Let the Games Begin DreamNotFound

Chapter 3

TW: blood, violence, death, possibly disturbing descriptions

George POV

Salty sweat and metallic blood tanged the heavy air. Tense silence hung over the players, horrified at what they'd been forced to do. 

George shivered gazing at the blank, blood flecked faces around him. After the sadistic game of tag, the Game Host returned them to the Common Area claiming they could "have some time to rest and get to know one another". Problem was, no one was too keen on being near the same people who'd been trying to kill them just minutes ago. 

Only a small handful of players whispered to one another, others paced frantically while some sat in stunned exhaustion. Empty water bottles scattered the table, a large cooler holding more full bottles. 

George slowly walked through the crowd, scanning for one specific player. He saw fluffy haired 205 speaking to 123 in hushed whispers. The woman with hair that reminded him of the roses he used to gift his mother, honey gold melting into pink tips more beautiful than the sunset, sat with her arms wrapped around herself. A blond teen with a slightly older puffy haired brunette. Blue tracksuit after blue tracksuit had him ready to give up. Lucky for him, the player he was looking for towered over many in height.

101 leaned against the neon handprints covering the walls, a bottle of water clouded with condensation gripped in his hand. His green eyes were focused on where his wrist swirled the water into a skinny tornado.

George hurried toward the dirty blond, swallowing against his nerves when emerald raised to meet mocha. 

"Uh, h-hey." White ivory sank in to pale pink, approaching 101 hesitantly. He balled his clammy palms by his side in an attempt to hide the ice crawling up his spine. "I wanted to thank you." 

101 blinked, his head tilting to one side. "What for?"

Was he being serious? George studied the teasing glint in 101's eyes. He's joking.

"For saving my life in the game." The anxiety in George's stomach unraveled, his tense spine relaxing in relief when the dirty blond smiled. After the living nightmare he'd seen, the simple expression that suddenly felt so rare comforted him in a way he couldn't describe.

"Well, to be fair, you might not have died." 101 reminded him, black polished nails glinting in the bright room. "The bomb didn't go off right away, you might've had time to get rid of it." 

"Doubtful." George leaned on the wall beside the dirty blond. "I'm George, by the way." 

"Dream." 

"Is that really your name?" The brunette scrunched his eyebrows. There's no way someone named their child Dream. That's like asking your kid to get bullied.

"It's what my friends call me." Dream's grin widened until the brunette could see his sharp canine teeth.

George's heart skipped a beat. He might have one ally after all. "So... we're friends?" 

"If you want to be." The dirty blond paused, his voice turning wheezy. "Though, you kind of owe me." 

"I owe you so I have to be your friend?" George's lips twitched at his stupidity. "You're an idiot." 

Dream cracked up, and several heads turned. If George hadn't been the one speaking to the dirty blond, he'd be wondering what's so funny too. The dark stares burning into his skull brought him back to their grim reality, the smile falling from his lips. He'd crashed from his brief amusement as though falling from a drunken high straight into a hangover.