turned around, Dream was sitting there, in his wheelchair, his mouth set in a grim line.

George opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Dream's eyes, once filled with depth and life, were now dead, the once vivid blue-green shade muted. That pair of dull eyes, staring at George's own. He felt a lump build up in his throat against his own will.

Stop. You need a clear head to reason with Dream. Losing his mobility doesn't mean he's dumb.

George shook his head and put away the glass, stalling, until he finally faced Dream. He sucked in a sharp breath, then spoke. "What's up?"

The question came out more feeble than he would've liked, but it was a start.

"Couldn't sleep. You?" Dream answered in a monotone voice.

"Just wanted some water. Did I wake you- oh wait never mind." George shook his head at his own stupidness.

A slight smile curled up at the corner of Dream's mouth before it quickly dropped away. George blinked, wondering if he'd just hallucinated or something. He cleared his throat.