Love Bites

Chapter 2: Moonlight

chapter warnings: talk of death/murder, mild homophobia talk, swearing, minor character death

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George wakes up in pain.

He supposes it's the shrimp-like position he sleeps in, it's terrible for his back. The covers softly try to convince him to lay back down, but after another minute of trying to ignore the fact that time exists, he pushes them off coldly. He groans and sits up, twisting his back and listening to the ripple of cracks along his spine. He takes one look at the time and sighs. He'd slept in very late. Not the first time, he supposes.

Memories of the previous night almost immediately plague him, like a parasite that has no intention of leaving now that it's under his skin. The man in that dumb mask, the way his voice sounded, how it made George-

He groans. "Not yet." He murmurs to himself. It's too early to think about everything.

He crawls out of bed to force himself to get ready for whatever daylight he has left.

After a small (and frankly terrible; George cannot cook for himself) breakfast of toast and eggs, he opts to clean his vampire hunting gear, disappointed in the fact that he doesn't have enough time left in the day to actually hunt. If he doesn't have enough time to go kill some vampires, he can at least keep his weapons in good shape.

His head spins in muddled cotton thoughts about how fatigued all of his limbs felt. I shouldn't have come home so late last night.

Last night.

He allows himself to sink into the breakfast chair cushion. George's hand raises slowly to touch his cheek, remembering the warmth of Dream's chest against it. The laugh, the slow heartbeat, the promises he gave. The promises he got.

He hadn't felt like that in a long, long time.

George remembered feeling miserable earlier that night. He remembered the way he resented all the people there and their carelessness, how they could all just go on with their lives while the world they were so carefree in could throw them out at any given chance.

But then that idiot had showed up.

Something about the way he talked made him want to both crumble into a million pieces, but also punch him square in his pretty face.

The way Dream really cared, how he held him so close, promised him security. And for the first time in what had felt like eternity, George allowed himself to feel safe.

Safe with a handsome stranger he had never met.

And the most outlandish thing of all, George didn't regret a second of it. In fact, he dare say he misses it. Dream had felt like an anchor in a deep sea where George had been wading farther and farther into with no chance of return, and Dream was a landmark pulling him to shore.

That feeling was so, so foreign. He began to think that kind of connection didn't exist anymore.

The feeling of his head to a strong chest. Swaying in the darkness, with nothing to listen to but the sound of a muted orchestra and each other's light breaths. Just thinking about the close proximity with Dream made George hug his arms around himself without realizing it.

Excitement, unpredictability, unexpected closeness. It was all so fast, what happened to all the steps he had to suffer through first? He couldn't just go to the top like that, that kind of unwarranted kindness never came for free.

Even knowing that, he couldn't help but take the opportunity.

Maybe I'll see you around.