The Railroad

Chapter 13

Three more excruciatingly long days of walking, that is. Since they woke up that morning they'd been on their trek. The sun was blazing down on them, even though it was supposed to be fall by then and they were in the middle of Georgia.  It was probably seventy-ish degrees out, which would be somewhat nice if they weren't walking, the sun wasn't out, and if there was a breeze.

But sadly, none of that was true, and George was sweating profusely. His jacket was tied around his waist and he had his hands in his hair to keep it off his forehead and the back of his neck. Dream was shirtless, both jackets tucked into his bag, and he had George pull his shaggy hair back into a little ponytail.

"I feel stupid," Dream complained, gesturing to his hair with a frown.

"Don't be, I think it looks cute," George replied, smiling sweetly. He reached up onto his toes and pecked Dream on the cheek, taking the blond's hand in his injured one and locking their fingers. "Besides, would you rather be hot?"

"Yes. I'd rather be either form."

George laughed at that, shaking his head a bit. The blond was clearly serious, but he seemed to enjoy the sound of George's soft laughter. He pulled their hands up, kissing the back of the smaller one. The brunet's skin was soft to the touch. It seemed fragile, though Dream knew it was far from that.

"Told you I'd kiss it better."

The shorter boy didn't want to admit how happy this small act made him, how it made his stomach do back flips and his heart soar. There was no way he could leave Dream. They were gonna have to find a way to make it all work, because George didn't want to live without him.

He'd always felt half empty, like there was some feeling he'd never felt but was vital to his wellbeing. The only thing was that he wasn't aware that the emptiness was there until he'd grasped it for the first time, and now that it was here he finally knew what it was. Affection. It made him feel complete, like the invisible hole was filled and the thing that filled it was all he could think about now.

"Hey, Dream?"

"Yes, princess?"

"What's your real name?"

Dream chuckled lowly. "Ah yes, that. Promise you won't make fun of me if I tell you?" George nodded, looking into the bright green eye of the other. "Right, well it's um... it's Clay. Clay Esempi."

"It's not that bad," George assured. He saw the skepticism in the taller's eyes. "No really! I like it!"

"George Esempi..." Dream murmured.

"Hey! Why would I have to take your last name? Clay Davidson has a ring, I think."

"My last name is the only thing I have left that connects me to my dad."

"What happened, if you don't mind my asking? You don't mention him a lot."

"He died a while back, about the same that the outbreak first happened. He got bit, and told me to shoot him." The blond paused, swallowing the thickness that rose in his throat at any reminder of his father and what Dream had done to him. "He didn't want to become want of them, didn't want to risk hurting me. My mom left us when I was still young so it had just been him and I for as long as I could remember. And I did it, I shot him."

When the brunet turned, he saw that Dream was crying. A few tears trickled down his tan cheeks and his eyes were glossy. He pulled the taller into a hug and Dream leaned his head on the top of George's. A few sniffles were the only indicator of the crying, and both boys were silent until it was all out.

"Better?" George asked, combing his fingers through the blond flyaway hairs at the base of Dream's neck. He felt the other nod.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled, voice cracking.