𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴 ~ dnf

⤜ chapter V

~ Her. ~
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Dream
9:26 AM

I wake up, the sun is shining greatly. Soft golden rays peer from behind the curtains of my room. I squint, the brightness of it all blinding me a bit. Rolling over on my bed, laying on the side where the sun has spilled itself a spot. Sudden warmth crawling all across my body, I feel it from head to toe.

For a second, I don't know where I am. But as I look around, I realize where i'm at. With George in England. My mood instantly spikes and I sit up. Ready for whatever this day has in store for me.

There's knocking against the wooden door. I only assume it's George. "Yeah, come in." I stretch, watching the door fling open and George step inside the room.

He stands there for a moment or two without saying anything. Messing with his hands below his waist. "Sorry to bother you, but I made pancakes." George states, pointing behind him with his thumb.

My smile grows. "Thank you." I say, pushing the covers off of me. Getting one final stretch in, before standing up.

"Yeah, no problem. They're in the kitchen." George explains, walking backwards towards the door. Hand on the knob.

"No shit, really?" I tease, letting out a slight wheeze, stuffing my hands into my pajama pants pockets. Eye brow raised and a side smirk at my lips.

George doesn't find it very funny. He tilts his head in frustration.

"I didn't know breakfast was made in the kitchen." I say sarcastically, adding on to the gentle teasing.

George still isn't very amused. "I'm leaving." He states, and sure enough, he's heading out the bedroom door.

I pull him back, my arms flung around his shoulders. Holding him in backwards hug. "I'm kidding." I tell him, resting my chin on his right shoulder.

He shakes his head back and forth. I can hear the sound of his lips parting and the exhaling of his breath. His movement stills. "You're a dick." George mutters, his voice is a bit shaky. Fidgeting with his fingers some more.

"Fuck off." I say in a harmless way. A bit of laughter spurting up my throat and out my mouth. I give him the finger, but he pushes my hand away immediately. His hands are so cold.

George removes himself from the hug, turning around to face me from the doorway. His cheeks are burning red. I wonder why.

"Come eat your pancakes or I will." He threatens, walking down the hall towards the kitchen. Arms crossed, and an aggravated strut trailing behind him. I follow him because I don't exactly remember where the kitchen is, and i'm starving.

Once I enter the kitchen, I see two plates sitting on the table. George pushes one towards me before sitting down. "Did you make me a plate?" I ask.

He nods and hums in agreement. "Yeah, I did."

I pull out the chair across from him, sitting down. "Thank you, George."

George stabs his fork into a cut up piece of his pancake. Syrup drips down from it, and it reminds me of yesterday morning when he was eating french toast. I chuckle quietly to myself at the memory.

"It's not a problem." He responds, sticking the fork into his mouth to eat the pancake.

God, he is so polite. It's captivating to say the least. I stuff some pancakes into my mouth. They're good, George made them just right. I look up, watching George eat. The sun peeks over him. Getting caught in the strands of his dark hair. He's glowing, he looks so effortlessly beautiful and I can't stop staring.