#like usually when im feeling like this past 10pm sleep fixes it

[ardett]

all dead hearts to you

Description: George and Dream have never met in person. It isn’t a problem until Dream calls George to tell him he’s going to kill himself.

check this out on Ao3 if you wanna be cool!

Author’s Note: Not me crashing recklessly into another fandom (also this is assuming sapnap went home to Texas after living with dream idk let me live)

title from Dead Hearts by Stars

also I'm new here, anyone wanna give me a welcome to the boys?

warnings: suicide warning (obviously) but no actual suicide, general anxiety and panic attacks

It’s 3am when George gets Dream’s call. 

Late, but only really for him. It’s still before midnight in Florida, right around 10pm. He’d like to say that he’s so practiced with converting time zones that he doesn’t even have to think about it but he still has to count backwards on his fingers, thinking on the jump between late late nights and early mornings.

He’s still awake but the leds in his room have been turned to red, set to the dimmest mode. He was streaming with Quackity up until about half an hour ago and his room has settled back into quiet again.

He feels the thrum of anxiety as he hears the ringtone. Dream usually only calls him when George is about to sleep through something important or if he’s on the road. George wonders if he forgot something today or maybe he let something slip on his call with Quackity.

Now that it’s on his mind, he realizes that he hasn’t heard from Dream all day. Or yesterday?

They’ve both been busy, though George has been busy with the usual things and Dream said something about needing to put his affairs in order or whatever that meant. They usually text at least but even that has been quieter.

George grabs his phone off his desk and picks up the call.

“Dream. What’s up?” he asks. George runs a quick hand through his hair, checking his screen quickly. It’s a real phone call, not even a discord call. “Hey, I’m putting you on speaker. I’m gonna put on my pajamas.”

He’s about to set the phone on his dresser when Dream says, “Oh, I probably shouldn’t be on speaker.”

There’s something off in his tone. Something flat. It sets George’s nerves on edge. 

“Yeah? Okay.” George tucks the phone back by his ear, slumping back on his bed. “Did you have something you had to tell me?”

“Yeah. George, I’m going to kill myself.”

Everything in George stills.

And then starts to spin.

“What?”

“I’m going to—”

“You’re not serious.” George jerks upright, ignoring the lightheaded feeling sinking its fingers into his skull. “Dream, this isn’t funny.”

“I don’t think it is. It’s just going to happen.” 

There’s not even a tremor in Dream’s voice. George can’t feel anything past the bone deep shock in his system.

All he can think of is Dream, wrists bloody and split open. Dream, fingertips dusted white with the residue of unnamed pills. Dream, rope burns fracturing the long line of his neck. 

Dream, dead.

How is he even going to do it? Is he actually going to do it? George wants to ask but then he realizes he doesn’t want to know.

He imagines the first time he sees Dream in person is when he attends his funeral.

He imagines all the words he’s held in for so long, waiting and waiting for the moment he could say them to Dream face to face, finally being said to dead air.

But George can’t say that so all he manages is an obstinate, “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop disagreeing with me.”

“George,” Dream laughs. Laughs.

George feels dizzy with the disbelief swirling inside him. Surely this can’t be happening. What reason would Dream have to make this up though? Dream would never joke about something like this. Why is he laughing? 

How can Dream be so casual when George’s world is shattering? 

He doesn’t know what a future without Dream looks like.

They’ve always lived miles apart but Dream has never felt so far away. George has never felt like this. Like he couldn’t reach him.

“Dream.” Dream’s laugh cuts off as soon as he hears the plea in George’s voice. “Is something wrong? Are you— I can come there. I can be with you tomorrow. Sapnap can stay with you again. You don’t have to do this—”

“I know. But I want to. So I’m going to.” Any trace of mirth is gone. Dream sounds the same way he did when he decided he was going to break a world record or make YouTube work for him.

Determined. Steadfast. His voice has the steely confidence of knowing he won’t fail.

Usually it’s inspiring but now the familiarity of it just makes George sick. He’s never known Dream to be someone content with failure.

George's phone digs into his palm as his grip spasms. He tastes blood.

And he doesn’t even know why yet.

“What happened? Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Dream sighs. “Nothing’s wrong, George.”

“There has to be something wrong. You can tell me,” George insists. Then he changes tactics and lies through his teeth. “I swear I won’t tell anyone else. We can work this out together, just the two of us. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I already told you nothing’s wrong,” Dream repeats.

“Then why would you… do that?” George trips over the word, rephrases it instead.

And then Dream rips that tiny defense to shreds.

“You can say it you know,” Dream says. “I’m going to kill myself. You should probably get used to it actually. People are going to ask you about it. I’m sorry about that,” he adds as an afterthought. 

The harsh, blunt words sting against George’s skin.

“Don’t apologize,” he strangles out. “Don’t apologize for that out of everything. Just don’t do it.”

“George,” Dream breathes, exasperated.

“I just don’t understand,” George begs. For the first time, his voice wavers.

Dream, cold gun in his cold hands. Dream, long limbs hanging over the railing of a bridge as he stares down. Dream, slumped over his table with a bottle of vodka nestled near his feet. 

Dream, dead.

Dead.

Dead.

“Don’t cry, okay?” Dream’s voice softens. George forgot how gentle Dream could be with him when he wanted. 

“I didn’t want to make you cry. Look, it’s just…” Dream trails off. Eventually, he continues even quieter. “This is it, you know? This is the top, this is the peak. It can’t go on like this forever, crazy numbers on videos and trending on twitter and all that shit. I’d rather go out like this than wait to hit the bottom. Doesn’t that make sense?” Dream persuades.

“No,” George insists, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Come on, George. Can you even picture yourself growing old? What happens when we’re 30, 40, and all of this is gone. Do you want that?”

The sick part of it all is that George has imagined the future. He imagines it lovingly, not viciously. Not like this.

He imagined a future with Sapnap and Bad and Karl and Quackity but most of all with Dream. He wants so badly to be with him. Sapnap talked about living together, how great parts of it had been, how he would have stayed if he hadn’t had to return home for family, and George so selfishly wants that for himself.

And he’s always known that’s not what Dream pictured. Dream doesn’t want what he wants. Dream doesn’t want to grow old with someone, much less George.

Can you even picture yourself growing old?

It hurts because George can and he always wanted it to be with Dream.

“What are you even saying? Do you want me to kill myself too?” George bites. He scrubs viciously at his eyes and stabs at the power button of his computer, teeth piercing into his lip as he waits for it to turn on.

“No, no, of course not. I would never— Come on, that’s obviously not what I’m saying.”

George fumbles with his keyboard, pulling up his discord messages with Sapnap.

He just needs someone else to help him, someone else to know. Someone who can do what he can’t. Someone who isn’t as fucking helpless as him, who doesn’t live an ocean away and who has never seen Dream in person and has never touched Dream, not once, has never known what the sun feels like in Florida.

Of course he was lying when he said this was going to stay between the two of them.

This isn’t the kind of thing he can do alone.

 George: Sapnap dream says hes going 

George: to kill himself

George: you have to get someone to him

George: call 999 

George: 911

 Sapnap: what

 George: please now sap Im on the phone with him

 Sapnap: are you joking

 George: no

George: do it

George: please fast now

 “Are you typing?” Dream questions, a note of warning in his tone.

George jerks. “No, I—”

He’s cut off by a beeping from his phone. 

His heart stops.

“What’s that sound?” Dream asks.

Sapnap is calling him.

George can picture him, knee jumping as he clutches his phone, hoping against hope that George is joking. He can practically hear the adrenaline trembling in Sapnap’s voice, can see the way Sapnap stands and paces.

He can’t answer though. He can’t leave Dream.

George declines the call, hand shaking.

“Who was that?” The question is flat.

“No one,” George says too quickly.

“No one?” Dream repeats. Only a second or two passes before George hears the same beep through his phone speaker, this time coming from Dream’s end. “Wow look who’s calling me. Sapnap. Wonder if he changed his name to No One,” Dream says without emotion.

 Sapnap: fck are you serious

 George bites his tongue, wincing.

“Dream—”

 George: y

 George can’t manage to type anything more before Dream snarls, “You’re such a fucking snitch, you know that? It’s fine though, I thought this might happen. I was gonna call him after you, for the record.” It almost sounds like Dream is smiling. George’s heart twists. Why is he smiling? “I know you have to try as a friend to save me, or whatever you want to call it, but you really don’t have to. I want to do this. I’m going to.

“It’s not like you could really stop me anyway,” Dream continues. “You don’t even know where I live. You barely know what I look like. What, are you going to ask the police to search the entire state of Florida?”

“Sapnap knows,” George whispers. 

He tries to shake off the savagery seeping into Dream’s voice. He tells himself Dream is defensive, Dream is nervous, Dream is scared. Dream isn’t thinking about what he’s really saying.

Though things have never mattered before, the fact George has never been to Florida, that George has never seen Dream in person. But now Dream is weaponizing them against him, forcing George to acknowledge that for everything their relationship is, it can never replace an in person friendship. And Dream has always been a better fighter than George.

“No, he doesn’t. Me and Sap rented a house, remember? We never went to my house. I never sent him my actual address, I checked.” And Dream sounds so smug. Like he won.

George’s gaze darts back to his computer. 

But he already knows Dream isn’t a liar.

 Sapnap: I dont know his address

Sapnap: fuck

Sapnap: Im calling bad

Sapnap: dont let him hang up

 “People are so dumb about it, you know? They tell all their friends and then they get caught before actually doing it,” Dream goes on, not paying attention to George’s disconsolate silence.

“But you’re telling me,” George mutters. Hopelessness strings through him.

Sapnap isn’t writing anything else. George can only hope Bad picked up.

“Yeah but you’re literally in another country. What are you going to do about it?” 

George can’t manage any words. He doesn’t even know if he remembers how to breathe. 

Dream is right, he always seems to be right. George just wishes it wasn’t about this. Anything but this. He has to believe that Sapnap and Bad will figure something out. He has to trust them.

“Just think about how many people are found before they actually do it,” Dream goes on in George’s quiet. “Because they can’t commit. Most people are cowards. It’s dumb honestly. Just do it or don’t.”

“Don’t then,” George whispers.

His eyes burn with unshed tears. His fingers spasm on his bedsheets.

He doesn’t know what Dream wants. Does he want George to beg? To get on his knees and plead with him to save his own life? Because he would in a heartbeat but he doubts it would make a difference. 

Dream sighs. “I feel like you’re not listening to me, George.”

“No, I am.” George’s voice rises with his wrath. Suddenly all his terror and frustration comes to a bursting point. “I’m listening. I’m listening to you talk about killing yourself. I just think you’re wrong. I think it would be a lot fucking braver to stay alive even if your views go down, even if you’re not fucking famous, Dream. What the fuck? You’re a fucking coward for trying to leave!” George’s breaths heave through the staticy phone microphone. His fear and anger wind him.

There’s a moment of emptiness.

Then, lip curling, Dream says, “Trying to leave you?”

George chokes.

“What?”

“Don’t try and pull this card, George. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? I’m a coward for leaving everyone behind? For leaving you?” 

Dream’s voice drowns out George’s. George flinches, though Dream can’t see it. 

“Don’t be so fucking selfish. I hate that, you know that?” Dream growls. “Everyone thinks they’re enough to save someone all by themselves. Wow, the sheer force of your love just fucking yanked me back from the edge of a cliff, give me a fucking break,” Dream scoffs. George’s ribs feel tight. “You can’t just reverse psychology or guilt me out of this.”

“Jesus, Dream, is it so hard to believe that maybe I care about you and I don’t want you to fucking die?” George grits out. 

The room swims before him. He can’t remember how to uncurl his fingers.

“Well it’s not up to you, is it?” Dream practically smirks.

And that’s it, isn’t it? The winning phrase. Because Dream’s right. 

It’s not up to George. 

George can only listen helplessly as Dream considers his own grave. He’s a constant witness to the storm that is Dream. He was always grateful to be dragged along in Dream’s hurricane winds and now he dreads the day they calm.

“You’re being cruel,” George murmurs. His aggression leaves him as soon as it came.

“I’m being honest,” Dream contends.

George sinks his head into his hands. “Why did you even call me then? To— to gloat?”

Dream’s voice goes low and quiet, vulnerable. George’s insides twist and melt and contort. “No, no, I just… I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you one more time.”

“Don’t say that,” George hisses. The words are half muffled into his palms.

“Don’t say what?” Dream asks defensively.

“Don’t say one more time. You can’t— you can’t—'' It all hits George at once. He’s going to lose him.

He’s going to lose Dream.

Before he knows it, he’s sobbing into the phone, loud ugly heaving sobs. “Don’t do it, Dream. I’m serious. Please— Just wait for one of us to get there. We can be with you. We can help.”

Dream’s voice hardens again. “You mean you can stop me.”

“Dream—” George starts to beg, trying to figure out how to lie without Dream catching him.

But Dream beats him to it. 

“I’m gonna hang up now—”

Panic rips through George. The shock of it physically hurts in his veins, in his heart.

“No!” he almost screams. “Dream, Dream, don’t hang up—”

“Oh my god, relax. I’m calling Sapnap. I’m not doing anything yet.” He can almost hear Dream rolling his eyes. It’s not comforting.

George sniffles. He knows it sounds pathetic. He’s not one for pity but if it gets Dream to keep talking with him, he’s willing to stoop to any low. He just doesn’t know if he can believe Dream.

“Can’t you just… stay on the phone with me?” 

“What, forever? Is that your plan? Just keep me on the line until someone inevitably finds me somehow?” Dream mocks.

Yes.

“No,” George says instead because he thinks it’s what Dream wants to hear.

Dream switches tactics. George recognizes the persuasion in his tone. 

“Don’t you want me to call Sapnap? Shouldn’t he also get the chance to talk with me?” Dream questions.

Guilts rests against George’s ribs. 

Of course he wants Sapnap to get the chance to talk to Dream. What if this is their last chance to talk? But George is too selfish to think about it much.

“That’s not what you’re asking me. Don’t try and pull that shit. You’re asking me to hang up. You’re asking for me to say goodbye and I’m…” George’s voice drops, almost inaudible. “I’m not ready.”

“George…” Dream’s voice trails off. His next words are nearly silent, something bitter and mournful about them. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” George mumbles.

“Are you gonna say it back to me?” Dream demands. George doesn’t know what holds him back now but something does.

“You know I do, Dream, why—”

The dial tone rings in George’s ears.

Dream hung up.

-

Not even 30 seconds pass, not nearly enough for the abrupt end of their call to sink in, when George’s phone is ringing again. He fumbles with his screen but manages to pick up.

“George?”

George’s heart sinks. It’s not the voice he wants to hear. That he needs to hear.

“Bad?”

“Yeah,” Bad affirms. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I—” George scoffs and it feels like it rips his throat. He feels like he wants to scream. Like he wants to punch a wall. Like he would give anything to be somewhere warmer right now. “No, I’m obviously not okay, Bad. He’s going to— to—”

“I know. Sapnap told me.” 

Bad’s voice is collected, even. It just makes George more frustrated. How can everyone be so fucking calm about this? 

“George, just try to take some deep breaths, okay?” George ignores the suggestion. “Sapnap is on the phone with Dream. He just hung up on me to talk to him. I’m driving there right now, okay?”

George pauses. Something cold washes over him. He doesn’t know yet if it’s relief.

“You’re— you’re driving to Dream?”

“Yes,” Bad affirms. “We just have to keep him talking to someone for the next hour—”

“Hour? Are you serious? That’s too long!” George knows he’s screaming now. He doesn’t care.

“George—”

“We have to call an ambulance, the police. There has to be someone we can call.” 

George squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of other ways they could possibly get there in time. He comes up blank. He can’t accept it. He can’t.

Dream, alone. Dream, bereft. Dream, dead.

“I know but I can’t— I was trying to tell you.” Bad’s words are muffled. It sounds like he’s biting the inside of his cheek. He confesses, “I don’t know his exact address. Sapnap is going to try and get it while he talks to him. I’m driving to Orlando and hopefully Sap knows it by the time I get there but we’re just—”

“No, no, no—”

George thinks of Bad arriving just in time to find Dream’s body still warm. He’s going to be sick. His chest hurts. His lungs burn.

“Try and take some deep breaths—” Bad placates as George speaks over him.

“I’m never going to talk to him again. He’s going to kill himself.” George is spiraling. He can’t stop himself.

“George, I’m going to get there in time.” But Bad doesn’t sound sure of himself. George zeros in on the weakness.

“You don’t know that,” George hisses.

“This is hard for all of us, George!” George startles at Bad’s yell. He’s heard Bad raise his voice before but never at him, never seriously. “I’m sorry,” Bad apologizes, words quieting again. George hears a sniffle through the phone. 

Bad’s crying. 

God, George is a terrible person. He didn’t even think to check in on Bad. Bad’s the one who might find Dream halfway there or already committed. He’s the only one who’s even close to being able to do something and maybe that’s the worst position to be in.

To be so close and lose a friend anyway.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I know it’s hard for all of us. I know you’re doing everything you can. You’re doing more than me.” George tries to laugh but it gets stuck in his throat. It’s not funny anyway.

“It’s going to be okay,” but it doesn’t even sound like Bad believes himself.

“I don’t think I can talk about this anymore,” George murmurs. He feels exhausted. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through him that it hurts. “Can we just talk about something else just… just for a little?” he begs. Like anything could distract him from this.

“Yeah George.” George can hear the sympathy in Bad’s voice. He’s too far gone for the pity to bother him. “Let me— Let me tell you about what I did this weekend on the SMP.”

George sucks in a sharp inhale. “Not— not the SMP. Can you talk about something else?” 

“Of course,” Bad agrees easily. “So last Friday I went to visit my family…”

George lets Bad talk in the background. Every once in a while, one of them will sniffle or sob or take a breath that’s too shaky to be normal. Neither of them mentions it.

George listens to people walk past his window, their voices carrying up into the stars.

The noises of the highway drone on through his phone.

Bad drives.

-

George thinks about what it would be like to go on without Dream.

He’ll never be the same, he already knows. It will haunt him for years. For the rest of his life. The thought of being so close to someone and then losing them.

Death is natural. He knows that. But it’s the intentionality of it that aches the most. The idea that Dream would leave behind everything for something so painful and unknown.

And George just knows… part of him will die with Dream and never come back. 

George doesn’t know who he’ll be with that part missing.

part 1/3, though the next update won’t really be an update but it will be soon