Let the Games Begin DreamNotFound

Chapter 17

George POV

Soothing hums filled the tranquility of the maze, messy dirty blond strands falling into eyes greener than grass. Light weight rested over George's shoulders, feeling the soft vibrations of Dream's humming through his arm.

They'd walked a fair distance from the group's camp, relieved not to have run into any players as they traversed the winding paths. 

"Are you sure you don't want to carry you?" Dream offered when the brunette tripped for the fifth time that morning.

"I'm fine. Idiot." George gritted his teeth.

He hated to admit the hollowness of his stomach, the exhaustion in his limbs. The adrenaline from the living corpses, and then Sapnap's murder, had made him forget they hadn't eaten in at least twenty four hours.

"Aren't you hungry?" He added.

"Well, to be fair, anyone would be hungry at this point," Dream reminded him. "But I doubt they'll let us starve to death, so I'm sure the exit is close."

"You're very calm," George murmured. "Easygoing. What if it that's the point of this game? Endurance?"

"Doubt it." Dream shook his head. "There's only so much the human body can take. They must be idiots if they think we can control collapsing from hunger. Actually, dehydration is worse, I think."

Humans can survive eight days or more without food, but we'll die of thirst within three days. George remembered the fact from a book he'd read. He wished he could tell the bullies who'd tormented him, or his father, that his love for books proved useful.

"Or maybe they are just sadistic like Sap said." He grumbled. He kicked a loose stone down the path, listening to the satisfying clatter.

"You didn't notice?" Dream gasped dramatically. "What could have possibly given you that idea? Was it the bombs? No, I bet it was the—"

"Shut up, you're the real idiot."

"Oh, I'm the idiot?" Dream wheezed. "Hmm, who saved your life first game again?"

George groaned inwardly, but he couldn't find it in him to reply with a sharp quip. If Dream hadn't been there to intercept the bomb, he'd be nothing more than rotting entrails. He'd been lucky in ways Sapnap and Karl weren't.

His stomach twisted, unintentionally picturing the purplish jut of broken bone and crimson slit of flesh. He remembered fear hiding behind Karl's acceptance, the sorrow casting shadows over Sapnap's face mere hours before his murder. You have to survive this. I believe in you.

"Actually, Dream," George slowed his steps, dragging the dirty blond to a halt. "You never did say why you helped me back then." 

"I don't have a reason," Dream shrugged. "I just couldn't watch someone die in front of me if I could prevent it, and when you looked at me I knew you were scared." 

"We were all scared." He shivered at the memory of blazing fear in the bomb-covered boy's eyes, the panicked shove of fleeing bodies. "And that was before we knew there was imposters hiding among us." 

"Sap's death has really gotcha, hasn't it?" Dream searched mocha eyes with gentle concern. 

"Aren't you bothered by it?" George challenged him. "We were teamed with him, and someone we trusted murdered him right in front of us and we didn't even notice." 

"I don't form attachments." Dream replied. His tone held to malice, pointed no blade. Every word fell with mere acceptance. "In this place, betrayal and death is inevitable... if I became friends with everyone then I'd never survive."