Dream stopped in his tracks as he arrived in the desolate, desolate bus stop. It was quiet and empty, almost as if the place were dead itself.

He internally frowned at the old bench right next to him. He hated it, and yet he sat down anyway.

He looked up ahead, pouring rain rippling on the wet road. There weren't any vehicles in sight, nothing or nobody passed by. They never did anymore.

Dream's eyes continued to wander resentfully. Everything about this place constantly reminded him of the incident, and he hated it. And as if the world were mocking him, what's left of the sun was completely covered up by the colorless clouds, the rain going harder. He hated everything here.

He felt like weeping, letting the insufferable pain out of his chest, feel somewhat better afterwards, but he couldn't. Oh well. He always seemed sad anyway, seemingly rotting away on that bench.

He wanted to be happy. Happy for those who have died there. Go on with his life for them. But he couldn't. A smile was etched onto his face anyway.

He had the urge to leave. Never come back. Forget what happened and move on, perhaps. Or at least attempt to. But he couldn't. He simply couldn't.

There were so many things Dream wanted to do, so many simple things that he could just do right then and there, but he couldn't bring himself to. It wasn't his fault. The situation he was in wasn't something he could control.

Although he knew this, he couldn't help but feel guilty for himself. That it was his fault he wasn't doing anything about this, that he was able to do something to gain control back. He was trapped, chained in an endless cycle ingrained deep inside him for almost the past decade. He felt as if he just trapped himself. He willingly took the bait, aware of what would happen to him, even before he took it. He couldn't- no, he wasn't doing anything about it, and he was ashamed.

It's not your fault it's not your fault it's not your fault it's not your fault it's not your fault it's-

It is.

No. I-

Stop denying it.

Dream put his hood over his head, clutching it for dear life as he tried to endure his painful confusion. He couldn't make up his mind. Two sides of his brain clashed, both sides had complete opposite thoughts from the other, and he couldn't decide on either one. A million thoughts ran through his head, none of them were definite, none of them could connect. Dream couldn't handle this much conflict.

Then, he just let himself go limp, involuntarily making himself go numb. It still hurt. He didn't want to deal with this anymore.

He felt an overwhelming amount of hurt bubble up in his chest. The feeling you get when you feel like crying. He desperately wanted to release that agony.

But he couldn't.

Then, he heard footsteps. He thought it was just one of them, one of those people in the city, but it wasn't. Without moving his head, he took a glimpse at the source of the sound.

It was a man in blue. A fragile kind of blue, as Dream saw it,  matching the troubled way he hurriedly walked across the street. His skin looked that of silky petals of white roses, crystal-like dews clinging onto it, almost as if decorating it. His brown hair was damp, faint light planting luster on his hair, beautifully highlighting it.

Dream internally shook the thoughts off. Who is that?

The man in blue glanced at Dream as he walked, Dream barely missing it. And as quickly as the brunette arrived, he was gone, dispersed as if he was one with the mist.

Dream swore he was going crazy. He already had to deal with his puzzled head, then that man shows up out of nowhere. The man whose face he thought he recognized.

George...?

------

Dream was at the bus stop again, arriving less reluctantly than before.

Nobody ever passes the bus stop. Nobody but Dream. He stayed there almost daily, not having any choice but to sit on the bench. Years of doing this routine, this was the first time he has ever looked forward to following it.

Dream was hoping to see the man (Dream refused to name him,) in blue again. He had high doubts, but you could say Dream was intrigued, eager to see him again. He couldn't say he was excited at the least. He felt more anxious than anything. Seeing the man alone had shaken Dream up so much, that he didn't know whether or not he had seen things. He didn't what to believe anymore.

Or rather, what not to believe.

As if on cue, there he was, the man in blue. Just like the previous day, he speed-walked through the bus stop, and was gone as soon as he was there.

Dream was dumbfounded. He didn't know what he expected from that interaction. To make matters worse, there weren't even any interactions at all. He wasn't sure anymore. He'd been hyping himself up for this, perhaps hoping to get some answers, whether it be said verbally or indirectly, but all that plagued his head were questions which he knew he would never get answers to.

He also thought, that maybe, just maybe, he would get some sense of relief, somehow be rid of the negativity that made itself at home inside of Dream. Simply finding relief from the fact that the man in blue was there again, even if it was just barely half a minute, compared to the amount of hours he spends sitting around, doing nothing with himself. But what did he get? Uneasiness. A huge wave of uneasiness was all he got from that instead.

It was all far too absurd. The man wasn't supposed to be here. But then why was he?

Dream let himself ease, block the thoughts out for once. At least it was something new in his daily life.

------

Every. Single. Day. Was. The same.

The mere thought drove Dream back to insanity. It's been a week since the man in blue had started walking by the bus stop. Since that day, Dream thought things would happen, that from that day on, things would change, but no. Dream scoffed to himself. Wishful thinking.

At this point, he was certain his mind was playing tricks on him. How could it not? He spends all of his time alone.

Assuming what time it was, Dream estimated that the man in blue would arrive right about now.

And there, Dream could hear footsteps in the distance, trudging along the puddles, frantically getting away from the city.

Dream sighed internally. This was the part where he would be out of his sight.

And everything was quiet again.

Instead of basking in the silence, letting his thoughts scream at him again, he could hear rustling right beside him.

Oh?

It took all of Dream's will to not turn his head or say anything. This was new. He never got used to new scenarios these days.

Just as he thought that nothing else would occur, the man in blue shared his umbrella with him. That alone somehow startled him, pretending that he had never noticed the man, leaving himself no other choice but to look at him properly.

The man in front of him had this shocked look in his eyes. If Dream could, he probably would've had the same expression.

Getting uncomfortable from how the man was gaping at his face, he said,

"Um,"

Way to make things more awkward, Dream. He internally facepalmed.

The man shook the shock out of his face and said "Hi," there was a little smile on his face, and somewhere in the tone of his voice too. "I'm George,"

Dream's brain went a mile a second. It was as if time slowed as he thought. So this really is George. Was it? Oh for fuck's sake...

Why is he introducing himself? I already know him.

Or does he not know me?

Acting fast, he replied dryly, "Dream."

Silence.

"So, what are you doing here?" Dream said, albeit quite desperate to keep the conversation alive.

Then George started to say something about taking a break. Does that mean George is actually just strolling? Not here for anyone?

Dream was a bit disappointed.

"Why do you stay here? In the rain?" George gestured at the rain outside what the umbrella could cover.

He doesn't know? Dream was so confused. He wanted to tell George everything he had gone through, hang onto him for support, but from what he says and how he conversed as casually as you would with any other stranger, he had no recollection of Dream.

With a heavy heart, he lied—"I dunno, I just do,"

But Dream couldn't help but say something he genuinely thought—"This is nice for a change, though,"

------

(Present Day)

Dream was hurt. He didn't like that expression of disbelief planted on George's face.

And as if the skies agonized with them, it started to rain.

Dream couldn't help but start twitching. "G-George." He said, trying to snap the boy in blue out of his troubled trance.

Then George blinked, taking a step away from the taller. Dream could hear his own heart crack.

"I-I... I can't stand it here. Not like this," Dream put the hood back over his head, clutching it for dear life and looking anywhere but George's frightened eyes. "Can we go to the bus stop. Please? I'll tell you everything," Dream heard his voice get quieter and quieter as he spoke, ashamed of hiding for far too long from his friend.

The brunette nodded, Dream barely seeing it in the corner of his peripheral vision, and just started trudging through the field, rain pouring over them.

Dream was so afraid. After he says everything he has to say, George might just be gone.

Ayeee hope y'all're enjoying the story so far! As always, feedback and criticism are highly appreciated!! :D