Roommates // DNF

20

*TW: drinking, mention of drug use*

Dream took his time in the shower, the bathroom filled with steam by the time he finally stepped out from under the hot water. He needed the time alone to clear his mind after his argument with George, an argument that he hadn't even wanted to be a part of.

Of course, he was annoyed that George had lied to him, especially about something as stupid as hanging out with Wilbur. He wasn't sure if George was simply trying to spare his feelings or if there was actually something between them worth hiding, but either way, Dream couldn't help but feel jealousy burning low in his chest at the mere mention of Wilbur's name.

Dream's mind slipped back to a previous conversation he had had with George, a conversation where he had told the brunette he didn't like labels, but preferred something more casual.

It wasn't all a lie; Dream had never put labels on any relationship in his life. They always felt temporary to him, so he never saw the need for it.

But this one felt different.

Dream found his mind constantly drifting to thoughts of George, his body reacting involuntarily to something as small as a smile or a laugh. He knew as soon as they had shared their first kiss that George was different, special, in a way that Dream couldn't quite place right then.

But now he knew George well enough to see all the things that made him special; he was kind, smart, funny, and cared so much about the people around him. Everything about him was perfect, even his sassy attitude whenever Dream tried to mess with him.

And that was the exact reason that Dream had to keep him at a distance, because Dream knew he had a way of always screwing things up, and he didn't want to do that with George.

George deserved someone better than Dream, someone who could treat him the way he deserved to be treated. And if that person was Wilbur, then Dream would find a way to deal with it.

Dream sighed, his hand moving to wipe down the foggy mirror over the sink, his green eyes flicking up to meet his own reflection for only a moment before he turned away. He hated looking at his own reflection for too long, knowing that the show of confidence he put on for other people was exactly that, just a show.

Dream had always had negative thoughts about himself, something he could trace back to his earliest childhood days. His mother had died only days after giving birth to him, and he had been left alone to be raised by an alcoholic, abusive father who couldn't stand the sight of him.

He knew his father blamed him for his mother's death; he could see it written so clearly in his father's face every time he called Dream a fuck up, or told him he'd never amount to anything in life.

So Dream had only been living up to his father's expectations when he partied all through high school, drinking himself into oblivion most nights and eventually getting mixed in with a bad crowd. It wasn't long until he started experimenting with drugs, a habit he carried with him into college, and the main reason for why he was kicked out of his old school.

But when he came to London, Dream had hoped for a fresh start, away from all the troubled people of his past, and as far away from his father as he could get.

But now here he was, screwing things up after only a small argument with someone he wasn't even dating, proving his father right yet again.

Dream huffed in annoyance, shaking his head as if he could clear away all his negative thoughts; something he had been trying, and failing, to do for most of his life.

When he entered into the bedroom, he was relieved to find the room empty, George's jacket and phone gone, just as he had expected. He reached for his own phone, a sinking feeling in his stomach as an all too familiar name illuminated on the screen, the one person from his past he couldn't seem to outrun.