Dream? What are you doing here?" The blond boy grinned sheepishly, his green eyes blazing with excitement, doused by worry.

"I...uhm....wanted to surprise you. "

"Yeah, no surprise there, simp."

Another voice blared from the back. Dream turned around, glaring at the source. "Wilbur! How many times do I have to tell you- I'm NOT a SIMP! "

The curly-haired British boy scoffed. "Of course you aren't, Dream. But I'll only start believing that when you stop simping for Gogy. "

George sighed, shaking his head. A small flush crept up his cheeks. "What the- okay, so are you guys going to keep standing there, or do you want to come in?"

Instantly, Dream's slightly sullen face lit up, his expression exactly like a puppy's. As soon as George stepped to the side, the Shame duo stepped in.

It was only then, that George realized Dream was holding a guitar, sending pangs of agony up him. Reflexively, he shrunk back, his mind seeking the patterned black guitar that hung on his wall. Then the smooth, scarred fingers that glided across the strings, the very same pair of hands that trailed bruises down his body, leaving him purple and blue. In the name of love, he thought. Was love meant to be this painful?

If only someone would answer the question for him. To remind him how much he was worth. "George?" Dream's soft voice lulled George out of his reverie, emerald eyes imbued with concern. "Are you okay?"

George shook himself, even as cold sweat trickled down his back, his heart accelerating in his chest. "Yeah, I'm fine," his voice sounded dead and unconvincing, even to his own ears, "but what are you guys here for? I'm pretty sure filming isn't until next week."

The two boys shared a look, and for once, George couldn't read into it. He could feel concern and worry imbuing their thoughts, mixed with what seemed like...pity? Crap. They can't realise what he's been doing. Subconsciously, he checked back to his hoodie. It was a green one that Theo gave him. It covered his entire torso, but most importantly, the curling bruises littered all over his body. He hadn't been able to cover the alarmingly purple and red hand marks wrapped around his neck, and all he'd been able to do was put on concealer. Theo won't be happy, he thought, the thought of him finding out not far from his mind, his blood slowly turning to ice.

Imperceptibly, his thoughts drifted to a before, happier simpler times. When another hoodie swamped his body, a soft, comfortable black that reminded him of sandalwood. A simple smile adorned it. He remembered how he felt in it, the way it felt like home when he wore it, felt so close and so comfortable. It reminded him of a blonde boy an ocean away, even though he was standing right before him now.
Wilbur cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well, we're here to sing you a song- well, he is meant to, " he said, jerking his thumb towards the American, " but he called me at a godforsaken time in the morning just to get me here."

The brunette chuckled softly. That was so Dream, somehow- calling people at godforsaken hours to get something done. Not for the first time, he thought back to before. Before Theo, before anyone else. The thoughts of night-long calls and whispered I-love-yous through the phone, soft grunts and loud snores. Don't think like that, George. It's not going to do you any good- not with Theo. But as badly as he wanted to convince himself that he loved Theo, his heart knew. He felt nothing when he was with him. No sparks, no fireworks, just empty. He was just a way to fill up the void that Dream tore in his heart by accident. But his judgement was skewed, it seemed. Because what was meant to be a one-time fling-away became this. Hiding from his best friend, from his crush.

Still, he forced himself to act normal, "So...are you gonna start, or?"

A small smile snaked across his face, causing the green boy to beam. "Sure! Wilbur, start the guitar!"

Wilbur blinked, his fingers hovering over the strings of the guitar," But I don't..."

But looking at the American's spine-chilling glare, he decided to shut up, turning his focus to playing the chords of the guitar. Dream took a deep breath, preparing himself for the next wave of words. "Life isn't quite what I thought it'd be when I was a kid on VOIP, thought when I get older, " his voice shook slightly, wavering as he sang the first line.

"I'd marry him, I told him," he looked directly up at George, nervous and apprehensive. To his relief, George smiled, a genuine one this time- if only you knew what goes on, Dream. The dirty-blond carried on, seeing his crush's encouragement.

"Now I'm 21 and I work in an office. Nine till five's not the best, I'll be honest." George chuckled, shaking his head. It has been years since Dream got a new job, especially with the streaming and editing he had to do. Not just for his monthly updates. The time he spent helping others edit and drop in on their streams didn't help, either. It just meant most of his days were packed, with a few hours left for him to do his things. With a healthy sleep schedule. Which meant he barely slept.

Even now, George could make out the eye bags under his eyes, though they were vibrant. Gold? They looked gold to George, even though he knew they were green. Molten gold, the way liquid fire was. He liked the sound of that.

"If I could change a single thing, I'd make it me and not him." In between lines, Wilbur took the opportunity to look between the two. Dream was nervous, visibly gulping as he sang. But George... George was complicated. It was as if there was a lump in his throat, a ball of words he didn't dare to say. His expressions changed so quickly that only someone who knew him would have noticed. This wasn't good.

It spelt trouble, the same way Theo dating George was trouble. It was hard to miss his friend's silence these days. It wasn't that he didn't talk, he simply didn't talk the way he used to. Now, each word felt heavy, nothing like the casual and airy talk Wilbur had gotten used to. That all of them had gotten used to. Where are you, George? Wilbur thought worriedly. Will we be able to find you?

But he could only hope that Dream would bring him back.
"If I could change a single thing, I'd make it me and not him." The words rang out clearly. George gazed at Dream like he was the only person in the room, even with Wilbur beside him. To Wilbur's credit, he played the guitar well. His soft, curly hair fell into his eyes, accentuated by golden-rimmed round glasses.

Humming silently, he played, his long and thin fingers danced across the strings. Dream didn't seem to notice, stuck in a world of his own. The looks they gave each other were hard to miss, even if one was as blind to love as a bat was to sight. But both were dense, so painfully dense that if someone threw a brick at one of them, the other would murder the person while confessing their love. But the other would still be in oblivion. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to shake the both of them out of it, the same way all their friends had tried and failed the past few months. Poor Sapnap, he thought. It's barely been 5 minutes in here, and I already feel like a third wheel.

"But he's in your bed and I'm in your Twitch chat," Dream held onto his connection with George, the way one would a lifeline, "I've got the keys and he's just a doormat." Dream gestured vaguely, pointing to the doormat while holding up a key, eliciting a laugh out of George.

"And even though he's got social skills, that doesn't mean I can't pay the bills," The British boy looked at him fervently, his heart beating faster and faster despite his attempts to convince it otherwise. You already have somebody, George. He scolded himself, but... Dream was something else, someone else to him. He'd always been, even before George knew it. And his heart was defiant.

But love knew no bounds and logic was an enigma. What was the logic in the seasons of love?

Dream gulped, mentally skimming over the next lines. This will be the hardest to do. Bargaining. Depression has been circled many times, but...acceptance. I just...
Against his best wishes, his heart swelled, filling itself up with want, with unspoken and intangible desires. Desires that only George could stir up in him. His beautiful smile, his gorgeous hazel eyes. The way the corners of the lips quirked up when he smiled, the slight crinkle of his eyes when he grinned. All of each was enough to send warmth to Dream's stomach, to send his heart racing. "Anyway, make the most of him, cause he moves the oceans and earthquakes,"

Wilbur looked up at him in surprise. Those weren't in the lyrics. But the emerald-eyed boy reassured him with a slight nod. A dusting of pink flush appeared on Gogy's cheeks, and he subconsciously tucked at the too-long sleeves of his hoodie.

Shrugging, Wilbur continued strumming, slowing down to match Dream's pace. Remembering the next line, he struggled to contain his mirth. Finally, notes rang out. "Your new boyfriend's an arsehole."
At that, Wilbur lost it. The guitar fell out of his hands, clattering to the floor as he doubled over, laughing. Dream glared daggers at his back, but he couldn't help the small smile that played at his lips. It was his favourite part of the song after all.
On the other hand, George looked bewildered. But the surprise on his face quickly turned into horror. His breathing grew shallower moment by moment, and he dropped to the floor, hugging his knees. Hugging his knees, he rocked himself back and forth.

"They know, they know, they know.." he muttered to himself under his breath, the words soft and sotto. Taken aback, Dream dropped down, moving closer to him.

"George?" he asked, apprehensive. No response. George continued muttering, his voice strangled and rough, almost as if they were broken. Dream could only catch bits and slips of it.

" He's going to kill me."
"I'm worthless."
"He's going to hate me."
"I can't lose him."

The words came out in a torrent, each line a shard of glass that pierced his heart. George, he thought numbly, Why didn't you tell me? The other half of the Shame Duo moved closer, mouthing what's wrong with him? Dream looked at him weakly. I don't know. But we've to be here for him. That goes without saying. Wordlessly, the green blob pulled the trembling boy into his arms, bringing him into a warm embrace. He flinched back at first. "George, it's me. Dream. I'm here, okay?" Dream soothed, lightly squeezing his hand. "I'm going to meed you to breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath, and let it all out."

As soon as the smell of sandalwood hit George's senses, he loosened slightly, melting into Dream's embrace. He tucked his head into the crook of ream's neck, and Dream felt his shoulder grow wet.

"George, I'm here." No response, but George's spasms slowed down. Dream looked at Wilbur pleadingly, asking the older man to help him. Wilbur scratched the nape of his neck awkwardly, shrugging. I've no idea how to help him. I'm not trained for situations like this, Dream. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat. "George, can you hear us?"

His voice was soft and lilting like the musical notes he played. His voice was a wave of music that calmed and soothed George. Instinctively, he nodded, forgetting where he was. Dream chuckled softly at that, but his large hands moved to the small of George's back, softly petting him. "We're here for you, George. We're here, for as long as you need."

But the older was still trembling, still shuddering as tears streamed down his eyes, his breaths growing jagged and varied. "I-" he hiccuped, "I can't do this anymore."

Both of them looked down at him in confusion, before Wilbur hesitatingly asked, "What do you mean, George?"

George raised his head. His face was drained of all colour, accentuating a pair of hazel eyes that were red and puffy. His makeup was smeared, and purple and brown bruises stood out angrily, the handprints ever-so obvious.

Distantly, you could hear two hearts shattering, mended shard by shard with anger. The two made eye contact. Wilbur nodded firmly, nudging Dream forward. A small sigh escaped his lips as he braced himself for the next words that tumbled out of his mouth. "Gogy. Can you tell us what happened?"

George's face was forlorn, but he nodded his head numbly. For once, he seemed so small, so vulnerable, that all Dream wanted to do was to protect him. Not by locking him up, away from others. But by being beside him, by helping and guiding him when needed. He wanted to be George's pillar of strength, of joy. But that didn't mean that George couldn't do all of that on his own.

The next words came out in a torrent, sending the Shame Duo into a frenzy. THEODORE DID WHAT? Oh god, they thought numbly. I knew things were bad, but this is even worse... Wilbur plopped down, stroking George's hair. "You're okay, George. You're going to be okay, believe me." Wilbur whispered, combing through his tangled hair.

Anger coursed through Dream's veins, and he wanted nothing more than to call up the sick, conniving bastard and give him a piece of his mind. Or beat the shit out of him. But looking at the bundle of nerves in his arms, he couldn't help but soften, his heart fracturing with every soft sob.

"We're here, George," he murmured fondly, his heart beating quickly, "We're here for you. We're not letting you near him anytime soon, okay? Don't worry."

"You're safe here, with us."
George calmed down after a while, drifting off into an uneasy slumber. As light, raspy snores made their way past his throat. Dream smiled sadly. It was almost as if it were just the two of them, even just for a moment. "I love you, George." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

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A/N: 2470 words! This was written a while ago, I hope you guys enjoy it!Erus555 Jie, thanks for giving me the courage to publish this! FanficsLittleDevil I hope you forgive me for tagging you in this, but I think you'll enjoy this- ;) oh, and thanks for the kind comment on my MB!