𝐌𝐂 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 | 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 - ✔

GeorgeNotFound - Coughing

Enjoy sick boi GeorgeNotFound 🥺

The bed shifting violently beside you was what woke you up that night. Small groans and coughs of agony filled your half-conscious ears, forcing your tired eyes to open completely.

For a second, the whole world was a blur. You could barely make out the ceiling on top of you, not to mention the lamp that swung back and forth gently in tact with the calm breeze flowing through the window.

Everything was hazy. You couldn't think straight, and briefly, you didn't even remember what woke you up or where you were. That was often how you woke up: disoriented and out of place.

Your throat ached for a drink of water, and you let out a tiny cough to try and get the normal feeling back in your mouth, your tongue nearly dried out completely.

Right beside you, George was clutching onto his stomach painfully, with his eyes pressed tightly together and mouth turned downwards into a frown as he kicked off the blanket that he felt was too hot. He was burning up. It felt like he was taking a bath in some lava in the Nether, and he couldn't help but suddenly feel sympathy for his Minecraft character every time it burned up. He reminded himself to try as hard as possible to never die in lava again.

Beads of sweat was dapped along his forehead, and the moon shining through the window made them glint like diamonds, making it look like someone had sprinkled glitter all over his face. It was like the beads scorched through his skull, causing a head-splitting headache to appear. He could feel it behind his eyes, behind his eyelids, and in his temple, and it was torture. He wanted to blame the sweat for simply being too hot. Maybe it was burn marks they had left, he thought. Deep down, though, he knew it was just a headache. No burn marks, no boiling sweat. Just pure agony that nature had decided to throw at him.

The shirt he was sleeping in felt too clingy as it stuck to his moist skin, and he felt the pulsing urge to rip it open and throw it away, but the aching pain in his stomach prevented him from moving. He felt repulsive, short-tempered and angry at every little sound in the room; the clock on the nightstand ticking away, every little movement you made next to him, the wind howling as it smoothly flew through the window. Everything felt... Wrong.

A groan fell from his lips as the stomach ache became too much, which finally brought you 100% out of the world of imagination.

You looked over at the dark-haired man, and in an instant grew worried once you saw the state of misery he seemed to be in.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, furrowing your eyebrows together in fret.

"George?" You hoarsely said, placing a gentle hand on his bare arm, "Are you okay?"

For the first time in his life your touch annoyed his skin, and it made it burn even more. His skin felt too sensitive, even to the lightest touch, and it felt as if he could feel it burn all the way into his bone. He nearly shivered, yet he felt anything but cold.

He recoiled away from your touch, and scooted an inch or two away from you, so you removed your hand from his arm.

"I don't- I don't know," He drawled out, his voice cracking as he shivered, suddenly regretting that he had kicked the blanket off, yet also knowing he would regret pulling it back up to his chin. Indecisive, he felt. One side of him wanted to curl into a ball and die, the other wanted to stretch out and fill as much as the bed as possible to see if that would make the ache go away.

He burped, yet the aftertaste in his mouth left a hint of odd food combinations taste on the tip of his tongue... Had he eaten eggs and apples in his sleep?