Tw: violence, pain, alcohol, intrusive thoughts
'Please stop, I'm sorry! I'll get you whatever you want just please! Please stop!'
Warm, salty tears trickled down George's face as he was shoved to the ground by his father minutes before. He was home a few minutes past curfew. 'You bastard! I thought I told you to be home by your Goddamn curfew!' A glass was brought down on George's head, by a raging drunk. George cried out as he felt a glass shard stab his forehead. He hoped his brother was here. He needed Wilbur right now,, or else this man would be the last thing he saw.
'Wilbur!' George tried to get away from the angry drunk he called his dad. He fled up the stairs, just barely locking his door and keeping out an excuse of a father.
George didn't even care about the lingering glass in his skin, he threw himself onto his bed and curled up in a weeping ball, just crying into his hands and knees, wishing for this nightmare we call life to end. please, please please
He eventually fell asleep, tear trails staining his face. He woke up in the middle of the night, his mouth dry, begging for water. He stumbled in through his dark room, to his bathroom. He turned the light on, allowing his eyes to adjust before getting water.
He looked up at himself in the mirror. Crusted blood and tears painted his pale skin. He grabbed a cloth, put it under the running water, and started wiping his face. The blood eventually came off. He turned the light off, and stumbled to his led lights and turned them on, taking the remote and turning them to the darkest red.
He sat on his bed, he just sat there, alone with the quiet. His face was cut up, a long gash actually printed itself onto his left cheek, going to his chin. He glanced over at his bedside clock. 2:16
'Oh' he laid back down, and just as he was about to fall asleep, there was a weird sound at his window. Ignoring it, he rolled over. But it kept going. Again. And again.
Irritated, he got up and went to his window. He saw nothing, but just then a face popped up. He stumbled back.
He got a closer look. No.fucking.way.
This weird ass, popular kid, followed him home. AND ITS 2:20 IN THE FRICKING MORNING. He groaned as he opened the window. Dream hastily clambered in, and immediately cupped George's face. 'Are you okay?! I saw everything!'
'what..'
'I'm sorry I followed you, but you were ignoring me!'
'Oh my god. Jesus clay you're a creep!'
George tried to get out of Dream's grip, but he was unsuccessful, as Dream examined George, sitting him down on the bed. Too close
A light red blush appeared on George's face. Dream smirked. 'That shade looks good with your brown eyes, you should wear it more often.' George only scoffed. 'You're an ass. Go back to your house.'
'I'm afraid I can't do that Georgie. I told my parents I'm at Nick's, but I'm clearly not.' George rolled his eyes. 'No shit.'
'You can just sleep in my bed I guess..'
George grabbed some of the comforter, putting it over his shoulder. Dream slid in next to him, though there was still space.
Before George laid down he made sure to lock the door. Now, as he was drifting to sleep, his mind wandered to his childhood, where he still had his mother and, a good father.
As Dream finally heard the soft snores coming from the brunette, he rolled over, putting his arm over George and hooking him closer, closing the space in between them. He put his remaining arm under George's head, and, within minutes, fell asleep.
-/-/-/-/-/-
I be stayin up for this shit /j
