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“i couldn’t save you dream, i’m sorry.”
Silence. The sky cradled the silence. It was buzzing. It was rocking George like a gentle force back and forth and back and forth. It was a lullaby humming into his ear thoughts that were too painful to say out loud. It kept George safe and secure, but only for it to drop him mid second in the air without warning.
Inhale, exhale. George was breathing in the silence, and it was shooting daggers through his lungs. It was poison to his body. So he braces for impact, waiting for it to take effect as tears that felt like concrete against his face.
It made his body hard and cold like marble. He could feel everything around him tighten, the white bedsheets encasing George like a mold, frozen in time.
this was it. this was really it.
He’s now gasping for air, mouth wide open. Closing and opening and closing. Breath in, breath out. George could taste the silence now but it was just bland, empty. It needed more seasoning. The silence had nothing more left to give but bland, unseasoned emptiness.
But in reality, there was so much noise, and it came in thoughts that exploded into George’s head like a rainbow of colorful emotions. It was the chirping of the birds during the early dusk of day. It was the alarm of Pandora’s Vault going off, warning everyone of the terror that was Dream. It was the galloping of horses, sounding the nearby presence of the prison wardens looking for their escaped prisoner.
But most especially, most prominently, it came in the wails of his own crying as he watched his best friend lay limp in front of him, slain by Sapnap’s sword.
oh boy, this is gonna hurt.
George could see how much Dream was trying to stay alive. He didn’t need his eyes open to see how painful it all was.
“it’s okay, george.”
George could feel his frail life force dwindling. He watched as crimson seeped through his wounds, the grass beneath them turning darker red by the second.
“clay…”
Did using his real name really make a difference? Would using it close the river of blood pooling at his stomach, or was it just another desperate attempt of George to feel like he could save him? In this moment, could using it liberate Dream from the agony he was feeling? George knew the answer but he didn’t want to find out.
“this can’t be happening, clay.”
Why do our minds lie to us even when the truth is so clearly laid out for us to correctly perceive? When our bodies are screaming reality at us, why is it that our hearts say the opposite? Is it to spite us? Is it to confuse us? Why can’t we just accept the truth and move on?
George didn’t want to hurt anymore. He just needed himself to accept what was happening and move on, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t want to as well. He starts crying again.
how am i going to accept this and move on?
“i’m sorry dream. i tried to tell sapnap not to do it and- i just. sapnap didn’t want to-”
“shhhhh, george. it’s okay.“
That’s where the anger starts. It was careful, it was calculated. It had been creeping up into his body ever since he found out that Dream had decided to do the things that he did. The torturing, the murders, all the crimes. Was it really worth it, when all George wanted to do was live a peaceful life with him in Kinoko?
“dream.”
“dream, why would you do this to me?”
George was angry, angry at it all. Angry at Dream, angry at Sapnap for not having a little bit more sympathy. Angry that the good memories they had made was not enough for the three of them to stay together.
The anger had been lingering onto his sorrow, readying itself for its departure into madness.
“why would you do this to yourself, dream?”
“i know, george. i’m-“
“was any of it real? was anything we’ve been through together as friends real?”
“i don’t want to answer that. i don’t want to hurt you more.”
“why, why, why? why would you do this?”
All George could think of to say was why. He was a merry-go-round circling the same thought over and over again. A perfect machine of misery and dejection.
“why would you do this to me?”
“i can’t answer the question, george.”
“these are the consequences, dream! give me a reason and i’ll try to understand!”
“it- it’s just that. i needed power, i needed people to fear me.”
A pause.
“was i not enough, dream?”
Denial, trying to save him. Pretending this wasn’t happening, pretending that he wasn’t dying, and pretending that Dream didn’t abandon their friendship all those months ago.
“you are enough, george. just not enough for me.”
Dream’s face was beautiful, the sunset reflecting the purple gleam of the prison onto his skin, as he faded away into his darkness.
All George could do was watch, just like he always did. He had watched his best friend in his happiest moments, he had watched him descend into a life of vengeance, and now, he was watching Dream lose himself to death.
George was never able to sleep again.