The tension in the room was unimaginable as Charlie sit on the sofa with an awkward smile. He could tell there was still a trace of reluctance within George's plastered belief.

Charlie cleared his throat, "So uh," he noticed George didn't look up but continued talking, "how do you two know each other?"

George shut his eyes for a moment, his stomach slowly churning. A bit of his skepticism had faded when he remembered he had once experienced strange occurrences in the past.

Compared to the telephone calls of last year, ghosts didn't seem like all that much of a big deal.

"Where is he?" George managed to ask after the long silence following Charlie's question.

George's followed Charlie's eyes, which slowly traced across the room before reaching the spot next to George on the couch. "Right next to you."

George flinched a bit and shivered at the cold. His throat started shaking as he attempted to control the memories rushing back to his head. Tears started to form in his eyes.

Charlie's eyes widened, "He said 'don't cry.'" Charlie tried to comfort the young man, but it was proving no use.

George turned to his left.

"Other side." Charlie corrected him.

"Oh." George said as he turned to his right, "I don't really know um- what to say to you, Dream." He spoke to a seemingly empty spot on the couch.

"He said you don't have to say anything at all," Charlie told him, "and that you probably shouldn't say anything since there's a nosy eavesdropper- Hey! I'm not eavesdropping, I don't have a choice but to hear what you say." Charlie apparently argued with the spirit.

George almost smiled. All those years and a death, and Dream was still possessed the humor he once loved best. Almost smiled.

"I will say, there will never truly be privacy," Charlie said unfortunately, "I'm your only means of communication, I'm afraid."

George nodded slowly in understanding, "I don't know how any of this works."

"Me neither." Charlie admitted and George gave a look of confusion.

"I thought 'talking to ghosts' was your job." George questioned and Charlie shifted in his seat.

"Well, it is but- you shut up." He seemingly scolded at Dream, "He's laughing at me. He must be the sassiest dead person that exists."

"Sounds like him." George chuckled a bit. He had more composure than he did earlier.

"He asked what that's supposed to mean." Charlie carried the message to George, who only smiled a tiny smile in response.

"He knows what I mean."

"This all must be very shocking and hard to stomach for you." Charlie told George, who nodded with a small breath of a laugh.

"No kidding." George relaxed in his seat, "But I've been through weirder things."

"What could be weirder than this?" Charlie locked his eyes on where Dream sat and gave him a cold stare.

George now fully grinned, "You don't even know."

Charlie's eyes shifted from Dream to George, "I'm guessing this is an inside joke that I'm not a part of, given the fact that Clay found what you just said to be funny."

George's heart started to ache again with the bittersweet knowledge that he still had the ability to make Dream laugh.

"What's so important that's upstairs?" Charlie asked.

"Hm?" George looked at him in confusion.

"Well this very persistent spirit seems to want to go upstairs, but if he strays too far from me he'll shift back to his world and can't go up there without me." Charlie explained, as he made a mocking face to Dream.

"That's just my bedroom." George answered, "But I know why he wants to go." George said as his voice slightly cracked.

Charlie spoke, "Am I allowed to go?" He asked George, "He's practically begging me to, please I can't take him anymore."

George shut his eyes for a brief moment before nodding hesitantly, "I assume so." He agreed as he got up from his spot on the sofa, and led Charlie upstairs.

Charlie smiled, rolled his eyes at Dream, and followed George up the carpeted steps to his room.

He was met with the sight of vintage flowery wallpaper, scattered clothes on the floor, and some paint on the walls.

Charlie indicated at the hand-prints on the wall, "This some sort of art project?" He asked jokingly.

"Sure." George said. It had just occurred to him that this was the first time he and Dream had ever been together in the room they had spent so much time communicating with each other in. The thought slowly broke him inside.

"Now he's trying to kick me out." Charlie looked offended, "You know, you expect so much from me, Clay, but you don't seem all that appreciative."

"I thought he couldn't stray that far from you." George brought up, and Charlie agreed.

"He's telling me to wait outside the door." He relayed, "I don't know what that's going to do. You can't communicate without me, but whatever you say." He threw his hands up, walked out the door and shut it.

George felt awkward and a bit nervous now. He was apparently alone with Dream now.

He sat on the bed and rapidly shook his leg on the floor, and, after assuming Dream could hear him, he spoke, "You see over there?" He pointed to his left at the telephone with the cord cut in two, "That's what you did."

George waited a bit before talking again, "I don't blame you. I get why you did it but your timing was just awful."

---

"I know." Dream spoke softly. George couldn't hear him, but all he wanted to do was explain.

He stared at the telephone cord and replayed what George had just said.

"That's what you did."

That is what he did. He unknowingly broke George twice, and there was nothing he was more sorry for than that.

George started to speak again, and Dream turned to him, "I wish I had known the whole time that Wilbur was your son. Then I'd have known you had ended up moving on." He sighed deeply as he tried to contain tears, "Saved me all the hurt."

Dream still continued to reply even though he was speaking to no one, "I admit I could have gone about that better." He himself started to feel ache.

"You could have gone about that better." George said at the same time, and Dream was taken by surprise.

He though George had heard him, but no. They just still possessed the ability to somehow know what the other person is going to say. The way a soulmate would.

Dream walked around the room, studying it closer. The light had been on this time and he could see it better.

The photo frame on George's table was still facing the other way, and he wished he could see what it was but unfortunately couldn't.

Beside it lay the quartz that Dream had given him through the time capsule. He felt the ache even more, and the appreciation for George choosing to keep it.

He explored the room even more, before stumbling upon a card on the floor. The baseball card he had also given to George using the time capsule. He smiled as he made to pick it up, but forgot he couldn't.

He instead flicked it in frustration, and heard George gasp.

The card had flung across the floor, and George followed it with his eyes.

Dream's eyes widened, he ran to where the card went and tried to pick it up. He closed his eyes, expecting nothing but found himself with the card in between his fingers.

"Dream?" George suddenly found his posture again, almost backing away from the levitating card. It fell again, as Dream didn't know how to properly hold objects yet, but he could move them the tiniest bit.

---

George stared at the card that fell on the floor after seemingly being picked up by the air. He walked closer to it.

The card was on the floor, but it was sliding slowly across it as if being whiffed by a gush of invisible air.

George followed it with his eyes as the card reach the wall, slowly being pushed up and trailing it's way on the flowery wallpaper.

George tried to make out what Dream was trying to do, so he continued following the card until the card reached the end of the flowery wallpaper and the beginning of a lime green spot on the wall.

The hand prints.

After the card reached the hand prints, it fell to the floor. Dream had led him where he wanted George to look. It was clever. George impulsively put his hand on the hand print, and instead of the usual nothingness he felt when he did it, this time the area felt cold.

---

Dream had his hand on the hand print George had made, and watched as George had his hand on the one he made.

The hand prints were once made with the separation of time, and now they were together, but with the separation of death.

This was the closest they were ever going to get.