Restart. || DNF ; ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

11 - So, this is christmas. -

     So this is Christmas

     George blows out a  huff of warm, steamed air out to a chilly day. The breath is visualized due to the contrast of temperatures of the airs, and it pushes out, past George's face about a foot. It probably went farther, but George's eyes could only see so far.

     It's a cold night. Freezing, even. New Year's Eve night and completely and utterly alone, walking up a random street. You'd be surprised. Karl's parents actually threw a big party, but George slipped out. He was in casual yet formal attire, a nice blouse and nice dress pants, and it was cold. He was shivering in the cold.

     You'd be surprised if you saw a boy as scrawny as him walking by himself late at night with no jacket or hoodie.

     It was when he came across a someone familiar household with a boy laying directly in the snow, a rather large puff of breath out. He was in thick fluffy pajama pants and a big jacket, a hoodie under dad with the hood barely over his head. Blonde curls spilled everywhere, his hand over his mouth like he's holding something up to it, and green cold eyes.

     Ah. Hello, Dream.

     "Dream." George says, more a statement than a question. "It's cold outside." He still doesn't know why he's deciding to speak to him, but lately there's been some magnetic pull to the boy. He wants to talk to him no matter how bad he hates him, how bad he wants him to rot in hell, how bad he wants him to be shipped across the sea and never to be returned.

     Dream's the face that George is looking for when he scans crowds.

     "George." Dream says, coughing out lots of visible air. It's steaming. It looks more like smoke. "Why.. why are you here?" He says, but his 'surprised' tone isn't very convincing. It's like he'd been waiting for George.

     George doesn't respond. He lays down in the cold snow right next to Dream instead. Part of him wants to scream, cry or hit Dream for everything he's done, then just gone and acted like they're friends— then telling him he has amnesia like George is an NPC and has no feelings of thoughts. He has no idea what to think or feel— considering the fact that he's in eight grade and can barely conceptualize the fact that the people around him are real, functioning people.

     "It's late." George points out in a mumble, not really to either of them. Dream doesn't say anything, like he's dancing around George, putting great consideration into every word he speaks like George is a ticking time bomb and he's trying to cut all the right wires so that he doesn't explode. "Your house lights are off." He also points out, as if Dream didn't know.

     "They're not home." Dream mumbled. Neither boys dared looking the other in the eyes, afraid the tension might shatter if they do so. "They thought I was with Karl. So they left for the cabin to party."

     "It's.. almost midnight." George points out. Dream hums, acknowledging him this time. George is tipsy, walking around whatever he says next. His heart is speaking louder than he brain does (but maybe that's what a little bit of alcohol does to you). "Do you have anyone here, Dream?"

     "No." He says after a moment. The air is dense, but hardly dense enough for what it should be. Maybe if they were around others, if it weren't her years eve, if it weren't night, if both parties weren't intoxicated. "No, I don't."

     He doesn't reply, nor does he hum. He leaves the statement in the air, hung over them like a big canopy that spells out tension all over the top. But they both know what it means, obviously.

     "Sounds like we're alone for the new year." George says slowly. Dream doesn't reply, but he turns his head towards George. How long has George been staring at him like that? Dream's eyes are glazed over lightly, his eyelids droopy and tired. His eyes flicker down to his lips that scream 'kiss me!' His eyes trail back up to George.

     Fireworks erupt in the background, the neighborhood is still awake and George can almost hear people chanting happy New Years— and when did Dream's face get so close? Their noses are nearly touching now. He lets his eyes fall shut, letting Dream take the wheel now.

     "Yeah. Sounds like we're alone for the new year." He echos back, a closing sentence and an answer to George's obvious question. A rejection. He's looking away and sitting up now. "Happy New Year, George."

     And what have we done?