Moon Drunk || Dreamnotfound

Chapter Fifteen

George

George was just barely awake when he could feel weight over his torso. Blinking open an eye, he saw that it was Dream's arm.

His eyes widened, but he couldn't move, not without waking the sleeping blond behind him.

What the fuck was he going to do.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-

"Dude, are you guys fucking cuddling?" Sapnap whispered a shout.

That's when George's eyes shot open. Dream shifted behind him.

"Wha-" George stuttered, "I- no! We woke up like this, okay? And he's going to wake up if you keep talking and that'll be a lot more embarrassing than just having to wait here because I also don't want waking up to find me trying to shuffle out and away from him."

Sapnap shrugged, but still, he smirked. "Okay, whatever dude, but I have blackmail now."

George rolled his eyes, but he found himself falling asleep again.

When he woke up again, Dream was grinning lazily, scrolling through his phone on the opposite mattress. "Finally, you're up, sleepyhead. Sap, Karl, and Quackity are upstairs making breakfast. I told them I'd stay here until you woke up."

"And what time is it?" George asked groggily.

"Like eleven, so technically brunch," Dream said. "But c'mon, they're waiting."

George groaned and shoved himself off the mattress, eyes and mind still adjusting to being awake. He followed the blond up the stairs and into the sunlight-filled living room and into the kitchen, where the other three were making what seemed like french toast.

"George!" Quackity exclaimed. "Finally."

George scowled, "Fuck off and don't talk to me until I'm fully awake."

Dream laughed, "You're a bitch."

Karl looked up from his phone, a huge smile on his face. "Oh my god, guys! There's a festival this Saturday night, we have to go!"

Sapnap tilted his head. "What time?"

"All night!" Karl said.

Out of the corner of his eyes, George saw Dream's eyebrows pinch together in a frown.

But then it vanished, as if it was never there.

———

George was the last one at Karl's house, and as he was beginning to pack his things and get ready, Karl appeared around the corner of a wall.

"George," he said. "Follow me? Please."

Curiosity sparking, George hurried after the boy and to the front of the room that was supposedly off-limits.

He frowned. "Are you... going to show me what's inside?"

Karl shook his head. "No, but wait here, I have something for you."

He went inside, only opening the door enough to squeeze inside. He returned a few minutes later with a box that was unexpectedly heavy when given to George.

George's frown deepened. "What is this?"

"Just... something I want you to give to your dad, since he's a detective and he's on the... that case," Karl said.

With curiosity coursing through him, George said, "Uh, okay. And I've got to get going anyways, see you tomorrow."

With a wave, George went back upstairs and through the front door to his car. He threw his stuff in the back and hopped into the driver's seat, pulling away and beginning his drive home.

Every so often, with a small jump of the car, the box on the passenger seat would rattle, and George grit his teeth and clenched the steering wheel to not just reach over and look.

When he arrived at his house, he took all his stuff to his room, threw it somewhere on the floor—too lazy to unpack—and placed the box on his bed.

His dad would be home later, near the evening, so he had to wait.

His curiosity got the best of him.

He carefully slid the lid of the box off and peered in to see what would be revealed.

Inside the box were bullets. But they weren't the typical bullets. No, these looked like they were made of silver, glistening with unknown glorified power. A good amount of it was inside the box, explaining why it was so heavy.

But, what couldn't be explained, was why Karl had given it to him. Why Karl would even have it. Why his dad needed it.

He debated texting the brunet, but decided against it. Honestly, he wasn't sure he would get a direct answer.

George made his way downstairs and flopped onto the couch. None of his parents were home. Mom was out with friends and Dad was out for work.

He turned on the TV, and even though he shouldn't be surprised about what came on, it still shocked him.

Another murder.

This time, near Dream's house.

He listened carefully.

"Once again, whatever is terrorizing our homes has striked again, this time, not one, but tree bodies were found with their chests ripped to pieces. It may be more than one thing, whatever is causing this. Everyone, please be careful, do not go out alone and especially not at night, where they seem to strike the most.

"Our officers are trying their best, but no luck so far. We advise everyone to stay a good distance away from the forest."

George changed the channel with a shitty show and sighed. A while ago, when only the first murders began happening, he wasn't worried, but now, it was beginning to get to him.

His dad had told him plenty about the case. He'd show him pictures and it terrified him, even though he was curious enough to ask.

It felt like Winterfest Highschool was being targeted. Their students were almost always targets, and it made his heart skip in an uneasy pattern down its endless road.

———

George perked up to the sound of the garage opening. He went upstairs to grab the box and then hopped into a stool in front of the island, the box sitting right in front of him.

When his dad walked in, he looked visibly tired and drained. Bags were under his eyes, his hair was unkempt, his back was hunched with an invisible weight on his shoulders, and he walked with sluggish steps.

George tilted his head, a frown forming on his lips. "What happened?"

His dad sighed and leaned forward on his elbows on the counter. "A lot. We found bodies, not the ones on TV, but a pile of them. We went through the forest, nothing but broken and shifted tree branches. It's pointless, I swear."

George said, "I bet you'll get somewhere."

His dad forced a smile. "Thanks, bud."

His eyes scanned the counter, landing on the box. He asked, "What's that?"

George pushed it towards the man. "Karl gave it to me. Said to give it to you, you might need it."

His dad pulled the lid off, eyes narrowing. "Bullets?"

"Silver bullets."

"Oh." His dad examined them carefully, lifting them up to get a good look.

"Why these silver bullets?" He asked.

George shrugged. "Don't know, to be honest. He just said you might want it, probably to help with your case, in case you find something."

His dad picked the box up. "Tell hun I say thanks."

George nodded, and he was about to head to his room before his dad said, "Oh! Your mom should be here in a bit, help her make dinner."

George groaned. "Fine, fine, but I better see you doing it at least three times this week."

His dad rolled his eyes, laughing as he went upstairs