Love Bites

Chapter 4: Nyctophilia

warnings: detailed talk of blood, injury, swearing, burn injury

Why do I stick around?

Dream freezes.

It was a good question. George doesn't really give him anything, and while Dream had intended to come here and just get the bite over with, now...

It wasn't that his instincts had dropped, on the contrary, actually. His idea is simple; end the stupid attachment he has to George once he got inside with a swift bite into his skin. Easy.

When he opened the door to see George standing casually with two bleeding injuries, it was surprising that it only made things more difficult.

The overpowering scent of human blood rushed into his nose and sent his brain on a high that made everything else disappear. No doorway, no cool breeze from behind, no dim street lights just barely illuminating George's pale skin. It was just George. George had stood in front of him, a desaturated grey figure, blood staining red to a vibrancy that was sickening.

Dream's tongue moves to speak without his intention, but it seemed his brain had other plans that opposed his heart. While every inch of his body wants to lunge forward and rip and tear and sink into all of that red, he finds he really hates something.

He hates that George is hurt. It was the same feeling he had that night when they met, when he saw the saddening haze glossing over his chocolate eyes, it sunk deep into some part of Dream that he couldn't just brush off.

And somehow, that's something powerful enough to keep him down.

Not by a lot, but it's enough.

Why does he stick around? Was that it? George being hurt? Was it something about how he hated the thought of someone mistreating George when he'd done nothing wrong, but no, not just that, George is a good person. And George deserves more than just to be discarded by the world. George deserves-

George deserves better than that.

"-eam?"

"What?" Dream whips his head up. His heart is in his ears.

"You know you don't have to answer, you look like you're gonna explode or something." George giggles lightly. Dream's face heats with embarrassment as George turns around to face him.

"Well I don't wanna give you an answer that..." is true. "...isn't true."

"And I don't want you having a heart attack over deciding what to say." George laughs slyly. "You don't have to say. I don't care."

Thank God.

"So you don't mind if I stay longer?"

Why would I ask that?

George perks up. "Of course not, you're w-welcome in my house as long as you want."

Dream finds himself smiling. "Thank you, George." His voice comes out softer than intended. George smiles back, and they take a moment of just looking at each other. The corners of his eyes have a small pink tint to them, Dream notices. It made his eyes look warmer. George averts his gaze and stands, heading to the white-tiled kitchen behind the couch. He gently slips his right sleeve back onto his injured shoulder.

"Are you hungry at all?" George asks.

"God, yes-" Dream immediately answers out of impulse, and nearly chokes as he stops himself. "No. I mean- no. I'm not hungry."

George glances at him with an amused expression. "That doesn't sound like you're not hungry."

Dream scoffs. "I ate already. I was just...joking." Dream didn't know if he could handle the look on George's face if somehow he realized that Dream's canine teeth were a little too sharp to be human. That look of...whatever it would be, he couldn't handle that.