It Wasnt My Fault (DNF)

Part 1: Chapter 16

George pov (at night before Dream's panic attack)

I was say with Ken on my bed, talking to Ken about everything, even though he was supposed to be bound to invisavisability durring the hours of darkness.

Despite delirium clouding my judgement and waved of tiredness washing over my words as they left my mouth without me paying them much mind.

"What are you and Clay would you say?" Ken asks, his questions becoming random, surprising me into allowing the truth to slip out.

"We're friends, duh." I say, sitting back against the headboard.

"Yeah, yeah, of course... friends" He lay across the bed with his hands tucked behind his head, his eyes closing and hiding the light brown color of them.

"Well, then, what do you want to be?" he asks me, peeking an eye open to peer at me as I felt my cheeks heat up.

"I dont know what I feel for Dream. I... really dont know. I dont know how to understand my sexuality. I haven't known enough people to know if I love him platonically or..." my cheeks heat up more as I avert my gaze to the bedsheets bellow me, ruffled from my constant change of position.

"Do you want to be... boyfriends?" my brother asks, pulling me sharply out of my tired stupor, my filter returning tenfold as I became defensive.

"What the hell, Ken?" I hiss making him chuckle. "You cant just ask me that!"

"What not?"

"Because..."

"Because you know you do?" He sits up, looking at me playfully. "You want him to kiss you, to hold you. To go to bed with him. To suck his-"

"Ken!" I hiss, my face glowing a bright red.

I was thankful for the blanket of darkness that returned for a couple hours each rotation. It allowed me to hide my emotions better than anything else.

No one could see my facial expressions in this setting.

My voice was always steady, almost emotionless when speaking to anyone other than Ken.

And Clay.

God, what did he do to me?

I would have been furious with the reoccurring presence of anyone else.

I would have hated the very existence of any other human being.

Had anyone else decided to talk to me that day in the coffee shop, I would have had their death planned out by now.

But it was Clay.

Dream.

My Dream.

I wish he were mine?

I felt my face become surprised with my own thought and wishes.

Was this what Ken was talking about?

Did I want him to kiss me?

My mind replayed our brief moment of intimacy in the kitchen the other day. I recalled the way his breath fanned my face gently, our lips glided over each other's slightly.

I wanted to kiss him again.

Did I want him to hold me?

Yes, I did.

I wanted be with him as I sat beside him on the couch, his arm around my waist and my head on his shoulder, smiles on both of our faces that would have nothing to do with the movie.

And I wished he was here right now, spooning me and bringing comfort to me, the both of us easing into sleep as our bodies relaxed into an embrace provided with our infatuation with each other.