Forever

Chapter 20

A warm palm dragged slowly across Dream's chest, and his eyes opened to a familiar bedroom painted shades of gold by the late morning sun.

He yawned, and his jade eyes drifted down. He smiled when he saw the mess of chestnut colored hair sprawled against the white cotton of his shirt, and dark eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. A warm smile melted onto George's face, fingertips grazing the thin plane of cotton as he quietly murmured, "good morning, Dream."

"Morning, baby," Dream mumbled back.

He smiled as he watched a familiar strawberry pink creep up towards George's freckled face, and he ran fingers through soft hair for the first time in a while as he softly murmured, "pretty."

George's smile grew, and he pulled himself close enough to press a light kiss to the sharp line of Dream's jaw. A satisfied hum spilled past Dream's lips, and for a moment, he was able to ignore the way that even though things seemed perfect, something was still blatantly wrong.

He was home, in the small bedroom of their London apartment. Except his favorite photo of George and himself at the Eiffel Tower was no longer on the bedside table. And George's eyes were so much darker and colder than he remembered them ever being.

George's eyes flitted up, and unease settled somewhere behind Dream's ribs when he noticed eyes that were usually honeyed brown now mirrored that of a stormy, midnight sky. Black, empty, and unforgiving in nature.

George smiled softly, and Dream tried to get lost in it the way he used to.

"Do you like living in London?" George asked suddenly, and Dream nodded in response. Truthfully, he didn't care where he lived so long as George was by his side.

"Do you?" Dream mirrored the question, eyes drifting up towards the painted white ceiling.

No response came, and Dream's eyes flitted back down to see that George's face was angled away from him now. With concern taking hold of him like a vice, Dream spoke George's name to get his attention.

"We shouldn't have come here," George mumbled quietly, and Dream's brow furrowed in concerned confusion at the sudden shift that had seemingly occurred out of nowhere.

George sat up, hands moving to cover his freckled face. Dream followed after him, and his hands moved to George's wrists. He pulled his hands away gently, and George's dark eyes lifted.

Dream's eyes widened, and his eyes grazed slowly over George's face as he whispered, "George, what's going on?"

Blood was streaming from George's nose, dripping from the corners of his lips and down towards his chin. Dream's heart rate quickened, and concerned eyes locked on George's cold and unforgiving eyes as he quietly answered, "you were supposed to protect me, Dream. You said you'd always protect me, but you were too late."

Dream's chest tightened, and his heart splintered down the center as he moved a hand to cradle George's face.

"I know," he muttered back, "I'm sorry, George. I'm so sorry. But I can fix it, just tell me what to do. I'd do anything for you, you know that."

George's face softened, and his hand moved to cover the hand that rested against his face.

"There's nothing you can do," George spoke in gentle tones that were meant to soothe, but the words still cut deep, "you were too late, and now I'm dying, Dream."

Dream's stomach twisted and flipped. He could feel tears streaming down his face, and even though George was right here, he still felt worlds away.

He tipped his head forward, resting his forehead against George's shoulder as tears fell and soaked the dark cotton covering the brunette's shoulder. He turned his face into the side of George's neck, eyes closing as he quietly spoke in broken sounds, "please come back to me, George. Please, please. I need you here with me."