broken

five

you guys are going to hate me for this one so i'm just going to apologise in advance

tw- mentions of razors and blood throughout (no actual sh), i'll leave a summary at the end for anyone that can't read :)

Dream slowly stirred awake, the brunette's cold eyes engraved in his memory.

George.

They'd fallen asleep again, George rested his head on Dream's chest, undisturbed and unaware of the panic that grew suspiciously faster in Dream's mind.

Recollections slowly drifted in and out as Dream remembered.

The blood.

The tears.

The razor.

Soundlessly, Dream pulled up the hoodie which he had given George, another layer lay underneath it. George was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt which Dream managed to lift meticulously, revealing the skin underneath.

The skin was soft and pale, a few strays of hair poking out, providing extra warmth. It was blissful, except for the pairs of lines scattered across it. Multitudes of crimson lines were drawn into George's skin.

Dream began to cry, once more.

He couldn't bare seeing it.

Why had he done it?

Was it his fault?

What if he never came here? Would there be more marks?

Dream shook the vivid lies out of his head, the trespassing thoughts dissolving as he found himself slowly tracing each line with his right index finger. He glided the finger up and down George's arm, stroking it with a gentle force.

Dream unknowingly interlaced his left hand with George's, still rubbing his arm with his right. His hand fit perfectly into George's.

Warmth radiated from the touch.

George's smaller hand was dainty and slim. It held no marks or imperfections, his nails were cut accordingly and well-kept. Dream's larger hand was masculine and thicker. It held various freckles and his knuckles were rough. His nails were uneven since he bit his nails, it was a nervous action.

Dream could stay there for days.

Months.

Years.

He glanced down at George to notice him restfully shuffle, deepening his head into Dream's neck and letting out a sleepy groan. Dream's heart couldn't help but flutter.

Soothing sighs left George's mouth as he eventually opened his eyes. He looked up at Dream lovingly, for a moment the atmosphere was tense, both eyeing each other's lips.

Dream leaned in slightly, a rosy tint on George's face.

Silence.

Out of nowhere, George propped himself up, shaking his hand from Dream's and rolling up his sleeves. A look of fury made its way onto his face as he stood up, Dream looked at him in fear.

Anger swelled from him.

"What the fuck is your problem? Y-You're here just pitying me, I didn't want you to see this! I didn't want you to see any of this yet you're still here. Fuck you, I hate you!"

And with one more icy look back at Dream, George left the bathroom, stomping his way out into his bedroom and locking the door behind him.

Dream was left alone in an unfamiliar bathroom, blood still on the floor and razor still in sight.