It Was Enchanting To Meet You. || DNF

34. Infected.

George and Dream continued their journey once more. At this point, it had became a routine, a simple, followed pattern : walk, rest, then walk again.

The duo had been tredding aimlessly against the ancient floors for quite some time now, going wherever their feet took them.

Dream hadn't started bleeding again, thank god, but that didn't mean that his body stopped aching, his wound burning in agony every now and then. Every small movement the blonde made caused him pain, but he would continue pushing himself until he physically couldn't anymore.

George had noticed this, of course, and had tried convincing Dream for them to find a cave and wait out his injury until he was better, but the blonde refused, turning down the request as he showed no interest in the suggestion.

The last time the brunette brought the idea back up was around thirty minutes ago, and ever since, and even before, he'd been watching the taller carefully, not failing to miss the small, but audible pained grunts and groans he unsuccessfully tried to stiffle.

It was late evening now, the sun just dipping below the horizon and if the green eyed boy thought he wasn't doing well before, then he sure as well wasn't doing well now.

He was drenched in his own sweat, his clothing uncomfortably sticking against his sweaty skin. Despite not bleeding anymore, Dream had bled quite a lot earlier, given that his wound was only tended to after hours later. The blonde's mouth was dry and his throat was sore, his chest heaving as though he were struggling to breathe. His vision was dazed while black splotches clouded his eye sight, the world looking as if it were slowly but surely turning upside down.

A low, eerie ringing filled his hearing as he blinked slowly, trying to keep his composure while he attempted to keep himself steady, feeling himself slowly drifting out of it. "Dream," the man with the heavy British accent spoke, his tone sweet and tender as he reached a hand out to the blonde.

"Are you okay?" George asked, rubbing small circles against the taller's shoulder. Dream averted his unfocused gaze to the short brunette, his words sounding vague as though they were being muffled. The former tore his eyes away, squeezing them tightly shut as an effort to make the diziness disappear.

"Dream," the sea green eyed boy heard the other call out once more. "I asked if you were okay." The blonde drew in a sharp, shaky breath, his lower abdomen swelling with a familiar pain as it became more difficult to breathe with each passing second.

"I'm fine," he barely managed to mutter out, causing the unconvinced hunter to furrow his eyebrows. "Are you sure? You don't look okay," George said, and it was the truth. But despite the nausea that rolled throughout the blonde, he forced a nod.

The brunette hesitated before nodding along, letting his hand fall away from the taller as the latter said, "We should keep going." George nodded once more, adjusting his sword in his hand before beginning to walk, Dream slowly trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

_

More hours passed and Dream felt as though he couldn't do it anymore. It was nearing midnight and the only audible sounds were the thumping of their leather boots as the hard material hit the ground repeatedly, the duo not wanting to break the peaceful atmosphere of the calm night.

The blonde swallowed the urge to throw up for what seemed to be the millionth time, his mouth filling up quickly with saliva as the more it happened, the more he just wanted to let it out.

Dream kept his breathing steady for most of it, desperately trying to distract himself from the pain that gwaned at his stomach as he fiddled with his bloodied shirt.