K. by Cigarettes After Sex (DNF)

memories - 10

3rd Person POV (Dream):

Dream squirmed in his bed.

It was getting so late to the point where he almost considered to just stay up.

His bed just felt so uncomfortable.

Dream leaned up from his laying position from his back, and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked at his bare chest and fully removed the covers. His pajama pants were the classic red and black plaid that every person on earth owned. His body was toned, but not extremely buff and muscular. He walked over to his mirror and saw the remnants of marks that George made on him a couple nights previously.

We were animals. He thought to himself.

He moved closer and fluffed his hair to carefully have it flow over his eyebrows. He looked at his tan skin some more. It was still filled with scratch marks on his shoulders and along his neck, which also had slightly faded hickeys that were now a light crimson.

These marks are gonna take a week to disappear. He told himself.

He dragged his fingers over the marks and laughed at the fact that he had it not even close to as bad as George. George had marks everywhere.

On his arms, chest, stomach, neck, jawline, legs.

Dream recalled the morning where he returned George's phone to him. If Dream had noticed his own hickeys before George's phone that was hidden underneath the pillows somehow, then he would've placed George's phone downstairs to hide it away.

But of course, Sapnap pointed out the marks when they sat on the couch together. Laughing his ass off of course.

Dream recalls punching him on the shoulder multiple times knowing that he needed to shut the hell up before Sapnap said something about George when George was nearing the end of his shower. With both boys in a giggly-mood, when they saw George limp his broken body down the stairs it was way too difficult to not laugh.

Dream gazed his eyes over his figure, tracing the outline of his seamless body. It seemed that he had no imperfections to his build, it's the build that got the cheesy-cheerleaders screeching his name like some sort of god from down the high school hallways a few years prior. (Along with a few seductive whispers from the boys on the football team, but that was a secret of course.)

Dream is a likeable person.

He knows this.

He's not used to having someone not fall for him at first sight, hence George being so difficult for him. He's always gotten the partners and hookups that he's wanted from his egotistical charm, and his undeniable attractiveness.

It's only a matter of time until George realizes that Dream will keep trying.

Dream pushed away his narcissistic and selfish thoughts to the side to deal with them later, or never at all. Instead, he plans on getting ready for the ass-crack dawn that settled in orange pools of luminous rays through the thin blinds that oh so poorly blocked out the light.

He walked back over to his bed with slow and careful steps, not wanting to step on any part of the floor that may squeak under his weight.

Carefully arriving next to the unmade bed and pried his hands through the sheets until he touched the brick of a phone that somehow creeped under his pillow whilst on the charger last night.

Same place he found George's phone.

Dream's face ID unlocked his phone swiftly, leaving no time for his eyes to adjust to the screen to clearly read the time. It looked like it said 6 in the morning. But that 6 also blurred the lines between an 8 and a 9 somehow. His eyes finally focusing and realizing that his assumption of the time, was way off.