Dream Team Oneshots

Pine (DreamNotFound)

Warnings: vomiting, angst, no resolution

Dream was hurting. Badly hurting.

The pain had started out a while ago, although it hadn't really been painful at first. He knew in truth that it was nothing physical that had him doubling over his toilet and retching, pushing the contents of his stomach back out the way they came. It had started pleasantly, really.

At first it was a soft and pleasant warmth, pooling in his chest and wrapping its way around his poor heart in a hug. It was a flutter of wings brushing the lining of his stomach, a soft tickle that made laughter bubble out of his throat, all because of a simple sentence uttered by one of his best friends in the entire world. It made him feel light and airy, like his feet could lift right up off the ground and carry him all the way to London just to be close to the man who had caused this delightful feeling.

Things changed the longer that Dream kept his feelings to himself. He couldn't tell anyone, couldn't let them know. He had fallen for a boy with the prettiest smile he had ever seen, a boy with a laugh that infected and pulled giggles from anyone else around him. At least, he did that to Dream. He couldn't tell anyone else because what if it got back to him? What if he found out, what if he withdrew himself from Dream, stopped sharing his laughter with him? Dream didn't want to think about trying to manage life without George in it, and so he told no one.

So the warmth only grew on the nights he would spend in a call with George, staying up most of the night together until light pooled in through George's bedroom window and the birds sang outside. It burned hotter and hotter until it began to scorch Dream's heart. The butterflies wings grew sharp as knives in his gut, scratching and scraping and coiling until Dream had no choice but to try and empty them from his stomach.

Pining for another person fucking sucked.

Dream laid in his bed, far too awake for the time that was displayed on his clock. He thought of soft-looking brown hair and golden brown eyes, feeling the razor wings tear into him even more, and yet he did not stop. He didn't want to stop. He imagined the way it would feel if he were allowed to love George. If he were allowed to take his chin into his hands, move him closer to Dream's own face, if he were allowed to connect his lips to George's. He imagined lying with George in this same bed, holding each other in a loving embrace and not planning on ever letting go.

He imagined if George could love him back. If he could care about Dream in the way Dream cared for him; if he wanted to be with him, to hold him, to kiss him in the way Dream longed for. He imagined and the razor edge of the wings dulled, and the heat cooled momentarily. Dream clutched one of his pillows extra tight, face buried in the soft fabric of the pillowcase. He imagined it was George's shirt, imagined he was leaning into George's chest.

Dream knew the pain would return again. He knew that his pining would continue. He knew that his crush wasn't ever going to fade. He knew it wasn't just a crush.

Dream was in love with George, and that wasn't going to change until the end of time. He knew that he could never have him, not that way, but Dream continued to pretend. Just for tonight. Just for a little while. Just to ease the pain for now, Dream closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep with the image of George laying beside of him.