drowning in guilt.

"I'm sorry," was all that Angel whispered, slowly opening her door further to meet George face to face.

He slowly rose to his feet, feeling unstable on his one two feet. Dried tears stained both of their cheeks as their glassy eyes met under the warm yellow lights.

George wanted to pull her against his chest, wipe the tears away from her eyes and remind her how much she meant to him. But he knew he shouldn't, "I'm sorry,"

"It wasn't your fault, George," she reassured him, taking one step closer to George with gentle hesitation.

He needed to hear those four words from Angel, hearing them from Dream didn't hold the same meaning as when Angel said it.

Even if he didn't believe the words she said, he still was happy to hear them.

George huffed a weak laugh, lolling his head to the right, "Yeah? How so?"

"You can't control it," Angel muttered, despite the pain she felt knowing George loved Anastasia still, she understood he was grieving.

She understood that he was trying to forget Anastasia for her

"You know very well that I can," he scoffed, not allowing Angel to pry the guilt away from him. He held onto the guilt with all his strength, he wouldn't forgive himself for it.

If Angel forgave him, he'd still hang the guilt above his head, a reminder of the pain he has caused people. No matter how long ago the accident was.

"Stop," she frowned, giving George a gently sharp glare, "I really don't want to fight,"

She regretted lashing out on him earlier, but in the moment it felt like the right thing to do, to get him to go home.

The door to the left of Angel's apartment slowly opened, a dazed elderly woman shuffled out of her apartment.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep, her lips pursed in a thin line as she glared at the two of them, "Can you two please keep it down? I'm sure the rest of the block is trying to sleep too,"

They didn't think that they were that loud, but perhaps any noise was too loud at 2am.

"I'm sorry, Steph," Angel's cheeks were dusted a soft pink with embarrassment, apologising immediately to the grey-haired woman, "We'll head out,"

Angel placed her hand on George's back, steering him towards the stairwell after quickly shutting her apartment door with another apology to Steph.

They walked down the stairs in silence, Angel's hand soon being retracted from George's shoulders.

As the apartment block door clicked shut the two of them were left to stand in the bitter wind, staring at each other in hopes the other will break the silence.

Rather than breaking the silence, Angel stepped closer to George, cupping his jaw in the palm of her hand.

George closed his eyes, never descending from the touch that was her own, leaning into the warm feeling.

Although the moonlight was so soft, shimmering down ever so lightly as snow barely began to fall, sparkling like the stars in the orbiting sky, the withering presence of her failed to disappear.

"And although you're here with me, right now, you never fail to wander about thinking of her," Angel drifted off, watching as George was quick to reopen his eyes.

A disappearing laugh perished through the brume of the soon to be snowfall, and lidded wine eyes blinked back at his own, glistening in an almost hesitation, "It's alright, there's no need to worry. After all, she was unforgettable,"

Guilt should've drowned him out by now, pooling in, waiting to swallow him whole.

But all there was was a fuzzy fondness of endearment. Unknowingly created by the lady who stood before him, existing just to relieve his grief.

"I love you, George. Don't you understand?" she breathed, the inches of her eyes glinting with more than just an impenetrable shine.

The beige layered gown that she wore began to drink the falling liquid above, snow beginning to drip from the sides of her jawline to press down on her neck.

Her whole body coruscated the night, her pale unbothered skin feeling a sense of refreshment. "Would you care more for me if I were to have been the one that died?"

"No! No, Angel, don't be stupid," George stumbled over his words, taken aback by Angel's question.

"You loved her didn't you?" she said softly, looking into his gaze. He only stood there, his antagonising eyes knew that she's right.

"I did- but that doesn't mean I can't love you"

"You're right you can love me but- but you'll never love me as much as you did her. I saw the way you looked at her, her eyes were the only ones yours ever laid upon. She was perfect," her eyes started to fill with salted tears as she realised what she was to him.

A rebound.

She was there to relieve George of the grief he felt, finding comfort in Angel's loving arms and caring personality.

His love for her was real, it was warm and genuine, but it was for the wrong reason.

"I understand why you picked her, but my eyes will never be her eyes. Mine will never make yours flutter like nothing else in the world matters,"

He loved her because she was Anastasia.

Everything about Angel represented Anastasia, from her appearance to her personality to the things they did together.

George found it so difficult to find love because he was searching for another Anastasia. He found her in Angel.

Without realising it, George was imagining Angel as Anastasia.

And in the forlorn distance, Anastasia lingered. She watched as their relationship crumbled in the street, just metres away from where they had previously confessed their love to one another.

"So what does that mean?" George mumbled, still leaning into the warmth of Angel's hand, "For us, I mean,"

After all, this could be the last time they are able to be so loving with one another.

With a lump in her throat, Angel managed to croak out the words nobody in a healthy relationship wants to hear, "I think it's better for us to be apart,"

Another burning sting to the heart.

George was caught off guard, despite his low expectations of the two of them making it through this, "To break up?"

He didn't expect it to become a reality, more of a distant possibility.

"If you want that, then yes," he caught his bottom lip beneath his front teeth as Angel spoke, tugging on it nervously, "I meant more of a break,"

Angel smiled as she watched George's face be washed over with relief, a break was more promising than a definite break up.

"A break is fine," he beamed, laughing in pure relief, "God, yes, that's more than fine,"

She pulled back her hand from his cheek to catch George's hand in between both of hers, "I want you to see a professional, someone who can actually relieve your grief," he nodded along as she spoke, "I can't do that anymore,"

He'd do anything to have a normal relationship with Angel, one that wasn't plagued by the memory of Anastasia.

"What if you move on?" George questioned, fearing that as soon as he was gone, she'd move on, move on to somebody who didn't hurt her, "There's no telling how long I'll be in therapy,"

Perhaps it would be better if she moved on to somebody else.

"Ill be here when you're better, I promise," Angel's thumb brushed across George's cheek gently, she never broke promises, "I still care about you, George,"

"I lo-,"

Angel quickly pressed her finger to his lips, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence, "Don't say it," she shook her head slowly, "Not yet,"

"Hm?" George hummed in confusion.

"When you're better, you can tell me that you love me," she nodded, combing her hands through George's snow ridden curls, "Then maybe it will be genuine,"

"I meant it when I said I loved you, Angel," George quickly interjected, hoping that she didn't feel like he didn't love her anymore, "I haven't loved anyone as mu-,"

"I know- I know how you feel," Angel rested her forehead against George's, letting snowflakes fall from her eyelashes when she closed her eyes, "Just please-,"

He nodded, a small smile tugging upon his face as citrus swirled with cardamom, "You promise that you'll wait for me?"

She would wait for eternity for him, as long as he waited for her.

"I promise, George,"

GN! one more chapter xx