thirty-six hours with you | georgenotfound x reader

12. nightmare

. hour 18 .

George and I stopped by McDonalds to get some food again. We both ordered our food and now are sitting in a red and yellow booth next to a window.

"It's nice to be sitting and not be in a moving vehicle," I joke.

George's eyes don't leave his phone. "How much was your food?" he asks, "I want to add it to my notes app for Dream."

"Um." I search for the receipt within the brown paper bag. "6.82."

"Thanks." George types those numbers on his phone after looking at his own receipt, then sets the phone down to eat. "Don't worry, I put your stuff separate from mine, so you'll get your money back from him."

I shake my head. "You have no shame to take his money, don't you?"

"Why would I?" George's brows furrow as he takes the fries out of his bag. "He said he would, so he will."

"I don't know," I say, "I think I could pay for some things by myself."

"Why be so independent when a literal millionaire is wanting to pay for you?" George chuckles and puts a fry in his mouth. "Work smarter, not harder, y/n."

I choose not to respond, getting my burger and fries out instead. George doesn't push the conversation either, so we eat for a long time in silence.

I squish the empty burger wrapper together into a ball and set it aside in my brown bag. I eat my fry and look up at George for the first time in a long time. He's staring off into the distance over my shoulder. I turn my body to see him looking at the empty play area.

"Wanting to go down the slide?" I joke, popping a fry into my mouth.

"No." George only gives a half-smile to my joke. "I was thinking about something."

I pick up another fry. I know that was his way of trying to get me to ask what it was, but I don't give him the satisfaction.

"I had a dream about you last night," George continues anyway.

My ears perk up at that one as my face distorts into disgust. I meet his eyes, and his own have a spark of mischievousness.

A chill runs down my spin as I remember the dream that I had last night; the one that he seemed to star in. I search his eyes for any indication that he knows I actually did dream of him, but, then again, how would he even know?

"Yeah so I was in this really brightly-lit park," he explains, "I don't really know why I was there, but that's not the point. You showed up at the edge of the park very ominously, and I was, like, hiding from you." He pauses to sip his drink. "Then I dropped my phone, and you heard. And you started chasing me around because you knew I was there."

I roll my eyes but keep listening. I won't tell him I had a dream about him leaving me to go on a plane, but I'm intrigued by what went on in his own mind last night.

"Then." George is holding back a laugh. "I realized that the whole time it was a nightmare."

My jaw drops, and I throw the fry I was about to eat at him. "I hate you."

George fails to catch the fry. "You fell for it, too."

"I can't believe you just compared me to a nightmare demon." I bite my cheek to hide a smile. "You are so mean sometimes."

"Sometimes?" George pretends to be surprised. "Maybe I should amp it up to be all the time."

"No, you should not."

He shrugs. "Your loss."

George slowly sips his drink while I finish my fries. His eyes stay strained on the sky outside the window. The clouds look like shadows casted across the pale blue sky.

"It looks like the beginning of a horror movie," I comment.

George smiles. "Yeah, just remind me to stay away if we pass a park."

This time, I don't throw a fry, but the thought crosses my mind. I choose to ignore his antics. "Are you ready to go?" I ask.

He nods, placing his trash on his tray and getting up to throw it away.

The air feels oddly still when we walk out of the building. George and I don't speak, but something about this moment feels off.

The trees are drooping down in sadness, and there's not a single bird or squirrel or anything around. Even the car seems like it's leaning to one side sadly.

My mind stays focused on George's dream, though. In my dream, I was almost afraid for him to leave, but in his I am chasing him away.

It's not that I feel the need for George to be on this trip. Actually, it would probably run a little more smoothly if he wasn't here. But at least my dream painted him in a semi-positive light.

"Am I really your nightmare?" I ask him once we've closed the car doors.

He shakes his head no slowly but doesn't say a word. I can't tell if it makes me feel better or worse.

author's note:

for the playlist i'm going to say the songs to add as i publish the story. then when the story's completed, i'll post the whole playlist. i just thought it would be more fun for people reading along as i update the chapters in real time :)

here's the songs we've missed so far:

'getaway car' by taylor swift

'kiss with a fist' by florence and the machine

'lemon to a knife fight' by the wombats

'kiss with a fist' and 'lemon to a knife fight' are the two songs i would say describe george and y/n's relationship the most for this first section of the story.. they're really good actually and i highly recommend

have an amazing day!