Downhill || 𝘥𝘯𝘧

L

// Art by @EPHILIAX on Twitter //

Author's note:

So, we're at the 50th (and final) part!! I just wanted to say: if you've made it this far in the story, thank you so much for reading. It has been truly fun and I think my writing has improved a lot. DNF is just such an enjoyable dynamic to write... I couldn't help myself.

Anyway, enjoy the last part!! Love you. <3

—

"You don't love somebody because they're perfect. You love them in spite of the fact that they're not."

—

They arrived home late in the evening. The sun had set behind the horizon, casting shadows over the landscape and painting pale shades of blue and lemon-yellow across the sky - which was, surprisingly, free of clouds. It seemed like a nice day for the first time in a while. There was still snow on the ground and the air held a bitter cold that wasn't quite bearable without a coat. Dream knew it would be like this for a few more months before spring blessed them with its warmth.

But they would be in Florida then, so he didn't think too hard about it.

The first thing he and George did when they got home was wearily tread their way up to their rooms and strip the suits from their enervated bodies. Dream folded the fabric, slipped it into a plastic bag, and stored it in George's closet until transportation. The flight was in less than two days now. He grew more eager with every passing hour. They still had a few things to do, like clean up everything in George's mom's house to pass on to Grace, and make sure everything of theirs was packed into suitcases for the flight. But other than that, they were ready.

Once the suits were put away, pets were fed, and the house was locked up for the night, Dream flopped down on George's bed, sprawling out to get some much-needed rest. He propped his head against the pillow as a weary groan spilled past his lips. "Finally," he breathed, closing his eyes and resting his hand on his forehead. A moment later, George entered the room and flipped the light off, so Dream turned on the beside lamp. George sprawled out alongside him, resting his head on Dream's chest and exhaling through his nose. The room was warm and dark, a perfect sleeping environment.

"That was so exhausting," George said, talking slow to emphasize his weariness. "Emotionally and physically."

"Sorry I couldn't be there for you today. You were all on your own because of that stupid fake argument thing," Dream said darkly, remembering all the times he'd seen George standing alone, nobody to talk to and nowhere to go. He felt badly for not being able to go up to him - though he knew they needed to make their little lie convincing.

"It's fine. It was my idea, so I deserved what I got. And plus... like I said... you, uh, gave me what I wanted."

Dream scoffed, not bothering to hide his smirk. "Is a sore ass really what you wanted?"

George batted him in the stomach, and Dream recoiled with a cough mixed with a chuckle. "I guess so. You prick," George shot back, but his tone was laced with amusement, so Dream just laughed it off. "You don't gotta say it like that, you know. You didn't have to make it weird."

"I'm sorry," Dream chuckled. Only when he apologized did George rest his head back on his chest with a judgmental huff, muttering something about how annoying he was. Dream took it with a grin. "Anyway, your mom loves me. I couldn't believe she was so accepting when you told her - especially when she said she already knew? I mean, were we really that obvious?" He spoke again after a moment.