Dream had been waiting for this moment for months. Years even. He was unsure of when he had first realized it. Without knowing how much time had passed since that feeling had first grown into now what is pure hatred and spite, he marked the days on the calendar that led up to this moment. George didn't know how Dream felt, he was perfectly content with the relationship they had now and didn't need more, or want more than what has been to him the closest relationship he's had with another person. That idea, that appreciation, that gratitude that George had was most certainly real in his mind. Now, Dream decided, was time to let that image crumble to the ground. Let it shatter and break, let it burn to ashes never to be seen again.
What brought it to this point? That was the single question in his mind. Even though he could already answer it, somehow he still felt himself asking it now and then. Reminding himself constantly of the awful things they both endured. Reminding himself how fucking painful it's all been. Reminding himself why he's ending it. If he didn't prompt those torturous memories back into his mind, he could very well forget them and try to continue on with their relationship and Dream knew that. George seemed innocent in this situation, he seemed like the perfect being. The most beautifully stunning God, a perfect body, a perfect heart. But Dream knew that wasn't the case in the least. George knew half of the excruciating anguish he had led him through, and the other half? The other half Dream would forever keep in his heart. Waiting for that bubble to burst one day, and waiting for it to all come out at one in an overwhelming explosion.
He slowly walked up to George's house, feeling his heartbeat quicken and breathing become ragged and uneven. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. "We were supposed to be happy George." Dream muttered under his breath. Tears threatened to spill over his eyes, even though he had not yet even knocked on the door. Maybe it was because he knew when he's done it would all end. It would all go away. In those thoughts, feelings of relief came over Dream. The thought of it ending, the thought of it dying. Because it really was alive at one point.
Climbing up the few steps leading to George's quaint little house, he tried to slow his breathing down just a bit. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Deep breath, let it out. Although this may have slowed his breaths and his heart, the shaking in his hand did not go away. The knot of anxiety swelling in his stomach refused to leave. He had to do this. He needed to. Climb the final step, Dream.
Raising his hand, gently knocking three times on George's door.
A moment passed.
Then another.
A rustling sound, followed by footsteps nearing the door.
The knob turns, the door opens.
George's eyes meet Dreams with a completely confused look. "Dream?" He said in a hushed voice.
"George." Dreams throat was closing, his voice higher than normal. The adrenaline from his anxiety had climbed into his voice making it extremely difficult to talk. "We need to talk." The silence was deafening. Every second that past, it grew louder. Time seemed to slow down, the night grew colder and Dream shivered feeling goosebumps crawl over his skin.
George was confused. He was confused why Dream had shown up in the middle of the night, waiting at his doorstep with four simple words that never ceased to make his heart pound right out of his chest. George has heard this before, he's heard it come straight from Dreams mouth and not a single one of those times did it ever turn out to be something good. Why now? Why here, at his home, in the middle of the night? Why did Dream have to wake him up so carelessly without a thought of consideration towards him?
Dream cleared his throat.
"Listen..." Dream hesitantly looked up at George into his eyes, knowing full well what he was doing wasn't completely right. "I know it's late. I understand if you're going to be upset with me for coming to you so late at night. But please let me talk to you. I'm scared, George. I'm scared that if I don't talk now I'll never have a chance to tell you how I feel." Or never have a chance to escape, a chance to move on from a nightmare he's dug himself into. The hole was so deep, so endless and dark Dream couldn't see a way out. Except for the door and the man in front of him. This was his exit key.
They both sat in a moment of silence again, before George finally answered him. "Okay. I'll let you come in and talk to me." Even though George was so insanely tempted to shut the door on Dream and tell him he didn't want to talk, and that he couldn't, he still let him inside. Still let him sit on the couch. He still gave him the opportunity to have this conversation with him. He still offered the polite glass of water which Dream accepted.
Dream fidgeted with his glass for a few moments, letting the seconds pass by. "I don't exactly know what I want to say to you, if I'm going to be honest." Dream admitted. George let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Then why come here?" He said, a slight bit of annoyance undercutting his words.
Dream winced at this, recognizing that tone all too well. "It's like I said before. I'm afraid if I don't at least try to tell you what's going through my head right now, I'll never be able to. Can I just have a minute to collect my thoughts?"
Even though he had been searching his mind for the right words for months, on the drive here, and even on his front doorstep he didn't know how to tell George just how much pain their relationship has really caused. Of course, that wasn't exactly needed for the main point Dream actually needs to convey. But after everything he's felt, a part of him wanted George to know what he's done. He wanted George to hear the amount of anxiety and clear cut depression he had soaked into Dreams mind.
"Okay I'll give you a few minutes." George said, snapping Dream from his thoughts and back into the conversation at hand.
"Right", He mumbled.
His mind swirled with unending problems that they had never seem to be able to solve, arguments that were never completely finished. Each time a mistake had been made, both George and Dream brushed past it as if nothing happened the next day. The tension of the night, the week, or even the month that argument had occurred always lingered. It was always in the back of his goddamn mind and never once was he able to forget. It formed his conversations with George, tiny drops of poison cultivating their relationship. Then one big break, another explosion, and they ended up back to the start. It was so sickening. It made Dream want to vomit, how tiring and how tedious it had all gotten.
That is the reason why he's here with George right now.
This confrontation is something he would make sure George wouldn't be able to escape.
He took a deep breath, an edge of confidence somehow finding his voice.
"Let's begin."
