Already Gone

19

george

Waking up to an empty bed was a disappointment. I remembered the happenings of the night before and was now wondering where Dream was.

Maybe Dream arriving was a sign that I would recover. Dream saved me. He had been the one to stop me, to arrive just in time. And I would never be able to thank him for that.

I felt guilty. I shouldn't have burdened him like that, for all I know, he could have tucked me into bed and left. I could have pushed him too far and he now couldn't handle me.

My head hurt desperately, like now that my heart was broken the pain was festering up to my brain as well.

I didn't want to get up to face an empty apartment, I never did, and the possibility that Dream had left didn't encourage me either.

I curled up under the sheets. They hadn't been changed in months and had stains all over them from the countless meals that I had had in them. It was disgusting.

But I liked it. It felt familiar, it felt homely. And right at that moment, Dream didn't.

As much as I loved him, and as much as I had been wanting this moment for the past five years, I wasn't ready to leap into a fully physical relationship.

Realistically, I had never really met Dream. Sure, I had talked to him on the phone almost every day for the past few years of my life, and I trusted him and loved him more than ever, but no matter what we had been through, he wasn't familiar.

I would have to adapt to the newfound physicality of our relationship. I wasn't used to change, and definitely not of something as big as this.

Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe I was just trying to pile up more and more problems for myself to sort. Maybe I was self-destructive.

A self-destroyer all along.

The room was dark, but I buried my head deep into the pillows anyway. If Dream really was still here, he'd probably force me to change the dirty sheets, as much as they comforted me.

He'd probably clean the whole apartment, which was unnecessary, and a complete waste of his time since I knew as soon as he left, I knew that it would only go back to what it was like before.

This was what inspired me to get up. if he was cleaning, if he was here at all, then I would stop it.

I clambered out, tripping over cardboard boxes and stray clothes.

As I exited my room, I almost bumped into Dream for the second time in the fourteen hours we had been together, except this time he was carrying a tray of food.

"Good morning George." He wasn't overwhelmingly happy this time, as he usually was when something bad happened. At first, I thought it was weird how he instantly felt better after every mishap, but now I realize that it was just his way of preserving the problem.

On the tray was a mug, of what looked and smelled like tea - something I hadn't had in years, and a plate of chopped apple. I had no idea where he had found both of them, but he managed.

He had a small smile on his face, however, his eyes were slightly red and puffy. It looked as though he had been crying. A lot.

"Hi." I didn't really know what to say. First of all, I was unsure of how to feel around him. I should have been happy that he was finally here - I was happy. But something felt off. I felt slightly uncomfortable.

Instead of waiting for him to tell me what to do, I backed up and headed back to bed, assuming that was what he intended on happening.

I plopped down, not under the covers, but instead sitting upright on the bed. I wasn't relaxed, and I didn't want him to get the wrong idea or anything.