heart monitors-dreamnotfound

twenty-one

George doesn't know what happens next, no one does.

Confusion clouds over his head, and it feels suffocating to breathe. There's an unexplainable pain to being in a relationship, and that only makes him feel more guilty.

He likes Dream. In fact, he's probably in love with Dream.

He's heard from somewhere that 'love is pain,' but he thought only quirky couples like MGK and Megan Fox said.

Right now, George was unsure. Unsure if he's good enough, unsure if he's making all the right choices of being a good person and a better parter.

He's confident that Dream's the perfect person, but he just wants to make sure that he's ready to shape up his personality to be good enough for the blonde. And even though they established enough times that George isn't that bad of a mess than he shows, the brunette can't help but wonder if he could've been a better version of himself in some alternate universe.

Somewhere out there, there should be a George who woke up at 7:30 every day without an obnoxious phone alarm. A George who views home as a luxurious house instead of this cage-like hospital room. A version of himself where he can kiss Dream and not wonder if the blonde was better off without him.

George wanted to run away.

Away from intrusive thoughts, nagging nurses (although Niki was okay), but every time he tried, he ended back in the same room.

He used to hate repetition, but all he wanted right now was to when times where simpler. Better, even.

George picks up his phone to text Dream, but he stops mid sentence and kind of just stares at the screen until it gets dimmer and dimmer until it turns off completely.

He wants to say it all over text, but he can't find the words.

Twenty-six letters of the alphabet can't possibly describe what he feels about Dream, and he's confident that it never will. That's what was so deceiving about the English language. It seemed simple, straightforward—or that's what he had thought.

But that was before he met Dream, before his life began, literally.

Dream was the first person who could knock all words out of his lungs. There was no way words could capture his magnificence, not even if Mirriam fucking Webster had wrote it.

Giving up, George quickly types out an 'I love you, Dream,' before hitting the blue send button and burying his face into the pillows beside him.

He doesn't know how long he stays in that position, but it's comfortable and it drowns out his thoughts. In general, 10/10 experience, definitely recommend.

His phone pings once, grabbing his attention.

George expects it to be from Dream, seeing as he was a clingy person who responded to texts fast, but it was his from a friend from the UK, which was definitely something he wasn't expecting.

Izzy: You've got to be kidding me rn

If the text had been from someone else, George would have frozen in his stance and question everything he had done in his life, but this was different.

This was Izzy, and even when people could be kind of spooked by her scary side, George knew that she was secretly a mature person who had a soft spot for snacks, especially Pringles.

George: What ever happened to hello??

Izzy: Hello

The brunette laughs to himself, but quickly stops as his ringtone starts playing and his screen flashes with the text 'Izzy is Calling.'