It Wasnt My Fault (DNF)

Part 2: Chapter 47

George pov

I discreetly pulled the plush out of my pocket, the movement going unnoticed byClay, who still lay on my shoulder, his head turned towards my neck as he sat beside me.

"Dream?" Any word spoken between us would hang silent in the air, acknowledged, but never verbally requited.

The blonde sat up a bit, his eyes red around green irises, eyelids puffy, but still looking at the plush with excitement.

"What's that?" he asked, any speech passing through the air trying to break through the thick barrier of silence that had fallen upon us, trying to reinstate the same energy and noise that had resounded around the room moments before his recounts.

Everything went silent in the end.

I handed him the plush in what seemed to be slow motion, feeling as though I was watching him hug it with a smile on his face from afar.

Somehow, I felt disconnected from this moment.

But I could still smile as my boyfriend giggled quietly, I could still look him in the eyes as he smiled fondly at me, the plush's head at his cheek, nuzzling into his face.

Maybe I wasn't truly there in the moment because I'd finally realized that I wasn't truly needed,

Clay had healed, scabbed over the wounds of his past by himself until all that was left were scars the still undoubtedly reminded him of worse times, but didn't hurt him.

He knew nothing that he'd left behind could follow him now.

All I'd done is remind him how much his wounds hurt.

I made him recall the anguish he'd gone through for my own selfish understanding, but I knew that never could those old wounds be reopened again, no matter how much Clay cried.

And so my giving him this plush wasnt a way for him to heal, but a way to show him that I was proud that the process was now complete.

I'm sure that if Dream had never met me, he would be alive.

His willpower was stronger than that of his desires, of even the necessity for things he feels are necessary.

I knew he would have stopped cutting by himself, and with no new friend to ghost him for a day, he wouldn't have been in that bridge.

But I would have.

If it weren't for Dream, I would be dead, and I would thank him a thousand times over every day of my life that he'd saved me.

Saved me.

Ken had saved me.

And now so did Clay.

Everyone I loved in my life may have returned my affection tenfold, but deep down, we all knew they didn't need me.

I was an obstacle that draws victims to their demise through the guise of someone who needs help.

And I do need help.

I need a whole hell of a lot of help, but I knew I would never seek it out because I, too, knew that anyone who tries to support me indulges in my needs so much that they don't see the place I'm leading them to die.

Anyone I cared about died because I couldnt heal.

I could feel numb, but it was but another pill to take just not to feel the pain that would be there when the medicine faded away.

I could feel careless, but it would only make others that much more determined to care.

I felt, in the moment that I was forgotten and that the plush of my own making was at the center of attention, as though I had loved a thousand lives, but remained immortal, unable to die.

I'd become a hundred different people, but as not one of those persons could I feel true happiness.

Happiness.

That's what I had been searching for for so long, what every one of the people inside of me had been longing for since I realized what my parents were at a young age,

I could try and make myself feel wanted, cuddling into Clay's embrace as I did now, and have it met with reassurance, but it would never be enough,

It pained me to say, but it truly would never suffice.

Everyone around me, ghost or not, had been broken, but they had healed like I could only ever wish I could replicate.

But I was never able to.

I didnt know how and, by gods, everyone around me had tried their absolute best to help me, but my soul was as stubborn as my will to die was.

They would never change their minds, and forever haunt with their choice.

So I could pretend.

Pretend I was okey even now as I sat beside Dream, numb to his joy, envious at his scars.

"Do you like it?" As I came out of my reverie, I was met with the barrier of silence being broken in the time of my trance.

"I love it, darling."

There it is again.

I did nothing, but at the sight of my conflicted face, schooled into an expression of earnest, I'm met with love.

Love, that in a time of my most immune, I am not privy to experiencing.

The gesture simply brushes off of me as though it was never there, and I desperately try to grasp to something that could make me feel known.

To make me feel... anything.

But his milky voice sends the love through my clenched and waiting hands as though he'd delivered me liquid affection that I would never be able to swallow.

"I love you, too." The lie that I can feel anything at all hurts me, despite me knowing that I do love him.

I just, somehow, don't love him right now.

Okay.... Heh.

Yeah, I know I sorta promised you guys fluff, and you were met with this, but...

I don't even have an excuse, honestly.

However, I'll be doing my best to get this book finished today.

It will be over and done with by tonight my time.

We have nine chapters to go after this and then it will be done, archived forever on my account but left untouched by me.

Much luv to you guys.

Have a good day/night and all those other times I cant think of because I just woke up.

989 words