heart monitors-dreamnotfound

twenty-nine

Dream can feel his heart pounding in his chest. His hands feel cold and numb, but he knows it's real life. He sees it in the way cars rush down the nearly empty street, puddles splashing as the tires collide with the fallen summer rain.

The moonlight shines through the room, and a part of Dream aches by looking at the night sky. It reminds him of what everything used to be–how everything used to be.

Looking into the night used to feel like living through that blissful moment of perfection, knowing that this was where he was supposed to be in life. Now the moonbeams and stars are a harsh reminder that everything was gone, shattered into pieces and left for Dream to pick up.

The stars shine a little brighter today, and the pain hurts a little less.

"George," Dream whispers under his breath. "What am I supposed to do, George?" He stares into the sky, as if the stars were going to somehow align and shine a light on what his next move should be.

He knew it wouldn't.

The blonde doesn't know what he does next. He does things before he thinks it through. He doesn't grab his phone or anything, he just gets the pile of papers on the desk and hold it against his chest. Silently creeping out of the room, closing the door quietly to not wake Ranboo.

He makes his way out to the emergency staircase leading up to the roof, running up the steps two by two. There's a sense of urgency in the way he's running. His hands brush past the railings bolted to the walls, the cool metal rooting him to reality.

Soon, he's on the roof, a warm summer breeze hitting his face and showering his skin. The air is thick and a bit humid, but Dream breathes. He breathes like he's never lived before, gasping and letting his chest rise and fall.

He falls to the ground as his breaths turn into stuttered sobs, his knees colliding with the smooth concrete. The stack of papers held against his chest falls in front of him, fanning out around him. The floor is cool to touch, grazing the palm of his hand. It roots him to reality, it reminds him that he can't escape whatever life he's living right now.

There'll always be a past where George would stand, a future that was off limits, a present that Dream could never escape.

The blonde stays on the ground for a long time, but he doesn't notice. He focuses on his breathing, focuses on the way his hand is pressed so hard against the ground that it's beginning to numb.

Suddenly, he hears the door slam open behind him. The sharp sound of metal colliding with the wall alarms Dream, but he doesn't move. He still stays on the ground, tears trailing along his face.

"Dream," Ranboo suddenly calls out in a scared voice. "Oh my god, Dream."

The blonde freezes, turning around slightly. There he is. The friend who stuck by his side no matter what happened. The friend that had laughed every time he made a remotely funny comment, the friend who had cried when Dream told him about George.

There he stands, hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled. His eyes are narrowed, and a concerned expression is written all over his face. One hand is pressed against the side of the door, the other hand holding his knee tiredly.

Ranboo rushes to Dream's side on the ground, putting a firm hand against his back.

"Are you okay?" Dream asks weakly as Ranboo quickly embraces him in a tight hug. He feels his friend's body trembling as he wraps his arms around him. "Ranboo," Dream whispers. "Are you okay?"

Ranboo nods immediately, but tears are running down his face and he makes absolutely no effort to wipe them away. He continues to cry into Dream's shoulder, still hugging him.