feel my hands. (dnf x gream)

Chapter Nine: Worth

"What?" George's voice was barely above a whisper. He watched the steady rise and fall of Dream's chest, the aggression dissipating from his face, realization setting in.

George couldn't possibly have heard him, right? There was no way he knew Dream was serious?

He glanced to the doorway, hoping Sapnap wasn't eavesdropping. He felt himself still breathing heavily, scanning George's eyes.

"What?" George repeated a little louder. Dream shrunk back, biting his lip.

He tilted his head up to the ceiling, as if trying to channel energy or an amazing explanation for his reckless behavior, beyond what his body and mind could provide. If he were really being honest, though, his thoughts didn't have the capability of straying farther than that soft brown hair and flawless skin.

I really messed up. What now? He tightened a hand into a fist behind his back, trying to calm himself.

But you know, don't you? You know exactly what now. You just wish you didn't.

"The things you do to me." He muttered.

"Dream, I—"

"Don't." He glanced back to those doe eyes, the brown ones that stared at him with so much curiosity and kind confusion.

How could he possibly worm his way out of this one? Telling George to forget it all didn't feel right. "I...I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

He screwed his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have said that—those, those things."

George's eyebrows knit together, dread settling like snowflakes on his skin. "Are you...are you sorry for telling me? Or are you sorry because you didn't mean it?"

"You know the answer." You're really pushing my limits.

"...We could try, Dream. You and I."

He grit his teeth. Curse George and his pretty face. "How do you expect to hold me responsible for my actions when you talk like that?" Curse George and his pretty words.

George smiled bitterly. "Would you let loose for once? You don't need to be responsible, with me."

When Dream didn't reply, he tried again. "We can take it slow. We'll—"

"There is no we. It's not worth it." I'm not worth it.

George responded immediately. "You're worth it to me."

"Isn't that what you'd like to believe?" He laughed harshly.

"Am I not worth it to you?"

Dream passed a hand over his face before he carefully clasped George's shoulder. "George," he muttered, looking hard into his eyes, "you're worth it. You're so worth it that it scares me. And that's why I can't do this."

Anger flashed in his eyes when Dream took his hand away and stepped towards the door. "Clay, really? Are you seriously going to leave?"

"I'm sorry, George. I—I have to go."

If looks could kill, Dream would have been dead by now. He turned, hand resting on the door frame. George took a step, holding his hand out and letting it drop to his side. "Clay. Don't you dare walk away."

"I can't."

"You're a pussy." George blurted, face heating up in anger and surprise at his lashing out. "You're a wimp."

Dream was almost as shocked as he was.

George took another half-tentative step towards him, fury splashed across his features. "You're always running away from things that scare you, and I'm sick of it. You can't fool me. You can't fool anyone. Face your fucking problems."