warmth [dreamnotfound] | ✓

chapter eleven. innocence.

5:10 PM.

Nearly an hour was blown to the breeze now and fifteen minutes later, George was comfortably driving with Dream asleep in the backseat. They hadn't spoken since they got the car back on the road. There were a lot of things that had never been said aloud because they'd never needed words.

The blond-haired boy looked so much younger when he was asleep, one arm sprawled among the boxes on the floor and the other tucked over his slender stomach. He looked happier than when he was awake as well, but that didn't take much. For a theatre kid, he'd never been a good actor.

George's mind was asking him for any idea on what to do next, but he honestly didn't have an answer. He'd never spoken about a lot of things before that day and, while part of him was glad that he was free, there was another part that wanted to take it all back. Both parts were yelling at him to do something, anything, to address what he'd said but he didn't. He leaned back in his chair slightly, stuck one hand out the window, and relaxed. It felt nice to do so.

Half-an-hour later, Dream woke in a fit of restlessness and rolled over to face his friend, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. He had a sleepy smile on his face.

"Go back to sleep. We've got a long way to go and you're still so sleep-deprived it's not even funny," George said and the boy stared at the ceiling with no intention of listening.

"Sleeping in cars is fucking impossible. How do you do it?"

"I don't know, I just read or something until I get so tired that I can't stay awake anymore."

"Okay." Dream leaned over and snatched the copy of Harry Potter off the passenger seat. It was even lighter than he'd thought it would be. He flipped through the pages absent-mindedly, noting the many, many missing ones. The entire middle section was just cut out. The first few chapters and the ending were the sole remainders of what once was a lengthy novel.

He said nothing of the absence and started reading the ending section instead. George said nothing either, focusing on the music he was playing through the speakers. It seemed as if now, when he wasn't sitting in the passenger seat anymore, the blown out speaker was working fine. Just his luck.

It didn't take long until Dream was snoring softly and George was alone once again. Even when he wasn't saying anything, it was nice to be in the presence of the other boy. George thought back to some of their old adventures, things he wouldn't normally remember, and smiled. It was the first time he'd thought happily of a memory in a very long time.

As much as the solitude suited him, George missed having other people around. He thought over the idea that by the next day, Dream would be gone for good and found that his brief happiness was short-lived. He wondered if Dream would notice if he turned the car and drove in the opposite direction of Florida.

"Absolutely not," he muttered to himself. He still considered it. To get his mind off of the ridiculous idea, he turned the music slightly louder and hummed along. Every couple minutes, George checked on Dream in the rearview mirror.

As dinner time approached, traffic started to get worse and he found himself getting caught between big trucks and slowing down more than once. George had more time to look at his friend and so he took advantage of it.

There was a scar on Dream's nose. It hadn't been there for long, it was bright and obviously new, but it was also covered by makeup or marker or something that was doing a very poor job. There was another spot on his chin and a line near his forehead that was older, but George noticed it for the first time. The blond teen always had his hair covering the spot, and for good reason as well. It seemed like his head would split open if it were hit in the same place again.

His eyes trailed away from the scars though, focusing on Dream's other features instead. His dark eyes glanced over full lips, the bumped bridge of his otherwise-straight nose, and his long, dark eyelashes. George let himself wonder what it would feel like to touch him. To run his fingers over those lips or hold his defined jaw in his hands. When his gaze drifted down to Dream's scars again, he quickly turned away.

It felt as if he'd seen something private so he watched the road once again as traffic picked back up and he went down a hill. George was left with unanswered questions that he never planned to ask aloud. He figured he could gather an answer rather easily, even if it wasn't the nicest thought.

"Hey, what time is it?"

"5:40. Why?"

Dream just groaned in response and dropped the book that was sitting on his lap to the floor when he sat up. "That's about as much sleep as I'm gonna get." He climbed over the seats, narrowly avoiding bumping his friend several times, and moved next to George, buckling his seatbelt and yawning. He rubbed the dark circles under his eyes but they didn't go away.

His hand flopped onto the center console beside George's and when he noticed the other boy was still watching him instead of the road, he gave a small smile.

"Relax man, I'm not going anywhere."

George frowned, turning back to the road silently. After a moment, he finally thought of a response. "It's not where you're going, it's where you've been."

Without a word between the two, Dream knew immediately what he meant. He pulled his hand back, shifting to look in the side mirror of the car and pushing his blond hair back in place. He could see what George was looking at. It was something few had seen before.

When his warm arm returned beside George's on the console, the other boy instinctively grabbed at it. His movement was slow, but he didn't back off or second-guess it. It just happened. Dream didn't stop him either. He let it.

Sometimes that was just how things were meant to happen. Spontaneously and without stopping.