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It’s late, George thinks.
He isn’t one hundred percent certain what time it is, but he knows it’s late. It’s the only thing he seems to know at this point.
It’s been a while since he looked at a clock. It’s been a while since he’s done anything, actually. It feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on his chest while he gasps for air, praying to find a way out from beneath it.
Everything in his life seems to be crumbling around him as he watches helplessly, just hoping that it will all come to a halt. He thinks he should get up, maybe brush his teeth, or take a shower. He thinks he should drink some water too.
The rain is bouncing viciously off of his window when he decides pathetic fallacy is real. The weather perfectly portrays how he feels, he’s yet to decide whether he finds that comforting or not.
He pushes the duvet off of him and feels the cool air hit his body for the first time in days. He feels gross and he’s sure if he was to look in a mirror his appearance would meet a similar fate. As he stumbles to the kitchen it seems like there’s a weight tied to his feet which makes it harder to move.
It seems to him that he should have stayed in bed, safe from any confirmation that this was his reality. Maybe he could have pretended for a little longer that this was all one bad dream. A really long bad dream.
Almost as if there was a rope wrapped around his heart, tugging at it until it ached. He felt broken. George can confidently say Dream broke him. The one person - who he thought would always stand by his side - broke him; in ways he didn't know he could break.
Maybe their past should have been a give away that they’d end up like this, but he wanted to think things had changed. He needed to think things had changed. But they hadn’t. Things were exactly the same as they once were 2,623 days ago when they first broke up, and 2,542 days ago after they got back together just to break up again.
In hindsight the never ending loop of getting back together and breaking up again every 2 months should have been a red flag, but George loved his rose coloured glasses.
This breakup is different though. This one’s different because this one is final.
And it hurts because he never thought it would be.
But this isn’t the future he wants for himself, in an on and off relationship like he’s still in high school. He wants more - he needs more. At twenty-five he shouldn’t be begging his boyfriend for a bit of commitment, he knows that.
So it’s late and he’s hurt. And he has no idea why someone is knocking at his door. Well… he has some idea; but he wishes he didn’t. He wishes he’d never met Dream to begin with.
With an ache in his chest and what felt like the weight of the world behind him, he opened his front door, no matter how much he didn’t want to.
Green eyes met brown, for a moment it was as if the world completely stopped - as if it was only them. The silence was so loud you could practically hear it. George felt his heart drop when he saw the dirty blonde standing in front of him, hair and t-shirt drenched from the pouring rain.
“Dream,” the brunet feels the words get lodged in the back of his throat, like a sacred spell he shouldn’t say out loud. “What are you doing here?”
“I want you back,” he says, as if it’s some groundbreaking line George has never heard before. As if it should mean the same as it did two thousand days ago. “I want you back, George.”
For a moment George feels so angry, so angry at the fact Dream thinks he can come crawling back every time he gets bored. Every time he realises what he lost.
“You say that every time.” George spits out, his voice laced with venom. Dream looks guilty for a second, like maybe he realises how much of a dick he is - but that’s wishful thinking.
Dream thinks for a second. The look on George’s face - the look of someone who has nothing else to lose - makes him feel something inside of him break. “Because it’s true, George! I don’t know what to say, I messed up, okay? I know I did, but please give me another chance.”
“I’ve given you enough chances!” George snaps. He’s angry, he’s never been this angry. “I’ve given you a million chances, and every time you fuck it up within a few months! I’m done with being your backup plan when things go south.”
“You’re not my backup plan, George.” The dirty blonde seems sincere, but George knows better than to fall for it this time. “I love you. Please.”
“Why should I give you another chance, Dream? Because I can’t think of one good reason to let you back into my life, just for you to be gone again this time next week.”
George feels every inch of him burn with rage just at the sight of him standing in his doorway. He wants nothing more than to slap him right across his stupid face: maybe he could knock some sense into him while he was at it.
“I’m here now- and I know that’s not enough, but it’s all I have.” he replies like that makes up for everything, as of him ‘being here’ is all George needs.
The brunet purses his lips, tears threatening to show themselves if he doesn’t compose himself quickly. “You’re not here!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. It’s a wonder his neighbours didn’t call the police. “God, even when you’re standing right in front of me it feels like you’re miles away! I’m fucking sick of missing you when you’re right next to me!”
It’s quiet.
“George-“
“-No! Shut up! This isn’t your time to talk.” he throws his hands up in frustration. “I’ve given you the world! I’ve done everything to prove to you I’m good enough for you to stay-“ the words get stuck in his throat.
He takes a deep breath, “I have nothing else to give you, Dream.”
The dirty blonde bites his tongue. George only stares at him, and Dream can see the tears slowly fall from his eyes. “I’ve changed.” he whispers as if George has any reason to believe a single word he says.
“We aren’t meant for eachother.”
“We could be!”
“We aren’t.”
It stings. It stings because it’s true, even if deep down George wishes it wasn’t.
“Go on, tell me I’m wrong!” George’s voice is raspy - broken. “Please, tell me I’m wrong. That we’re destined to be together, that we have a happy ending in sight.”
“I’m ready to try again, if you are.” Dream speaks quietly. The words come out hesitantly, his voice small - vulnerable.
George feels his heart beat faster by the second, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’d been waiting to hear those words forever, he’d dreamt of finally getting the happy ending he deserved.
But he didn’t want to get it this way. Not like this. Not in the middle of the night on some random Tuesday while the rain pours down. Not just because Dream got lonely again. Not because he was the second choice.
He wonders for a moment, if his pride is worth the ending he so desperately ached for. He thinks it is. It’s not just his pride, it’s his morals, his worth. He deserves better, he knows he does.
“No.” the words slip out uncomfortably. He didn’t want it to end like this; he didn’t want it to end, full stop - but it had to. “I’m not, I’m sorry, Dream.” The brunet cringes at the pain in his voice as he fights back tears.
“Come on,” the other practically begs. “Please. We can work through this.”
George feels his chest tighten, the overwhelming urge to just burst into tears consumes him. “No. It’s over.” his voice cracks and he clenches his fists in attempts to hold himself together.
Dream looks as if he’s about to say something for a moment before something in his eyes change. As if George watched the hope get sucked from them right in front of him, he backs down. There’s a hesitation in his acceptance, but he only nods.
Closing the door, George feels himself breakdown. The tears he’d been holding back suddenly start streaming down his cheeks, burning them in the process. He lets his body fall against the wall beside him, slowly sliding down onto the floor. He feels his heart break.
It hurts. It really really hurts.
This is what love feels like. he tells himself.
But this isn’t love. This can’t be love, because love shouldn’t end like this. Love can’t end like this - it shouldn’t end at all.
They never loved each other.
They didn’t even really know each other.
Dream doesn’t know George's favourite colour, or why he refuses to eat with the lights off. Dream doesn’t know why he has to wake up at exactly 9:30 every day, or why he always has a lavender air freshener in his car.
Dream doesn’t know George.
Dream doesn’t care about George.
Dream doesn’t love George.
Dream found comfort in George, familiarity, security. He was nothing but a back up, a promise. A promise that he was always going to be there, for Dream to come back to whenever he wanted.
Not anymore.
He deserved more than that. He knows he does.
He stays on the ground all night, crying, and crying, and crying. His head hurts and his chest is tight when he eventually falls asleep, curled up on the floor by the front door.
The only reason he wakes up is because of the sun pouring through the windows around him. Usually there’s a comfort in the silence of a morning before the world becomes busy, but not today.
It’s too early, George thinks.