Chapter Text
George realizes too late that this is a bad idea.
It isn't until he’s standing face to face with a wall of lava that he starts feeling uneasiness crawling into his stomach. Not because he’s mere inches away from a substance that could kill him in seconds, but because he knows what is on the other side. Or rather, who.
“It’ll be any second now, George,” Sam says from behind him, clad in his netherite armor. George gulps. He feels practically naked without any of his stuff. Definitely not an ideal feeling to have when you’re about to see your ex-best-friend-turned-tyrant.
The wall of lava starts to slowly drain down, revealing a sea of orange surrounding a single obsidian cell. Eventually, the lava was low enough for George to see Dream, waiting in his cell for his visitor. George wants to turn around and run.
But before he could even move a muscle, Sam spoke up again. “Stand on the bridge and move with it as it goes towards the prisoner. And remember, you’ll be stuck there with him until you tell me you’re ready to leave.”
All George could do is nod. His nerves didn’t even allow him to audibly reply. The stone brick below his feet starts to move, pushing him closer and closer to Dream. As he walks, George reminds himself that the man in front of him isn’t his friend anymore. He’s a tyrant. A criminal. A threat to all his friends on the SMP. George can’t let his past feelings cloud his judgement. He isn’t there to forgive Dream and welcome him back with open arms. This visit is purely for closure.
But as the bridge gets closer, George starts to make out a grin on Dream’s face. That stupid, stupid grin that use to make butterflies fly around his stomach.
“George!” Dream calls out. George recognizes the way his eyes light up whenever he is excited. With an expression like that, it almost seems like Dream forgot he was in prison at all.
Oh boy, George was a goner.
His feet reach the obsidian and the stone bridge retracts as the lava starts to fill again. George looks back at Sam one last time before the orange substance obstructs his view.
“Welcome to my crib,” Dream jokes as he gestures around his tiny obsidian cell. It was almost sad how little there was to see. All Dream has is a tiny bed, a sink and toilet, a desk with a few books and loose papers, and a clock hanging on the wall. George feels sorry for him for about 0.2 seconds until he forcefully pushes those feelings away. “Sorry, it’s a little messy. Wasn’t expecting visitors.”
George chews on his lips as he looks at his ex-best-friend. He looks different. Scruffier. With the lack of razors, he probably hasn’t shaved since he arrived at the prison. George hates to admit it, but the stubble kind of suited him. That coupled with the new scar over his eye from his fight with Tommy made him look all the more attractive. Even the way Dream’s orange jumpsuit hugs his body is enough for George’s mind to run wild. He can tell that this motherfucker’s been working out in his cell.
“You look pretty bad,” George lies, crossing his arms over his chest.
Dream chuckles in response. “You wound me, George. Is that all you have to say to me after all this time?”
George scoffs, “Of course not. You know why I’m here.”
The prisoner quirks up an eyebrow and smirks. George loves— no, loathes his dumb smirk. “Oh, really? Care to remind me?” Dream taunts as he sits down on his bed and leans back on his hands.
“You’re so annoying” George mumbles as he reaches into his back pocket and shows him the only items Sam allowed him to bring in. A bunch of crumpled up pieces of paper. “Here.”
“...You’re here to give me trash?”
George rolls his eyes, tossing the pages onto the bed next to Dream. “They’re your letters. I came to tell you to stop writing to me.”
Almost every day since Dream was imprisoned, a letter would appear at his doorstep. None of them were ever signed, but George knew that they were from him. Each letter would reminisce about the early days of the SMP when it was just the two of them. Before any factions, before any wars, before any betrayals, there were just two best friends, trying to survive and build a home together. The letters were filled to the brim with recountings of old adventures and inside jokes. Only Dream could have written those.
Whenever George received one, he wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Everyday, he was reminded of what they used to have. What he had lost since then. These letters had to be some sort of cruel, cruel joke from Dream, a way to force George to relive the past.
Dream picks up one of the pages and examines it carefully, the smirk from before now gone. He’s silent for a few moments until he softly admits, “I...I thought you’d like them.”
George gapes at him. He definitely wasn’t expecting that kind of response, especially not one with such a genuine tone. “What? Why on earth would I like them?”
Dream looks up at him, causing George to nearly melt under the gaze of those emerald green eyes. “Talking about the good old days. Don’t most people like doing that?”
“Friends do that, Dream,” George points out. “We aren’t friends anymore. Not after what you did.”
A thick silence fills the room for what seems like eternity. George, deciding to end this horrible visit, walks towards the lava, ready to call for Sam.
“George, wait,” Dream starts. His voice sounds so vulnerable, so desperate . He stands up from the bed and walks towards him. His hand rests on George’s shoulder and makes him turn to face him. They were close enough for George to see the freckles dotting Dream’s cheeks. “Look, I’m sorr—”
“No! No, you can’t do this to me again,” George interrupts, slapping his hand away from him. Anger and frustration starts to fill his stomach. “You can’t just expect me to forgive you just because you apologize! Do you even know how much you hurt me? How much you’ve hurt Sapnap?”
George can still vividly remember the day he was dethroned. He recalls Sapnap coming to his aide as Dream revoked his crown. The two got into a heated argument and at one point, he remembers Sapnap telling Dream, “Just say it.”
“Just say you hate me.”
Dream’s silence answered for him.
George laughs bitterly. “Of course not. Because you don’t think of anyone but yourself!” His finger jabbed into Dream’s chest. “It’s always about you this and you that , isn’t it? It’s just like what you told Tommy. You don’t give a fuck about anything! And I was dumb enough to think that you actually gave a fuck about me!”
Tears nearly started to form in George’s eyes, “I hate you. I never want to see you again.”
Dream’s eyes bore into George’s for a few moments, a deep frown forming on the inmate’s face. “...You’re a liar.”
“What did you call me?” George asks, incredulously.
“A liar,” Dream repeats.
George wants to scream and yell and curse. His frustration with him only grew with each passing moment. His hands move to push Dream away, but Dream catches his wrists.
“Why are you here, George. Why are you really here?” he asks, grip tightening as he looks down at the ex-king.
“Were you even listening? I came to tell you to leave me alone!” George struggles against his former friend’s grip.
“Why couldn’t you write that to me then, huh? If you hated me so much, why did you come this far just to see me?”
George’s struggling hesitates for a split second as he thinks about Dream’s words. He has a point. It’s not like George absolutely needed to come. He knows perfectly well that he could have ignored the letters and simply moved on. Yet here he is, standing dangerously close to the man he should want dead.
“Don’t flatter yourself, you psycho,” George spits, trying to ignore the stirring of familiar feelings in his stomach.
“You were always so easy to read. Just admit it, George,” Dream says, leaning down right next to George’s ear. His breath brushes against his skin, causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. The familiar scent of his ex-best-friend floods his senses, and for some reason, George can’t get enough of it. Dream’s voice drops low as he whispers, “You missed me, didn’t you?”
A choking noise comes out of the back of George’s throat. This isn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to find closure. He was going to say goodbye to Dream for good . To leave him behind in this cell to rot by himself. But now, he’s getting sucked right back in.
George’s arms went limp, causing Dream to pull away from his ear and look at him with a soft expression. A stream of tears had started falling down George’s cheeks. Dream’s hands went up to gently wipe them away. His fingers traced his jawline as if George was the most precious thing in the world.
“I hate you. I hate you so much,” George says between sniffles, his words much less convincing than the first time he said them.
Dream’s lips curve up just the slightest as he rests his forehead against his. “I love you, too, George. You know I always have.”
George sobs, his hands balling into fists and softly hitting themselves against Dream’s chest. “Why?” he asks, his voice cracking. “Why do you always do this to me? Y-you give me the world and then as soon as I accept it, you just take it all away. Why do you keep leaving me?”
“You know I don’t mean to hurt you,” Dream whispers, their noses brushing against each other. “Everything I’ve done has been for you, George.”
God, George wants to believe him. Every fiber of his being wants to forget about everything and just kiss him until their lips turn swollen red. But he can’t.
“Now, who’s the liar?” George says, blinking away his tears. He pushes himself away from Dream, immediately missing the warmth of his hands and forehead.
“I’m serious, George,” Dream defends, dropping his hands to his sides, “People wanted to kill you when you were King. I was just trying to protect you!”
“Oh yeah? Were you trying to protect me when you blew up my nation?” George challenges. The angry feeling in his stomach started to stir again. “When you threatened to kill us if we defied you?”
Dream opens his mouth to rebut but George continues before he could get a word out.
“Were you protecting me at the wedding?” George asks, expression morphing into one of genuine hurt. “When you left me at the damn altar and disappeared for weeks?”
Dream’s expression softed. “George, please, I—”
“I kissed you! In front of everyone!” George yelled. “I made a fool of myself because I was acting like a lovesick idiot.” His eyes narrow at the man in front of him. “And you just left me there.”
“You don’t think I wanted to stay with you?” Dream retaliates, stepping closer to George. “You don’t think I wanted it to be you at that altar instead of Fundy?”
“Then, why , Dream?” George cries, his face flushing with frustration. “If you wanted me so much, why did you leave me? Why did you even agree to marry Fundy in the first place? Why the fuck would you make me think you didn’t love me?”
Dream takes another step towards him. “Because I couldn’t be with you, George,” he explains. “Not while I had so many people after my head. I couldn’t risk you getting involved.”
“Why? So your enemies wouldn’t have any leverage against you? One less person to worry about in your little political game?” George scoffs. “Is that all you see me as? A liability?”
This time, George is the one to step towards Dream, confidence surging into his veins. “You are just so full of shit , Dream,” George continues, rage etched into his voice. “You don’t think I can take care of myself? You don’t think you could have told me all of this before you went and ruined everything? God, Dream, what the hell were you thinking?”
George thinks back to everything Sapnap told him about what Dream had done. Banishing and gaslighting Tommy, blowing up L’Manberg, threatening to kill Tubbo for those stupid discs— George can hardly recognize the cheery, best friend he once adored.
A part of him thinks that if he stayed by his side, if he never had his falling out with Dream, then maybe just maybe, Dream wouldn’t have done all those things.
What a horribly naive thought to have.
“You are the most pathetic person I’ve ever met,” George scorns, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “Forget whatever fucked up relationship we had before because I’m done. Go ahead and die for all I care.”
He expects a loud response. He expects Dream to defend himself and come up with excuse after excuse. But instead, Dream grabs George’s wrist and leads him to the wall of lava.
“Don’t touch me—” George warns, but his voice falters as he watches Dream position himself in front of the hot orange substance. He guides George’s hand to his chest, laying his palm flat against the orange fabric of his prison uniform.
“Then kill me.”
George’s heart feels a tug and he’s silent for a few moments. He searches for any sign of joking from Dream’s expression, but there was nothing but a cold and broken look in Dream’s eyes. “...What?”
“Push me,” Dream demands, using George’s wrist to put more pressure up against his own chest. “One little push and I’ll be out of your life forever.”
George intakes a sharp breath. His hand trembles against Dream as he actually considers it.
He thinks of all the times Dream had hurt him. Each time he left. Each time he chose someone else. Each time he made him cry. The amount of pain he’s caused could last him a lifetime. God, George was so so tired of it all.
His hand puts the tiniest bit of pressure against him.
“Just do it, George!” Dream urges. “Show me how much you hate me!”
He becomes so close to ending it all. Ending all the pain and suffering he’s been put through.
But then he imagines Dream sinking into the lava, skin burning and bones disintegrating. That beautiful face of his, melting into a sick distortion of flesh and blood until there was nothing left but a horrible memory.
Somehow, the thought of that brings more pain to George than he could ever imagine.
“I-I can’t,” George whimpers, pulling away his hand.
They stand there for an excruciatingly long moment, cloaked in silence.
Then, Dream leans back towards the lava.
George doesn’t know why he moves. He doesn’t know why his hands shoot out to grab Dream’s shoulders. He doesn’t know why a small cry escaped his lips as if his own life flashed before his eyes.
“Don’t,” George whispers with a defeated tone. His eyes well up with tears once again as he admits his lie. “I don’t want you to die.”
A pair of strong arms wrap around George’s skinny figure as Dream bends down and buries his face into the crook of the other man’s neck. As if second nature, George’s own arms moved to wrap around the prisoner, pulling the two of them closer together and away from the lava. The warmth of being in his arms again felt so good. So right. The feeling of being loved, being wanted, being protected— it’s all George can feel in Dream’s arms.
It scares him how much he loves Dream.
“Oh, thank god,” Dream whispers back, his voice shaky as if he was on the verge of breaking. “Everyone left me, George. I can’t lose you, too.”
George can feel Dream practically crumble against him. He recognizes the way that Dream’s shoulders start to tremble, the way his arms tighten around him, the way his breath becomes staggered. It wasn’t long until the tyrannical terrorist starts crying against George’s neck, the soft sound of his sobs echoing within the obsidian room.
And George, feeling the hot lava melt away his barriers, finally starts to see the Dream he once knew.