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“So.. how are you? I know it’s been a while since I’ve came but We just sorta miss you..” Dream sighs, breaths heavy and Voice Low and husky. He head looks down as he fidgets to himself, but he already expected no response to be heard back.
Dream looked down towards his phone, checking the time as it read 9:34 am. It was very early to visit George. He wouldn’t normally come this early, or wake up this early to meet him.
Like he said, he missed him.
“You know.. things have happened since I’ve been here. Like, Sapnap met someone finally and honestly, I’m happy for him..”
Dream looks around, he didn’t dare to look at him, he didn’t want to, he didn’t feel like it was right to. However, though he has nothing—no one stopping him, he didn’t want to leave either.
“He actually met two people! The names of Karl and Quackity, and I even told them if they were to treat Sapnap in any way awful I would kill them how I would in minecraft!”
Dream chuckles to himself, a warm soft smile rested on his pale face. Despite the fact that there was very well strong harsh pain hiding behind the “cool” smile he constantly wore around.
The laughter soon fades and softens as he comes to a stop as he returns to sulking. His eyes are misty, blurry and as if it use to glimmer with happiness, yet his happiness as well as his laughter both fading and quietens.
“ It’s been a lot quieter now that you aren’t here anymore..”
He halts to breathe in and out when his voice starts to quiver slightly with each statement he cowers out as his body shivers and shakes,
“Like I said before, we miss you”
“Your viewers miss you”
“Your friends misses you”
“Your family misses you”
He once again, stops himself. Using a shaking hand to cover his mouth to stop the fighting of whimpering from escaping his quivering lips.
“Fuck..”
He murmurs,
“I miss you George”
The sentence was followed by tears, as his foggy eyes could no longer hold the clear tears he was trying so hard to fight back from falling. The beads rolls down his cheeks as he tried his best to swipe them off using his hands. He panted out,
“I wish you would come back George”
With the remaining breathe he had in his lungs before hyperventilating to himself in distress, pent up agression and heavy sorrow brought him to this mess in front of George, or what remain of George at least.
Dream caresses the rigid engraving spelling out the name,
‘George Henry Davidson’
“In loving memory”
Trailing his finger down to read the cursive words over and over again. He skips past the words stating the years and moving to the phrase he hated the most that was written. The selected words in the phrase was as if taunting him, shouting and verbally screaming at him.
‘A long Life Well Lived’
As simple as it was, Dream knew it was a lie. He hated the phrasing, he despised it with all of his heart. He would change it if he could. The repeated lines of
‘His life wasn’t well lived’
‘It wasn’t a long life either’
If he was able to stop it all from happening, he would, but he can’t. If he was given one last chance to save George or given just a second to change how it is now, he would.
But he can’t.
He knew that hurting himself isn’t he answer. Even silently threatening to himself that The person who was now behind bars that ran George over deserved worse. But it wouldn’t do anything, it couldn’t restore anything.
But Dream knew that George would hate to see him like this. Broken and tired, unable to move on from him.
Dream has tried but it has only gotten him just numerous decision to visit George’s grave endlessly. By now, he has run out of space to place George’s favourite flowers that he never let any to wilt by the grave, as pretty blue irises leaned against the smooth curve of George’s burial stone.
The flowers were a small touch he added, around the tombstone and around his house as well. Just in memory that George would constantly be around him, where ever he was.
Sometimes he felt as if George was still around, like a light soft ghostly touch to remind him that he was still around. Hugging and caressing his face with as much love as hands or touches could display. But he could never tell anyone else since he would just be called crazy.
For now, Dream decides to rest his head against the hard concrete surface as his body Lays onto the short-cut grass that made him as comfortable as he could to drift into sleep—dried teared cheeks rubbing against the cold hard surface.
Feeling more cool phantom touches from his lost loved one, as if he was right there was him, hugging him from behind and only wishing his the best and missing him too as much they dream missed him.