It Wasnt My Fault (DNF)

Part 2: Chapter 36

George pov

I walked into my bathroom, letting the door hang open as I began to wash my hands, taking my top off soon after to prepare for a shower.

The door to my bedroom was closed, so no one should have disturbed me.

Clay, however, did.

He entered the room looking drained, his golden hair that once stood so tall this morning now drooped down on his forehead, framing his worried eyes with the blonde curls.

"George." he spoke my name as though it was a sentence that would portray his feelings.

I scoff, though deep down I was worried.

I had just beaten a man in front of him, and he wouldn't have understood completely why.

What if he hated me?

What if he feared me?

I turned around, my back to the mirror so I could no longer observe his reflection in its glass.

I wanted to hold him, to run at him and hug him without fear of having to let go any time soon.

But I was unsure.

I didnt know if my actions had changed anything between us.

I could only hope.

And so I did, looking at him with pleading eyes, begging him to say something, give me anything to base this conversation off of.

But I got nothing, and for minutes long we stood there, staring at each other, and my eyes slowly fell to the floor.

I hated this.

I felt something again and my anxiety weighed down on my back, increasing its strength and hold on me tenfold.

My eyes shut gently, and at this moment, I could only pray.

Do something I had only once done when my brother died with the diminishing wish that Clay wouldn't hate me, that Dream wouldn't leave me.

I needed him, as much now as I did before.

And I couldnt drive him away just like-

The avalanche of thoughts that rained down on my brain was cut short as I was pulled into the very embrace of my longing.

The blonde hair was at my shoulder again, the strong arms around my waist once more.

I sigh, relief coursing through my veins and washing out any other feeling that had been there but was forgotten to me now.

"D-Dream?" I felt the need to speak my thoughts tentatively; to put forth my questions with a caution I'd never used with my boyfriend.

"Are you mad at me now?" I ask.

He shakes his head, giving a dry chuckle.

"No, I'm not mad at you. I understand."

We didnt speak another word.

We stood like that for minutes long, slowly replenishing the stability we'd spent what felt like so long to build.

The rest of the evening, we didnt see Astro.

But we were content in each other, cooking like we used to, cuddling over a movie like I remembered, kissing like there was no tomorrow, and sleeping in each others embrace.

Until I woke up.

~time skip until midnight (still no Dream pov 😒)

I awoke with unease, to queasy to return to a sleep that was so good.

I stood up, feeling thirsty for answers I didnt know existed.

Astro's story made sense.

It made sense.

He was at partial fault for Ken's death.

I would never blame him for something that sprouted from a normal school fight, as he couldnt have known any better.

But I could blame him for not taking action at the mere thought of Ken's dead body.

Ken.

I needed to speak with my brother.

He wouldn't reappear until morning, and so I sat on the couch and waited.

Waited while my mind raced.

I hadnt allowed myself to think about my past until today.

For years, the only thing I thought about was Ken's death, but it didnt all start from there.

My parents.

Those bastards that went free without consequence.

I wondered if they noticed our disappearance when we left past the fact that they had no one left to abuse.

I wondered if they had killed each other, my fathers, torn each other limb from limb for my bitch of a mother that i doubt they ever loved past her curved body.

My mother.

Mummy.

How could she do that? How could her literal instinct allow her children to be hit to the brink of death?

No, if they killed each other, they deserved it.

FOr the screams that caused our tears.

For the plagued dreams we dealt with for years.

They didnt deserve to have been let off free.

Not after they drove away Ken and me.

And then, though he was morally pure, the world took him away.

A life of caretaking and of beatings, of a singular glimpse of freedom that he rightfully earned, to be taken away just like that.

The sun was rising, and with some distant part of me I hoped for it to be my last.

Soon A distant voice in my ear, unfamiliar and chilling.

Very soon.

I was scared, but at the same time, comforted, by the strange hisses and growls that made up the voice's speech.

It was a promise, more definite than any one Ken could have made to me in his living hours.

I smiled a little to myself, burrowing into the depths of my borrowed hoodie, taking in the faint smell of Clay, pulling the hood over my head and sleeves over my hands and giggling to myself.

God, I must've looked stupid, but god, I would be as much of a dumbarse as I had to be if it meant I could stay in the comfort of my boyfriend's oversized hoodie.

As I watched the particles of dust float around the room in the new golden sunlight, I felt a faint presence at my shoulder, and I was reminded of my purpose in the living room at these ungodly morning hours.

'Morning?' I thought offhandedly. 'Where did the time go?'

"Ken," I spoke softly, allowing his name to roll off my tongue, a question forming in the raised octave of a singular syllable.

"Tell me about your life?"

Im sure we all know where this is going...

Next three chapters Ken flashbacks, pog?

WOOOO! Im nervous to write his character.

It's pretty scary... he's all calm and collected, it'll be weird to see the inside of his head.

Anyway, i love you all.

Enjoy your life.

1055 words