pray the rosary ✟ dnf

hail mary II

"George, you can go sit down," his mother mumbled to him, waving a hand at the chairs sat around a small coffee table. "I'll be talking to Brenda and Jon if you need anything."

George nodded in afirmation, before going to sit on one of the chairs. He slouched back in it, letting his head roll backwards so he could stare at the ceiling tiredly. One handreached up to undo the top button of his shirt gently, and he sighed to himself when he felt the fabric seperate slightly.

"Am I interrupting something?"

George's head jerked over to look at the boy he had been staring at during the sermon. The boy stood with his shoulders hunched, like he didn't want to be seen all that much. His eyes were... green or blue- George wasn't sure.

"Not at all," George blurted, his face burning with embarassment. "You can sit if you want?"

The boy grinned at him and fell- quite literally- into the armchair opposite of George. His arms crossed over his chest, but not before undoing his own top button of his shirt. "I'm Dream."

"Dream?" George questioned. Usually, he wouldn't think twice about it, but something about Dream just made his tongue slip a little too much, and made his thoughts jumbled.

"Yeah," Dream shrugged. "What about you?"

"Oh! I'm George," George thought about shaking his hand, but quickly realized that was something that older people do- not teenagers.

"So what's your story, George?" Dream inquired as his head tilted, curiosity coloring his tone and movements.

"My story?" George frowned, one hand subconsciously going to rub at his inner wrist. "Um, I was born and raised here. Raised Catholic, too. I'm seventeen; a senior in high school. Uhh-"

"No- I just- I meant why are you here?" Dream corrected, but it wasn't rude, rather he sounded... confused.

"I'm Catholic," George stated, the end pitching higher and sounding like a question. "Catholics go to church."

"There's no other reason?" Dream asked as he sat up a little straighter. "Not because someone is forcing you, or because you think you have to, or-"

"George, it's time to go," George's mother was suddenly by his side, laying a hand heavily on his shoulder.

"Oh, okay." George stood quickly, waving to Dream quickly. "Bye, Dream."

Dream waved back, and George turned to follow his mother.

✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟

George's mother was gripping her steering wheel tightly. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and the music was off as she drove. A heavy silence clouded the air, causing George to shift uncomfortably every now and again.

"George, you know I love you," she started.

George glanced at her, taking in her general aura. "Yeah?"

"And you know I want you to make friends."

Fuck. "Mhm."

"But... Not that kid."

"What? Why not?" George asked incredulously.

"I've heard... Bad things about him. And I don't want you getting the wrong ideas," she pressed her lips tightly together again. "This is not an argument. I'm telling you to stay away from him." She turned the music on, turning it up a few notches when George opened his mouth.

George sighed to himself and turned to stare out the window. He wasn't sure why his mother had instructed this, but she knew best. Mothers always know best.

Or do they? A voice tickled George's brain. Dream didn't seem like a bad guy... Maybe he just did some dumb stuff. Maybe he's changed- or trying to change.

George hoped he changed. Dream seemed so effortlessly cool, and charming. Something about him was captivating, and George desperately wanted to befriend him.

If he were to try, knowing his mother's wishes, he would have to break some rules. He would be going against what he had been taught, and he wasn't sure if Dream was worth the risk.

Sure, George and his mother had fights and arguments before, but they were always small things. Never George directly going against her wishes.

He would see Dream on Sunday, hopefully. He had an entire week to think about his options.