Mark My Words || DNF Soulmate AU

Chapter 10

He's not crying, he doesn't think.

It's so much worse than that.

George wants to throw himself into flames and burn everything away. His own embarrassment and mortification seem to be doing that already with the way his entire body is heating up from what Dream just said.

We've been dating for a little over a year now.

Dream and his soulmate. That's what the "we" is.

Dream and his soulmate, who is not George.

Dream and his soulmate, who have been dating for a little over a year now.

Someone might as well have shot him twice in the chest and told him that shapeshifters exist: everything is so painful and it doesn't even make sense.

How did Dream find his soulmate and George, his best friend, knew nothing about it? How did Dream hide it so well to the point where George completely deluded himself into thinking he was somehow the perfect match for him? Why did Dream say nothing of it?

George doesn't even have the mental capacity to process all the thoughts flying through his head right now, with the way Dream is still on the other side of the call having just plunged George's life into an insufferable, asphyxiating void.

He numbly lifts his right hand, which had fallen onto his lap in his shock, and puts it onto the mouse. He hovers the pointy icon over the end call button and clicks.

The disconnecting sound reverberates in his headphones and all of a sudden he's face to face with the conversation he had with Dream just yesterday.

They had been bantering about editing George's most recent video, with George incessantly pleading for Dream to "please, just to do it for me." He employed all the tactics he usually does to wrap Dream around his little finger, being nice and polite, appealing to his sense of protectiveness, complimenting him as he begs. It doesn't work, in the end, and George sulked the whole way through as he edited the stupid video.

He wonders if he'll ever be able to talk like that to Dream, who has a soulmate. It's only now, reading back on his old messages, that he realizes how much it all sounded like flirting. God, they sounded like lovesick middle-schoolers, and George can't keep this up if Dream already has someone he's in love with.

He can't do this to the sacred bond of soulmarks, and he won't allow Dream to continue either.

With a telltale click, he turns off the computer. His screen goes blank and all he can see is his own reflection. His own silly, stupid, pathetic, wishful reflection.

A burning sensation shoots through his left wrist all of a sudden and George sucks in a breath of cold air.

He looks down at his soulmark.

"Fuck," he says angrily to it, "I fucking get it. No one wants me. Shut the hell up."

Nothing happens, the flash of pain disappearing as quickly as it had gone, but George knows better than to believe in the deception that is soulmarks.

"You gave me so much fucking false hope," he continues angrily, unheeding of the ridiculousness of talking to his own wrist, "You gave me so much fucking hope."

No response, and George wants to murder something. The pain and the humiliation combine into anger and he almost slams the mark down on his desk, perhaps as a way to desecrate what he had always idealized and romanticized.

He stops himself last second.

He takes a deep breath, and puts his head in his hands.

Another deep breath.

And another one.

In that short amount of time, he seems to have breathed every ounce of aggression out of his body and physically deflates onto his table. Using his arms as a cushion, he puts his head down on it and closes his eyes.

Still, the tears come.

He doesn't acknowledge their presence, pretends the gentle licks of salty water running down his face are not his own, pretends the sleeves of his hoodie are not soaking all of it up, pretends he's not sad or disappointed or heartbroken.

The imagination can only do so much, and as he cries George can't help the sobs that rack his body and heave themselves out of his chest.

He sits up to cup his nose and mouth between his hoodie sleeves and closes his eyes as he shakes with each sound he makes.

He can't believe he thought he was Dream's soulmate, as if all his troubles really could just be resolved in the simplest and best way possible.

He can't believe he really tried to confess to Dream, laid open his entire heart and then some, and expected the same in return.

He can't believe he thought he'd be anything more than a best friend to Dream, who has everything in the world and still cares so much and does everything for everyone.

He can't believe... he doesn't want to anymore.

When George has drained all of his tears and relieved every inch of self-confidence he had for himself as a potential soulmate, he puts his head down on the desk again.

He almost falls asleep, the combination of crying and surges of pain taking more from him than he'd expected.

Right before he does, he sits up and realizes that it'd be nice to forget and be away from the conscious world for a while. He'll take a nap, it'll make him feel better and recharge his energy.

He doesn't want to think about what happens the next time he goes online.

George lifts himself up from the chair and pushes himself towards his bedroom.

Just before he enters it, however, he remembers something and turns back.

He clicks open his computer, ignoring everything and heading for a beeline towards Amazon.

His bandaid sits unordered in his shopping cart, and he removes them completely.

A moment later, XL bandaids replace them. Ones that are sure to cover his entire soulmark and leave nothing peeking out.

George doesn't even bother checking the price as he clicks "Order."

And then he's mindlessly drifting away into his bedroom to hide under the covers and the blanket of sleep.

Anything to forget the pain.

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Kang's Note: Ouch...