Chapter Text
“Who are you?” One blue and one gold eye peer inquisitively at a boy, crouching in the bushes of his private garden.
“You can’t see me, I’m hiding!” the strange boy whisper shouts back childishly, causing him to cross his arms and pout pridefully.
“Well, you’re in my hedges and have made a mess of them. Mother will be very cross to know that some impudent fool has trampled all over the garden she had made for me you know, so I think I deserve the right to know who’s uprooted my poor petunias in a sorry attempt at hiding when I can see you plain as day.” he demanded hotly, stamping his foot in emphasis. The rude boy hummed thoughtfully before replying.
“Alright, you win. I’ll come out now, but only if you let me hide here for the next hour or so.”
“Why do you need to hide?”
“Just promise me you won’t have me kicked out if I come out now.”
He wanted to object, but his curiosity got the better of him wanting to know what it was this odd boy was so desperate to avoid he’d risk trespassing and trampling all over his garden.
“Fine. You have a deal,” He nodded with self-assured conviction. “I promise I will not kick you out and I will let you hide here if you come out of my hedges.” The boy squealed in triumphant delight and made to step from the tall bushes, “However,” He continued. “You must tell me your name and why you need to hide here.”
After a brief moment of hesitation, the boy considered his options. Then deciding exiting the discomfort of the scratchy hedges would be a much better option, with a much smaller price to pay, than stubbornly remaining, he crawled the rest of the way from the bush. He stood arms crossed with great importance awaiting the boy to leave his poor hedge. When the boy emerged, he was silently surprised to see that the boy appeared to be no older than he, but stood almost an entire head taller than him, even at this age. He tried to draw himself up to assert his dominance but he was simply dwarfed in height by the blond giant of a boy. “Well,” he demanded, raising an eyebrow with all the arrogance of a noble king awaiting his loyal servants. “Tell me, what is your name?”
“My name is Clay.” The taller boy grinned, “And one day I am going to be the best knight of the palace, good enough to help protect the King himself!” sandy blond hair flopping into his eyes - a startlingly vibrant shade of green that he couldn’t help but stare into wonderingly.
“Oh.” he said lamely, suddenly struck by how interesting the boy - Clay’s - eyes were, and how perfectly his dumb blond hair seemed to fall despite being dishevelled from his trek through his bushes.
“My name is His Royal Highness Crown Prince George.”
Clay blinked slowly at George, “That’s a dumb name.” he said flatly. George was taken aback, never spoken to so brashly except by perhaps his parents, but never by any of the nobility and certainly not by any commoner he had ever encountered.
“Dumb?” he cried in despair. “I’ve never been so insulted, how rude! First you trample all over my beautiful flowers and bushes and now you call my name dumb! Don’t you know I’m your Crown Prince? I could have you thrown from here at once.”
“Ah, except you can’t because you promised me so long as I kept my word you would let me stay for a few hours.” George gaped at him open mouthed, wondering how he had managed to let such a tyrant get the best of him. “And besides,” Clay continued. “Who the heck names their kid Prince. That's a terrible name.” He winked teasingly at George and ruffled his perfectly comed brown hair carelessly, eliciting a loud screech as he attempted to duck away from the oncoming assault.
“My name isn’t Prince you idiot, it’s my title, my means of respect of which you appear to have none of, by the way you parade yourself around here, saying and doing anything you very well please!” George cried furiously.
Clay only let out a grand laugh that heated George’s cheeks in embarrassment. He didn’t like it when this boy smiled, he decided. He looked too perfect already, and his stupid smile was making his stomach feel odd. He turned his head away to a point just beyond Clay’s shoulder, determined not to be cowed by the pretty boy and stuck his chin up indignantly.
“Perhaps someone needs to teach you a lesson in etiquette. Nobody will like you if you go around being mean and insulting every person you come across. It’s not very nice.” George frowned.
Clay’s face dropped, eyebrows pinching together in a concerned expression. “Oh, I’m sorry, George,” George . He hated the way his name sounded so pretty coming from this giant idiot’s mouth. “I didn’t mean to cause harm, I only meant I think it’s a little ridiculous to introduce ourselves as things we are.” When George scrunched his eyes in confusion, Clay continued in explanation. “It’s like… if I had introduced myself as ‘Blond hair, green eyed Clay’, you know? It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
George thought about it for a minute. “Well,” He amended, “I can see why saying you're the tallest boy in your class can seem a little ridiculous, but it’s just telling people who you are, so I don’t really see why it’s so bad. Although I do admit I’ve never heard anyone refer to themselves using their personal features before.”
“See, but that’s not really who I am. It’s what I look like, what people can already perceive about me. It tells you nothing about who I really am, about what I’m like when you get to know me, or what I like to do, what my dreams and aspirations are. That’s the stuff that really matters, and you can’t just tell people all that right off the start, or it loses all of it’s meaning, of the care and effort it takes to actually get to know the real me.”
The words struck deep within his chest, like a hot brand across his soul, echoing their truth clanging as a bell would, to signal something important. He understood the truth in the boy’s words all too well. “Okay, Clay. Maybe you’re right. I’ve never met anyone like you before, you have very interesting opinions. But I like your words, so I’ll let you stay.”
Clay’s eyes lit up with a wide grin to match, sending his stomach into that funny feeling all over again. “You mean it? Do I still have to tell you why I’m hiding?” he asked excitedly. George was still desperately curious to know, but he kind of liked the idea of not knowing this enigma before him, and as he had said, it’s no fun just asking, he wanted to get to know him. The thought hit him suddenly and he let out a loud gasp.
“What is it?”
George’s heart pounded a racing beat in his chest as the exhilarating realization shot through him.
“I think,” he said slowly, “That I want to be friends with you.”
Clay’s eyes had gone comically wide and round in that moment, and George would never forget the look of wonder and excitement that shone so brightly in them. “You, Prince George, want to be my friend?”
“Yes. I, George ,” emphasizing his lack of title, causing Clay to crack a pretty smile, “want to be your friend. You want to be the King’s knight one day, right?” he asked, remembering the boy’s first words to him.
He nodded earnestly.
“Well Clay, I am a Prince as you know, so you can be my knight. And eventually, I am going to be a King, and so I can make your dream come true.”
“You really mean it?” he whispered with the hope of all his childhood dreams and aspirations.
“I mean it. You will be my knight in shining armour.”
They were eleven years old back then. A week later, the young Prince’s parents had died. The king of mysterious causes that had the kingdom whispering of treason for months after, and his mother two days later, of heartbreak they had said. George never really believed them.
The boys, now freshly thirteen years old, had been playing tag, running amok in gilded sunlight, dizzy with laughter and the feeling of private freedom, as they tore through the cobblestone corridors of the courtyard’s gardens. “Okay, okay, stop, you win!” George laughed in a more wheezing-than-laugh breath. Clay crowed his victory from several paces ahead, George marvelling at the grace and speed he already moved with even at such a young age. His own lanky limbs, while elegant, wouldn’t work as efficiently as his, no matter how much he asked Clay to teach him how he moved.
Clay had been training himself for the day he could start knight training since the day George had declared that he would be his knight one day. In between Clay’s duties helping out around his family’s shop, he spent his time split between hanging out with George in his private courtyard gardens, and using any old scraps he could find to put together a makeshift gym to work out with. He had so much energy George couldn’t even begin to comprehend where it all came from. While his days were filled with much less physical activities, they were jam packed with history, dancing, diplomacy, etiquette, language, and business lessons. Not to mention the endless meetings he was forced to accompany his council of advisors to, in order to learn the job of what was to be his the day he turned 20.
Knowing he was the sole remaining head of his family was a heavy burden to carry with him for one so young. But he carried it with great strength undoubtedly borrowed from his devilish best friend he’d so coincidentally met that day in these very gardens just over a year ago. No matter how busy his days were nor how tired he felt, he always made time to wait in the gardens for his friend. Clay would never let him hear the end of it if he even dared blow him off for a nap.
“You’re tired and want to sleep? We nap together. Not alone. This is our time George, I don’t care how we spend it so long as we’re together.” Clay had once scolded him, the day after George had skipped their daily visit.
He’d never missed one since.
“So,” Clay said matter-of-factly, walking toward George - who was still in the midst of catching his breath - seemingly unbothered by the physical strain he’d just endured in their latest discovered way to pass their time. “What do you say we go somewhere different today for a change.”
“Different how?”
“I dunno, somewhere not within these four walls, somewhere open with endless space to hide and run and be free without the constant reminder of how limited our time together is.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Clay hummed for a minute, drawing out suspense for a decision he had most assuredly already made long before he even asked George if he wanted to.
“I was thinking,” he began. George’s heart leapt to his throat in anticipation, knowing that most statements Clay started with I’m thinking usually ended with them getting into heaps of trouble and an earful from at least three of his tutors. He didn’t particularly care.
“Go on,” George replied with a devious grin, boosting Clay’s confidence, as he leaned in to stage-whisper dramatically in his ear. George giggled at the way Clay’s soft light hair tickled his cheek, but made no move to push him away.
“What if we ran away today?”
“Clayyyy.” George let out exasperatedly, in an elongated moan. “Something reasonable. I can’t very well abandon my people, they need me!”
Clay snorted. “Oh please, you hardly know your people . You’ve never been outside the gates long enough to meet them, apart from me which doesn’t even count considering you technically met me inside the castle. And besides, they don’t need you, you have your army of advisors that are always running after you to keep this place together, let them run the kingdom! They’re doing it already. And there’s always your weird cousin if they really do need someone”
“Stop being an idiot, you know what I mean. And he’s not weird, he’s just lonely. You should meet him, I think you two might actually get along if you did.”
“Okay, fine.” Clay sighed in half disappointment. He knew it wasn’t actually practical for them to run away, but it was a nice attempt. “But I do have somewhere I think we should go today and it is outside the castle gates.” George pursed his lips as to interject but Clay rolled his eyes silencing him. “I promise it’s not too far and it’s perfectly safe. Besides, if anything happens, I’ll protect us.” Clay swore with great solominity. And looking into his hopeful green eyes, George knew he couldn’t truly reject the idea.
“Fine. Lead the way my knight!” Clay’s face broke into the perfect picture of pure joy at the exclamation, and grabbed George’s hand, and the pair took off running for the gates.
It was surprisingly easy to slip past the guards that were stationed at the exit of the courtyard, likely because they knew they never had to worry about their young prince acting up enough to be overly vigilant at those trying to exit the place. At least that’s what they thought. And that is how the two children found themselves running through fields of tall grass and flowers, basking in the heat of the sun's summer rays until they collapsed in a heap together, laying on their backs staring up at the cloudless blue sky.
“You know one day I want to be a bird and soar the skies as freely and fast as the eagle.” Clay sighed.
George wrinkled his brow. “I thought your dream was to be my knight?”
“It is! I just also dream to be a bird one day too. That’s all.”
“That’s a lot of dreams.”
“Well my papa says that I can do anything I dream of, so why not dream of lots of things, then I can do many things in my life and live it to the fullest it can be.”
“Your papa sounds really cool.”
“He is. I wish you could meet him one day. He makes the best shoes in the kingdom.” Clay beamed with pride, and it warmed George’s small heart, despite the not so long ago loss of his own father.
“I hope I can too.” he said gently, giving Clay’s hand a tight squeeze. He squeezed back in recognition of the words he couldn’t bring himself to speak. They sat in silence for a few beats, watching the grass sway above their heads, losing themselves in the way the birds soared to and fro, looping lazily in the sky, and the pattern of the breeze delicately passing over their small bodies, in small waves of relief from the blazing summer heat.
Finally, Clay’s voice came again breaking George from the mesmerizing nature of the world. “Do you have any dreams George?”
For once George was struck thoughtless. Did he have any dreams? He had never really thought about it before. He must have had when he was younger wouldn’t he have? Clay always had new amazing dreams he was constantly thinking of and putting into action while he smiled and cheered from the sidelines but… even at thirteen, he knew the weight of responsibility as the Kingdom’s future King.
“No.” He finally settled on, feeling an ache in his chest grow heavy with the resignation, and finality of his answer.
“Why not?” Clay asked softly, sensing the melancholic emotion to the one small word.
“I don’t think I can. As much as we like to pretend otherwise, I am a Prince. So… I don’t have the same liberty to dream so freely as you do. Everything I do must be for the good of the Kingdom.” George could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, knotting his throat. He turned his head so Clay wouldn’t see him cry. It wasn’t very princely of him to cry over such silly things as dreams, and yet he couldn’t help wishing he wasn’t one so he could indeed run away with his best friend. Maybe in another life perhaps.
“That is a very sad way to live, George.”
He nodded sadly, squeezing his eyes shut as his tears poured silently down his cheeks.
“George.” he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find Clay on his knees, bowing over him with a kind yet determined set to his stare. “It’s okay to cry. You don’t have to hide who you are from me, I cry all the time.”
“Really?” he asked, all stuffed up and bleary eyed. He was met with an answering warm smile.
“Of course. Hey, I have an idea.”
George blinked away the tears as best he could, sitting up to face Clay, wiping away the rest of his tears with the backs of his hands. “Yeah?” he asked quietly, staring at his lap, not quite ready to look him in the eyes yet.
“Yeah, and I think you’re going to like it.” Clay took George’s hands in his own, and gripped them tightly, comfortingly. “If you can’t have dreams of your own, then how about I be your dream.”
“My dream, huh?” The words had surprised him, more serious than Clay’s usual teasing remarks.
He smiled hopefully. “Yeah, your dream.”
A small smile broke out over the prince’s face despite the tears.
“I like that.” He looked up into his friend's eyes. “Dream.”
“George.” Clay answered back.
“My Dream.”
At fifteen, the two boys had already formed an unbreakable bond that the entire court knew they could not sever, no matter how much they disapproved of Dream’s social status. He was in no way a respectable, nor important ally for the Prince to have made, and yet whenever they were seen tearing through the palace together, fleet footed and cackling with a joy that could not be found within young Prince George since the death of his parents - but for his time spent with Dream - they knew they had no choice but to let it happen.
It was this year that Dream had finally been granted permission to take up knight training as per special request of the Prince himself. It was undeniable that his natural deftness and skill with a sword and spear alike put him ahead of most of his peers, some of whom were at least two years older than him. Dream had been granted an early start even though he was not yet sixteen due to this skill, and because - although nobody ever mentioned it to their young Prince - they had agreed it was better Prince George be friends with an esteemed knight of the palace, than a poor shoemaker’s son of the village. The young knight knew what the court thought of him, but so long as he was able to stay by his best friend’s side, and work towards his lifetime dream, he didn’t mind so much about the chatter and rumours that spread about him between his own peers. He could knock them all on their asses if he wanted to anyway, and he knew it.
It was these thoughts that Dream was sprung from, when his friend - who had settled himself quite comfortably - at the base of an oak tree with his head rested upon Dream’s lap spoke, breaking their ruminative silence in the comfort of each others company, the warm lighting of early afternoon sun washing over them lulling them into their drowsy state.
“So I was thinking,” George announced brightly, “It’s been ages since we last went on an adventure. And seeing as you’re all official now and everything, maybe we could go out to the fields again. I miss hiding out in the tall grass.”
“Oh come on, you’ve got important lessons later and I’ve got training. Besides, I have important plans later today that I can’t miss.”
George sat up instantly. “Since when do you give a crap about the rules? You’ve never chosen duty over adventure before, what are you hiding from me?”
Dream’s cheeks flushed red and he ducked his head away shyly. “Uhh, nothing… nothing important.”
George scoffed indignantly, “Clearly it’s important enough to you to bail on me for an entire afternoon, and leave me to the hounds for torturous hours of lessons. Fess up asshole.”
“I just...” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. Dream made the mistake of glancing back at George, and buried his head in his hands letting out a deep groan, unable to resist the look of exaggerated betrayal plastered across his friend’s face.
“Ugh, you’re the worst.”
“Yeah whatever,” George grinned, knowing he’d won, and pulled himself up to sit knee to knee with Dream, flippantly waving off the declaration of his character. “So, tell me what’s so secretly important to you that you didn’t want to tell me. Is it some girl?”
“No! No. Nothing like that” Dream exclaimed wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I’ve got to be home today is all. It’s my baby sister’s birthday, she’s turning 7 today and I’ve gotta be there for her.”
George blinked. And blinked again. “Pardon me?”
“It’s… my sister’s birthday today?” Dream tried.
“Okay I thought that's what you said. Um, what the hell Dream!”
“What? Why are you gaping at me like that, calm down you look like an idiot. Actually now that I mention it I haven’t gotten her anything yet, I need to figure that out real soon because I’ve gotta get home soon.”
“Shut up. Just, shut up Dream. You have a sister ?”
“Yeah I already said that, keep up. Jeez, I was joking earlier but maybe you really do need those lessons if you’re that slow.” Dream laughed.
“I’m sorry but we have been friends for how long now? Four years, maybe five? And I am only now finding out you have a sister? How come you never told me?” George sputtered in disbelief.
“I guess it just never came up? I dunno. But there are many things you don’t know about me, George. You’d be surprised.”
George snorted. “Oh yeah, Mr. Mystery? Well I bet you don’t know everything about me either.”
Dream rolled his eyes grinning. “Sure I don’t.”
George raised his eyebrows tauntingly, baiting him with a light teasing smirk that he knew Dream couldn’t resist.
“Fine. Tell me, what do I not know about His Royal Highness?” Dream caved.
“For example,” George declared proudly. “I like flowers.”
“Flowers?”
George’s cheeks turned rosy but he fought to keep his voice level, unashamed. “Yes, flowers. I know some people find them trivial and silly little things, but I love them.” He smiled softly, a special smile so rarely alight on his face these days, that Dream held his breath, in fear that any reminder of his presence would ruin this perfect moment.
“In fact I’ve been studying them in classes,” George rushed on excitedly. “Just for a few months now but I find them really fascinating, and I have a favourite flower, but the thing is I’ve never been able to see it in person, only in the drawings in my textbooks. I doubt I’ll ever see it because it only grows in the forest, and we both know I’d never be allowed to go deep enough into it to search for one, me being the Crown Prince and all.” The words seemed to rush from George all at once, pulled along by a surge of energy which deflated within him the moment his final sentence hung in the air, the regretful admission sinking deep into his heart.
It broke Dream’s heart to see his friend’s spirit fall with his face as fast as a stone dropped from the top of the parapets. He spoke almost without meaning to, desperate to console him. “We could sneak out.”
George snapped his head up, meeting Dream’s determined gaze. “But you said-”
“Listen, I know what I said, but if we hurry, we can make it in time for me to get back in time for my sister’s birthday dinner. And if you truly know so much about them, you’ll be able to guide me well enough to find them quickly!”
“I do know! I mean I think so, but we’ve only ever snuck out to the meadows before, never further.”
Dream beamed proudly, “Yeah well I’m a knight now, remember? Your knight in shining armour is at your service.” He took a sweeping bow so ridiculous George howled with laughter at the sight, punching him lightly in the arm.
“Cut that out dumbass, you look stupid. And you’re technically still just in training.” George hummed, looking Dream up and down with sarcastic scrutiny. “And besides,” he continued after his dramatic once-over. “I don’t see any of this alleged shiny armour, just your plain old green tunic.” finishing with a wink.
“Oh come on, you know we’ll be perfectly safe. And maybe I can pick some extra flowers as a bouquet for my sister’s gift. It’s a great excuse, and maybe if you say yes I’ll even let you meet her. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“I would but…”
Dream stood. “Do you trust me?” his hand was held out to the Prince in both question and invitation before him still kneeling on the ground. His eyes shone bright with indiscernible feelings which tugged at something deep within George’s heart. And somehow, he knew his answer without hesitation.
He reached up, clasping the outstretched hand of his friend, allowing Dream to tug him carefully to his feet, hands clasped together, in answer and acceptance. “I do trust you, Clay.”
His hesitation melted away completely into his endless desire for adventure. “Let's go.”
That was the last day George allowed himself to choose with his childish heart. From then on, he had built himself a wall of stone around his heart to keep the world out, for he was growing older and could afford to be a boy no longer. His kingdom needed a Prince, and it was his duty to deliver.
“Even when you’re king I’ll still be your knight in shining armour, right?” Dream asked out of the blue. George’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. At 19 they rarely spoke of these things any longer, but Dream was always prone to these bouts of nostalgia, so it was hardly a shock.
They had been walking in the private courtyard overlooked by the Crown Prince’s bedchambers as they usually did, spending the last of their waking hours together in their special garden in which they were never disturbed. It was the one true place that they could go to be entirely alone together, completely themselves, free from the prying eyes of the court.
With only a week away from George’s coronation, the pair had had plenty to talk about and ease each other's stresses and anxieties, not to mention their free time to have their nightly walks like these were about to become few and far between, once George assumed all of his Kingly duties.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” George snorted, “ that’s just a silly thing we used to say when we were kids”
Dream sighed, “and we’re not little kids anymore.”
“No, we’re not.” George stated matter-of-factly.
“You still call me Dream though.”
A smile so rarely seen, reserved only for these moments with Dream, slipped through the cracks of George’s carefully crafted facade. “I suppose so. Is it stupid of me to still hold onto the hope that you’ll stay with me forever?”
“I told you, I’ll always be your Dream.”
“My Dream huh?”
Dream grinned and nudged George’s shoulder playfully with his own. “Oh come on, don't tell me you don’t like the idea of that. Of having me all to yourself, I mean.”
George’s cheeks flushed red, before he could shut down the sudden rush of nerves that caused his breathing to become slightly rushed and uneven at Dream’s teasing. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah but a cute one.”
“Oh my god, you’re actually so dumb, shut up.” He gave him a light shove and rolled his eyes, yet they were shining with delight and something perhaps a little bit more. Dream’s own face was almost a perfect mirror of George’s amusement when he gave a returning light yet hesitant laugh.
Dream forced his voice to remain uninterested, and level, determined not to betray the quivering emotion threatening to expose his long kept secrets, when he began to push carefully, “Seriously though, I don’t think I remember the last time I ever heard you call me by my actual name instead of that nickname.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, I'm sure I said it at some point recently.” George said tightly, looking anywhere but at his face.
Dream reached out swiftly, and grabbed his hand gently but firmly. Their fingers interlocking instinctually as they had done hundreds of times before, and he gave a small tug, just enough to spin George until he was standing facing directly in front of him, with nowhere to look but at him. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say my name.”
“Dream?”
“No, not that one. My real one.”
“But why?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Dream-“
“Please?” his fingers pressed against the back of George’s hand, in emphasis of his plea, his mismatched gold and blue eyes caught in the wide eyed hopeful stare of Dream’s own green ones. “Just once.” His voice was soft, and as hopeful as a prayer.
George seemed to be caught in a mix of emotions, swirling too fast for him to completely comprehend each one, as they surged to the top in recognition, and back into hiding amongst the others in a chaotic jumble of nerves. He didn’t know why he was so hesitant to say it - or why he was fighting so hard against it even though he had known perfectly well what Dream had meant when he first asked. It was just a name, his best friend's name in fact. So why did it seem like a confession of something he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge, or even quite understand himself? Like the answer was staring him right in the face screaming and yet he had simply forgotten how to hear.
He swallowed hard, forcing down the anxiety brought on by the overthinking and inhaled sharply. It’s just a name, he reminded himself. And yet so much more , the intrusive thoughts laughed, echoing inside his head hauntingly. Still he couldn’t bring himself to decline with the way Dream was looking at him. He lifted his chin in false bravado, stepping so close he felt the heat radiating off of Dream’s body. Raising himself onto his tiptoes he leaned in so that his warm breath sent shivers down Dream’s spine with each gentle exhale, and as George’s lips brushed ever so slightly against Dream’s ear, he whispered;
“Clay. Your name is Clay.”
Dream’s eyes flashed with something indiscernible like the pain of heartache, loss, and melancholic understanding of something forever out of reach. But any sign of the emotion was long gone by the time George pulled away and had a chance to see it. They stood there for a long moment in the dark of the night, staring at each other not speaking, unsure of whatever line they had long ago drawn subconsciously in their youth, had just been blurred. Wondering equally if there was a way to undo what they had just done, as they wondered if they could stay locked in that moment forever.
“It’s getting late.” Forgotten hands still hung loosely clasped within each other’s hands.
“I know.” Neither made a move to leave.
“We should go to bed.” George said hoarsely. Their eyes met with dangerous intent for a far too long moment.
“I know.” Dreams' free hand reached up to gently brush the hair from George’s eyes and lingered a moment too long to be perceived as just an innocent gesture, thumb slowly tracing the delicate line of his brow.
“George...”
George’s mouth parted slightly in an exhale and his eyes fluttered for a moment, but then his face closed instantly, locking all emotion deep within the vaults of George’s obsidian heart. His eyes hardening to the firm wall of distance Dream had become far too familiar with over the years, and he turned his face away, at last breaking their eye contact.
“I should go.” He murmured, eyes cast to the ground almost in disappointment. His hand slid out from Dream’s who’s own hand fell to hang limply at his side, tingling from the sudden loss of warmth.
“Yeah… okay.” His voice was flat, keeping out the hurt that would give away far too much if he wasn’t careful. They were toeing a dangerous line. “Goodnight, George.”
“Goodnight... Clay.”
Dream's heart leapt to his throat at the sound of his real name.
“See you tomorrow.”
And with that, George turned and walked back through those heavy oak doors, hot tears slid silently, unseen down his cheeks, while Dream watched him walk away from him, as he always had.
Night after night. Year after year. George always left first.
He stood there, watching George’s every step that took him further and further away from him, eyes pinned to his back, while he remained there frozen, long after George had made his way all the way back to his bed chambers. Dream’s hand was left suspended slightly, as if he were reaching in an attempt to hold on to the Prince’s presence for just a moment longer.
When the first of the rain started to fall, that’s when Dream finally snapped out of his reverie, and at long last made his journey back to the barracks halfway across the castle.
See you tomorrow .