Missed Chances || Dreamnotfound

5

A week of storms passes peacefully― well, as peacefully as a week with storms can, and George can finally go outside.

He spends an entire day walking in the fresh air, strolling along the grounds of the castle, unaware of a pair of eyes that watch him every so often.

The grounds of the castle are wet, and the training field won't be usable for at least a few days. The sun has appeared, though, and graces the land with its warm rays. The city survived the storm fairly well. Though, there were several lootings in the aftermath of some of the storm's destruction.

In the week that has passed, George has yet again spoken little to no words to Dream. Every time he sees him, George notes the lightening of the purples on his face, slowly healing from whatever incident had occurred.

George spent most of his week in the library, reading with Anna, who has grown to like George. The two became fast friends in the depths of the library. Anna has gotten more comfortable with George, and her shyness has faded into a more extroverted persona around him.

George reflects on the past week, deciding that it wasn't so bad. Karl, however, hated the entire thing because it prevented him from going into town to stalk a certain dark-haired man that Karl has yet to get the name of.

When the sun sets on the horizon, George retires to his room for some sleep.

~

He doesn't sleep well, for some reason. An unsettling feeling lingers in George's gut and he forces himself out of bed when he turns for the hundredth time.

Sighing, George leaves his room. His yawn is cut off when he spots Dream's door, which is left open a crack. Brows furrowing, George approaches, expecting someone to be with Dream.

He opens the door slightly, gasping softly when he sees Dream, who stands in front of his mirror, shirt lifted to expose a brutal gash in his abdomen. Dream looks up and catches George in the reflection. He drops his shirt down immediately.

George quietly demands, "What happened?"

Flustered, Dream replies, "Nothing, it's nothing."

George walks forward, gripping Dream's wrist and turns him around. The two lock eyes and George almost forgets to breathe. "I'm not going to ask again, what happened?"

"I got stabbed," Dream mutters. "It's really not that bad."

George drops Dream's wrist to lift his shirt. It's deep, and blood drips down Dream's stomach. Wincing, George runs an absentminded finger along the skin beside the wound. "Looks pretty fucking bad to me."

Dream inhales, barely noticeable, at George's touch. "I can handle it."

George is conflicted. Does he want to stay and help, or leave and sleep? He doesn't think he'd get much sleep if he left, so he says, "Let's get you cleaned up."

~

George rummages around Dream's bathroom, looking for bandages, which, surprisingly, aren't that hard to find. Dream seems to keep a good stock of bandages and treatments.

George can feel Dream's gaze on his back as he moves, but he doesn't comment. He walks to Dream, supplies in hand, who sits on a chair in his room.

Cleaning the wound with water, George washes away the blood. Dream doesn't make a sound; George can tell he's trying his hardest not to show weakness. George pulls out a needle and string and he can sense Dream's wince.

"Where'd you learn how to do this?" Dream asks, strained.

George chews on his lip for a moment before he starts to stitch up Dream's wound. Dream hisses at the pain, and George says, "I used to read about doing this sort of thing. Thought it might be helpful, y'know, just in case..."