𝑰 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑶𝒍𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖...

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎.

3rd POV:

George woke up, listening to the faint soft snores coming from his boyfriend's chest whom he had apparently fallen asleep on. 

He stretched his legs as he gently removed his boyfriend from him, seeing as the blond had his arms wrapped around his boyfriend's body. The brunet got off the bed, slipping on his black Vans. He usually wore them around the house, just to not have cold feet due to their floors being mainly wood or tile.

He opened their bedroom door, making his way down the hall and down the flight of stairs. He heard voices but they were quite inaudible since they may have been farther down the stairs. 

The brunet hit the platform at the bottom, now trekking into the kitchen. He was met with two clearly pissed men sitting at the kitchen's island. 

"George, you're awake." Alex sarcastically said, folding his hands and glancing at Wilbur then back to the confused brunet.

"Yes- but what's Wilbur doing here- you both know Dream could wake up at any moment?!" George whisper-shouted. 

You see, Alex had Wilbur on call throughout last night's whole situation. Wilbur immediately came over, and spent the night at their place with Alex on the couch and him at the other end of it. Well, the two had heard George saying something about loving only Dream. And clearly, it was a bullshit lie. 

"You know what you-*hic* fucking did, you tell Wilbur*hic* you love*hic* him, then you tell Dream *hic* the same thing?! What *hic*the fuck is wrong with *hic*y-" Alex was cut off by a rough cough coming from behind George. 

He should've listened to George when he said Dream had incredible hearing. 

A pair of muscular toned arms wrapped around the burnet's waist, as the brunet glared at Alex warningly. Alex was clearly drunk. Meaning he wasn't in the right mindset whatsoever, and Wilbur seemed high as fuck. His eyes were bloodshot and his veins in his neck were slightly popping out.

"What's Alex talking about, babe?" The blond cooed gently, acting oblivious to the situation.

"I-he-" The brunet began stuttering, unable to get a single word out.

"Spit it out, babe. I don't want to hurt you more than I've already done. We don't want that, do we now..?" Dream gently reminded his lover, putting a hand over the wound from the day before. 

"He's drunk, uh, I think it's yours- the alcohol... you need to stop drinking, love.." George quickly covered and glided to a different topic, he didn't feel like having the shit beat out of him especially this early in the morning. And with Wilbur half awake and watching...

"You're accusing me of drinking? Fucking seriously? I can stop drinking if it makes you happier babe.. but it's hard, you know that." Dream cooed, shoving his lover off of his body as he walked over to the counter and began preparing breakfast for the four. He was planning to give Wilbur the least, as per usual the latter hadn't been there yet. 

"George..? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would- *hic*- you say something like th-*hic*that to the p-*hic*-poor men..?" Alex drunkenly asked, wobbling over to the brunet and pushing him against the wall. 

"Alex- get off-" George sighed, trying to pry his friend off of him, but failed in the end.

It was fine, right up until Alex hung himself over the brunet, revealing love marks on the side of his neck. George flinched and shoved the male away, but Alex still had a death grip on his shirt.