SKY FULL OF STARS, dreamnotfound

CHAPTER 3, VOLANS

- sky full of stars -
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎

VOLANS; the flying fish
𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛-𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛. 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚠.

in which george eats
ikea meatballs,
makes a friend...
and learns how to
independently
cross a road.

sky full of stars, chapter three
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.9ᴋ

AROUND THREE HOURS and two cups of earl grey tea later, George witnessed the sun's halo of light cast a shimmering blanket over New York City. The prior intimacy of the dark New York night was left forgotten and cast away, preparing civilians for a new beginning- a new page.

Despite the light being incredibly painful for a man still nursing himself from a heavy hangover, George much preferred being here- watching this- than in a puddle of his vomit, sleeping in a bathtub (like some people)- or worse: in last night's nightmare.

George couldn't remember his last vivid dream, but something about the nightmare sat above his chest, weighing him down. He couldn't seem to bring himself back to sleep after his midnight tea; he blamed it on the jet lag and overworking mind. He opted to listen to sounds of the city traffic; it was a refreshing change from the melodic, droning bird songs from his previous abode.

However, the phantom sting of cold water still lingered on George's skin, the constant paranoia of the suffocating, sinking and drowning living in the forefront of his mind. He felt the words uttered by his long-forgotten friend burn every crevice of his brain, like an untreatable tumour gnawing at every nerve and organ.

No tangible number of freshly brewed teas could soothe the man's present discomfort.

George, despite the silent hours spent trying to forget all the heavy contents of last night's dream, the feeling of bitterness and resentment for Dream remained idly latched to his chest.

However long he spent reaffirming to himself that it was all a dream, the longer he submerged himself with thinking and remembering the events. With no wifi, a view of New York City, lingering jetlag, an irritable hangover and hours until the sun rose, George had a lot of time to sit and think.

-

"Morning, Georgie," Nick greeted, his voice husky as he groggily hobbled out of the bathroom, moving to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. His dark circles were almost as bad as George's. He was wearing a brown mess of untamed hair, and the persistent smell of alcohol and sickness stalking his every move.

"Morning," George greeted back, relieved that Nick had since left their bathroom so he could finally take that long-overdue shower and rid himself of the stickiness from the airport, bar, and sleep.

"Sleep well?" George grinned, a boyish chuckle aimed at the man attempting to rub out the created aches and knots of last night's rest from his lower back. The sight of Nick was no new surprise; he could fall asleep on the roof of a moving train and sleep just as soundly.