DNF//ONESHOTS

late nights [ fluff ]

a/n: felt bad for delayed fluff chapter last time SO.. here it is. the first half is good, why? that's when i write fanfics after reading and after I read.. it's like my brain is a whole other writing machine. safe to say that it is A LOT better than my writing at two am whilst being brain dead. so please bare with me, the first half is much, much better than the second.

dedicated to: the folks who listen to wilbur, glass animals, radiator hospital, p4rker.. etc ALSO LET ME KNOW IF YOU GUYS WANT MY SPOTIFY?? I wanna see your guy's music taste.

summary: george gets heartbroken after reading a tragic book. however, there's a cure for that and it's in Dreams heart.

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late nights [ fluff ]

BIG WARNING BEFORE WE START..

this is a VERY long chapter and I highly recommend taking breaks in between. this story is roughly 3000 words long, and by shocker, those are a lot of words to read in one sitting! please make sure to take a few minutes to cool before continuing to the next part.

George closed the book shut, taking in all of the feelings, tears, and emotions he went through in the past six hours. The book, "They Both Die at the End," stayed shut and alone in the depths of his bookshelf for months now, but out of nowhere, he decided to read it all today. That, of course, was a mistake. With a pile of slimy and wet tissues lying by his side, he set the book down onto his desk and slumped back into his chair. The faint melancholic music blasted through his headphones that were thrown onto the desk out of frustration a few moments prior.

"Oh my god," he stifled silent tears that came rushing down his warm cheeks. The book, like it did to many others, crushed him. He felt so hollow, empty. The bittersweet ending left him empty handed, or half-handed? He didn't know.

His door creaked open, light from downstairs made a shining entrance. "George, it's time for supper," his sister said. She probably saw the crying but didn't say anything. Nor did George care.

He lazily got off the chair he had sat on for the last six hours and let out a hoarse exhale. His joints cracked, backside terribly aching, and his back almost giving out.

"Tell Mum I'll be out in a sec," he said, his voice drained of energy. His sister shut the door quietly and went downstairs. He opened the door again, exposing himself to eye straining lighting that wasn't his purple LEDS. He went straight to the restroom.

The water ran cold, but it was a nice refresher especially for the heatwaves nearing in June. He splashed his face repeatedly until he felt slightly better and headed downstairs.

His father was placing down square plates onto the placemats while his mother was frying a few sausages. "Look who came out of their room!"

He sighed, he saw that coming from miles away. "Sorry, I was reading a book." He hardly read, so this was hard for anyone to believe it.

They all didn't say anything, though. George's mom took a quick look at him. Rumpled sweatshirt despite it being 78 degrees at 8 PM, and grey shorts. And the obvious fact that he was crying his eyes out over two teenage boys who died too soon in a fictional book.

"Have you been crying?," she asked, crossing her arms. It caught him off guard.

Without him even knowing, he held his breath. "No?," he lied. "Why would you think that?"

She didn't respond.

He dropped the subject and grabbed the utensils from the sliding cabinet. Tonight's dinner: potatoes (again), sausage, and peas. Oh, and can't forget the bread that his sister made yesterday.