Don't Give Up On Me - Dreamnotfound

16

DREAM'S POV

Dream sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. Nowadays, his stomach was always twisted in knots, and his mind was always racing. He hadn't slept since the plane ride, and Dream could start to see the sun peeking through the rooftops.

Dream knew this was bad for him. Heck, he knew euthanasia was bad for him. But Dream knew that he had to do this. To remove the burden from George's shoulders. To remove the burden from his mother's shoulders. To remove it from everybody's shoulders.

His throat clenched at the thought of leaving George. His feelings were raw, bare, painful to think about. But he couldn't evade them forever.

And so that pushing away of the thoughts, that evasion, had led to Dream's current position, sitting hunched over and simply thinking.

But the decision had already been made. Dream would fly to Maine, alone, or at least, without George, and it'd be all over. Quickly, painlessly. That was what all the Google Searches he'd done had told him.

Dream drew in a sharp breath as a sudden pain overtook him. Not quite physical; rather, like a needle punctured the tenderest part of his heart, twisting and roughly scraping in his chest. He felt a tear drop down into his lap.

But this is what you chose.

You know it's for the good of everyone else. Not for yourself.

But George.

The mention of the dark haired boy seemed to transform that needle into a jagged knife, which plunged directly into the core of his heart.

A clock ticked in the corner of his room. The sound seemed almost mesmerizing, hypnotizing.

Time. What a fascinating concept. The very thing that Dream wished he could have more of. Instead, it was slipping, sliding, sneaking from between his grasp, leaving him on his knees, begging for it to come back. Like smoke in a closed fist, it slunk away, all measured in the steady tick, tock of the clock that sat in the corner.

Tick, tock

Tick, tock

Tick, tock

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair.

You ought to tell George when the appointment is.

Dream shook his head vigorously at himself.

He deserves to know. He's done so much for you.

Dream gulped, feeling a sense of guilt wash over him.

George. The perfectly innocent dark haired boy, ruined by Dream's predicament.

George. The sweet and laughing boy, scarred by Dream's wounds.

George. The beautiful and energetic boy, weighed down by the dark storm cloud that surrounded Dream and absorbed into itself everybody he loved.

Love. Another fascinating concept. Only the knight in shining armor wouldn't be able to save... the other knight this time.

Dream chuckled darkly to himself at his thoughts. But his mind was drawn back, inevitably, to the thought of the looming euthanasia appointment that was drawn in bloody red font on his mental calendar.

I have to tell George.

I have to.

He deserves at least knowing.