The Blue Lives

12# I Heard Screaming.

Summary: Your night's rest has become quite troubling. Luckily you have a friend there to help you.

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It was the day after when it finally dawned on you. The immense sadness flooded your heart too quickly for you to even react to it. Not even Joy could mask this sorrow, nor the comforting hand rubbing your shoulder. You feel warm tears flow on their own accord down your face. You haven't cried in years and it felt rather good. Anything to lift this heavy feeling crushing your rib cage. She would usually tell you to take some Joy and everything would be better, but it's not easy. 
In the world, are you not free to shed tears where you need to? Who the hell laughs at a funeral? 
You'd never held a grudge against them, why would you dance on their graves? 
She seems to understand that merely that hand on your shoulder keeps you grounded for now. 

It felt relieving until those blinding floodlights chased you away from the scene. Find somewhere else to stay, because you're not welcome here if you can't be one of us. 
The floodlights where you ended up weren't all that nice either, you tried to ask for help and they thought it was funny to treat you like some prize to win. 

They wouldn't let you leave! Those lights are blinding you, turn them off!

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You sit up with a short scream. 
Heavy visions still clouding your sight, you swat the air blindly in the hope of maybe getting away from whatever the thread was, it was so bright. 
The room's smell is different, causing the visions to subside, Leaving nothing but the darkness of the room. Your heart beating against your lungs wrapped tightly in your ribcage. You take a few deep breaths in the hope of calming down and taking in your surroundings. 

It works, you slowly regain your bearings, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. One last sigh of relief, you're safe...

A set of footsteps hastily make their way upstairs, a moment later George enters the bedroom. In his bedroom, he insisted you take his bed and he takes the sofa. 
"(Y/n)..." He pants slightly, his features full of worry. "I heard screaming. Are you alright?" He enters the room completely, coming to sit on the side of his bed you're laying on, the bed that is rather wide for a one-person. 
You shakily run your hand through your unruly hair, taking another deep faith, your lungs aching from the overtime they had just performed. 
"yeah, I'm alright... I think." You reply meekly, George doesn't look very convinced, however. "you had a nightmare, didn't you?" He questions with an already-knowing look, although his eyes show a lot of concern.
He takes a deep breath and leans back a little.

"Who am I to blame you for that? You've been through a lot." George says, peering out of the small window, where the stars and crescent moon decorate the heavens. You look away from the man and into the furthest corner of the room. Where you saw a crate with some of George's trinkets. As curious as you are, you're a guest in his home and you shouldn't go through his things. 

"I... I Dreamt of the funeral of my parents..." You confess silently. George looks back at you in surprise, he didn't think you'd be willing to share what you had seen in your dream, which also seems to be a reimagining of a bad memory of yours. George puts a hand on your shoulder in a gesture of support and comfort. 
"And then I dreamt of those coppers chasing me out of my house, and then the thugs." You admit, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Messy bed hair frames your face rather comfortably. 
George kneads your shoulder, and you jolt. Almost remembering just now that he is here with you also. 
In a bold move, you shuffle closer to him. And once you're close enough you wrap your heavy arms around him in an attempt to comfort yourself. 
George freezes for a moment, then returns the gesture and embraces you back. One hand smoothing down your hair.