A Demonic Dance

Chapter Fifty: Dreams

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George ended up prolonging the return home for as long as he possibly could, staying at the hotel for a while longer before the two ordered him an Uber and sent him home.

Maybe he was elongating the return because inside he knew what he'd be returning too, or more like, what he wouldn't be returning home too.

"If you asked him to leave, he'll be long gone"

Bad has been right about that.

Quiet.

Everything was quiet.

Stepping back into the apartment the lack of light shocked George, everything was coated in darkness, every plant, pot and coat hanger could be the shape of Dream.

But they weren't.

That's all they were. They were just plants, pots and hangers. They were just things that had always been there, things he'd had for years before Dream came.

Yet they still reminded him of them.

Everything fucking reminded him of him.

Of course there was still the stupid cake, that wretched tasting thing just sitting there on the counter, staring him down.

It was hard to believe it was only a few hours ago they made it, laughing their heads off as they chucked flour and all other matters of food at each other.

It was hard to believe it was only a few hours ago Dream had called him his boyfriend.

To believe it had gone down so fast since then.

'Demons can't lie to their summoners'

To say the fact was only just setting in now would be a massive understatement. It probably would really set in till the morning, because then he would be utterly alone and his mind would leave him to run every single thing Dream had ever said, now knowing they were true.

But yet again, that would wait till tomorrow. For now he would let out his anger, regret could be reserved for another day.

Having entered the apartment he walked past the cake, not wanting to have to look at it any longer then he would have to.

Thei— the bedroom was the worst part.

It was like he'd never even been there.

All of his clothes that had been scattered on the floor were gone, the weird things he'd placed on his bed bedside table too: small trinkets or gifts from the human were all gone as well.

Gone were the mountains of hoodies in his cupboards, the way too large shirts George would end up wearing anyway.

It was if he'd ever even existed.

'Demons have to leave as little trace of themselves as they can when they leave the human world, we can't just have dead people suddenly reappearing everywhere'

That's what Dream had said when George had first asked him about being on his stream.

Dream was really gone.

He should be happy though shouldn't he? Shouldn't he?

"AAAAGGGGH." George screamed in frustration, attacking the closest thing to him which just happened to be his bedside cabinet, toppling it over and watching as it crashed to the floor. It seemed to let out none of his frustrations.

In a way it made him feel so much lonelier.

At this point, surrounded by fading memories George broke down once more, slumping down against his wall, legs pulled tightly into his chest. He sobbed.