i'll leave you with words : dnf

live.

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"well goodmorning" dream spoke quietly as he saw george finally go to his desk by the window.

"morning" george smiled.

"sleep good?"

"mhm" george hummed and leaned back in his chair, "how about you?"

"i havent slept yet" dream chuckled nervously.

"what?" george gasped, "go to sleep then"

"mmno" dream smiled sympthetically in georges brown eyes, "i dont sleep much... i will at some point today okay?"

"alright..." george whispered, "i listened to your music last night"

"awwwh" dream cooed, "i was actually writing"

"you were?"

"mm" dream nodded,

"what about?"

"i cant tell you that" dream smirked.

"why not?" george whined.

"i never tell anyone" dream hummed, "its just a secret until someone figures it out"

"how come you dont sing in english?"

"its part of the secret silly" dream chuckled and leaned his head deeper into his hand.

george scoffed with a quick eyeroll,
"no fair"

"oh its perfectly fair"

"nope" george tilted his head away from dream.

"really" dream rolled his eyes playfully with a smirk.

"mhm"

"look at me" dream scolded.

"nope" george snickered, still holding a grudge.

"fine i guess i wont be helping you with that essay"

george quickly snapped his head back to meet dreams bold eyes and his passionate sneer.

"essay? how did you know about the essay?"

"you fall asleep at your computer a lot darling" dream smiled, "it caught my eye one time"

"yeah probably because this essay is so stupid" george groaned and ran his hands down his face.

"nothing is stupid love, remember its all about perspective" dream spoke clearly.

gerorge felt himself giggle at dreams words again,

oh his words.

"now read me the prompt"

"ughhhh"

"its okay" dream whispered softly with meaning, always with such meaning.

"'what does the term, 'live' mean to you?'" george read aloud, mocking his own irritation.

"and? what does it mean to you?"

"i dont knowww" george sighed.

"what if i teach you?" dream smiled.

george stared at him for a moment, both breathing slowly,

"i would love that"

...

dream walked back to his bed down the hall of his apartment, laying down, breathing the air of calm and patient independence.

dream was different, and he knew that.

and the thing about dream,

was that he struggled so hard to figure himself out,

he tried so hard to read every aspect and fine detail of his own mind that he got trapped inside it. and ever since, hes been lost, with no escape. he went searching and the walls caved in, trapping him for eternity.

dream was lonely, lost and lonely.

his parents died in a car crash when he was seven, ever since he has been living with his uncle terry. terry was a narcissist, a manipulative narcissist, and dream has always known that. therefore when he was of age, he ran away, to a large new york city apartment by himself. he shut out his family, his "friends", everyone. the only thing he took with him was his guitar and his inherited money from his dead parents.

dreams parents were extremely wealthy, proper in every manner imagined.

his mother always told him simple words that he never remembered. she would read to him until he fell asleep each night, always informing him the imprtance of reading. his mom was so overprotective, hushing saftey into his small ears any second she had. dream missed her, he missed those nights of reading and long converstations about the world.

but more then anything, anyone, dream missed his dad. dreams dad was quiet and bold, so so strong, and ferice with words and actions. every word he spoke was egraved in dreams skull, glued to his memory for good. his dad taught dream to be tough and passionite with every action, gentle with touch, and alwasy use manners. and he did, to this day, dream always was so gentle and pure.

therefore the one thing dream will always remeber from his dad no matter what,

was to live.

to live with meaning and risk, daring sparks of compassion.

he always said to live.

and dream would always remember that.

and to this day,

in his large apartment,

his locked up money,

his piano and guitar,

his books that filled every bit of open spacious air,

he would live.

dream crossed his arms and let his head hang against them,

breathing so so slowly at ease,

thinking of the angel that lived just a window away,

with clean soft skin, deep dark eyes, precious words, and a glowing smile,

and he loved him.

how could dream, a person who spent is whole life being alone and independent with no desire at all...

be in love?

dream dug his fingers deep into his closed eyelids,

wishing to take it back.

but that was the problem,

he didn't want to take it back.

he wanted to love

and hold those small hands,

and kiss that soft skin,

breathe in those quiet hums,

and live.

and that is exactly what he would do.

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