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George was studying Dream’s face as they laid on the bed together.
Arms pulled to his chest, Dream looked…almost peaceful. Reaching over, George settled his fingers on Dream’s cheek. His jade hazel eyes were closed lightly, but there was a pinch to his eyebrows. When George touched his cheek, though, Dream leaned into the touch. His eyes softened a little bit, nose twitching into a wrinkle. Then, he let out a soft hum.
Smiling, George exhaled. Thought for a second. They were hidden away in a hotel room somewhere. Curled up in the blankets with their shoes off. Dream had been so clearly tired. Exhausted, actually. Fatigued from so long trying to fight, from so long actually fighting and defending himself from people who didn’t care about him as much as they claimed to. They didn’t love him. They loved the idea that they had of him, someone who had never existed and never would, either. They didn’t deserve him. They never would. They never had. They were the ones who decided to pick that path, they chose their fate, they chose where they had ended up. This was their fault. Dream was hurting for it, and George wouldn’t let that pass.
But they weren’t the ones who had really lost. That was Dream. Dream had lost everything, really. Everything he’d known, everything he’d grown up with. Everyone he had grown up with, with very few exceptions. He’d lost his siblings. His aunts and uncles and cousins. His grandparents. They mattered, they had mattered to him. Most of them hadn’t even done anything else other than not knowing. Not realizing. It was his parents who had destroyed Dream, who had ruined the little self-esteem that he had with DIY conversion therapy and gaslighting and years and years of abuse. They had destroyed their own kid, almost, and they didn’t even care. They weren’t the ones who had lost, not really. That was Dream. He was the one who was hurting.
Maybe one day, they’d get their justice. Dream would get the love and support he deserved, that was a guarantee. But maybe one day he would never have to deal with them even being a threat, both to him and to other people. That was why it took so long for him to leave. He was worried about others, because he had a big heart that he wore on his sleeve.
Sighing, George leaned over and gently kissed Dream’s forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. Dream hummed. His fingers tightened around the sides of George’s button-up shirt, he pulled him a little closer. Exhaling, George pulled Dream closer, let his boyfriend bury his head in his chest. Kissed the top of his hair.
Looking at the blinds on the window, George closed his own eyes. They were safe for the night. They’d get moving in the morning.
But he still couldn’t forget how Dream had looked only a little while earlier.
+++ Four Hours Earlier… +++
George was pretty sure that he broke a couple laws driving to Dream’s house.
He’d decided that he’d had it with the way Dream’s parents treated him. So, he made the executive decision right then and there. He was pulling Dream out of that house, and they were leaving. Where to, he wasn’t sure. But they’d figure it out. Maybe they’d go to live with the Minecrafts, they had plenty of money and had offered their house to anyone in the friend group who needed a place to stay before. Especially with Dream’s parents being the way they were. George didn’t have a choice but to get him out. Not with the way he saw Dream start to get again. They’d gone through this from freshman year all the way to junior year. Three long years of late night calls and a couple scares where Dream insisted he was going to jump out a window to disappear, of moments when he called and he was apologizing because he didn’t think he was going to make it through the night. He did with a lot of hard work, a lot of moments where it felt less like George was trying to hold onto him and more like he was desperately trying to keep both their heads above water as the ocean raged around them.
Parking his car, George hopped out. Found the key that Dream’s parents had given him so that he could house sit. Not that he was going to do that for them anymore. Striding up to the door, he didn’t even bother to knock. He just went right up and unlocked it, still holding the key in hand.
In the living room, Dream’s parents were standing by the couch. Dream was sitting on the couch itself, knees still as his fingers were locked around one another with bloodless knuckles and a vice-tight grip. His eyes were a little red, his shoulders were shaking and his breath was hitching. Panic attack, George realized, eyes flicking to Dream’s parents and then narrowing. “George. Hello.” His mother greeted.
“Hi. Came to drop your key off and pick something important up.” Looking to Dream, he added, “Go grab your bags, we’re getting out of here.”
“Excuse me?” His dad prompted. Shakily, Dream moved his hands from being locked in front of him to having settled on his knees. Holding up his phone, George tipped his head to the side. Half-grinned. The family dog walked over, George rubbed between her ears as she stood by him. On the screen, there was a very clear call from George to Dream, although George had muted himself.
“I’ve been recording the whole thing. And by the way, his being queer won’t get you fired. It coming out that you’ve been abusing him for being it, though…that’ll get you arrested. And I heard everything.” He replied. Immediately, Dream’s dad’s face twisted. Dream ducked away in a hurry.
“Dream, sit back down now or else you’re grounded.”
“He’s an adult. You can’t tell Dream to do anything anymore and expect him to follow it immediately.” Dream paused at the door, looked over. George smiled at him reassuringly. Nodding, Dream ducked into his room. Came out a second later with a couple bags. "Come on, sweetheart. By the way, you’ll want this back—I’m not house sitting for you anymore.” George held up the house key and set it down on the printer with a solid click. Then, holding onto Dream’s hand, he led him outside. Dream pet his dog one last time as they hurried out.
Pulling Dream across the lawn and down to the curb, George opened the passenger door for him. Dream hopped in, put his bags in the back seat. His whole life packed into a duffel bag and a backpack. Nothing more. Nothing less. Everything he cared about was in those bags, and George looked over at him as he hopped into his own seat. The doors slammed shut right as his parents hurried down the lawn. His dad knocked on the window, and George looked over to Dream. “Open the window.” His dad ordered. He’s trying to see what power he has.
Slowly, Dream rolled the window down. George kept a hand on the locking button, ready to move within a second should Dream’s dad try something. Legally, he couldn’t. It’d be stupid to try something, because George was a witness and he was still recording on his phone. And his dashcam. And the camera inside the car. George had settled his phone in his lap, pointing it at Dream’s dad’s face.
“This isn’t the right way to do this.” His dad pointed out. “This isn’t the right way to leave, you know this.” Dream swallowed, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, don’t do that thing you always do.” Inhaling shakily, Dream closed his eyes. Reaching across the console, George touched his arm. Dream glanced at him. Found his hand and squeezed it tightly. He was scared. Squeezing back, George looked back at Dream’s parents.
“If you wanted him to leave the right way, then you should have treated him the right way. It’s a two-way street.” Pausing, George continued, finger inching forwards to rest on the window button, “If I were you, I’d be careful about how I treated the rest of my kids. You might lose another one.”
Then, he rolled the window up.
Pulling into the road, George quickly drove around some of the back streets. They’d stop by his parents’ house, they’d agreed to let him borrow a different car while picking up Dream. Just in case Dream’s parents decided to call in an AMBER alert on the car that George used to pick him up in. So they had a small four-door sedan that George had bought a couple years back waiting for them. The one that was in his name. They stopped at a red light, and George was still holding onto Dream’s hand. He used his other one to quit recording and to turn his phone off, settling it back in his pocket. Turning to Dream, he studied his boyfriend’s face for a little moment. Dream was still staring ahead.
George’s eyes flicked down, and his heart dropped. Oh, Dream, he thought, eyes wandering across the series of thin and even cuts on the inside curve of Dream’s wrist. Leaning forwards a little bit, he caught a glimpse of a matching set on the other wrist, too. Poor thing. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Dream didn’t scar often, if he did at all.
The light turned green, and George turned back to the road to keep driving.
+++ Current Time… +++
George’s eyes wandered down to Dream’s wrists again.
In the thin beams of moonlight streaming between the blinds, just small enough so that George could see but no one would be able to see in if they tried, the pale skin on the inside of Dream’s arms was highlighted. He still remembered seeing slurs carved into too-thin arms, made by a shaking hand from someone who was scared and had no one else to take it out on but themself, who refused to hurt anyone else but themself. Locking their fingers together, George sighed. Kissed Dream’s hair again. As he played with Dream’s fingers, he thought for a little while.
The scars might not fade. George had a bad feeling about these ones. He hadn’t been there when they were made, but these ones were even. Lined. Purposeful. He knew why they were there. Dream didn’t want to die. He just wanted to be out, and it got too much for him again. They didn’t need to go to a hospital. What they needed was to get him to a therapist. They had his medical records, had his SSI number and card and everything else. All his money, or at least most of it. Slowly tucked away into a hidden bank account his parents couldn’t access. They’d planned this for a while, the bags had been packed for some time as well.
Kissing Dream’s hair again and continuing to litter more kisses until he got to Dream’s forehead, George took a slow breath. I’m never letting them hurt you. Not now.
Not again.