warmth [dreamnotfound] | ✓

chapter three. saline solution.

7:15 AM

It had taken a while, but George had finally fallen into a fitful sleep in the backseat which left Dream entirely alone with nothing but the aux cord and a rapidly dying cell phone. His main playlist had cycled all the way through 20 minutes earlier and so he had no choice but to play the only other music saved to his phone: his old playlist from middle school.

He should have deleted it years ago and he knew it, but Dream reassured himself that it would be fine. He would be able to listen to the playlist and keep driving and everything would be okay.

The car cruised through the countryside, driving directly parallel to Lake Michigan now, as the first song booted up. It was an upbeat song that he had fond memories of and so, keeping his eye on George to make sure he didn't wake him, Dream turned the music a bit louder. He hummed along until he felt his throat starting to close, but ignored the sensation. He blinked and felt an icy tear stumble its way down his cheek. Okay, maybe he couldn't do this.

The chorus started again and he felt frustrated with himself, mad that he couldn't do it. The memories were four years old now. He should be fine. He had to be fine. Dream resisted the urge to hit the steering wheel or smack the console or crash the car. He was so dumb. So so dumb.

The song ended and another started and instead of pulling himself from the raging river of pain and memories and suffering, Dream let it play. It could only be described as stabbing himself in the chest when he recognized the second song and memories filled his lungs like water.

A flash of a familiar face here, the sound of glass shattering there, the feeling of a hand across his cheek. They came and went as the chorus kicked in and Dream made a strangled noise. His left foot tapped to the beat, hitting the ground like a child's foot hitting concrete as he sprinted from a crime scene. Fumbling through blurred eyes, he rolled down the window and prayed he wouldn't wake the dark-haired passenger who was snoring softly in the back.

The wind didn't help much to drown out the song or his thoughts and he just found himself choking harder. He looked up to the rearview mirror and watched the tears roll down his cheeks. He couldn't even feel them.

It was too overwhelming. All of it. The song, the memories, being back together with George after all those years. Dream couldn't bear it, and yet he did nothing to save himself. He simply pushed his sunglasses higher on his nose, rolled up the window, and waited for the song to end.

When it abruptly stopped, it was replaced with momentary silence. Dream let out a rattled breath, releasing his thoughts with it. He felt light-headed and ill and knew he shouldn't be driving like this. The next song to start was much louder and woke George.

The shorter boy sat up in the backseat, stretching his arms and groaning with indignation.

Dream coughed, trying to get the last of the liquid from his lungs. "Good morning. Are you sober yet?"

"I don't know, are you?"

The weight on his heart turned to feathers and Dream groaned. "Nope. Guess I'm driving for a while because someone just had to get high at four in the morning."

"Whoops." George sipped from a water bottle, drinking until it was empty, and Dream wondered if it was apparent that he'd been crying. His voice sounded relatively normal and George was too far away to see the tearstains on his face, so he figured he was fine. Even if his old friend could tell, he would never say anything.

"Was that the last of it?" Dream knew there had been a few water bottles in the back, but George had already taken a few and they had to be nearly empty.