Let the Games Begin DreamNotFound

Chapter 32

George POV

Some say love is a beautiful, warm fire. A blaze of undying passion. They'd forgotten fires burn, ashes tossed in the dying wind.

George walked alone into the Common Area, the air around him feeling unusually empty. He tried not to think of Dream's expression moments ago, the wet sheen overtaking green eyes. The dirty blond didn't attempt to pursue him, dropping back to give him space as they made their way to the same destination. 

"Because I fell in love with you."

He fought the urge to cover his ears, knowing the action wouldn't block the confession from clinging to his mind. There was a certain type of torture in hearing the same blow to the heart over and over again. 

He could have told me the truth, talked to me. He watched Karl die, probably Sapnap too. There's no way he didn't know about Wilbur. All of it was an act, a cruel, fucked up act. 

The world plunged into darkness, George's legs tangling as he stumbled to an abrupt stop. Players cried out in surprise, and he heard several thumps. He tried to tell himself they'd just tripped, caught off guard by the lights turning off.

An arm seized his head, palm pressed firmly over the brunette's lips. George thrashed in the headlock, tears pricking his eyes when the side of his neck burned. It was as if a giant bee stung him, and his slipping consciousness was faintly aware of the sickening pop of an emptying syringe. 

Fuzzy clouds of nothing overtook George's mind, and he never even felt his body hit the floor.

A headache pulsed behind his eyes, nausea forming a lump in his throat. George stretched out a hand to touch cold glass. 

He attempted to stand, wobbling on the rounded surface. He'd been placed in a giant glass bubble, and panic swelled in his chest when he wondered how the hell he was able to breathe in here. There were no openings, cracks, or any sort of ventilation. 

Guards bustled through the room, and George's stomach dropped. Bubbles of the same size trapped the remaining players, forming a long line of frightened faces. The situation reminded him far too much of the experimentation scenes he'd seen in alien movies.

Light knocking drew his attention to his left, and he leaned heavily on the glass for support when he recognized Sykunno in the bubble next to him. 

The med student sat with his palms propped on the glass wall, his eyes bloodshot and skin white as snow. A large pucker formed on the side of his neck, and George reached his hand up to feel the same swelling on his own flesh. 

Judging from the conditions of the other players, they'd all been heavily drugged. 

Sykunno stared at the brunette, mouthing a message. Can you see the others?

George peered through the line of bubbles, but the glass orbs overlapped too much for him to make out any details past the first three next to him. His stomach tightened, and shook his head no.

"Welcome players to the sixth game." The Game Host's voice blared from an unknown source. "We all have something we yearn for, a deepest desire we cannot resist. I think you will find this next game to be rather specious." 

HISSSSSSSSSSSSSS

White gas began pour into the top of the bubbles, contorting and spreading at rapid speed. George startled, pressing himself to the glass. He had no where to run, and his thoughts slowed hazily. 

The glass surrounding him grew foggy, and within seconds he couldn't see his own hand in front of his nose. Is this how I die...? What's the point of killing us right off the bat?