Survivors

7. The boy from my dreams

Sapnap POV:

After what happened with Quackity he didn't really speak to anyone for another few days. And when ever someone would bring it up, he would always turn the conversation to a different direction.

George was the one who was intrigued the most by the creature.

"Whats it like? To see it?" He asked for the hundredth time that hour.

Quackity and Karl shifted in their seats, obviously uncomfortable.

"Leave them alone George. It's just a dream, it's not going to hurt them at all. Alright. It's not like it means anything significant. Just let it go." Dream said, staring at the open road ahead of him.

"Yeah George let it go. Like Elsa." I replied. George just turned around in his seat and stuck his tongue out at me.

"Shut up. It's the only interesting thing that's happened so far." He replied, turning back around in his seat.

"Are you telling me Dream falling in that ditch thirty minutes ago wasn't interesting?" I asked, smirking.

"It was amusing, not interesting, those words mean different things. But of course you don't know that because you have that Texas education." George replied, talking in that stupid stereotypical country accent when he said the last two words.

They all started laughing.

"No but seriously. Both of you had basically the same dream, seeing the same angel or demon, or whatever it is, in the same place, and I find that interesting." George just needed to shut up about the dreams at this point.

"It's not. It's terrifying." Karl spoke up. "I hate it. I hated what I saw and I didn't want Q to experience the same thing, but he did, worse. And I feel like it's all my fault." Karl continued, trying to hold back his sobs, but eventually giving in.

Quackity patted his back. I didn't really know what to do. Back when he was crying about Quackityin the mall was different, there Karl though Quackity was dying, now, he's just breaking down, so much more mentally vulnerable than before.

Dream pulled into a parking lot of a motel 6 and stopped the car. "You guys can stay here, George come with me. Bring your handgun." Dream said.

George whined. "Why?"

"Because you basically caused this, so come with me so I can make sure we're safe to stay for the night." Dream replied, opening George's door and dragging him out of the vehicle.

"I'm sorry about George." I said. "He can be really blunt sometimes and ask dumb questions. He really doesn't have a sense of voice in that sense I guess." I tried to make the situation better.

Over the next ten minutes Karl had calmed down from his cry and the two 'lovebirds' came back with the all clear.

George's POV:

All I wanted was to know more about the angel demon thing.

It had seemed so familiar, like I had seen it before.

When I was younger I had dreamed about this boy in a green cloak that glittered with golden jewelry, he wore a mask at all times to hide his face from me. He told me one day he would reveal himself, and that day would be the day everything got better. But he never said for who.

I remember taking several naps throughout the day just to see this boy in my dreams. I had asked him what his name was several times and all he responded with was

"XD"

And of course I laughed because that's not a real name. But he never did. It was those times that scared me most when I was with him.

The skies would change from sunlight with golden rays glowing throughout the bright blue sky to dark gray Claud's looming over us, tempting to strike us with thunder.

But those times never lasted long.

I remember after years of doing this, just to meet him, my mother took me to the. Doctors and told them there was something wrong with me. She told them I slept too much, but she was just a jealous twat, mad that I slept more than her, mad that I had someone who looked foreword to seeing me, and I them.

I was diagnosed with Narcolepsy. Over the years I stopped falling asleep to see him. I even forgot about him. But I still slept.

I can't believe I forgot about him.

But this green angel reminds me of him.

How he looked like the softest person you could ever meet, but could tear you to shreds the minute you or someone else insulted something he liked, or me.

But I guess I was something he liked.

I don't really know, and my memory of him faded away, again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count; 793

George knowing who the angel is? Nahhhhhhhhhhhh

What do we feel about this one guys?