Your Ghost • Sequel to Text Back

10+×Warm×+10

<<As always, song is inspo. (tw for intrusive thoughts in the song tho)

Enjoy💖>>

When day broke, George wasn't there to see it.

He was curled up in the basement, a thick circle of ice on the ground the only proof he had ever moved that night.

With his path was frozen into the concrete, George unsure if the mark he left would ever be melted away.

Only when he heard movement from upstairs did he rise, albeit begrudgingly.

Dream and Sapnap were in the kitchen, Sapnap sitting on the counter.

A sweet siren song of a memory played in George's mind- light-up skechers banging against wood, a laugh ringing in the air like bells, comfortable stances and bodies leaning towards each other with a sense of longing that had since sizzled up and died.

Sapnap's eyes brightened as he spotted George, a smile lighting up his face like a fireplace in the dark of winter. Dream hadn't noticed his presence yet, so George made it known with a soft voice.

"Hi Dream. Hi Sapnap," he greeted, crossing his legs in the air like he had done many times before.

Dream jumped a little, the egg in his hand nearly slipping from his grip. He turned to face George, his eyes seeing through him in a way the ghost had never fully gotten used to.

"Good morning Geo!" His voice was light and unaltered by a tension that had been weighing down upon him for the past few months.

Hearing his petname made George flush, smoothing the hem of his shirt and fighting back the stupid smile it brought to his face.

"How are you?" the question was refreshingly genuine.

Sparks of heat from the stovetop warmed George as Dream cranked it up after finally cracking the egg that had been settled in his hand for the few minutes George had been in his presence.

He could feel eyes on him as he flew over to sit in between Sapnap and Dream, humming a half-forgotten tune to himself.

"Cold," the answer was automatic, the shrug almost an afterthought.

Whisps of steam rose from the pan as Dream cracked the egg into it. His movements were stiff; it was clear that George's answer wasn't the one he was looking for.

Though his gaze flicked away as soon as George met it, it wasn't fast enough for him not to catch the pity glimmering in his friend's chocolate eyes.

"What are you making?" George chose to ignore the look, pushing the heavy feeling threatening to build in his gut aside.

"Omelettes. It was Sap's choice," Dream gestured towards Sapnap, who hummed.

"You do make the best ones," he replied, shrugging.

George sat down, resting his head on his hand as he watched Sapnap and Dream settle into a conversation.

Their gestures hypnotized the ghost as they spoke, his pale white eyes unable to look away from the gentle way Dream's fingers cut through the air, or how Sapnap's hands snapped from one place to the other.

He liked it.

All comfort eventually ceases, and so did the warmth of breakfast. It passed by faster than George had hoped. The warmth of Sapnap and Dream was a comfort he so desperately needed, but as the alive cleaned up their meal George felt the cold of the days before creeping back into the air.

In his panic to not lose this small slice of heat that he had just gotten back he blurted out the first thing to come to mind.

"Pillow fort."