It Was Never the End DreamNotFound

Chapter 16

Dream POV

This is so fucked up. 

Dream's mind was spinning as he took in the new information. The "George" in the brunette's dream had heterochromatic eyes. The same eyes Dream saw when he was unconscious. The owner of the eyes also had George's voice. 

All of that had to mean something, but Dream didn't understand how any of it was possible. He knew George was thinking the same thing. Except there was two parts Dream had conveniently left out. The first being the winged man's face looking identical in all the details George had no way of knowing. 

The second was something that the heterochromatic eyes said. Don't inflict the pain I did.

George's first nightmare had been of "himself" dying in the arms of the winged man. Which made Dream wonder... could the voice that spoke to him have been referring to George's original nightmare? 

A light pressure on his left side made Dream glance down, and his heart melted. George's head had dropped to Dream's shoulder. Lost in thought, the brunette nudged his nose lightly into Dream's uninjured shoulder. George breathed deeply, his eyes half-lidded. 

Cute. Dream was secretly loving how much closer George was getting to him lately. He doubted the brunette noticed. George hadn't cuddled with Dream since the night he'd woken up, but he did often stretch out an arm and softly tug Dream's sleeve in his sleep.

Dream would always reach out and gently cup George's cheek, savoring the moment. Each time he did, George would nuzzle into his palm, breathing in Dream's scent like he was now. Dream would reluctantly retract his hand before he fell asleep, knowing he'd likely pull George in for a snuggle unconsciously if he didn't.

The change in behavior gave Dream a tiny bit of hope. One he was far too scared to act on. 

Dream hesitated before gently brushing George's hair from his brown eyes. His shoulder protested slightly from the movement but he didn't care. Not when those warm eyes looked up at him. Dream was silently relieved for his mask. He knew his own green eyes would be flooded with love and affection like the hopeless romantic he was.

He'd follow this beautiful boy anywhere, even if it meant joining a group he wasn't particularly interested in.

One Week Later

"Finally!" Dream gave his ax a test swing. His muscles felt sore from underuse, his shoulder a little tight, but he felt great. Holding his ax gave him a surge of energy.

"Just don't overdo it," Wilbur warned. "Try to focus your hits with your left arm for awhile."

"Got it." Normally Dream wasn't one to listen to others, unless said others was a cute brown-haired British boy with an attitude, but Wilbur had earned his respect. Dream's shoulder was healing extremely well, and he knew Wilbur's medical skills had a lot to do with that.

"Should he really be using his ax so soon after his stitches came out?" George was hovering nearby anxiously.

"I'm fine, Georgie. Look." Dream gave his ax a good spin. "It doesn't hurt, and I won't overdo it."

Before George could reply, Tommy butted in. "Will you teach me how to fight with an ax, Big Man?"

"Uh, well... axes aren't easy to find. The skill would be useless." Somehow Dream didn't think it would be a good idea to give Tommy an ax.

"George would make me an ax. Right, Gogy?" Tommy looked pleadingly at George. 

George scowled. "No."