Downhill || 𝘥𝘯𝘧

XI

"Mm, this is good," George said between bites before scooping a fork-full of rice and orange chicken into his mouth. Dream nodded from the opposite side of the table.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, taking another bite of his eggroll. "It's nice to have something other than chicken or pizza once in a while," he added, brushing a strand of sandy brown hair from his forehead.

"Pff, is that what you and Nick eat a lot?" George asked, covering his mouth with his fist because he had food in his mouth.

"Yeah, at least once a week," Dream chuckled in response. "Usually I don't want to cook, so we either get chicken, pizza, or some other type of fast food. For a while we had something of a meal plan, like I suggested to you, but then Nick cancelled it because it was the same stuff every week. The alternative wasn't much better, obviously. But you know how reckless he can be sometimes," Dream said with a shake of his head. "The food was kind of repetitive, but it was still good."

"I got sick of that meal plan, too. They really need to switch it up," George agreed, taking another bite of one of his potstickers.

Dream scoffed in response, and the two ate in comfortable silence. Dream was watching the TV in the corner of the room, giving George the perfect opportunity to stare at him while trying not to be weird about it.

He had a sharp jawline and light stubble on the lower portion of his face. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken before; making him look just that much more irresistible. George still couldn't get over his eyes. Though he was colorblind, the colors still seemed to pop to him; more than any other eyes he'd ever seen.

He felt himself growing a crush all over again.

First he had fallen for Dream's personality and voice, and now he was smitten with his appearance. Why did everything about him have to be so perfect?

Suddenly Dream's gaze dropped from the TV and he caught George looking. He instantly looked down at his plate, blinking in embarrassment and stabbing at his orange chicken with his fork.

When he looked back up to see if Dream had looked away yet, he was flustered to see that he was still looking, studying his face as if he were trying to memorize it. Their eyes met, and they both looked away this time. George scoffed, staring at the wall in embarrassment.

A minute passed of silent eating before Dream finally said something.

"So, any news on your parents since we last talked about it?" He asked, setting down his fork to have a conversation. George cleared his throat and did the same.

"Yes, actually," he replied. "It's not much of anything, but a the other day the doctors said that my mom's breathing was improving, and soon she might not need the breathing tube. They also said that she was moving in her sleep, which was a good sign. I'm hoping that she'll wake up soon," George re-iterated the previous events, sounding hopeful.

"That's good to see some sign of improvement," Dream said, nodding. "A lot of people are sending their love. Nick and I, included," he added.

George nodded in response. Suddenly he felt obligated to apologize to Dream for not talking to him for that entire week.

"Dream, listen," he started. "I'm... sorry for probably worrying you by not talking to you for, you know, almost an entire week.