DreamNotFound One Shots

Fighting (part one)

Author's note:

Hi, everyone! New dnf oneshots fic :D

-comment suggestions/requests for the next chapters here! (No smut requests, please.) I won't be able to write everything, but I'll definitely read all of the suggestions!

This one shot is an angsty fighting/making up story, it will probably have a part two so follow if you'd like to get an update when it's posted!

Word count: 10,312

Song recommendation: Nevermind (here's the Spotify link) https://open.spotify.com/track/7xfQDZfdiwF9fJ91pyFeqb

***

George hated fighting with Dream.

He hated the hurt looks, the days spent apart afterwards, the screamed insults that neither of them truly meant. He hated everything about it, really- but more than anything, he hated how upset he always got.

It's stupid, really, but he couldn't help it. He'd never be able to shut off the little voice in his head that whispers this was your fault, and he hates you, now.

He could never sleep after a fight between them, not until he had at least some sense of resolution... which explains why he'd been awake for two days straight, hiding in his room and refusing to even so much as look at the phone charging on the bedside table. It hadn't gone off, not even once.

If Dream had tried to text or call, the phone would have buzzed.

Dream went through his do-not disturb, after all.

Spending forty eight hours sulking wasnt exactly what he'd planned for this week, but George couldn't bring himself to be productive. The fight just kept echoing in his head, making his stomach twist with guilt- and possibly, hunger pangs, since he he'd refused to leave his room, even for food. The en-suite bathroom was a life saver, along with the mini fridge filled with bottled water and soda. And it wasn't like he hadn't eaten anything, because he had, really. It just... wasn't much. A bag of crisps (or, 'chips', as Dream and Sapnap would say), an apple, and a pack of gum was all he had found in his room, so that was all he'd eaten.

Now that he thought about it, he should really get up, he knew. He should find something to eat, or something to take his mind off the fight.

Forcing himself to move, George sat up, dislodging his cocoon of blankets and making his head spin a little. There was only so long he could spend staring at the ceiling without going insane... in fact, the speckles were already starting to look a bit too much like Dream's face, in places.

While he might have been slightly exaggerating his hallucinations (okay, so he couldn't really see Dream's face on his ceiling), Dream's voice in his head was perfectly clear. Not a sleep deprived delusion, but rather, painful memories that were sticky like spider's silk, caging him in until he was tangled in their web.

'And why would you care, George? It's none of your business.'

And here he was, spiraling. He didn't want to relive it again, but he couldn't stop his mind from conjuring the memory, pulling him into the echos of yelling, tears, and a broken heart like a void...

***

It was the first time they'd fought since George had arrived in Florida. Really fought, that is, not just petty squabbles or fake arguments. No, this was real, and all too painful.

"I just think that you should, like, take me with you when you're gonna be out so late. Or at least, text me," George stated, from his position on the couch. It was well past midnight, and Dream and just gotten home from some party- and George told himself he didn't care, he didn't, that Dream hadn't said anything before leaving. No, he didn't care that Dream hadn't bothered to say goodbye, or that he'd gone to spend time with friends who George didn't know... but no amount of pretending could bury the spike of loneliness he felt when considering a part of Dream's life he didn't know about.