Monophobia [DNF]

Chapter 8: Unlovable

Tons of glances were thrown his way as George made his way from the library to the next lesson which happened to be the one where him and Dream were partners. With the hoodie covering most of his face, George awkwardly passed through the classroom until he got as far back as he could.

As his eyes scanned the classroom, he noticed Sapnap and Dream eyeing him carefully before they sat down one row ahead of him. Realization struck that he currently wore the blonde's hoodie. Oh he was screwed if Olivia saw him. Defeated he put his head to rest on the table. The past nights sure had taken its toll on George's energy. The sound of mumbling voices slowly faded as he drifted into some half-sleeping stage. His body and mind were tired in a way he'd never experienced before. Having his guard up all the time was more draining than what he could've ever guessed.

Reality blurred together with dreams, causing great difficulties to distinguish what was real. Suddenly, he was back in England, hiding in his room as his parents fought. Creaking stairs made his heart race and his mouth go dry. His body going into freeze-mode as he counted how many steps were left until his dad had reached the second floor. When he had noted 25 steps, he began shaking, knowing fully well what to expect. Therefore, he flew up when someone placed a hand on his shoulder. His chair tipped backwards, and he groaned from the pain that followed when his back hit the floor. For a moment he feared that his dad's face would pop up and that thought alone was enough for him to begin retreating into the corner and shielding his face with his arms. Though he soon realized that he'd been dreaming, and he wasn't in England.

Slowly he dared to lower his arms, feeling his cheeks heat up seeing all faces that was staring at him. Dream stood by his chair with his hands raised in a surrendering gesture. George swallowed his pride and reluctantly met the blonde's frightened stare.

"Alright everyone, no need to stare. Focus on your projects, please." The teacher stated determinedly. Which thankfully made most students face away.

George heaved himself from the ground and gave Dream a tight-lipped smile before getting his chair back up from the floor. He planned on sitting back down but his attention was redirected when Dream gently gripped his bicep. Not fully recovered from previous flashback made him to flinch, which the blonde noted and retracted his hand.

"Would you like to study in the library?" Dream mumbled.

Honestly, he would've rather gone home at that point. Overwhelmed was an understatement of his current state. But it'd just mean more work later. So, he nodded stiffly and trailed after the blonde out the classroom.

The library was practically empty, and George slumped down in the leather armchair. Never before had he appreciated this place as much as he did now. Dream sat down opposite of him and glanced at him weary. An awkward tension grew between them that ultimately made George cave. After all, his outburst earlier was uncalled for, and the dry hoodie was much appreciated.

So, he gathered courage and met the other guy's gaze. "I'm sorry about earlier. It was wrong of me to cuss you out like that." He mumbled with an exhausted tone, unable to completely conceal just how badly everything was affecting him.

For a moment George feared that his apology would remain unanswered. Dream's gaze was locked on the floor while his right index finger kept tapping against his closed notebook.

The more time that passed, the more his anxiety grew. If there was something he'd learned from growing up in abusive households was that the 'silent treatment' was the worst one. Sure, being scolded for merely existing sucked and so did a right hook to the jaw. But nothing was worse than the calm before the storm. Sometimes his mom would get quiet and expect George to figure out why she was mad. If he failed to do so, she got furious beyond measurement.

The silence was killing him and his mind began to formulate some type of excuse, fearing that Dream would react similar to his mom otherwise.

"I– You know. I'm sorry for what I said about your girlfriend and you and your friends. They're all probably lovely. Please let's just finish this project and I'll leave y'all alone, promise. I'll never speak to you, Karl, Sapnap– I can hide in the back if you visit the café. I'm sorry about everything. Ellie forced me to drive her to that party, I'm aware that I shouldn't have been there at all but she's stubborn." George rambled in a panicked state. Trying to recall everything that potentially could've angered the jock. Dream stared at him with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape.

The lack of response was driving George insane. Even a nod would do. "–and I shouldn't have fallen asleep when we were meant to study. Again, I'm truly sorry. When this is over, I won't bother any of you." He continued frenetically.

Anxiety had overtaken his mind and nearly hyperventilating when Dream finally responded.

"Jesus fucking Christ. You really think I hate you." His voice was a mere whisper and drenched with pain.

George took a well-needed breath and unclenched his fist after realizing how his nails had dug into his palms. Instead he pressed his knees tightly to his chest and wrapped his arms around. With eyes closed he allowed his forehead to rest against his knees.

Tired. So fucking tired. Of everyone and everything.

Wilbur, he missed Wilbur too. Someone that actually liked him.

A friend.

Dream must think that George had finally gone mental. A wreck. It took a good while before he dared to look up at his partner. A combination of disappointment and relief washed over him as he found that he was alone. He sighed and closed his eyes. Too exhausted to move. Too exhausted to exist.

Figuring that Dream must've finally had enough honestly made George a little sad. Why that was, he didn't know. What was he expecting? That an almost stranger would stay around?

After all, the only one George had to blame was himself. He'd refused the kind gestures and done what he always did; push everyone away.

Maybe a small part of him wished that someone– anyone –would fight to stay. Proving him wrong: Proving that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely unlovable.