Order 73 ~DNF~

𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

Guys, I just pressed the complete fic button, I'm so sad...*sniff*

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~𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁𝑜𝓇 𝒫𝒪𝒱~

The sound of my stilettos click-clacking against the tiles reverberates through the corridors. I direct soft smiles to the people I pass by, heading straight to the office where I spend most of my time whenever I hang out here. A distracted come in slips through the slightly open door and I push it open, immediately crossing over to the plump leather seats in front of the huge mahogany desk.

"You know, a little decor could go a long way." I remark, gazing around at the unoccupied walls. The windows carry blessed warmth into the huge room, casting our skin in a healthy glow. It's a little sad that that's the most interesting thing in the room.

"Well Dream insisted that I wait for him to start decorating. Plus, it doesn't really feel like mine. Not yet anyway." That dopey grin is impossible to ignore, and my own lips pull upward into a bright smile.

I watch as he stands up and walks around his desk. He pulls me into a warm embrace, and I hug back with equal happiness. I've been all over the country, meeting with potential clients and networking. I haven't seen him in quite a while. It feels good to be home.

Phil's former office was grand in every sense of the word, but he had such an adept capability to make anyone who walked into it feel at home. His dream of doing philanthropy full-time, however, got stronger day after day. Although bittersweet, everyone rejoiced when he finally took that step. Techno was still around, but he grew tired of leadership pretty quickly after Phil left.

Their presence will be missed, but George is more than capable to fill their shoes.

"You didn't tell him I was coming, did you?" I ask, slipping my heels off for a second to massage the balls of my feet. As much as I love being a few inches taller, these will never not hurt.

"Nope. I can keep a secret, unlike you."

"Okay that was one time!" I defend. He hums with a raised eyebrow and I roll my eyes. Just because I leaked their engagement to their friends before they had a chance to when I was like eleven doesn't make me untrustworthy.

"Are you ready to go then?" George asks, checking his phone, rolling his eyes at the onslaught of texts pinging in rapid succession.

"Let's go before he has a stroke." I smirk.

That same emoticon smile that was reserved only for Dream back when I was little was stretched across his face now as he typed away on his phone. Some things never change. The illuminated screen captures the beauty of the sparkling ring on his hand magnificently.

I remember that first day that I saw George wearing it. It was one memory, among few others, that was as clear as the day I witnessed it. He and Dream had come into the soup kitchen with bubbling laughter and wide-mouthed smiles that must have made their cheeks ache. Dream gathered me up into his arms like usual, and George lifted his left hand, showing off the aquamarine gemstone encased in stunning silver. I remember being entranced by it for hours, asking a multitude of questions thanks to my boundless amounts of childish curiosity.

They had waited to get married; they already acted like a married couple, confirming their love with a legal document didn't matter to them as much. I remember telling them that was dumb, that the princes always get married at the end of the fairytale. They called me adorable, to my disdain. I was being completely serious.