Unexpected Visitor/ dreamnotfound fic

Chapter four: Sapnap, UK Netflix, and Gordon Ramsay

My George

It echoed in his head, piercing his heart in a bittersweet pinch.

He swallowed, suddenly becoming aware of the warm roughness of Dream's palm on his own.

"We should watch a movie. Or start a show together, how about that?" Dream said suddenly.

That caught George off guard. Clearly Dream had decided he was done with sharing. George respected it, he'd told the brunette a lot more then George had been expecting, and he definitely deserved to lie on the couch and relax after the hell he'd been through.

"Okay," George said softly.

He grabbed the remote form the coffee table beside the couch and clicked on the TV.

Dream's hand tightened around George's and he shifted with barely a grunt of pain, tucking in his legs so that the brunette could sit properly.

George smiled, plopping himself down beside Dream on the couch.

Dream dropped his legs painfully back down across George's lap.

He let out a soft grunt as Dream did so, and the green eyed man laughed.

Rolling his eyes, George playfully threw the remote at him, but Dream grabbed it after it hit him in the shoulder and used it to pull up Netflix and begin to scroll through the different movies and shows.

He paused for a second on George's continue-watching row, and the smaller boy stressed out, suddenly nervous that Dream would judge him, but Dream just smiled and continued going down the lists.

George let his eyes close, happy to just sit here with Dream, hands intertwined even though they were slightly too far apart and it was slightly uncomfortable for them both.

"UK Netflix sucks. I don't know how you do this," He announced. George couldn't hold back his laugh at the American.

"You're just jealous that we have better cooking shows," he shot back.

"YOU DO NOT!" Dream wheezed. "That is the biggest lie I have ever heard, Gogy. Don't disrespect Gordon Ramsay like that!" He huffed.

"Gordon Ramsay's British, Dream." George said through bouts of laughter. Dream kettle wheezed.

"No way... of course you watch cooking shows," Dream laughed.

"I don't! That's common knowledge! He has an accent!"

"Oh come on now," Dream said in defeat.

Dream clicked on a cooking show with a dumb grin on his face. It started playing and George let his head roll back to the cushion.

Netflix cooking shows were always terrible.

As soon as he relaxed, a wave of tiredness washed over him, desperately trying to keep his eyes closed.

He hadn't slept much last night, too worried about Dream and too occupied with all the questions going on on twitter and tiktok asking about George and his strange behavior last night.

He knew he needed to address it, but it would have to wait.

There were more important things happening in his life, things that involved a tall blondie who was too strong to show how much pain he was in.

He felt another soft squeeze on his hand, and a smile grew on his face as he gently squeezed back.

********************************************

George fell asleep instantly.

It was obvious he hadn't gotten enough rest the night before, and it made Dream sick to his stomach knowing he was the reason why.

And it didn't end there.

He was the one who'd made him cry.

Dream had seen George cry before, but never the way he did on the couch. The tears had dripped down in silence, nothing but pain bottled up in a shiny droplet.

There was no anger, or sadness, or any other emotion in his eyes, just his own twisted reflection in those gorgeous colorblind irises and the way George pressed his lips together as if to keep from saying something.

He'd gotten caught up in how good it felt to let out everything that had dragged him down, and now it was dragging George down too.

It was what he did.

He hurt people, he told them about his pain and it made them hurt just like him. He made two people hurt when he could have just been hurt alone. He didn't understand why it kept happening, didn't know how to stop it, only knew that it was suffocating and gut wrenching and he hated it.

Why did the universe deal him these cards? Why was he given the best friend anyone could ever ask for, but filled with so much pain inside that he couldn't be the way George wanted him.

George healed him, sure, but was Dream sucking the happiness out of him in exchange for his own?

He was stressing the boy out by being here, that much was clear.

What kind of friend did what he'd done, put their friend through this? Not a very good one.

George deserved so much better.

If only George had turned him away, said it was too much. But his heart was good and pure and loving, and it scared Dream.

He was scared to be loved by George. If he got attached, he'd only get hurt. Dream didn't want him to get hurt.

That meant that he shouldn't be holding his hand as they sat on the couch, each swaddled with blankets. He had to let go, but he couldn't make himself do it. He needed George, and he was too damn selfish to go without the British boy.

He got startled by his phone ringing.

Sapnaps face took up the screen as it buzzed in Dream's free hand. He answered and put the phone to his ear, trying to be as quiet as he could.

"Nick?" He said. Sapnap snorted at the real name.

"Yeah. Look, I was just wondering if you're okay. I feel like we haven't talked in forever, and I'm worried about you." He said. Sapnap seemed harsh when you didn't know him, and he put up a tough guy front for the fans, but he was a huge softie.

"Aw, Sappynappy...But don't worry man, I'm doing alright. I'm maybe not the best I've ever been, but I'll be okay," he said, finding himself unable to completely lie to his friend.

"Oh, ok, well, that makes me feel a bit better. You know you can always call me, I'm here for you." Dream smiled, warmth flooding through him. Sapnap paused for a second before asking his next question.

"By the way, have you talked to George recently?"