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George looked down at his former best friend, Dream. The blonde in his arms, his boyfriend, his world. George had never cared about anything in his entire life as much as he cared about Dream.
But he was losing it all.
The boy he loved was dying in his arms.
Blood was seeping through Dream's green hoodie. The sword in his chest, the clear explanation. George's colour-blind eyes fell to the weapon, where Dream's hands were helplessly clutching at it.
"Oh god, Dream... Dream, it's deep." George's voice was shaking. Dream was dying, and both boys knew it.
"George. George, please, look at me."
"No. No, no, no! Dream, what do we do?!"
But Dream just shook his head. Nothing, nothing could be done.
Dream looked at George, his beloved boyfriend. He'd known George so long at this point that it felt like he'd always been there. Really, George had always been his, and he'd always been George's.
As he looked at George, his vision started to blur. Dream knows he doesn't have long.
George was staring around wildly, desperate for anything that could help, tears brimming in his eyes, but nothing.
"George, look at me."
George's gaze fell to Dream's chest again, feeling useless, hopeless, weak.
Dream's hand reaches up to his boyfriend's jaw, tilting his face up a little. "Just. Look. At. Me." Dream's voice was somehow stronger and weaker than before.
"I can't, Dream. I have to-something, there must be something!"
Dream looked at George with pleading eyes. "Just-Just... eyes on me, sweetheart." Something in Dream's voice made George look, undivided attention.
"George, please, I need you to listen..."
"Dream, fuck-we're not doing this!"
"Shut up, lover boy. You know we have to."
George wiped at the tears now running down his face. "You're not saying goodbye. I don't want you to!"
Dream smiled softly. "Oh, Georgie, I wish it were that simple." A single tear rolled down Dream's cheek.
George bit his lip, trying so hard to contain his emotions. "I-I wish it were me, 'd die for you, Dream!" George all but sobbed.
Dream let out a shuddering sigh. He was fighting hard to cope with the pain in his chest and the pain in his heart. "I know Georgie, but believe me. Dying is the easy part."
He smiled at George, for George.
"What-what I'm asking of you is far harder. George, I want you to live. Move on. If you loved me in the way I hoped you did, it's gonna hurt for a while. But George-"
Dream pauses a moment, looking up, dealing with so much and trying to keep his emotions under control.
"George, I-I want you to wake up each day and live. I want you to take care of yourself and look after Sapnap. Do not stop streaming. It's your dream job. And laugh harder, you know I'll hear. Keep your chin up for me, even when it hurts so bad. Promise me..."
George wiped at the hot tears spilling down his face, an entirely pointless action considering.
"Promise me, George!"
"I-I promise."
Both boys were crying now, but Dream kept a sad smile on his face. After all, dying was the easy part. He had his beloved Georgie and just enough time to say goodbye.
"I want you to stay. Please! Please. Don't leave me, Dream."
"Listen, my love. It's going to hurt, but time will fix it. You're going to wake up one day and be less sad than the day before. Then it will only hurt when you think of me. You have two weeks to mourn, feel it all. Then I want you to get the hell on with your life. And someday, I hope you'll think of me and just smile. No tears, just happiness for what we had."
Dream's voice was getting weaker. Not long now.
"George. George, this next part. It's imp-portant."
George tilted his head in acknowledgement.
Dream's mind was less and less clear by the second.
"George, love again."
George's eyes widened. "W-what?! Dream, No."
Dream smiled. "No, George, I want you to. Use that pretty privilege of yours."
George let out a sigh that was almost a laugh.
"Dream, you know I can't... I don't want to love anyone else."
"I know, but that's not how life works. You won't see it coming. But, one day, you'll realize you've fallen again, and that's good. When it happens, don't fight it. I don't want you to be left alone. Find someone who will treat you right and give you the world. Fuck knows I wanted to."
George didn't have the words to respond. He simply kissed Dream. Conveying all the love, everything he would never have enough time to say.
"Dream, I love you."
"George, I-i love you more."
Dream ran his hands through George's hair one last time.
Green eyes meet deep brown.
Dream's hands clutched the hilt of the weapon, still protruding from his chest, the only reason he wasn't dead yet. Grasping it tightly, he gazed up into George's eyes one last time.
The final words fall from Dream's lips. "Tú George eres el amor de mi vida, horno a mi mesa de artesanía. Adiós por ahora, mi chico lindo."
George vaguely recognized it as Spanish, but had no idea what it meant.
Dream dragged the sword out, the one thing that had been slowing his blood loss. Dream's eyes unfocused, he smiled at George one last time, eyes falling closed, and he was gone.
George screamed. How could the world be so extremely cruel...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It had been weeks, and George was trying so hard to do as Dream asked, but it still hurt like the day it happened, or maybe worse.
He still cries himself to sleep and wakes up screaming his name. Hardly able to escape the memory of Dream's last moments.
George still has no idea what Dream's last words actually were. So many times, he’d opened Google Translate only to close it moments later.
George was so sick of feeling alone. He thought about calling Sapnap. His phone tells him he has missed calls from Sapnap, but nowadays, it always does.
He really considers it. But can’t bring himself to do it.
Sapnap was too close.
Speaking to Sapnap was like having one AA battery when the remote needs two. It had been them, the three of them, for so long that now George doesn't really know how to be friends with just Sapnap.
George sort of feels like he's letting Dream down. He is supposed to be there and take care of Sapnap, not leave him in the cold.
Sap was taking Dream's death just as badly. But George wants to help Sapnap, not make it worse.
And honestly, Karl Jacob must be heaven-sent. Everything Sapnaps needed.
George had someone like that once. But Dream's gone now.
George knows he needs a friend right now. Well, actually, he needs his boyfriend. But FaceTiming Quackity would have to do.
He sits at his computer setup, hardly used these days. He’d been live a few times because the fans were obviously worried about him. That, and it had been one of his promises to Dream.
George pressed the call button, waiting as it rang.
He knows he shouldn't, but he still silently hopes Quackity won’t actually pick up. Though, like always, he does.
They talked. Sometimes there were breaks between conversations, long silences of five or ten minutes, where no one really knew what to say. Because, there was no way to fix this. No way to get Dream back. But Quackity never minded the silence. Or at least pretends he doesn't mind for George's sake.
After another of these silences, George makes a choice.
"You speak Spanish, right?"
A rhetorical question, he knows Quackity does.
"Uh, yeah, why?" His voice was soft, gentle, and subdued in the same way it had been since-George doesn’t like to think about it.
"I need a translation."
Quackity smiled slightly and adjusted his hat.
"Sure, George."
He doesn’t have to try very hard to remember the words. They had been replayed enough in his head to be memorized by now. Although, he hoped his pronunciation wouldn’t let him down.
"Tú George, eres el amor de mi vida, horno a mi mesa de artesanía. Adiós por ahora, mi chico lindo."
Quackity instantly knew where those words must be from. His eyes screwed shut, and Spanish fell from his mouth before he could stop himself.
(Something that George would later find out meant. ‘Lord, give me strength.’)
Quackity took a breath and looked up as if fighting tears. George was so afraid. Furthermore, he was also getting anxious and impatient.
"What does it mean? Quackity, tell me."
Quackity looks directly down his camera, speaking under his breath again, English this time.
"Holy fuck."
George was slightly frantic now. "Tell me! Or is it bad?! Do I wanna know? Just say it..."
Quackity nodded fractionally. "Alright, George, but I think you should brace yourself. 'Tú George eres el amor de mi vida, horno a mi mesa de artesanía. Adiós por ahora, mi chico lindo.'-"
Quackity said in perfect Spanish, voice shaking as he continued.
"You, George, are the love of my life, furnace to my crafting table. Goodbye for now, my pretty boy."
*The End*