Comfort (Dream X GeorgeNotFound)

A Good Night's Rest

It was dark out. The clock on the hotel room wall read 3:40 AM. Everything was dead silent. The temperature was exactly how Clay liked it. The blanket was fluffy and warm.

So why was he awake?

He wasn't sure. If there was a sound that woke him up, it had been long gone already.

Then, a silent whimper came from the bed above Clay. The bed frame creaked as George turned.

"Just shifting in his sleep," he thought, turning over himself, burrowing his face deep into his throw blanket.

Then, another whimper. Then a soft gasp. Another creak and then a ruffle as George grasped the bedsheets.

At this point, Clay was becoming a little concerned. He got up to check on his friend, quietly as to not disturb his sleep.

George was curled up, clutching one of the pillows. It was a stark contrast to the sprawled out form taking up most of the bed space from several hours ago. He had a troubled expression on his face, his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted into a frown.

Just as Clay was about to chalk it up to talking in his dream and lay back down, George made another choked sound. It sounded like a short sob, or maybe a tiny gasp, but out of someone whose throat was being squeezed.
His knuckles were starting to turn white from gripping the blankets too hard. Clay noticed he was... shaking. No, shivering. That wasn't normal from a person in room temperature, not to mention under thick blankets.

"George. Hey." Clay whispered, softly tapping George's shoulder blade. When he got another gasp instead of an answer, he knelt down onto the bed.

George's eyebrows went from knit together to raised in shock. His hands were making grabbing motions, as if searching for something to latch onto.
Clay realized what it was - a nightmare. He'd had plenty of those throughout his life, so he knew how to deal with it. With the softest voice possible, he said:

"Hey, George. Wake up." He gently shook him by the arm, "wake up Georgie."

He felt his friend slowly stir. That meant he was waking up.

"Come on George. It's just a bad dream." Clay tried to be as soothing as possible so that George wouldn't get even more scared.

Finally, Clay saw him stop moving and open his eyes. He couldn't help but smile as he stared up at him sleepily.
"Mmm... Hey Clay." George grumbled, "what is it?"

He'd be lying if he said it wasn't an adorable sight. George with his sleepy voice and messed up hair wearing Clay's clothes... did something to him. His eyes flicked down to his slightly gaping lips and back to his eyes in a flash.

"Sounded like you were having a nightmare," Clay sheepishly explained, unsure whether waking him up was a good decision, "I'll let you get back to sleep now."

George smiled up at him and closed his eyes.

"Thanks Clay... You should sleep too."

And with that, Clay went back to his blanket. As soon as George's breaths slowed down, he drifted off back to sleep.

George never really questioned who Clay was, he just referred to him by his name. Clay shook his head. George was so exhausted that he didn't question a complete stranger looming over him. At least that's what Clay thought, who didn't know about George's "play pretend" games.

__________

There was someone standing over George, holding a knife to his throat, eyes shimmering red. He pressed it down just enough to draw a little blood, making George yelp.