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George waits in line with the remaining contestants. He’s suddenly struck with how few people there are left. From the original 456 contestants, more than half of them are gone. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this for, but the idea of only one contestant being left to win all the prize money that hangs from the ceiling is still so far-fetched, it makes George’s head spin.
He tugs on the sleeves of his tracksuit, wincing at the dirt and blood that is caked under his nails as he examines his appearance. The dullness of the tracksuit tells him little of what the true colour is, but he can see hints of the blue, and there’s something comforting in wearing his favourite colour even if these aren’t his clothes.
“For this next game, you are required to choose a partner. You are only allowed one partner, and once you step through the doors, you will not be allowed to change partners,” the mechanical game host's voice echoes in the room they are in.
“So…what do you think the game will be?”
George turns to the blond next to him and shrugs, surprised that he recognises the person standing next to him. George had recognised him several games ago, but he had yet to have a chance to go up to him. There had been a bit of an unspoken agreement between the two, stay out of each other’s way and then they wouldn’t need to interact or risk fighting each other.
George wasn’t sure if he found comfort in having a familiar face in this situation, or if it was better to live in anonymity and watch strangers die.
He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t been watching Dream though. They had spent a great deal of their childhood together. It was interesting to see where Dream had grown up and where his features had remained the same. His eyes were still the same gold that he knew were green. His hair had darkened, not so much golden but still looked just as fluffy and soft.
He still looked like his childhood best friend.
“Well, how many two-player games do you know?”
“Could be a deathly game of rock, paper, scissors,” Dream replies and George bites down a laugh. Only Dream would be the type to crack jokes when they’re in the middle of a life or death situation.
“I mean, I wouldn’t put it past them.”
“So partners?”
“I trust you more than any of these idiots, Dream,” George says and holds out his hand as an offer. Dream looks like he breathes a sigh of relief.
Dream grins and clasps George’s hand in his. His skin is warm and somehow familiar even though they’ve only been reunited for a short time. It’s like he’s known him his entire life.
Though they’d spent just under 10 years growing up together, they had grown up and apart when George moved back to London for high school. He’d come back to the States, and Florida specifically to do a couple of tours for college but ultimately he’d ended back in London so that he could look after his sick parents. The weight of responsibility had been the decider for where George studied, even though his heart had wanted to go back to the sunny, albeit humid and sometimes stormy weather of Orlando. The city he’d grown up in.
“Sounds good to me.”
They shook on it and turned to face the guards at the front. Around them people were still pairing off, there are groups of people arguing with each other about who belongs with who, but there are a few that are like Dream and George, paired off and watching everyone else in intrigue.
“I wanted to say hi to you…earlier, but I wasn’t sure if it was really you. Thought my eyes were playing tricks on me,” Dream says as everyone slowly breaks off into pairs and everyone is pushed into lines.
Very few teams are speaking, and if they are, George can hear them speaking strategy and strengths and weaknesses. He’s glad that Dream doesn’t.
“I thought I was the colourblind one,” he says with a smile and Dream returns it.
They’ve been here for days, maybe a week? But George is almost positive he hasn’t seen anyone smile the way Dream has just smiled, it brings a certain warmth to his chest.
“You never came up to me, so I figured you’d forgotten about me.”
“Really?” George asks with a startled laugh.
“Really.” George catches sight of Dream’s face and realises that he’s being serious.
“Oh, Dream I could never forget you,” George says softly.
Dream shrugs and looks ahead to where the guards are starting to pull people up and guide them into the next room. George can’t see much from where he is, but the nerves slowly creep in and settle in his stomach.
“You left and never came back,” Dream replies and George turns to him but Dream’s eyes are transfixed on what’s ahead of him and George realises that it’s on purpose; to avoid his eyes.
“Dream…I, we were kids. I had to go. I came back to see some college but I just couldn’t leave my parents in London. Not with my sisters still in high school. I wanted to come back, I really wanted to, but-”
“It’s okay- I know. I’m not, I’m not angry or upset. I just missed you, you know? You have a best friend for 10 years of your life and then one day he says he’s leaving and then he never comes back.”
“I’m sorry,” George says.
Dream chuckles.
“There’s no need to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I’m just kind of saying everything that I wanted to say to you all those years ago, just in case I don’t get to now.”
“Don’t say that,” George says, frowning.
“Be realistic George,” and Dream’s face shifts, his lip thinning into a solemn frown, “This next game, it’s going to either pit us against each team, or we’re going to go against each other. We need to think about how we’re going to win.”
Against each other.
George’s heart sinks to his stomach.
He hadn’t thought of that.
He’d assumed that they’d be put against other teams. The idea of having to fight Dream had never crossed his mind. He turns to Dream and he can’t help but study him as an opponent.
Dream’s built much taller than him, with broader shoulders, and easily has more muscle on him.
Then he smiles.
And George knows he’ll never be able to lay a hand against him. Not when he’s looking at George like that.
“Whatever it comes down to, you can trust me, George, I swear,” Dream says softly as if he can see right into George’s mind.
George nods slowly. He knows that their situation is dire and that he really shouldn’t be handing out his trust this easily, but this is Dream. The same Dream that would sneak out into his backyard so he could teach George the constellations in the night sky and they’d fall asleep under the velvet sky and wake up in the early morning dew and creep back into their rooms. The same Dream that would sit at his dining table and eat pancakes with him on Saturday mornings before they’d run off to the beach and pretend they were pirates and wizards or sons of Greek Gods.
If he couldn’t trust the one person who had made his childhood bearable, and who had made him so happy, so happy that he’d come back to the States…then who could he trust?
“I trust you,” George whispers, afraid that if he speaks the words louder then somehow Dream would take back his words.
“Before we go in, there’s one more thing, and I’m not really in any place to ask anything of you, but I trust you, so yeah.”
“If I can do it, then yeah of course.”
“If I don’t win, look for another guy here, his name is Nick, I call him Sapnap, if you call him that he’ll know to trust you. We went to high school and college together. Find him, and you’ll have someone to watch your back, I trust him more than I trust anyone else.” Dream’s voice is more serious now, and George realises it’s because they’re getting closer and closer to the room the other teams are being led into.
It’s a black tunnel, George can’t see anything, and can’t guess what he’s going to have to fight next to stay alive.
“Dream,” George mumbles, realising where he’s going with this, “Don’t speak like that.”
“Humour me then,” Dream says and gives him another shining smile. Just like when they were kids, George is struck by its brightness and he knows he’s going to give in.
“Fine, I’ll look for this Sapnap guy,” he answers with a huff. Dream sighs, and it looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“Okay good. Thank you. I promised him I’d look out for him and his family if he didn’t make it, if I don’t make it, can I leave that promise with you? And can you look after my family?” George recalls Dream’s siblings, their dark blond heads and cheeky smiles. Even though he also had siblings, he’d always been jealous of Dream’s family, they always seemed so much closer than George’s.
An ache has started to spread from George’s heart to his stomach and he is regretting choosing Dream as his partner more and more. He doesn’t want to stay in this conversation if he has to think about saying goodbye, it’s too early for that, and they haven’t even found out what the game is.
His silence must speak louder than any words he might’ve uttered because Dream reaches out and touches his sleeve lightly, urging him to pay attention to him. George blinks and refocuses on Dream, examining his face, realising that he still has the same splatter of freckles across his nose and cheeks.
He wants to connect them like a constellation with his finger.
“Listen to me, George. If we do this right, we can all win, realistically it’ll only be one of us, but, if you listen to me, we can make sure that all three of our families are taken care of. Promise me, George?”
George swallows and he’s certain he can taste blood from where he’s bitten his tongue, holding back words he wants to say.
“Okay, I promise. I’ll find Sapnap. I’ll look out for him.”
“Okay, okay good. We have a better chance now.”
Dream claps his hands together and rubs them against each other like he’s psyching himself up.
“No more talk of that okay?” George says, “We can talk about the game and whatever,” he continues, gesturing vaguely to the tunnel, “But all that serious stuff, I don’t want to hear it. You’re probably the best thing that’s happened to me in this entire thing and I’ve only had you back for a couple of minutes.”
Dream laughs, and it’s a wondrous thing.
A team that’s in front of them looks at them, their faces confused as to what could possibly be funny in this situation, but George feels almost untouchable with Dream by his side. That hasn’t changed. Dream always had that type of aura around him.
“Alright, fine, what do you want to talk about instead?”
“You. Did you end up going to college? Where are you now in the world? What dreams did you end up achieving Dream?” George asks, and he can hear the fondness in his voice when he does. He almost wants to take it back, but George has been fighting for his life for days on end and he’s been in the closet for years. If he’s going to die one of these days, he wants to die being who he wished he could’ve been outside of this stupid game, honest, real, and out.
“Me?” Dream scoffs and shrugs, “College sucked, I did two years and dropped out. Just wasn’t for me, still gotta pay for it though. Dad got sick the year I dropped out and then he died the next year, had to pay for that too. Been in and out of Orlando for the past year, working freelance for coding where people want me, always seem to come back home though.”
“And is it? Home I mean…is Orlando home?”
“I don’t know, I guess so. Home is meant to be where family is right? And well, no one moved out. We’re all still stuck in that place. My sisters are all still in school, hell of a lot smarter than me, so I’m sure they’ll be out before I ever get a chance to.”
“I’m sorry about your Dad,” George whispers as they step into the tunnel. In the darkness he reaches out and quickly takes Dream’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
Just as he’s about to pull away, Dream tugs on his hand and squeezes back. Their hands remain joined whilst they walk in the darkness, a familiar tether in this seemingly endless black hole.
George stumbles against the uneven and Dream catches him, hand around his waist.
“I got you,” Dream mumbles and pulls him up.
“Thanks,” George breathes, surprised at their proximity, but does nothing to pull them apart.
Something sharp presses into his back and he freezes at the cold metal he can feel through his tracksuit.
“Keep moving,” a gruff voice ushers and George lets go of Dream’s hand, putting distance between them and continues following the other players.
“My life is depressing, it’s why I’m here. Tell me about yours. You were always gonna end up in a better place than me.”
“Well, that’s clearly not true, considering where we are right now Dream.”
Dream shrugs as if this information doesn’t matter.
“Well, I meant my life isn’t that much better. We moved because of my mum’s job, things were going well, then my parents invested too much into the wrong thing and suddenly it was one bad thing after the other. I got a scholarship in London so I stayed there, but mum got sick, and dad borrowed more money. She got sicker, he borrowed more and the angrier he got at the world.”
“Are they still there? In London.”
George nods.
“Still there, wasting away. I had more job options here. My parents used to always jab at me for spending too much time playing games online- they used to say if I enjoyed it so much then I should find a way to live in one. My older sister is watching over them while I’m here, but really I came here to run from them, and now I’m fighting for my life through stupid mini-games.”
It feels good to say the words out loud, he looks at Dream in his peripheral vision and he’s expecting judgement but instead, he sees empathy.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly.
George shrugs.
“Nothing you can do. Nothing I can do, but I’m here now I guess.”
“Would it be wrong of me to say that I’m glad you’re here?”
A moment of silence passes as George thinks.
“Okay, maybe glad is the wrong word, relieved maybe?”
“Relieved,” George repeats in agreement.
“I almost didn’t believe it was you. You look so different, but I knew it in my gut that it was you.”
George doesn’t know what to say to that, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply because all too soon light filters through the tunnel and they walk out into another room. Just like the room they had just been in, the ceiling is high and it looks like the sky, in shades of pale blue with white clouds. The only giveaway that it’s not real is a timer for 10 minutes that glows fluorescent, watching over them.
George drinks in his surroundings trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.
The room they’re in is some sort of mock-up neighbourhood. There are small buildings and curbs that make small alleyways and streets. Even the ground that they walk on is made of dirt and rubble that crumbles beneath George’s trainers.
“Any ideas?” George asks Dream.
The other shakes his head, also looking around, his eyes trained on the other contestants who are sizing up the area as if something is going to jump out at them from behind the buildings.
“Today’s game is called Marbles. You may know this as the game where players verse each other and take turns trying to shoot a marble into a circle. That being said, you are, however, free to play however and whatever game you please with the marbles, but no violence will be permitted.”
George feels his throat begin to close up and he refuses to turn to Dream who has stiffened beside him.
“You will each be given a bag which contains 10 marbles. At the end of the 10-minute timer, the player with all 20 marbles will be considered the winner, and only the winner will proceed to the next game. If neither player has 20 marbles, then both players will be eliminated. Failure to comply with these rules will result in elimination.”
The speakers shut off with an abrupt crackle and all of a sudden guards are appearing from the shadows and pushing pairs into different parts of the room, shielding people from view. George can see small bags being handed to the contestants and even worse, he can see the glint in the eyes of the players as they watch their partners.
Up until a couple of days ago, George had not known what that glint meant, but he knows better now, that that look is desperation, and bloodthirst, the need to survive, no matter the cost.
It makes him sick to the stomach.
“George,” Dream whispers.
George snaps to attention and realises that Dream has been pushed ahead and he’s beckoning for George to follow.
“Come on, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”
George shakes his head.
“How can you say that? You heard the announcement, only one of us is going to make it, how are we-”
“It’s fine. George, breathe, it’s going to be fine, come on. You’re going to get in trouble, just follow them.”
Dream reaches out his hand and George grabs it, selfishly needing it for comfort, even though he’s positive that Dream is equally as terrified. He can tell by the thin line of his lips.
They follow the guard, their red suit a beacon in the beige colours of the fake neighbourhood they’ve been placed in. The guns look comical in their hands, especially with the masks that cover their face, almost as if they’re in costume, but George has seen those same guns aimed and fired at players.
They’re real.
Dream leads the way to where their guard has stopped and when the guard shoulders his gun, George feels the tension ease out of Dream’s grip.
From the guards' pocket, they produce two small burlap bags.
Dream holds out his hand and the guard drops it in his hand.
The guard turns to George who is still gawking at him, running the words that the announcer had spoken again and again in his head.
Only the winner will proceed to the next game.
One of them is going to die.
Either George or Dream are going to die in the next 10 minutes.
“Give me your hand,” the guard says sharply and George holds out his hand, his palm shaking.
“Dream, I can’t-” George starts, as he looks at Dream in a panic. Around him, he can hear contestants starting to talk, but everything is starting to buzz and blur together in George’s ears.
“Yes, you can.”
“Dream.”
“We have 10 minutes. This is going to be fine. Okay? Just listen to me.”
George can feel the desperation clawing at his throat but he stays where he is, refusing to give into the urge to run as far away from this situation as possible.
One of them is going to die.
A buzzer sounds and it echoes in George’s ears.
“Your time starts now.”
Before George can even begin to think about what game they’re going to play, Dream is grabbing him by the shoulders and forces them to look at each other. His grip is tight, but not painful and George can see how gold Dream’s eyes look.
“You know, you and Sapnap were the only ones who ever ended up calling me Dream? My family still thinks it’s stupid.”
The abrupt change in subject shocks George and he sputters to answer him.
“Really?”
“Yeah…I only bring it up because I want to thank you.” Dream speaks casually, even though he still has a firm grip on George’s shoulders, as though they’re conversing and catching up over a coffee. George places his hands on top of Dream’s and nods, realising that Dream is doing his best to comfort him, to distract him from their fate. He plays along because he can only focus on one thing at a time, and if he can put off the inevitable, then that’s what he will do.
“For what? Calling you your name?”
“No…you know what I mean,” Dream says, a soft smile on his face, “Thank you for giving the name to me. It’s more me than Clay could have ever been, and I’ve always liked that it was you who called me that.”
“But Sapnap calls you that too.”
“Sapnap’s different, he knows about everything, knows about you too, that’s why he calls me Dream. No one else does.”
“Does that mean something?”
Dream nods, and his face shifts into something more solemn.
“It means everything,” he whispers.
George doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he pulls Dream’s hands from his shoulders and holds them between them.
“Tell me about what you’ll do when you win the money,” Dream says, stepping closer so that the words can only be heard between the two of them. The guard can surely hear them still, but Dream is close enough that he takes up George’s entire vision, and he can almost pretend that it’s just them.
“When?” George asks with a raised eyebrow.
“When,” Dream repeats with finality.
George wants to argue but Dream shakes his head.
“Tell me about your dreams,” Dream whispers, “What do you want, if you could have anything in the world? Tell me your deepest darkest secrets and desires, George.”
George gives into Dream’s delusion and closes his eyes, imagining himself the future that he had always wanted if everything was picture perfect.
“I’d pay off everything my family owed in London. It’s been an ongoing headache for so many years I just want it gone.”
“Mature and realistic, I’d buy myself a really good steak.”
George laughs and nods, opening his eyes.
“That sounds like a good idea as well.”
“Okay, mature decisions aside, what are you getting, George? What are you splurging on?”
“A place to stay, and no this doesn’t count as a mature decision…I’d be getting a place in the States…Florida actually.”
“Florida?”
“I loved the house I grew up in, it was small, but I loved it. Our garden, my room and it’s blue walls. It was ours, I hate that we had to leave it behind.” I hate that I had to leave you behind.
“I hate that you left as well. You were my first real friend. My best friend,” Dream says.
George’s face softens and looks down at their joined hands.
“You were a lot of my firsts too,” he whispers, scared of speaking the words louder because of their gravity.
They’re so close to each other that George can hear the change in Dream’s breathing.
“I always wanted to come back,” George continues, “Every birthday candle, every 11:11 wish and every shooting star…I wished to come back. That’s why I want that house in Florida.”
“How would you decorate it?”
George looks up, his eyes stinging, and sees that Dream’s expression hasn’t wavered.
“So you’ve bought the house, how would you decorate it? There’s been a couple of owners since you guys had the place, so it’s a bit different.”
George sighs and closes his eyes trying to reimagine his childhood home.
“The fence. I remember the fence needing to be fixed when we left. Mum and Dad used to fight about it a lot. I’d fix that first, paint it white so it was nice and clean. And the backyard. It got so out of hand sometimes, I remember I saw a snake there once. Mum wouldn’t let me back out for a month. I’d make sure that the backyard was in good condition. I loved playing there. Remember when we played Minecraft but in real life?”
He opens his eyes and Dream nods, a small smile on his face.
“I don’t remember the inside as much, I think I spent too much time outside playing with you or at your place. But my room was blue, I liked that. I think I’d keep that the same.”
“Your mom always had really nice blue plates. I remember that.”
“They’re still somewhere at home, we had to sell the nice china stuff, but there are a couple of ceramic ones with nice patterns. I think we still have the green one that you used to always use.”
“Really?” Dream sounds genuinely surprised and it makes Geroge smile.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t let them get rid of it.” What George doesn’t tell him is that he’s the only one that uses it.
“What about you? What’s your happy ending? What are you using the money on?”
Dream leans closer, letting go of George’s hands so that he can trail his fingertips lightly over George’s forearms.
“Same as you I guess. Help pay off all the debt. Make sure my siblings can all get through college if that’s what they want. Make sure they’re all taken care of.”
“That’s for them though. What’s something you want?”
“You can’t buy the things I want,” Dream says his voice rough.
“Like what?”
“My ex broke up with me two months ago. We’d been dating for a bit, and thought she was it. I know I’m young but I like the idea of settling down with someone. The whole dating, and getting to know a person before each relationship was too tiring. I didn’t want to keep going through that.”
“Isn’t love meant to be more than that?”
“Never said I loved her.”
The way he says it brings George’s eyes up, and he tilts his head.
“Then I don’t think it would’ve been worth settling down for. If you’re only going to settle down once, don’t you want to do it right?” They’re dancing around it now, and George can feel his heart beating faster and faster.
“I didn’t know where you were.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know where you were. That’s why I couldn’t do it properly. I was waiting for you and I had no idea where you were.”
“Dream,” George whispers and leans close enough to breathe in the same air as the other, “I’m here, I’m here now.” They hold onto each other, stealing moments that should’ve belonged to them.
“What’s my happy ending? George, my happy ending was any ending that I got to spend with you. No matter how unlikely it was, I still hoped I’d find you again.”
George presses his forehead to Dreams.
“You found me,” he whispers, “You found me.”
In another timeline, this would’ve been it.
George can almost see it as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself dream, just for a moment what their life could’ve looked like.
He can see the street he grew up on. He can feel the humid air, sticky and warm against his skin. But it’s familiar. He can hear voices now as his imagination takes hold. Cries of laughter, and the sound of a hose and water splashing. He follows the sound till he finds himself looking up at the house Dream grew up in. Just beyond his line of sight, he can see glimpses of him and his sisters playing in the backyard. Dream’s dad holding up a hose and splashing his kids under the warm sun. George smiles and walks up to them, knowing that he will be welcomed.
With a start, he realises that the Dream in his imagination is not the child he grew up with, but the Dream he met at the games, grown up and smiling. It’s as if George never left, and got to grow up with him.
“Hey, you, you ready to go home?” Dream in his imagination asks.
George can’t speak, astounded at how real this all feels. So instead he nods and watches as Dream leans down to kiss all his siblings on the cheek and then gives his Dad a hug, before reaching out a hand to George, waiting for him to take it. Without hesitation, George follows his lead and Dream walks them out.
Their hands swing between them, and Dream talks, filling in the silence by recounting memories and anecdotes from earlier in the day.
“We missed you today, mom was wondering when we could both come over for dinner.”
“Soon,” George hears his voice answer.
That seems to satisfy Dream and he nods.
“Home sweet home,” Dream finally says, stopping in front of a house at the end of the street.
And it’s his house.
The one he grew up in. The fence is in perfect condition, panels painted perfectly white, and it looks almost fresh. The front porch has two chairs, overlooking the walkway, and in the front window he can see the face of a little cat.
“Naww look, Patches is waiting for us,” Dream says, and walks up to the front door, already cooing for his cat as George follows slowly.
He looks around him in awe, and his heart aches.
“Dream,” he calls.
“What is it, love?” Dream asks eyebrows pulled into a frown.
“This isn’t real…This can’t be real. I haven’t been back to Florida for years. I didn’t even know you had a cat!”
“What are you talking about, George? Patches is ours. We got her when we first moved in together. She’s our baby, that’s what you always say.”
George sighs and bends down as Patches approaches him. For a moment he thinks that his hand is about to pass right through her, but it doesn’t and he smiles at the soft fur, and scratches her softly behind the ear.
“She knows you,” Dream whispers.
“Dream this isn’t real, it’s all just a dream,” George repeats, and he sees Dream’s expression fall, like a mask melting away.
“I wanted to pretend we could have had something. No matter how superficial.”
“Whatever we have, it’s real to me,” George whispers and leans forward to close the gap between them.
“You have two minutes left,” the disembodied voice announces and George feels his body freeze with a cold flush.
He looks at Dream, turning away from the ticking clock, his blood cold and Dream is already looking at him with a small smile.
“So at one minute, we both throw the marble as far as we can and the person that throws it the furthest wins all the marbles. Right?” Dream repeats, as if he isn’t the one who is making the rules, it doesn’t matter, George will follow him no matter what. George nods, feeling as if he’s lost his voice.
“You first.”
“Why me?”
“Because I’ll always put you first.” Dream says firmly and George knows he’s not going to win this fight.
“Dream?”
“Trust me, George,” Dream says and George can’t look away from his gold eyes, “Do you trust me?”
“Not right now,” George says honestly.
Dream reaches out and holds Geroge’s hand in his and presses the marble into his palm.
“Throw the marble George,” he whispers and gives him an encouraging nod.
George looks at the clock on the wall, watching their time run out. His eyes flit to the guard who is watching the two of them carefully and George thinks he can see the guard's grip on his gun tightening.
His heart is beating so loud in his chest he’s positive that Dream and the guard can hear it.
The marble is smooth, and cool in his burning hand, and George looks down at it, admiring the yellow and blue swirled pattern inside the glass.
I’m sorry Dream.
George closes his eyes and barely flicks his wrist.
The ground of this room is made of dirt and loose rubble, so the marble barely moves once it falls.
It’s barely an arm's throw away from the line that Dream had drawn.
George sighs, accepting his face and turns to Dream.
“It’s done.”
Dream eyebrows and lips are pulled into a frown as if gravity itself is pulling his facial expression down.
“George.”
“Don’t George me. Throw your marble Dream.”
Dream grabs George’s shoulders and pulls him close, pressing their bodies together.
George has never been hugged like this. Hugged so fiercely that George was positive that his ribs were being crushed. He holds onto Dream tighter, and buries his head into his shoulder, trying to memorise every part of him.
Dream finally lets go, and steps back, his hands still on George’s shoulders.
“I want you to have a future. I want you to fix that white fence, and find the person you love that will be worth starting a family with. I want you to turn that house into a home, George.”
Dream’s lips ghost George’s cheek and George realises what’s happening too late.
George is abruptly pushed off his feet as Dream walks up to the line with his marble in hand.
“I want that for you,” Dream repeats.
George is scrambling to his feet, but the guard can see the tension growing between the two and steps forward in warning.
George is breathing hard and fast as Dream rolls the marble in his hand.
“Dream please don’t,” George pleads.
Dream drops the marble at his feet, and it sinks into the sand, just barely crossing the line, solidifying his fate.
The sob that wracks through George’s body is violent and he whips Dream’s body towards him, anger pulsating through his body. Blood is rushing into his ears and he can’t hear anything past it.
“I trusted you.” He wants to say it with more vigour but he’s crying so hard, the words come out broken and raw.
Dream holds him close and tucks him under his chin.
“It’s going to be okay, shhh,” he whispers, voice shaking as tears stream down his face.
George sinks to his knees, unable to keep himself up, and Dream follows him, petting his hair.
A soft kiss is pressed to his forehead and finally looks at Dream’s face.
Tears streak his face, and his cheeks are pink with emotion.
“Why would you do that?”
Dream shakes his head and reaches into his pocket. George eyes his movements and sobs harder when he sees the bag of marbles in Dream’s hand.
“I’m honoured that we were partners.”
The buzzer sounds and for a brief moment, George sees fear flash in Dream’s eyes.
“Time is up.”
George grips Dream, the fabric of his tracksuit bunching under his fists.
“I wanted that future with you Dream. I wanted that with you.”
A hand in black gloves comes down on Dream’s shoulder, and he is pulled from George’s grip.
George surges forward reaching for him, but an arm grabs George around the waist and pulls him back.
Around the room, George starts hearing gunshots firing.
“No, please, please I’m begging you, don’t. Don’t go. Dream. Please.”
Dream shakes his head at George and gives him a smile, trying to reassure him. George hates him, and even in this moment, Dream is looking out for him. He’s never loved another person more.
“You were my happy ending,” Dream says, so soft that it’s only for them to hear.
The shot is so loud that for a moment George can’t hear anything. It takes a moment for him to realise that it’s because he’s screaming so loud.
He finally breaks free from whoever was holding him and drags himself to Dream’s fallen body.
“You were my happy ending too, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” George whispers, cradling Dream’s head in his arms.
Gunshots are still echoing around the room, until, finally. Silence.
George still can’t hear anything beyond his cracked voice as he whispers apologies to Dream. But Dream can’t hear him anymore.
A shadow falls over him and George looks up, his body wound up with anger.
The emotion is cut short when he realises that the person standing over him is not a guard, but another player in a tracksuit. There are blood splatters on the guy's sleeves, and a bandana is wrapped around his head, pushing the brown hair back. George is about to ask him who the hell he is, but then he sees the grief in his eyes and the way he’s purposefully looking at George in the eyes and avoiding the body in George’s arms.
“We gotta go, George,” Sapnap says softly.
“I can’t leave him here,” he whispers.
Sapnap holds his hand out.
“I know, but we gotta go before they take us out next.”
“I can’t say goodbye. I just got him back.”
Sapnap doesn’t say anything instead he leans down and with a shaking hand he lays it on Dream’s cheek. He sniffles and closes Dream’s eyes before standing up and walking away.
“Thank you, brother. For everything.”
George can hear the loud footsteps of the guards and he realises that he’s truly run out of time.
“I’ll look after him, Dream. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s okay, I promise.”
George leans down and closes his eyes, not wanting to ruin the memory he has of Dream by staring at what is left of him.
He presses a soft kiss on Dream’s forehead, and then before he can stop himself, he presses another kiss to his mouth.
“Thank you, for making my dreams come true.”