agent 03 // dreamnotfound

-seventeen-

george's promise to himself of understanding decayed to rot the moment he learned dream was the reason he was pitched to a life of desolation and obscurity for so many years.

Dream's optimism faded to despair as he studied George's distressed appearance. The prince's desires finally took charge as his palms pushed against a green hoodie, shoving Dream away from him. At this point, he didn't care how damp his cheeks were with tears. "You killed Sapnap?"

Dream just continued watching George with dim, sorry eyes.

"Are you going to answer me, or are you going to leave me in the dark again?"

"Again?" he finally answered.

"Yeah, again! You're the reason the only light in my life was extinguished. I thought I had found another, but I was so, so wrong."

It felt as if both of their worlds were collectively fragmenting.

"George, I didn't want to, I really didn't! I swear on everything that I didn't want to do that to him. I tried so hard, I just couldn't do it in time, we would have both been killed! I didn't want it to end like that," he was practically pleading for forgiveness, trying not to choke on his own tears with every begging word.

Dream had messed up. Never mentioning Sapnap would have resulted in a much more joyful night for them both. Especially for George; it was his birthday, after all.

Emotions were not something that George could burrow away anymore. Tears soaked his sleeves more and more with every wipe, frantic attempts to dry away the despondency. "I loved him, Dream. He's gone because of you."

"I promise, George, I didn't want to take anything away from you, I didn't even directly know of your existence at the time. I never wanted to kill him," repeating words was doing no good. He was losing hope.

The room had turned from comforting laughter to overbearing distress within fifteen minutes. Everything was silent for a minute.

"Clay, I think you should just go," George managed to mutter, his voice high and his tear-stained face turned away from the one he had called a friend just an hour ago.

The use of Dream's actual name grieved him. The first time George ever used it was in an overwhelmingly morose way. Dream grabbed his mask and glanced at George once more before regretfully stepping towards his window. He wished he had never mentioned Sapnap at all.

George was left in familiar silence, a little more pitiable than before.

---

Dream wasn't offended. He didn't have a valid reason to be. Instead, he felt utterly terrible for George. It was completely fair, he didn't blame him at all. The boy he finally felt safe around had just learned that he was hired to kill him and had previously been the reason his first love was stripped of life forever. No more garden walks, no more early morning discussions or sharing wafers with tea. All thanks to Dream.

The hardest part had arrived. Deciding.

Dream knew for a fact that being granted forgiveness by George was going to be near-impossible; if he would ever be forgiven at all in his seemingly fleeting lifetime. It was going to take a lot of time, patience, and effort, but Dream didn't have much of one of those factors. However, he was willing to try anyway.

The chilled wall of the castle scraped at Dream's back as he sat considering each option. The one he ended up deciding on was going to be remarkably unpleasant. It would arguably be the most arduous thing he was ever going to do.

Clenched fists and disassociative eyes stared at the brittle paper in front of him.

George,

     Meet me in the garden at sundown. I don't expect you to show up, but I would appreciate it more than you'd believe if you did. I have something for you.

-dream

His handwriting was abnormally shaky and messy. He was trying to desensitize himself to the situation while also keeping the note vague in order to spark George's timeless curiosity.

---

Now masked again, Dream ascended carefully up to George's window on one of the higher floors. To his fortune, it was still open from when he had left an hour ago. George was now asleep, his blankets untidy and discarded to the floor.

It felt incongruous watching him when he wasn't aware of Dream's presence.

The note was hastily crumpled up into a ball of emptied sentiments and pitched to George's side through the open window. He'd find it in the morning.

Within the note, a bundle of lavender remained as an apology.

---

Dream hummed melancholically to himself as he trudged back through the tall grass to where he had been sleeping. If he would've kept quiet, he could've been next to George at that moment, drifting into a serene sleep. He hurled away the chance to grow an inch closer to the prince, to figure out how he really felt about him. He threw away the chance to listen to George's steady heartbeat as drowsiness overtook them.

However, here he was, battling the urge to break down bawling while trekking through a field of blues in the cool, summer night's air.

Dream hated himself.