polaroid angel - dreamnotfound

˖⋆࿐໋₊ 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺-𝘴𝘪𝘹

the blinds are pulled down but sunlight still shines into my bedroom in streaks. i'm not even sure what time it is anymore. could still be morning, or maybe it's past noon. it doesn't matter anyway. i've called in sick for work already.

the past week has been tough. i've tried to keep up appearances, but i see the looks carlos and my coworkers give me out of the corner of my eye. they know something's up. when i'm not constantly attached to dream, something isn't right. i've avoided him at work on purpose, cancelled all my shoots and instead focused only on boring paperwork to stay away. whenever i'm questioned, i just mumble an incoherent response back to seem busy.

i think carlos thinks dream and i have broken up. he glances at me with sympathy, that strange kind of typical post-breakup sympathy. i'm not sure i appreciate it, but as long as he doesn't confront me, it's fine.

speaking of breaking up, i'm not sure what's going on with me and dream's relationship at the moment. clearly we're not on good terms. i decline all his calls, not even bothering to read his long texts. any rational human being would've called it quits ages ago, but no matter how much i try to persuade myself, i can't do it. i can't send that text to him, i can't leave him that voicemail.

despite all we've been through, all this shit that's happened, i still love him. so, so much. i don't want to break up with him. i don't want to go without his hugs, his kisses, his love and his affection. it already hurts, how much i miss him. but deep down i know i'm not good for him.

i'm another one of his addictions. i feed the sex, drugs and money lifestyle he's got going on. he can't recover when i'm there. he has to want to recover on his own, when he's ready. there's no way for me to force him to. i've realized that now.

but what scares me the most, is that i've got no idea of what he truly thinks of me. he's said he loves me so many times, yet i can't trust those words. they could be empty words, for all i know. maybe he only dated me for my body, for sex. if it's true.. i don't know what i'd do. i'd like to strongly believe that that's not the case, but looking back at everything? maybe i was just an escape for him after all. like everything else he used.

he slept with me to distract himself from his problems, to scare his demons away. told me he loved me to keep me around. yeah, that could be it. but unless i talk to him, and unless he actually decides to tell me the truth, i may never know.

as if he could read my mind from afar, my ringtone starts playing. i don't even have to look at the screen to know it's dream. who else would call me now?

i reach over to grab it, cringing at my joints as they pop. for a few seconds i only stare at the device. the logical side of my mind tells me no, leave it. distance yourself. but the rest screams at me to pick up. i just want to talk to him, so badly. i just want to hear his voice again.

so i do it. i accept his call, putting my phone to my ear. the bedsheets have never felt heavier.

"george-" he gasps.

my heart does a flip. stop it, stop fucking fluttering.

"hey," i greet him dryly.

the line goes silent. i can hear him shuffling around, sighing, trying to figure out what to say.

"i- thank you for picking up."

i don't respond.

"uhm, this won't be a call where i'll try to explain myself or anything, i just- i wanted to talk to you. i needed to hear your voice.."

just like me, huh.

"cause i've- i've missed you so much..."

his voice breaks in the middle of the sentence. sobs echo from the speakers. my heart crumbles once again.

"i can't sleep when you're not here with me, i can't- i've been so worried," he weeps.
"don't you think i've been worried?"

i sound just as weak and insecure as him.

"i know you've been, and i get it if you're mad.. i would be too."

"dream- look," i sigh, "i'm not.. mad. or i guess i am, a little. but i'm mostly worried. i lay in bed, worrying to death every night, because i don't know if you'll still be here when i wake up the next morning. i don't know what state you'll be in, if you'll be hungover, or in a good mood, or in a horrible mood.

everything isn't about you. i've got my own mental health to care about. and all this.. it's- it's tearing me apart! i need time to heal too.

i'd love for things to go back to how they were, but... i'm not good for you, dream. not when you're in this state. and i hope you understand that yourself. things will only get worse if i- if i run back to you now."

"but i don't want you to leave me, how would i-"
"dream," i interrupt him, "not now. i'm not having this talk over the phone."

i run a hand through my unkempt hair, making up a quick plan in my head.

"listen, i'll come over after dinner tonight, and we'll settle this once and for all."
"okay.." he whispers.
"but don't get your hopes up, alright? we need a break away from each other, no matter what gets said."

he stays quiet. i take that as an agreement, even if it's against his will. i clear my throat, taking a deep breath to distract myself from the harrowing silence.

oh, how i wish he was here right now. no matter how much shit we've been through - or we'll go through in the future - i'll always crave him in the same way. that feeling i get every time i see him, the way that my heart does a leap, that my cheeks grow red and warm, and how that flame inside of me burns wild when i get to feel his soft, thermal skin. it'll never grow old. that flame will never be extinguished.

"well," he finally speaks, "see you then, i guess, b-"
"wait."

my hands feel clammy, and i have to grip my phone tighter. but i'm desperate to get it out.

"i love you dream."
"i love you too," he sniffles, "i love you so much."

then i hang up.