[13]

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It wasn't like he could never play football again, just for a few months. It was practically off season anyways, so by the time he got the doctors notice it would be alright.

It didn't seem like that to Dream.

He might've overacted a bit, shelling himself in his room and hardly allowing anyone over unless they shoved the door down with brute force, but his emotions were out of control with the painkillers and antibiotics and George's sudden disappearance.

George. Dreams thoughts had spun around two things, football and George.

He had disappeared the day Dream was discharged. Dream had tried to contact him through discord, but as the grey icon refused to change, he stopped trying and remained in one place.

Nothing was his fault. Dream clutched the pillow in his arms tighter. But it still felt like it. Maybe if Dream had been driving it wouldn't have happened, or if George just decided to stay at Sapnap's.

Dream felt as if he was slowly breaking down, he didn't want to do anything, not like he could with his leg. He wanted to call George but also didnt want to be seen.

He didn't attend classes.

The assignments piled higher as Dream buried himself deeper until finally he snapped, got out of bed, and dragged himself to George's apartment.

Dream didn't knock, didn't care enough to, Sapnap had dropped a key to George's place at Dreams house at one point, so he used thag to get in.

Everything looked pristine, in its place and grounded.

Everything except for the slouched, brown haired boy that stood at the kitchen, staring blankly at the stove.

He turned, and Dream could see the dark circles under his eyes for a split second before George stumbled back.

"Dude- what the hell?" He scoffed angrily. He brushed him off and turned back towards the half finished bowl of cereal, his previous guilt having turned into festering anger.

"You can't give me a proper hello?" Dream asked, voice faltering slightly as the unexpected reaction.

George gripped the spoon in between his fingers tighter.  "I would've given you a better greeting if you returned my calls."

Dream paused, his phone battery had run out a however long ago and he hadn't plugged it in since.

"Why did you even show up here? It's not hard to see that you hate me." George stood, clenching the bowl tightly as if to channel the anger into it. He dropped it in the sink and stood face to face with Dream.

"I don't hate you George."

George dug his hands into his thighs. "Sure you don't. You have every reason to and I don't care anymore-" His voice broke for a moment. "So why'd you show up here?"

"I thought maybe I should get my act together and start with you first. You haven't responded to any of my messages either."

George stepped forward and shoved Dream, seething. "I did, and you never responded to those either."

"Well i'm sorry if I didn't see your little messages, do I not have a right to be upset over something?"

"Of course you have the god damn right, but it's been over a month, suck it up and stop being such a baby."

Tears started to fall as George shoved his hand into Dream's chest.

"I should've been the seriously injured one, but i'm not and you're going to be back on that field next year. I would trade places with you in a heartbeat but I can't, so what the hell is it that you want Dream? It's my fault and I already know that, so suck it the fuck up and get over yourself."

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