Once Upon a Lifetime || Dreamnotfound

9

"George, do you want to hear something cool?"

George sighs, chin lifting to stare at the cloudless sky. "Sure, Wilbur."

"Did you know that anteaters' tongues can reach about two feet?" George hums thoughtfully, but his hum is cut off by Wilbur's scoff. "How disturbing is that? Their faces are fucking awful. No one would miss them if they were to all die."

George huffs, an amused smile creeping up his lips. "Well, for all we know they could all be dead."

Wilbur brightens immediately. "Very true, George. I appreciate that sentiment." Wilbur pauses, humming for a moment. "I'm glad to have made your acquaintance. This has been the most pleasant comradery I've had in a while."

"We've known each other for less than a week," George points out, indifferent.

"A week could mean a lifetime in this kind of world."

George murmurs his agreement and they descend into silence. An empty wind sifts through their hair, soothing and tense nerves.

Wilbur says after a minute, "Do you think we'll ever find the New World?"

George has no response because, in all honesty, he doesn't know. Wilbur mutters, "That's too bad."

~

George wakes up to a quiet room two days later. His waking is quiet, though, and he notices that Dream is here before Dream sees him wake.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Dream fiddle with the hem of his shirt. His fingers are clumsy, tired. His movements make George wonder how long he has been there.

Dream catches his stare after a moment, sitting up and letting his hands fall lax in his lap. "I― uh, good morning."

"Good morning," George replies, confused. "Why are you here?"

Dream looks down at his hands, muttering, "I thought you'd like some company, is that okay?" Before George gets the chance to respond, Dream says hurriedly, "I wanted to, uh, apologize... for what I did. I shouldn't have pushed you into giving me an explanation. I'm sorry, George, for hurting you in any way."

"You didn't hurt me," George says instantly, his voice bordering on defensiveness. "I shot myself, that was of my own accord, not yours. Don't take credit for something you didn't do."

"I― right." Dream winces, regretful eyes darting up to look at George before jumping away. "Still, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do, just let me know."

George doesn't reply, looking away with a frown. "You should go."

In his peripheral vision, George sees Dream's head snap up. "You're kidding, right?"

"No," George says, picking at the nails on his left hand. "I don't need your company."

George doesn't feel bad when Dream winces. Their eyes meet when Dream says, "Fine. I'll leave."

But when Dream goes to get up, the door to the room bursts open. Two kids that look to be twelve years old bound into the room with beaming grins and boisterous voices. They run up to George's side, hands leaning on the mattress as they lean forward excitedly.

"Woah, look at his shoulder," the brown-haired one whispers, in awe and slight timidity.

"That's gonna leave a nasty scar," the blond one snickers. He looks up at George, his toothy grin expanding. "Isn't it, big man?"

Startled by the abrupt presence of two children, George instinctively leans away. He mutters, "Sure will."

Dream stands up and walks around the mattress to rest his hands on the kids' shoulders. He steers them away with ease. "C'mon, guys, go bother someone who isn't in recovery. Have you seen Sam's new contraption yet?"

The boys look at each other, mischief alight in their eyes. "We haven't," they say in unison before giggling and running off.

The door slams behind them, causing Dream to wince. He looks back at George, muttering, "That was Tommy and Tubbo, if you're curious."

George nods, recognizing the names from a few nights prior. Dream rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I guess I'll let you rest now."

Some part of George, one might compare it to a flicker of a flame, tells George not to let Dream leave. Immediately, George smothers it with a mere blink, not bothering to respond to Dream. Dream chews on his lip, nodding slowly.

He looks as if he wishes to say something, maybe a goodbye of some sorts, but his mouth closes, decidedly choosing to say nothing at all. Dream doesn't look back as he leaves in silence.

No exceptions, George has to remind himself.

Absolutely none.

~

Karl checked in on George sometime later in the day, George didn't care to know when. He changed George's bandages and offered him food. George ate, once again not providing much responses to Karl's conversations.

Karl left when it was proven to be useless to engage in some form of companionship. That was hours ago, though, and now George sits alone.

The music is his only company. In a way, it's comforting, but it's mostly background noise to George's thoughts. Eventually, George gets tired of sitting on the stupid mattress and gets up. He abandons Karl's set up, his shoulder giving him some pain, but it's not overwhelming.

George leaves the room with no reluctancy, and makes his way through the halls. He ends up in the kitchen, finding Punz there once again.

Punz looks up briefly, sarcasm in his faux happy greeting, "Oh, look, it's the jackass who has no respect for anyone!"

George walks past Punz, rolling his eyes. He doesn't bother replying, knowing it'll only encourage Punz more. He looks through the cabinets, pulling out a package of ramen noodles. He turns the stove on and fills a pot with water.

Punz observes silently, arms crossed as he watches. George adds the noodles to the boiling water. Randomly, Punz asks, "Got any regrets in your life, asshole?"

Twisting his lips in a frown, George mutters, "Only one."

"And what's that?"

As George drains the noodles and pulls out a fork, he debates if he should really say it. He doesn't see any reason not to, so George glares at Punz and says, "Meeting you."

Punz's jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. George holds his stare for a moment before taking his bowl of noodles and leaving the kitchen. He eats his food as he walks, peering into rooms occasionally. He walks past a frustrated Sam, trailed by two boys begging to see something.

Soon enough, it's night time and George is heading to his room. He hardly has to use his map anymore, knowing the basics of how to get from one place to another.

He lies down in his bed, staring up into the darkness. George doesn't know if it makes him a cruel person, but he doesn't regret any harsh words he may have said throughout the day. This fact doesn't surprise him.

One of the lessons Wilbur always told to him was: Don't be afraid to make someone bleed, whether it be physically or verbally. Words are a powerful ally, George, use them to your advantage. Oh, and make sure to leave hell in your wake.

Wilbur lost his sanity sometime in the duration of their "acquaintanceship," so George doesn't reflect on those words often, if at all.

If there was anything George actually took away from knowing Wilbur, it was the basic fact that everyone has a different side to them. Even the nicest of people have the capability to use that as an advantage.

Before Wilbur, George didn't see a point in using someone for what they had to gain, but then Wilbur left George with nothing, and everything changed.

----------

a/n - stay safe guys <3