The fire was down to glowing embers by the time George broke the silence again. “Dream,” he said softly, almost hesitantly, “do you ever… wonder what it would be like to stop?” Dream turned to look at him, the faint light catching in his green eyes, which now seemed more thoughtful than playful. “Stop what?” “All of it,” George said, gesturing vaguely to the woods around them. “The SMP. The wars. The chaos. Everything.” Dream’s brows furrowed slightly. “You thinking about leaving?” “No, not exactly.” George chewed his lip, staring down at the stick he’d been fiddling with. “I just… sometimes it feels like we’re running in circles. Like no matter what we do, something bad is always waiting around the corner.” Dream was silent for a long moment, his gaze drifting to the horizon. The stars were dimming now, the first hints of dawn creeping in. “I think about it sometimes,” he admitted. “But even if I wanted to stop, I don’t think I could. There’s too much that needs fixing.” George sighed. “That’s just it. You’re always trying to fix things. But what about you? When do you get to just… be Dream, and not the guy who has to hold everything together?” Dream blinked at him, surprised. “I—” He faltered, clearly not expecting the question. “I don’t know.” “Exactly,” George said, his tone a mix of frustration and concern. “You put everything on your shoulders, and then you pretend it’s fine, but it’s not. I can see it, Dream.” Dream looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple, George. If I stop… who’s going to keep everything from falling apart?” George’s voice softened. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be just you.” Dream turned back to him, and for once, his mask of confidence seemed to slip entirely. He looked tired—more tired than George had ever seen him. “I don’t know how to do that,” Dream said quietly. “You let someone in,” George said, scooting closer. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone, Dream. That’s what I’m here for.” Dream’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He stared at George as if searching for something, and whatever he found seemed to make his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “You really mean that?” “Of course, I do,” George said, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve been there for me so many times. Let me be there for you for once.” For the first time in what felt like forever, Dream allowed himself to let down his guard completely. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against George’s. The closeness was electric but comforting, like a tether grounding them both. “I don’t say it enough,” Dream murmured. “But I… I care about you, George. A lot.” George’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. He smiled softly, his hand reaching out to rest on Dream’s. “I know. And I care about you too. Always.” The faint glow of dawn painted the sky in soft pinks and oranges as they sat there, foreheads pressed together, the rest of the world fading away. For a moment, everything felt simple—just the two of them, against whatever the future might bring. And for the first time in a long while, Dream felt like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to face it all alone.
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