𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕄𝕖 - Ⓓ Ⓝ Ⓕ

~4~

George woke up once again to pain, but his head was clearer, somehow.

A hand was holding onto this, the touch letting George know that he wasn't alone, and that he had someone there to lean on. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was lying on a bed, and couldn't exactly remember how he got there. The last thing he could recall would be throwing up in the hospital hallway, and he felt guilt course through him as he remembered the mess he made.

The mask that covered his face was tight and uncomfortable, but George could openly argue that it made breathing so, so much easier. He shuffled upwards slightly, the pain in his head and stomach pulsing, and looked down at the sleeping figure in front of him. Dream was grasping onto his hand, his cheek resting where they connected, and George twirled his fingers slightly, curling Dream's light brown hair.

Dream looked exhausted. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his face looked paler than usual. George hated how tired his friend was, knowing that it was all his fault that they were in this position, but he was grateful Dream was here with him. If he had to go through something like this with someone, then he would have wanted his best friend.

George raised his right hand and reached across his torso to where Dream's head was, entwining his fingers with his hair. Dream startled slightly at the touch, and blinked his green eyes open slowly. He yawned, the action pressing George's clasped hand deeper into his cheek, and if George wasn't hurting, he would've wrapped the other man in a hug.

Dream looked up, meeting eyes with George, and offered him a sorrowful smile. "Hey, how are you feeling?" Dream's hands took both of his, and he held them gently, caressing them.

George smiled and squeezed his hand. "I feel . . . coherent. Like, I can understand what's happening now." George answered honestly, and was glad when he saw Dream's gaze soften.

"That's great, George," Dream released one of his hands, and reached across George, hesitantly placing his hand over his abdomen. George tensed slightly at the touch, at first thinking it was a little odd, but something about it felt familiar, and George somehow knew that this wasn't the first time Dream had placed his hand in the area. George couldn't remember when, though. "How does your stomach feel?"

George sighed, and leaned back into the bed. He wasn't going to question the cartoon patterning alongside the rail. "It hurts a lot, especially towards the left side, but I feel bloated."

Dream frowned. "Why would you feel bloated? You haven't eaten anything, and have been sick a few times now."

"I don't know, maybe it's because I'm lying down," George answered, shifting his shoulders. "My body feels so heavy."

George looked down towards his lap and watched the way his and Dream's fingers entwined. Dream's hand wouldn't stop moving in his, his fingers dancing across George's and his thumb running along his knuckles. And despite George being hundreds of miles away from England, he felt at home.

He looked up and met eyes with his best friend. George loved Dream's eyes. Even though they looked a vibrant yellow to George because of his colourblindness, they were still beautiful.

"Thank you for being here with me, Dream," George held Dream's hand tightly, and Dream looked up at him with an unmistakable glint in his eyes. "You're a really good person."

"You don't need to thank me, George," Dream smiled. "I'd do anything for you, and making sure that you're okay is at the top of my priority list."

Dream reached out to hug George, and George felt like he was going to cry. He rested his chin on Dream's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his torso, and melted when Dream threaded his fingers through his hair. He missed this. George missed feeling loved.