The Railroad

Chapter 10

They walked for a straight six hours without stopping, or saying a single word to each other. They both had things they wanted to ask the other, but they were the things they didn't want to reveal themselves. A conversation was coming, it was as inevitable as the change in the weather.

George intended to prolong the silence as long as possible: he refused to even look in Dream's direction. The brunet wanted to know about Corpse and Dream's relation to him, but he couldn't overlook the part of him that was slightly wary and suspicious. He didn't want to know what part of Dream's life led him to knowing that horrifying man, but he also did want to, the curiosity was just too powerful.

"So... you and Corpse, huh?" George half joked.

"Yep, me and Corpse. I suppose you wanna hear about that?" George nodded. "Right, well basically me and Corpse used to be partners. I was the tech guy, the one that went through getting the information regarding boundaries and scoping out the best paths and best ways to deliver the person to their desired destination. He was the one who took care of the dirtier aspects, such as bribes and blackmails that would acquire our required cars and other means of transportation as well as get us through city barriers.

"He was always... dark, to say the least. He hated zombies, still does till this day. But, it was only clear to me just how much when we were taking this girl from Austin to Denver. We were cornered, zombies approaching from ever direction, and the girl was trapped, being attacked by three or so. Corpse had the gun, but he wasn't moving, he just kept staring at the horrific, gory scene with this engrossed glint in his eye. I shouted at him to shoot until my voice went raw, but it was already too late. The only time he did shoot was when a few started coming towards us where we were cowering against the wall. We managed to get away through the fire escape of the building behind us, but till this day it haunts me. As soon as we made it to the next city we split apart, I haven't seen him since. Well, until today that is."

"Yikes," George said after a moment. His suspicions were always right. "He sounds amazing."

"For real. You can see how I may have gotten... annoyed when he did that."

"Oh annoyed. Is that what we're calling furious now?"

"Shut up," Dream mumbled, nudging George in the side. "So, now that I've said my part, would you mind telling me what happened with you back there? If you're not comfortable saying I understand, but I just want to know if it was real or a ploy to get away from Corpse. 'Cuz, if it was real, then I need to know."

"It was real. I'm not really sure what happened, the situation was just stressing me out and the next thing I knew-"

"Shh," the blond said. He stopped moving and turned to face George, placing his hands on the shorter boy's shoulders. "You don't have to explain it, unless you think it would help. You don't owe me anything, I just wanted to know if I should be... more cautious for lack of a better term."

George didn't let him say anything else before he wrapped his arms around the stronger boy's waist, pulling him close and burying his face in the other's chest. He didn't cry. He wasn't even sad, but the comfort was enjoyable nonetheless. Especially because Dream didn't hesitate to join in the hug, enveloping George in his muscular arms.

The blond held him there, not saying anything and not babying him, just standing and hugging. George took into account how he smelled: he clearly hadn't showered in a short while (neither had George, to be fair), but his scent wasn't one of an odor, it was simply musty or woodsy, like he had spent a long time outside. George couldn't see him, but he felt it when the other's calloused hand made its way to his brown hair.

At first he tensed slightly, causing Dream to pause, but then he relaxed into the hand and Dream began running his fingers through the strands soothingly. After another solid minute of them just standing there, Dream rested his chin atop the brunet's head. Who knew how long they were there, who knew what potentially could've happened considering how vulnerable they were. It didn't matter then, and it didn't now.

"We should probably get going now, huh?" George sighed at last, craning his neck back to look Dream in the eye.

The emerald orb stared back at him with curiosity and awe, as if it were seeing him for the first time, in a new light. Something had changed in the brief three minutes of their hug, and now Dream seemed utterly fascinated, studying the features of George's face carelessly. George tried to pull back slightly, but Dream's arms didn't budge.

The blond smirked, realizing George couldn't escape him. George pushed a little harder, but Dream's hold on his shoulders stayed strong. The brunet giggled, shoving just a bit harder and giving up when Dream still refused to let go.

"Dream, you know we have to go," he chuckled.

"I know. Just one more minute," he answered, looking disappointed that this was all he'd get.

"You're such an idiot," George laughed, but didn't fight. He laid his head against Dream's shoulder, breathing softly as he wished this minute could last forever.

What just happened? In one quick moment, when George wanted nothing other than comfort, their friendship had done a full 180. No slow changes... nothing gradual occurring over a period of time. Friendships, relationships, they were included in that: only another piece of the equation that showed that time was taken for granted.

People held grudges, they held them for the stupidest of reasons at times. Forgiveness isn't a slow process, regardless of what they want you to believe. They just like holding said grudge until in that one moment they decide to change their minds. People move on, it happens everyday. People move on from exes, from deceased loved ones, from life styles and life choices.

It was simply a matter of fact that the human species didn't hold onto things, everything comes and goes. They tell you that nothing is permanent except people and the connections which you have to them, but even that fades. It fades until it's nothing more than a void you didn't realize had been filled, and that one person who had once been your everything was now reduced to nothing in your brain. And you in theirs.

If you lose someone, at one point they're all you can think about. You don't think you can go on without them. Until you can, and you continue on as it gets easier little by little, and then you don't even flinch at the mention of that person. If you can't move on, then typically you don't. Either your train stops moving forward entirely or you take yourself off the track. Without the aspect of life that allows for people to get over things, you wouldn't be here anymore. There's a reason human beings don't hold onto material possessions and forget those who they've lost in one way or another: because they have to. If they didn't life would be a dull slump with no happiness outside of that one thing that you can never get back.

The one thing you can never get back.

To George, that was his mom. It was his life before the outbreak. It was his father before his mother's death. It was Wilbur when he was human and happy. All of that was from before, all of it things he could never get back because the past was the past and it stayed that way forever. Even after the cure, his mother would stay dead, his life would never go back to how it was, his father would remain empty, and Wilbur would always have felt alone at one point. You can change the future, but you can't change the past. And you can't go back to it.

Perhaps that's why nostalgia was such a wonderful feeling, oftentimes it would take people back to those memories they longed to relive, the feelings they hoped to re-experience. But it was all just a dream, a hope, a wish, something that would never come true.

George had been told many times before that he was a pessimist, a nihilist, even, because he thought about things in that regard. But what he liked to believe was that he was neither pessimist nor optimist, neither glass half empty nor glass half full, he was the middle ground. He was a scientist, a realist, a glass half empty and half full. There was always middle ground, no matter the situation, because even in a world of black and white there is gray.

And he also wanted to hold onto things forever. He could hold onto the memory of his mother, help her live on in this world, without crumbling into a shell of his old self. He liked Dream and he knew it, he wasn't gonna waste what little time he possibly had left in this world fighting the feeling that made him feel so good inside.

But the question was, would he tell him?

~Word count: 1,569~

A/N: 150 reads! coolio, thanks guys! it just... got deeper and deeper, like my god. this is like my first time rereading this chapter and i guess i was in my feels at the time. you can tell i really put my heart into, lmao. have an amazing day, guys <3