Current Joys || DNF

18

Story time: A crop of demon children came over to my house and spilled a whole-ass bowl of salsa on my favorite hoodie. How do I leave this existence—

//

George flinches as he wakes, propelling his face upward as he fights to catch his breath. His vision spins at the sudden movement as he shoots a hand out to catch himself. It was at least the fourth time in the past few days that he had undergone the same nightmare.

He swipes his fingers across the healing skin of his neck. The dark bruises were now fading into yellowish marks, some even disappearing completely. The awful memories unfortunately didn't fade with them.

"George. George," Dream pants. "I can't breathe."

The brunette looks down at the sound of the gravelly voice beneath him. He realized that he was supporting himself with a single fist that was pressed down on the man's sternum.

George quickly untangles himself from between Dream's legs, shifting his palm to the mattress. "Sorry," He murmurs, attempting to swing his legs over the edge.

Dream catches sight of the shorter man's troubled expression and flings a hand out grabbing his arm. "Nooo, come back." He pulls lightly.

George sighs and succumbs to the man's touch, letting himself be pulled back into his comfortable spot close to Dream's chest.

Dream focuses his view on the other's face. He frowns as he notices the slight sheen of cold sweat on George's forehead, his lips still twisted with distress. Waiting until the Brit makes eye contact, he places a comforting hand on the other's knuckles. "That's so annoying." He groans suddenly.

The brunette makes a face, tilting his chin to look up to his face again. "What did I do?"

"You're doing that thing where you relax your expression into this, I don't know, calm appearance? Just to convince everyone you're fine." Dream spills.

George considers lying. He even contemplates getting pissed at the man and just leaving the room. He doesn't do either of the two however. "It's a habit," He admits. "I don't like talking about that kind of stuff. It's harder than just joking around."

Dream thinks about his upcoming words carefully. He didn't want to force the other to tell him anything but he also didn't want to look like he didn't care, especially since the opposite was true. "It is harder. But it doesn't mean it's not important."

"I suppose." George sighs. He didn't really want to talk about this now, but he doubted Dream would grace him with a change in subject.

The blonde smiles slightly in exasperation. George never makes it easy for him. "What I mean is, you can talk to me. About anything. It doesn't have to be all happy lovey-dovey shit all the time, especially since y—"

"Lovey-dovey. Calm down, it's only been one night genius." George interrupts teasingly.

"You're confusing me. Is my nickname idiot or genius, because you use both pretty frequently." Dream shoots back.

"Both." He shrugs. When the blonde says something stupid it's genius, and when he says something worthwhile it's idiot. Makes perfect sense.

"Ok whatever anyway," He's not idiotic enough to let George divert his attention so easily. "I think it's important to talk about this kind of stuff. It's not good to keep it to yourself."

"You can say it Dream." George says quietly. "I got assaulted, sure. But it's fine. Many people don't have an amazing person by their side that is willing to risk their own safety to stop it. It could have been much worse." He feels himself blush and shoves his face into the covers in embarrassment at his sudden outburst.