Let the Games Begin DreamNotFound

Chapter 5

George POV

George could feel the dark circles weighing beneath his mocha eyes, not needing a mirror to know he had awful bags. He'd spent most of his night pacing anxiously, the silence of the room whispering grim reminders of what was to come. He'd eventually collapsed from exhaustion, startling awake when that same automated voice made an announcement. 

"Breakfast will be served in five minutes, please make your way to the Common Area." 

Five minutes? Weren't meals served at seven o'clock? George rushed to his feet, wobbling as blood roared in his ears. He didn't bother glancing around for a clock he already knew wasn't there. The handle of his door easily bent, giving way with no resistance beneath his palm, no longer stiff.

I slept through the doors unlocking at six am... someone could have come in here to kill me and I wouldn't have known. Icy claws dragged over his spine, erasing the heaviness previously weighing him down. He silently cursed himself for not being more careful, knowing all too well this wasn't a place he could afford to let his guard down in.

George quickly tied on his sneakers, trembling hands fumbling over the laces. The door handle slid beneath his clammy palms, and he was relieved to see the hallway mostly quiet. Five players trudged in the same direction, walking with a wide distance from one another. He only recognized one of them as the fluffy haired brunette who'd clung to his arm yesterday.

Player 205 caught his eye, grayish blue meeting mocha for a brief moment. George expected him to walk faster, but the fluffy brunette's gaze dropped, visibly hesitating. George's skin prickled awkwardly, and he scanned the hallway for Corpse or Dream, but the tall men were nowhere to be found. 

"Uh..." Player 205 mumbled, slowing his steps to fall in beside his fellow brunette. "Sorry about yesterday." 

"What about yesterday?" George glanced at 205 from the corner of his eye, scanning those grey-blue depths for any sign of bloodlust, but found only pale pools swirling with anxiety. 

"When I grabbed you." 205 explained. "You know, at the table. I don't know you, so that must've been weird."

It was. "It's fine."

"Oh, um, thanks then. I'm Karl, by the way." A hand with nails painted in pink, blue, and purple polish brushed away loose strands of brown bangs. 

The colors reminded George of Easter eggs, bringing back memories of searching his backyard with a basket to find brightly colored plastic eggs buried in green grass. He could never see colors very well, unable to recognize green or red at all, and often got mixed up when announcing what color egg he found to his mother. 

"George." They turned in the hallway, the blank white halls becoming peppered with blue swirls. 

"Oh, good, you're using your real name too, then?" Karl puffed out a breath of relief. "That's easier to remember." 

"What do you mean?" George's stomach churned when they approached another turn, knowing they'd be at the common area soon. 

"The player I was talking to yesterday, you might know him since you sat next to him, one two three is calling himself Sapnap." Karl explained. 

A raven-haired man with fiery orange-brown eyes flickered through his mind, and he vaguely remembered seeing Karl with the guy. He hadn't considered using a made up name for himself, but it was too late now. 

"He didn't seem very friendly." George gazed at the massive gray doors at the end of a hall lined with guards.

"I don't know." Karl's slim shoulders shrugged beneath blue fabric. "He's kinda intense, but he's actually very nice."