Archive of Our Own

It’s cold in England. That's something Dream notes as he walks around on his family's new estate. It's cold and the breeze nips at his sweater vest and sends a cold chill down his spine. He shivers as he makes his way around the vast fields and countless gardens. One in particular catches his eye. Hedges line it like walls, dark colored flowers somehow bloom all around it. It was overgrown entirely, vines wrapping around stone, and causing cracks in the floor, but the thing that really caught his eye was the statue standing in the center. It’s pose is delicate, gentle. It's arms are folded over it's chest, as if protecting it’s heart. Vines grow around it’s frame, encompassing it in dark greens. It’s clothes almost looked too real. Robes drifting delicately over it, hugging every curve and dip in the stone.

Dream gazes at this statue from a far, wondering how someone could make something look so realistic with only stone and carving tools. He pulls out a notebook from his back pocket. It's the one that he always carries with him. Just a place for him to store little doodles as well as poems and notes. He jots down the words "statue" and it’s location before he hears his mother's voice echo out into the wilderness. He slips the notebook back into his pocket and leaves the garden to return to his house.

As he slips through the backdoor of his house he glances back out into the garden and swears he sees the statue move, just a slight tilt of the head, but he dismisses it as he closes the door behind him.

He wakes up late the next day, still having to adjust to the new time zone. As soon as he finishes breakfast he is out the door, notebook in his back pocket and pencil in hand. He walks through the back garden, getting slightly lost in the tall overgrown shrubs and hanging vines. It's overcast, same as the day before. It's been overcast for the past few days and he's starting to miss the sun that he used to experience almost everyday in the United States. He tries to suppress the feeling of homesickness as he sits down on a stone bench directly in front of the statue.

He sets his mind on capturing every detail on the statue in front of him. He only breaks his concentration to stare at the crows that fly overhead, perching on the roof of the mansion. Then he focuses back in on the drawing, gentle strokes of graphite on the light brown paper. He hums gentle notes out loud as he switches from drawing to writing. He begins to jot down notes about the move, how England is, the weather, and most of all the statue before him. He doesn't know why this statue has captured his attention as much as it has, but he really doesn't mind.

Time seems to slip away from him as he gets lost in the strokes of the pencil and the words that bounce around his head; when he looks up the sun is setting. Gentle pinks and oranges trying to peek through the clouds. He gazes up at them and that's when he begins to recognize the beauty of an overcast sky. A gentle voice pulls him out of his trance, but this one doesn't belong to his mother.

"... Hello?" The voice is soft and melodic. It has an edge of quiet to it. Dream looks away from the sky and is met with discolored eyes, one brown and one blue. The statue is no longer on it’s pedestal, and it is also no longer stone. Dream startles back as the statue moves closer, confusion painting it’s features.

"What the hell?!" Dream exclaims, quickly tucking the notebook into his back pocket.

"Hmm?" The statue ponders as it sees the scared look on Dream's face.

"Why the hell are you moving?" The gears finally seem to turn in the statue's head.

"Ohhh." The statue ponders, "I'm George. Do you know what day it is?"

"... September 23rd?" Dream answers hesitantly.

"Year?"

"1962?"

"Really!?-" George looks amazed, "- that's a new record!"

"A new record for what?!" Dream is still leaning back over the stone bench as George dances around the garden.

"Ohhhhh- right. I should probably explain before I freeze again." By this point confusion is permanently painted on Dream's features.

"Again?!" George giggles as he explains, Dream quickly writing down everything George says.

Some statues were given the gift of life, but only during dusk and dawn. George has been around longer than he can remember. The stone slowly comes back when the sun fully rises/sets and he will remain frozen in that position.

George seems hesitant on saying certain things, specifics about himself and the way statues work, but Dream brushes it aside and watches in wonder as George roams the garden, the cream colored toga flowing gently in the wind. George looks over his shoulder and giggles once he notices that Dream is staring. Dream shoots him a cheesy smile before his mother's voice cuts through the air. George scrambles back onto the pedestal, moving his hands back over his chest in a protective position. He gives Dream a gentle smile before closing his eyes. And then Dream is running back into his house, mind in a daze.

Dream is sitting up in bed; notebook in hand and flipping through the pages. He stops to stare at the drawing of George. He looks beautiful even when sketched in pencil. His hair falls gently over his forehead, curling in all the right places, and a laurel wreath rests on his head. Dream remembers other little features about his face that aren't in his drawing and he wonders if George would be willing to pose to be drawn tomorrow. He wants to draw the crinkle in his eyes when he smiles, and his differently colored eyes, and the way the fabric rests around his body when he moves. He smiles to himself as he flips through the pages, rereading the notes that are scribbled all around the page.

He finishes looking through the pages and closes the notebook, running his finger over the spiral binding before turning over and placing it on his bedside table. He switches off the light and tucks himself under the covers, encasing himself in warmth.

Dream wakes up earlier the next day, but still in the later half of the afternoon. He walks downstairs and hears the radio crackling from somewhere in the kitchen. The voice is very posh and easy on the ears; the only part Dream really hears is when it talks about the prospect of rain later that evening. He feels anxiety bubble up in his chest. Will he be able to see George today? He tries to push the thought aside as he makes his lunch, bringing it with him as he exits his house and walks around the garden.

He decides to walk around the garden today rather than sitting in front of George; now knowing that there's a possibility that George can watch him while frozen.

Somehow the flowers are perfectly intact, a little overgrown, but they are still blooming despite the cold chill that fills the air. He settles himself on a large stone in front of one of the flower beds, quickly sketching roses all over a page of his notebook.

He stands up after he's satisfied with the flowers and glances back at George, still huddled in his position in the center of the garden. He notices two things right away. One is the large marks on George's back; they look as if something had been broken off at some point in the past. The second thing is the crow currently perching on his head. Dream chuckles to himself as he begins doodling the crow, planning to show it to George later.

He continues to explore the garden, slowly realizing that he’s never really looked at the rest of it before. He finds a little pond tucked on the edge of the garden almost in the forest. A little bridge sits overtop a river that flows deeper into the woods. Lily pads float in the pond; a couple of them house water lilies that stand out against the dark atmosphere of the lake. He squats down to sketch them quickly before standing and exiting the area shaded by the forest.

As soon as he steps out of the forest he feels a raindrop land right on his cheek. He quickly wipes it away and dips back into the forest. He writes a note as fast as he can manage and proceeds to rip out a page. It reads It's raining :( My window is at the top of the house. The light should be on, maybe give me a wave :) He runs back over to the bench in front of the statue, trying to avoid the rain as he goes, and puts the note underneath the bench where George will hopefully see it. He places a rock on top of it before running into the house.

His clothes are sopping wet when he finally reaches the safety of indoors. His mother groans as he walks up to his room, dragging water throughout the house. He knows that he'll have to clean it up later so he makes quick work of getting up into his room and grabbing a fresh pair of clothes.

He shucks off his pants, opting for pajamas, and follows that by taking off his sweater and finding a new one from his closet. He's downstairs in record time, preparing to clean up the mess he made. His mother gives him a smile as he runs up to his room after he finishes.

He is soon struck with the realization that he has almost nothing to do. He gazes out the window, noticing the sun is rather close to setting. He watches intensely as the raindrops roll down his window, catching others and picking up speed as they slither down the glass.

His attention snaps up from the water droplets when he notices George moving from his place. George glances up at the sky, the biggest smile adorning his face. It must be the first time he's seen rain in a while. Dream thinks to himself. He smiles down at George as he continues to frolic in the rain before his attention is grabbed by the note underneath the bench. He carefully unfolds the note, using his body to protect it from the rain. Dream watches as George's face falls, but he quickly puts the smile back on his face and looks for Dream who is already waving. George waves back with a big grin on his face, and Dream makes it his goal to commit it to memory.

George continues to dance in the rain as Dream watches, drawing every angle that he can capture and eventually an entire page in his notebook is dedicated to George dancing in the rain. George looks so happy during those 15 minutes while the sun sets; it's truly beautiful.

Once George is settled back into his position, hands over his heart, Dream retires to his bed. He places a record in the record player next to his bed and lets the music fill the air. It's peaceful. After laying in bed for a few minutes he grabs a book off of the bookshelf in his room. It covers Greek mythology of all sorts and Dream wonders if he would be able to tell any of the stories from memory alone.

He begins reading, gently thumbing through the pages until his eyes are too heavy to keep open. He falls asleep with the book still in his hands, knowing that he wants to show it to George.

His parents are definitely starting to wonder why he's always out in the garden, but he really couldn't care less. He is perfectly content sitting on the stone bench and refining the doodles he made of George the night prior. He tries to refine every detail of George's face in these simple graphite drawings because a face so beautiful deserves to be remembered forever.

Between gentle smudging with his thumbs and little refining lines the drawings are completed. He tries his best to capture the elegant movement that is simply so George. He is graceful for someone who has been frozen in stone for so long and Dream admires that. He admires so much about George despite only knowing him for a day. He sits there simply watching George and creating a list about all the things he enjoys about the statue for the better half of the next hour.

He is only brought out of his trance when gentle fingers comb through his hair. He looks up and George is standing right in front of him. He pats the spot next to him, a motion for George to sit down. George takes the seat.

"What's that?" George says, curiously looking over Dream's shoulder.

"You." Dream says meekly.

"Hmm?" George definitely heard him the first time, but he still wants Dream to repeat it.

"They're drawings of you." Dream says, a little more confident this time. George's smile is what encourages him to flip through the pages, showing off every beautiful pose that he captured from the night before. George is in awe.

"Can you draw more?" George asks eagerly. Dream chuckles and nods.

"Only if you pose for me more." George scrambles up from his seat and begins posing in front of his podium.

In his first position his back is facing Dream, arms in the air, hands resting on the back of his neck, fingers almost intertwined. Dream quickly sketches the basic form just in time before George changes positions. The second pose has George facing sideways, hands reaching up into the air one stretching higher than the other, back arching slightly. He looks ethereal under the glow of the setting sun even though it's mostly hidden by clouds. He changes positions soon after. He faces forward this time, tilting his head up slightly, exposing his neck. Both arms rest gently behind him, palms facing Dream. It looks as if he's trying to soak up all the warmth from the sun. Dream has to try his hardest not to stare as George poses in front of him. He zones back in on the notebook, finishing up the basic positions before turning his attention back to George. For his final position George turns to face the other side. He brings the arm facing Dream up to grab his head, forming a triangle in front of his face.

Dream is the first one to notice George slowly turning into stone before his eyes. He sets his notebook down and quickly moves to scoop George up and place him back on the pedestal so George can get into position. George's mouth is already frozen shut but Dream can see the gratitude in his eyes. He shoots George a smile before grabbing his notebook and waving as he returns back inside.

Dream spends the rest of the night refining the sketches, trying his best to remember the curves of the fabric and the way it fell over the gentle curves of George's body. In the drawing where George was facing Dream he tries his best to capture the essence of George's face. The way that it looks so relaxed and calm even while posing to be drawn. George looks elegant in a way that Dream will never truly be able to capture, but he tries his best.

Dream admires the drawings in his notebook before setting it on his bedside table and turning off the lamp, allowing sleep to encase him.

The next day goes by impossibly slow. Dream's mother decides that they need to take a family trip and explore their new area. It was small to say the least. They were out in the countryside of England so there wasn't much besides a grocery store, a few places to eat and a bookstore. Dream's attention instantly goes to the bookstore. He's already inside before his parents can object, running his fingers along the spines of the books, scanning for anything that may interest him.

His fingers stop when he reaches a book about Greek mythology. He carefully flips through the pages, admiring the photos of statues in all sorts of poses. A part of him wonders if any of these statues were given the gift of life, freedom to move but forever being contained inside of art museums and history books.

He closes the book and tucks it under his arm as he continues to search the shelves, his family still at the front of the store. After he finishes shuffling through the countless books that line the shelves he decides on the first one he picked up and checks out at the front desk.

His family finishes shopping shortly after and they all return home. The first thing Dream does is get the book that is already sitting on the nightstand in his room before running back out to the garden. He continues where he left off in the first book, reading through the pages and making little notes in them. He wants to ask George all sorts of questions when he wakes up, simply about his world, his life, who he is. Dream feels a deep desire to know George as more than just a statue that sits in the abandoned garden behind his house.

George begins to wake up right as dusk begins. Clouds still cover most of the sky but the light peeks through just enough. Dream watches as the stone drips off of George's features; he seems groggy as he walks over and situates himself next to Dream on the bench. Dream tucks the books away in favor of pulling out his notebook.

"Why'd you put-" George yawns mid-sentence, "those books away."

"Cause I wanna show you the drawings first." George leans closer to Dream, hands resting on Dream's shoulder. Dream hopes that George doesn't notice the way his words catch in his throat at the close proximity. Dream flips to the page where the drawings of George are. George reaches over to grab the book out of Dream's hands, brushing their fingers together as he does. He stares in awe at the drawings before him, mouth agape as he runs his fingers over the lines.

"These are beautiful, Dream." George says the name ‘Dream’ as if it means more than the whole world. His voice drips with fondness as he continues to gush about the drawings. Dream smiles at George as he slowly pulls the notebook from his hands.

"Well I did have a pretty stunning model." Blush blooms on George's face at the compliment. Dream notices as George tries to push it down, but he fails miserably. He chuckles and reaches for the book that he picked up at the bookstore earlier that day.

Time seems to pass slower when he's with George. Maybe that's because he knows that the time they have together is limited, or maybe it's because the time they spend together feels infinite even when it's not. Either way they take their time flipping through pages, George pointing out statues he recognizes, some who could move and some who could not, but Dream doesn't pay too much attention. He's busy sneaking glances at George, his face still covered in a light pink, elegant hands tracing the pages while looking at drawings and statues from one of the many time periods that George got to experience first hand.

Dream is the first one to notice the sun sinking below the horizon. He is also the first one to notice as George's movements start to become stiff. He picks George up carefully right as the statue's words begin to slur. Dream places George back on his pedestal, watching as he moves languidly back into position, hands resting over his heart.

Dream continues reading the first mythology book late into the night, annotating the things he didn't get to ask George since they really didn't look at it. He glances over at the second book that sits on his nightstand. He remembers George's gentle fingers as they graced the paper, admiring the statues that he once knew, others that he only knew of or had heard of through a passing story. Dream wonders what it's like to live through hundreds of lifetimes, to watch the passing of ages, to watch the world evolve around you, to lose those that you never want to lose.

Dream tries to escape those heart-wrenching thoughts by flicking off the light and tucking himself back into bed, allowing sleep to tug him under.

The next day brings sun. It coats the floor of Dream's bedroom and it spills through the windows of the kitchen, but more importantly the garden seems to be glowing. Flowers reach towards the sun's powerful rays, attempting to soak all of it up before the next drought. Glancing around the garden Dream realizes how truly beautiful it is.

The flowers look stunning under the afternoon light; all the hedges and bushes surrounding the garden look lively. Dream feels like he's looking at an entirely different garden, but he knows that he isn't once he spots George in the center. The light cascades down the statue, bringing out a beauty that isn't usually seen on the countless overcast days. Dream runs his fingers over stone walls as he walks over to the pond that is tucked into the forest. It looks beautiful. The light reflects the water in the perfect way, lighting up the whole area around it. Dream leans over the bridge that rests over the little stream that leads into the pond. He gazes down at his reflection in the semi-murky water.

He turns away shortly after, walking back into the light of the sun. He truly feels more at home as the light hits his skin. He feels so incredibly warm as he lets the sun soak through him, warming him to the bone. He can't wait for sunset as he continues to roam the garden. Crows fly over the garden despite it being sunny. Their dark wings contrast with the bright blue of the sky as they cast shadows on the ground.

After a few more minutes of aimlessly walking around he decides to lay down on the warm stones that cover part of the garden floor. Orange coats the inside of his eyelids as the sun slowly passes overhead. He makes an attempt to keep track of time, patiently waiting for George to unfreeze so they can enjoy a sunset that is not blocked by the clouds, but that doesn’t work out too well.

He feels a gentle nudge on his arm and slowly blinks his eyes open. He wasn't asleep but the warmth from the sun made his mind hazy. He finally opens his eyes to see George smiling at him. He looks beautiful in the hues of the setting sun. The colors seem to drip down his features, and he is absolutely glowing.

"It's sunny." Dream says, giving George a smile. George laughs before responding.

"Wow Dream, I couldn't tell." He teases. Dream flushes out of embarrassment. George stands up and stretches a hand out to Dream, a request to pull him up to his feet. Dream smiles at the pure childish joy on George's face; the way that he is simply amazed at the picture that is currently being painted in front of them. Dream pulls George out of his thoughts with a simple sentence.

"Dance with me George." Dream whispers into his ear. He gently moves to place his hands on George's hips; George flushes at the close proximity before moving to wrap elegant arms around Dream's neck. He rests his head against Dream's chest as they go through the gentle motions of dancing. They spin around the center of the garden, practically fused together as they hold each other so incredibly close.

Dream never wants to let go because while this beautiful boy is in his arms everything just feels safe. Warmth drips off of Dream's body and seems to seep directly into George's cold skin; only causing George to push closer into Dream's hold. They continue with the gentle swaying motions until George begins to grow stiff, the hands rest around Dream's neck slowly growing rougher as their dance continues. After a final dip Dream scoops George up bridal style and places him back into position. George's clothes fall perfectly back into place as the resumes position, hands over his heart.

The days following go by in an almost giddy haze. Dream gets lost in the way that George exists. The way that he tells stories from his life as if they are one of a kind, which technically they are. The way that he has experienced so much pain but still manages to smile. Dream becomes more entranced with every little quirk that George has. His smile that can light up anything it wishes; the way his hair is fluffy and falls over his forehead; the way the fabric wrapped around him flows as he moves around; the way he is always up to pose for Dream to draw; the way he loves to read out books to Dream in his voice that is smooth as silk. Dream slowly falls in love with this boy over countless days of basking in the beautiful colors of the sunset.

Dream’s stories are much less interesting but he still manages to make George smile and laugh at every joke and funny moment of his life. He feels that the only reason he lives is to make George laugh. To see the crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the way his eyes sparkle when he gets told something exciting. Dream has fallen harder for this boy than he could ever have imagined, but he really does not care. He is willing to fall blindly into George's warm embrace if that means he will always get to see that beautiful smile. He just hopes that George feels it too. With the way George blushes he has to. There's no way he doesn't feel the heat that radiates off of Dream whenever they're together. Dream just hopes that George feels that same blister that Dream does.

Dream eagerly waits around the garden. Anxiety ripples through his chest as he waits for the sun to set. A cold chill swirls through the air and sends a shiver up his spine. He's doing anything he can to distract himself from the butterflies that flutter around in his stomach, and the anxiety that bubbles up in his throat. He shouldn't be this nervous and he knows that, but it doesn't stop the nervous energy from pouring out of every place it can.

That anxiety settles somewhat when George wakes up. The statue blinks slowly as the stone melts off of his skin, allowing him motion. He looks groggier than usual. His eyes droop more and his smile is more dull. Dream tries not to pay any attention to it and is instantly at George's side. George tries to give him a warm smile through his fatigue and Dream gives him one back. It's gentle, fond.

"G'morning sleepy head." Dream teases as George rubs his eyes.

"Oh shudup." George teases, shoving Dream's shoulder lightly. Their banter has been like this for a while. Soft teasing that is always laced with fondness.

Dream wraps his hand around George's. The contrast between pale and tan skin is noticeable as Dream looks down at their hands. He pulls gently, leading George around the garden.

George had never really been outside the stone circle that surrounds his pedestal. The farthest he has truly gone was the bench that he and Dream would usually sit on. Dream admires the way George looks around the garden, wonder in his eyes. Every once and while he'll stop and pull Dream back to look at some of the flowers or vines that grow on the walls or bloom in the flower beds. Eventually Dream manages to pull him away from the garden and off into the pond in the woods.

George approaches the lake carefully, following Dream as he leads them onto the small stone bridge. George peers at his reflection in the water, watching as the water ripples slightly from the breeze.

"You look beautiful." Dream says just loud enough for George to hear. He blushes and bumps his shoulder against Dream's. "What?" Dream laughs, "you know it's true." George attempts to bury his face in his hands and Dream can't help but smile. George means so much to him and he would give anything to see him smile and blush like that again.

Dream carefully intertwines his fingers with George's, fiddling with them as he tries to unlodge the words he wants to say from his throat. He wants to say so much simply because he feels so much. He knows that his words will never be able to quantify the love that he feels for George, but he can try.

"I think I'm in love with you." The moment the words come out of his mouth he feels a weight lift off his chest. He doesn't wait for George to react; he simply continues. "I think there's been something there from the moment I laid eyes on you. You were always so elegant but powerful at the same time and after I got to know you better all I wanted to do was make you smile. Your smile is always pretty too. The way your eyes crinkle when you smile too big or laugh too hard." George continues to give no indication of listening, but Dream keeps talking, "I don't think I will ever get over how eager you were to pose for pictures. I go back and look at them when I miss you sometimes-'' Dream let's out a nervous giggle "- I wish I got to see you more than at dusk every night. Sometimes I wish we could have met under different circumstances but that feeling is always overpowered by how much I love you right now. I love you George and I will continue to love you until it hurts because I know you will always be there to make me feel better." He takes a deep breath and right after the panic sets in. It fills his chest and squeezes around heart until George gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

He turns to face George, heart still lodged in his throat. That feeling dissipates the moment he feels soft lips press against his own. George is gentle with his kisses, clearly trying to pour everything that he cannot say into the kiss. Dream kisses back languidly, trying to take in the moment. How George's hands gently tangle in his hair and how soft George's lips are against his own. He never wants to leave this moment. Both of them sitting on the small stone bridge overlooking a little pond, pressing together like they never want to be apart again.

George's motions begin to grow stiff. The fingers in Dream's hair stop moving and his lips begin to grow rough at the continuing motions. Dream gently pulls away, rubbing his thumb along George's cheek, and gazing into the pure love that is captured in George's eyes. He picks George up bridal style, loving the way George's arms wrap around his neck, and returns George to his place on the pedestal.

George's movements get stiffer as the days pass. The next time he poses for Dream to draw he shows no where near the amount of mobility that he once did. When he finally takes the seat next to Dream the fatigue behind his eyes is obvious, but every time Dream brings it up he's dismissed. Dream can't help the anxiety that churns in his gut whenever he notices that George's smile is nowhere near as bright as it used to be. His eyes seem heavy; always attempting to close even if he had just moved from his pedestal.

Dream tries not to draw too much attention to George's deteriorating state; he still brings the books and his personal notebook to show George and talk to him about it. By this point his notebook is filling up with sketches and doodles of George and the way he positions himself so elegantly. The doodles are almost a reminder of what once was and Dream misses the days where he didn't have to watch George crumble before his very eyes.

Dream walks out into the garden the next day; he is still upset about George but he tries to push those feelings down as he moves to sit down on the bench. His notebook is safely tucked in his back pocket. A polaroid camera rests in his hands. He clicks the button to take the photo and hears the gentle shudder before lowering it back down so he can grab the protector film. He fiddles with the settings on the camera, adjusting and taking test shots until the lighting works perfectly to capture every detail.

George wakes up shortly after Dream finishes. He yawns and sits down, tucking himself into Dream's side.

"What's that?" George questions.

"It's a camera." Dream says nonchalantly, still fiddling with the settings in an attempt to adjust it to the new light.

"Huh?"

"A camer-'' as the word leaves his mouth again he understands George's confusion, "- okay so a camera is something that you use to take photos." George still looks confused as Dream talks, "a photo is pretty much like a moment but captured forever. You can always look back on it later." George hums in acknowledgement.

"Why do you have one?"

"I realized that I don't have any drawings of us together, so I wanted to create one." George seems hesitant at first so Dream is quick to reassure him. "I can always rip up the photo later. I just want a reference to draw us ya know?" George nods, seeming slightly more on board.

Dream plans to take a picture of only their chests and up. He helps George stand up and positions the statue against his chest. George's hands curl up in loose fists around Dream's sweater. He lays his head down, listening to the sound of Dream's heart as Dream takes a photo. He tells George to wait and carefully sets down the picture before resuming position. This time he hooks his hand under George's chin, pulling him up so their lips meet in the middle. The kiss is slow and soft so as to not blur the image. They remain wrapped up in each other's arms even after the photo is taken.

The sun is still setting as George begins to freeze again. His joints grow stiff as Dream picks him up, planting one last kiss on his forehead before positioning George back up on the pedestal.

"I'll draw these tonight and show you tomorrow, m'kay?" George gives him a light nod and Dream smiles before walking out of the garden and back into his house.

Dream is sitting up in bed. His notebook rests in his lap while his pencil is gripped lightly in his hand. The first polaroid sits next to him on the blankets. George looks peaceful as his head rests on Dream's chest. It looks like all the pain he has been experiencing is just gone; even if it was only a moment.

Dream tries his best to capture every detail of the photo before he has to throw them away. He pays close attention to the way George clutches onto his shirt and the way his broad arm stretches around George's back pulling him closer, the way he looks peaceful, almost at home in Dream's arms. Once he is satisfied with the way his drawing looks he flips the page, switching out the first polaroid for the second in the process.

The second one looks much more loving. Their lips pressed together in a gentle kiss, one so intimate that it is easy to feel the emotion through the picture alone. Dream admires the photo for longer than he probably should before he begins drawing it.

Once his pencil hits the paper it feels peaceful; the gentle strokes of graphite sending his brain into a hazy feeling of warmth. He feels the emotion pour through him onto the paper. He tries to pull everything from his heart and lay it on the page, drawing in a way he never has before because this time is so much different. Not only does he get to draw the boy that he loves, he gets to feel the boy's love through the image.

Dream finally pulls his pencil away from the paper after what feels like hours of mindless drawings. He sets his notebook on his nightstand, fingers brushing over the first polaroid as he does. He grabs them both before turning off the light, staring at them, one in each hand. He knows what he has to do no matter how much it pains him. He reaches for a pair of scissors that is tucked in one of the drawers of his nightstand. Dream tries not to cry as he slowly cuts away to photos, making sure they cannot be pieced back together before putting them in his trash can.

George's movements are even slower the next day. His body seems to be half frozen as Dream helps him over to the bench, allowing George to lean on his shoulder while they flip through all the pages of Dream's notebook together, finally landing on the most recent page.

George gawks at the drawing before him. The beauty of them is undeniable. Emotions are captured perfectly in every pencil stroke and smudge.

"Wow." George breathes, the air lightly tickling Dream's neck. Dream giggles in response.

"Do you like them?"

"Of course I do, I mean... wow. They're incredible, Dream." George says with the most sincerity Dream has probably ever heard. Dream smiles, clearly very proud of his work.

"Thank you, George." He says before placing a kiss on George's temple. George smiles as Dream begins to place light kisses all over his face before pulling the statue into his lap. They stay wrapped up in each other before George starts to freeze. He can barely speak but Dream gets the message, picking George up lightly and watching as he resumes his position, hands over his heart.

Dream spares a glance at the horizon. The sun has barely sank below it and Dream can't but worry as he looks over at George, still frozen in place. He tries to push down the bubbling feeling in his gut as he walks inside the house.

Time seems to slow as George collapses before Dream's eyes. His body seems to crumble beneath him the moment Dream helps him off the pedestal. Dream tries to lift George up but he refuses to move. Sadness paints his face; the fatigue and slowness finally catching up to him as he rests on the ground, arms draping over the pedestal where his feet once stood.

"George, what's wrong?" Dream says, concern lacing through his voice.

"Something that I've been expecting to happen ever since I met you." Tears prick at the corners of George's eyes, words slurring slightly as his tongue grows heavy in his mouth. The confusion on Dream's face only intensifies.

"George, what is wrong?" Dream tries to keep his voice gentle, but the bubble of panic in his gut begins to rise as he watches tears flow out of George's eyes and slowly he feels hot tears begin to spill from his own eyes as well.

"Oh Dream." George says, slowly stretching a hand up to wipe the tear from Dream's cheek.

"Are you going to be okay?" Dream says through choked sobs. George gives him a sad smile.

"I've loved and I've loved and I've lost, and the last thing I wanted to lose was you. Which is sad because it seems like that has been happening all along. Goodbye Dream and remember that I've never fallen deeper in love than I have with you." And with those final words George's figure freezes, hunching over the pedestal he once stood so proudly on.

Dream watches as George's eyes coat over with stone, tears forever frozen on his cheeks. Dream tries to muffle the sobs that rip from his lungs. The boy who he loved more than anything before was gone, frozen in stone. Dream sits there for the rest of the night, hunching over George's now stone body, hoping that if he says 'I love you' enough George will come back and fall into his arms once again. His hopes sink as the night air whips around the garden, cooling the tears that fall from Dream's eyes as they continue to pour out. He never wants to leave George's side again. If he was given the choice he would hunch over right where George sat and stay there for the rest of eternity, hoping that they would be together again.

Dream hasn't visited the garden since that day. He can still feel the stains of the tears on his cheeks, threatening to spill again if he thinks too hard. He sits in his room; music fills the air in an attempt to drown out the thoughts of grief and sorrow.

He gazes out the window to see George's lifeless statue draping over his pedestal. Dream takes a deep breath and checks to make sure his pencil and notebook are still in his back pocket. Willing the tears backwards he walks out to the garden again. It's reminiscent of those few months where it was all he did.

He takes a seat next to George, notebook and pencil in hand. He lets his heart take over as the strokes fill the page. Finally he takes a step back, letting the haze of tears clear from his eyes as he looks down at the drawing. It's a drawing of George; the final one Dream will probably ever draw. His chest lays on the pedestal, arms draped loosely off the edge as his body curls beneath him where it rests on the floor. His head is hidden and his clothes drape around his body.

Dream tries to hold back tears as he looks down at the drawing.

"You would've loved this one, George." He whispers to himself and maybe the wind if it chooses to listen. Before tears start to spill from his eyes and onto the page he writes one last thing, something he wishes he could tell George one last time.

I love you more than anything, so may our love be forever set in stone.

He closes the book gently and places it at the base of the pedestal. Leaving all the memories of this love together, resting peacefully where they will hopefully stay for all of eternity.