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Dream shouts, panicked, and rushes forward. George's shoulder surges with such a wave of pain that George has to step back, blinking as he realizes what he just did. His gun falls from his hand.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Dream shouts, hands reaching to hold George up.

George brings his fingers to his shoulder and they come back bloody, the violent red shocking George's senses. "I think this was a mistake," George breathes, stumbling.

"You think?!" Dream looks around before deftly sweeping George off his feet and carrying him bridal style. "I can't believe you did that. You idiot."

"I can walk," George slurs, chin dropping to his chest. He watches, in both horror and fascination as his blood seeps through his clothes and onto Dream.

"Like hell you're walking," Dream mutters, swearing under his breath once more. He picks up his pace, practically tripping as he runs back to the motorcycle. Thankfully, they didn't walk too far away.

Dream puts George's helmet on, as well as his own, starting the bike with shaky hands. He sets George behind him, saying, "Hold on, okay? I'll get us home."

George's left arm clings tightly around Dream's waist. His right shoulder burns too much for him to move it. Any small movement of his fingers or hand sends pulses of pain to George's shoulder, which gives him spotty vision.

The motorcycle zooms off, and the bumpy ride of the trail causes George to hiss in pain. Soon, though, they're on smooth roads. Dream drives faster than before, George can tell. Vacant shops and homes morph into one blur, and George has to squeeze his eyes shut, nausea threatening to overcome him.

Blood seeps down his shirt and onto his pants, flowing onto Dream. George doesn't know how much longer he can hold on for. His head starts to feel light, like he's floating. The pain is starting to become too much.

His grip must loosen, because Dream reacts immediately, bringing one of his arms down to hold George to him while his other arm steers. Dream shouts something, but George can't hear over the wind and the static that grows in his ears.

He passes out seconds later.

~

A soothing tune plays through crackling speakers, bringing George to consciousness. He keeps his eyes closed, though, listening to hushed voices.

"You shot him? Dream, what the fuck?!" a voice hisses.

"No!" Dream defends, whisper rising. "He shot himself! The idiot was trying to prove a point."

"Some point he made," Sapnap replies, voice trailing off as George grumbles.

George's eyes blink open, three blurry faces peering down over him. His shoulder feels numb, the feeling traveling down to the fingers on his right arm. He looks down to see his shoulder heavily bandaged in white.

Dream sighs, plopping down heavily in a chair besides George. He rubs his temples, muttering, "You're crazy, George."

George cracks a grin, glancing at Karl who gives him an unimpressed glare. Karl scolds, "That could've killed you."

"But it didn't," George hums, arrogance in his tone.

"Do that again and I'm kicking you out," Sapnap snaps. Dream's head lifts to give Sapnap a questioning stare. Sapnap says, "This is a waste of resources. Shooting yourself makes you unstable and a liability to the team. Understand?"

Unstable. George almost scoffs at the word, but he nods grimly. "I understand, Sapnap."

"Good," Sapnap says, chin dipping in a nod before he exits the room.

Once Upon a Lifetime || DreamnotfoundWhere stories live. Discover now