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George is shattered. He never thought Dream would be the cause; the one to break him.
“I hate you,” Dream shouts at George. The yell echos, bouncing off the walls that surrounded the two men.
George takes his sleeve and wipes the tears slowly trailing down his face. He tries to stifle a sob before it escapes him; he fails. His heart squeezes, his throat lumps. He stares down to his hands; they tremble.
The pair had been arguing for what felt like hours. Both of them saying things they didn’t mean, or maybe things they did.
“You don’t mean that. Do you?” George’s voice is soft, his words are shaky, he speaks but only after hesitance. He lifts his head back up and lets his eyes travel to Dream’s; their eyes lock.
“I mean it, George,” Dream spits back. His eyes are bright; not warm and gentle like the usually would be. The look in Dream’s eyes could resemble flames. George stares into the mans eyes and it hurts, it aches and more tears fall from his face, dampening it only for George to wipe his face yet again.
“You are just angry,” George chokes in between words, his voice even quieter. Tension sits in the air, as well as silence.
The room is quiet, the atmosphere is fogged with hostility.
“George, you are fucking pathetic, you know that? I said what I said and it’s your decision whether to believe it or not,” Dream finally speaks. Eye contact with Dream is painful; it burns. The fire in his eyes only grows. George’s heart pulls more, Dream’s words sting. George’s vision is blurring. He begins to shake even more, tears are now falling at a faster pace, with more intensity.
All things happen for a reason.
“Dream,” George warns. Pathetic ? Is that really what Dream thinks of George?
“Fuck you, George,” Dream curses.
It had been just yesterday the two where exchanging chaste kisses and muffled words of affection.
Now here they are, warmth no longer. Chills travel down George’s back; it’s freezing.
“Stop,” George warns again. His voice cracks, his words break as he speaks. His world is crumbling, his heart being crushed along with it.
“Can’t handle it? I mean it. Fuck you,” Dream continues to curse George out, every word covered in needles; George winces every time Dream throws one at him.
“Please stop ,” George pleads. He wants to scream. He wants to throw himself into a void of nothingness for the rest of eternity.
Their relationship has been iffy recently. The two were finding it harder and harder to overcome their differences. As much as George wants to believe the phrase “opposites attract,” he couldn’t. Sometimes fire is too strong for water.
Their relationship could be compared to a statue or sculpture, every argument chips away at the stone; George watches it fall to pieces.
“You give me nothing! You contribute nothing to this relationship, George.” Dream speaks firmly, his volume loud but he’s not quite yelling anymore. It jabs George in the heart, not the first time that night and definitely won’t be the last.
All because George can’t learn to express himself. Emotions are a hard thing for George and sometimes Dream’s affection is overwhelming. Sometimes Dream is too much. Sometimes George is too little.
It hurts to see that George is hurting Dream. George wants nothing more than to take his hand and reach forward, he want to brush Dream’s hair out of his face, out of his eyes. George wants to bring his finger to Dream’s face, he wants to trace his jaw. George wants to forget anything ever happened. He wants to ignore the pain of reality, he wants to ignore how his happiness is fading after every word Dream speaks.
He wants, he wants, he wants.
“I’m trying,” George says truthfully. He is.
Dream’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes; George watches. Dream’s breathing pattern is somewhat uneven; George notices.
“If you love me, it shouldn’t be hard,” George doesn’t miss how Dream’s voice shakes, his words are vulnerable.
“I love you with every part of me. I would do anything for you,” George states. He would.
“Change.”
A pause.
“What?” George questions. Did he hear that right?
“You heard me,” Dream says, his tone is still firm but his voice is now quiet.
“You want me to change?” George tries not to cry any harder than he already is.
“If you love me, wont you?” Dream asks, he sounds genuine.
Wont he?
“That is not what love is.”
Dream brows furrow in not-so-subtle anger. His cheeks are bright pink. His eyes, still rough.
“You think you know what love is?” Dream speaks, his words growing louder again. His tone is laced with poison, it’s toxic.
Another needle to George’s flesh.
“I know I do.” George replies softly. He does.
If George knew how to let his walls down maybe this wouldn’t be so challenging. Maybe everything would be easier.
“What is love then, George?” Dream says, his teeth gritted together in irritation.
It’s an honest question. There are many ways to answer. George finds it hard to settle on one.
“I don’t know how to explain that.”
He doesn’t.
The expression on Dream’s face grows more fierce, George didn’t know that was even possible.
Love is fragile.
Dream opens his mouth to speak but no words escape his tongue. George sees the man clench his fists.
Love can fall apart.
Wordlessly, Dream stands up. He doesn’t spare George a goodbye, an apology, or even something as little as a glance. He grabs his jacket and doesn’t even bother to put it on before angrily storming out the door, he slams it. The sound rings through George’s ears.
What is love?
The silence is deafening.
George didn’t need to words to confirm.
Dream wasn’t coming home.
Maybe in another universe, perhaps another lifetime, Dream and George could have a happy ending. In that universe maybe instead of crying, George would be wrapped in security, buried in warmth, entangled with Dream. Maybe they would sit in each others presence and sulk in it rather than drown.
Maybe.
George knows that in this universe though, Dream left.
George has just watched the only man he has ever loved, fall from his grasps.
He left and he’s not coming back.
In this universe, all that existed was wet tears and unsaid goodbyes.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough,” George whispers to only himself.
Dream is gone and he’s not coming back.
Goodbye. -The word remains unspoken but George knows it’s the end.
Maybe one day we’ll meet again, he thinks.
Silence is replaced with quiet sobs.
Maybe is all he has left to hold onto.