Patches

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Dream woke up to two weights pressed firmly on either side of his bed. Funny, considering there were exactly three entities that lived in this apartment.

He sat up, blinking away the bleariness in his eyes. The blanket was heavy on his legs and pillow warm to the touch. A few drops of sweat had collected on his forehead. Wearing long pajamas to sleep during warm weather probably hadn't been a good idea.

The room was still dark. What time was it?

He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone on the nightstand next to him, squinting when the screen lit up. Seven o'clock on the dot, an hour before his alarm was supposed to start ringing for work. He might as well disable that alarm for today.

He glanced to his left first, only to see Patches curled up next to his waist. Even though the cat fur was a pain to wash out, he couldn't bite back a smile. He would let it stay for a little longer.

On his right...

George was kneeled next to the bed with his arms crossed on the mattress, his head resting on top of his forearms. His face was exposed enough for Dream to see his eyes were screwed shut. His shoulders rose up and down with his breath. The breathing pattern didn't seem natural.

Dream leaned forward.

Now that he had a closer look, he noted the bags beneath his eyes. Was he not getting enough rest? Maybe George was the true disaster between the two of them.

"Almost died in your sleep just now, idiot," George murmured.

Dream's heart shot up to his throat and dropped back to its correct position when George's eyes remained closed. Good, he probably didn't notice him staring. At least, Dream hoped so.

His voice was soft and quiet as he continued speaking. "You were pulling the blankets over your head. Had to make sure you didn't suffocate. Sorry for being in your room."

Huh. That would explain all the frantic times his parents woke him up.

Dream allowed himself to stare for a bit longer.

George couldn't be comfortable using his own arms as pillows, could he? Dream had done the same when napping on airplanes. He always woke up with numb arms and a toothache.

Dream nudged a pillow away from him little by little until it hit George's elbow.

George snatched the pillow away and buried his face into it. Then he stilled and his breathing slowed. Dream could only assume the tension on his face was gone, too.

Was he actually asleep this time?

Dream looked closer, but there were no obvious signs he was still awake.

Good. He probably needed the rest.

Now, back to the question of how Dream was supposed to get out of his bed without disturbing either of the two.

His gaze darted between Patches and George.

Fuck it. Cats were asleep for more than half the day, right?

Sorry, Patches, Dream thought. He positioned his leg underneath where Patches slept. "Patches," he whispered, "time to get up."

Patches yawned and stretched its limbs. It directed a betrayed look at Dream before leaping off the bed and walking out of the room. How did one look stir so much guilt in his stomach?

He could make it up to Patches later. For now, he had a maze to go through.

Careful, Dream reminded himself as he slipped out of the blankets. Once his legs were free, he set his feet gently, lightly on the floor—

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