Poor George//dnf

8

TW: pills (painkillers)

Why did he do that?

They just met, what the hell?

George buried his face in his pillow and yelled, hoping it'd be more muffled than it was.

Dream could probably hear him.

But whatever.

He pulled his duvet over his fully clothed body and pulled his legs close to his chest.

He felt even more pain than before he asked Dream to come, this was just useless.

-------

Dream was about to fall asleep when he heard George yell further down the hallway. 

The blonde's eyes shot open and he swung his head in the direction of the yell before standing up and walking towards what he thought was George's bedroom.

He knocked on the door and waited for a second, either for George to open the door up for him or that the brunette would allow him inside.

"Come in," was mumbled from inside the room and Dream pushed down on the doorknob, opening the door, and walked inside the dark room, closing the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" Dream asked, his words slurred due to his still drunken state.

George hummed before turning around to face the blonde and inching over to the other side of the bed so the taller could sit down or whatever.

Dream watched the brunette with curious eyes before sitting down on the mattress beside him.

George grabbed his arm and pulled him down into a lying position, both of them lying on their sides and facing each other.

Dream raised his eyebrows and looked to his side, trying to find a duvet for himself.

"I'm cold." Dream mumbled.

George pulled the blonde closer to his body before putting the duvet over the two of them, then returned to their original position where they stared intensely into each other's eyes.

Before George knew it, he was being pulled into a hug by the taller man, the blonde's arms wrapped around his waist and his head resting on the brunette's chest.

George's pupils widened in surprise before he relaxed into the tallers embrace, wrapping his arms loosely around Dream's neck and brushed his fingers lightly through the blonde strands of hair.

"How old are you, by the way. You look 12." Dream mumbled tiredly, all of the tiredness in George's body going away so he was now wide awake.

"What the hell?" George asked and slapped the back of Dream's head lightly, so it was more of a pat. "I'm 24 you idiot."

Dream laughed tiredly, his eyelids almost completely closed and his consciousness was little.

"How old are you then?" George asked defensively. "I'm just making sure I didn't give a fucking minor alcohol."

"I'm 21." Dream mumbled before falling asleep, small snores escaping his slightly parted lips.