in an alternate reality - dreamnotfound

Chapter Six

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"I'll call it all off tomorrow." Dream said in between breaths. "First thing in the morning, I promise."
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Dream lied on his back, facing the ceiling. A sliver of moonlight that managed to slip through a crack in the blinds shifted across the ceiling to the other side of the room, a sign that the curtains had been moved.

He didn't bother to look over at the window, making the bold assumption that it was only the wind that had moved the curtains.

The moonlight continued to shift, dancing across the ceiling in patterns so effortlessly symmetrical that he actually envied them. He traced them with his finger held up in the air, one eye closed. They moved quicker than his hand.

A small creak came from beside him, a sign that pressure had been applied to the wood flooring. He whipped his head in that direction.

"Dream." A familiar voice breathed out.

Dream's eyes narrowed against the dark in a fruitless attempt to see across the room. The door had been swung open and there was a shadowy figure standing there completely stiff, their hands clasped in front of their body and their feet pressed close together. They looked totally uncomfortable.

Dream sat up in his bed, moving the comforter aside with his hand. He shifted until his body was free of the comfort that the blankets had offered, and kicked his legs over the edge, the soles of his feet barely hovering above the floor.

"George?" His response came as a question rather than a desire, as George's had seemingly been delivered. "What are you doing in my room?"

"I just," George crept closer, close enough that Dream could reach out and touch him, tug him closer. He didn't.

"You just what, George?" Dream asked as softly and carefully as he could muster up. He held out a hand, as if he were talking to a wild animal.

Fingers were laced with his own and he smiled, tilted his head up to look at the boy before him. George was dressed in his pajamas: sweatpants that were too big for him and a shirt that was even bigger. His hair was all messed up and Dream wondered what could've possibly caused such mussed hair.

Dream squeezed George's hand in his own, and looked up at him, green meeting brown in a room so dark that they were unable to recognize one another's features. But Dream had sculpted George's face into the side of his brain, so he knew. He knew that George was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he knew that George's eyes were drooping with the lack of sleep he had received all night.

"George~" Dream practically sang. He placed a hand on George's cheek. "George, what's wrong?"

George sighed, his hand moving to grip the one on his cheek. He moved it, back to Dream's lap.

Dream watched worriedly as George sat down beside him on his bed. Both of them were silent, waiting for George to find the correct words for him to speak his mind.

"Dream, are you really-" He choked on what sounded like a sob, and Dream was quick to reach out. George was even quicker to flinch away. "Please, I can take care of myself."

Dream placed his hand back on his lap, glancing around the room in an effort to distract himself. He felt that if he gave George his full attention, he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to console him.