The Railroad

Chapter 12

When George woke again, he was in Dream's lap in almost the same exact position as when Dream carried him away from Corpse. The first thing he noticed was that they were no longer in the grocery store. Instead, they were in a small field off the highway, a small fire crackling a little ways away.

Dream had made them a little cover to block the rain which finally decided to fall. It wasn't big, probably why George was literally on top of him, but he couldn't exactly say he was complaining. The events of the previous day (or whenever it was when he was last awake) were still hazy, though the main points were still there. However, one particular sentence for some reason decided to stick with him "This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

Did he really believe he was to blame for this? Well of course he did: he was Dream.

The brunet looked up at him then, seeing how the blond was staring into the distance. When he felt George stir, he looked down and smiled. The taller boy looked exhausted, eyelids barely open and purple circles underneath them. Yet he still had his arms around George, holding him upwards and cradling the brunet against his chest.

"When did you last sleep?" George asked sleepily. He went to lift his hand to Dream's face, but as soon as he moved it a terrible pain shot through it. He hissed, looking down at the bloodied bandage around his wound.

"It doesn't matter. I'll sleep later; you're the priority for now," Dream mumbled. He shifted them so they were in an upright position and carefully cupped George's cheek in the hand that wasn't supporting his back. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Tell me how I can help you."

"I'm fine, Dream. Really, I am. You don't have to baby me. But do you have ibuprofen? My hand hurts like a bitch."

Dream laughed and grabbed the bag, quickly finding a bottle of the medication and handing it to George. The brunet glared up at Dream, and the blond raised an eyebrow before realizing he couldn't open it. He took it back, screwing off the lid and taking two of the red pills. When George held his unharmed hand out to take them, the blond pushed it back down gently.

"Open wide," he laughed,

"There's no way I'm letting you feed me, you ass," George grumbled, eyes forming slits.

"Then there's no way you're getting this medicine."

Dream clasped the hand holding the pills into a fist, smirking as he did so. George glared at him. Seeing as his hand was only hurting worse and worse, he finally gave in and opened his mouth. Smugly, Dream dropped the pills in.

"Now that wasn't so hard."

"Die."

Dream wheezed at that, and George joined for a second. But he soon became dizzy, and had to shut his eyes to calm his aching head. The blond was staring down at him, a concerned expression taking place of the humor. Gingerly, Dream reached back and felt the spot on the brunet's head from when he'd fallen. When he brought the hand back there was dry blood on it, which he simply wiped off on his pants.

"As soon as this rain stops we'll take care of your head, okay?" George nodded, laying his head on Dream's shoulder and snuggling further into his chest as a chilly breeze blew past, tickling his arm hairs. "Corpse is dead. You don't have anything to be scared of anymore. You're okay now."

"I wasn't worried," George murmured, close to falling back to sleep. "I feel very safe with you."

"That may just be your first mistake, princess," the blond whispered, leaning down and kissing the brunet's hair. George didn't hear him or feel this, as he'd already gone back to black.

~~~

"No way," George gasped.

They had spent the entire day sitting next to their campfire, telling each other stories. Dream had just explained how he and his childhood best friend had vandalized a police car in Orlando and gone to jail for three days before they made bail. After it, his friend's mom who had paid the bail made them work at her and her wife's restaurant for a whole month in order to pay it off.