Feeling For You (DNF)

Chapter 18: Realizations

Author's note: 

Hey everyone! This is officially the halfway point! This chapter makes 67,000 words, which is epic! Thanks so much for reading, and sticking around! All votes and comments are greatly appreciated! 

Word count: 3,417 

For this chapter, I recommend listening to Feelings by Lauv, Disaster by Conan Gray, and/or This is What it Takes by Shawn Mendes.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS: Please scroll to the bottom of the chapter to view warnings if you have concerns about reading!

"I'm cold," I complain, poking Dream's shoulder. "I need another blanket." Dream, to my chagrin, doesn't answer, so I poke him again. "Dream, please." 

"No, George, we have enough blankets. There's already, like, four. Why would you want another?"

I glare at him, no real malice behind the look, and mumble something about "ice floors" and "not proper simp behavior" before halfheartedly throwing a pillow in Dream's direction. I don't keep my focus long enough to see if it hits him, eyes drooping closed.

We've been up for hours, talking inside of a messy blanket fort that collapsed almost immediately. It's something I've missed doing with him, and even though it's simple, it makes me smile. 

I shiver a little as I yawn, twisting the thin blanket I was already holding further around myself. It's not enough, and doesn't do much against the chill. 

"Dream, please," I say, falling backwards and letting my arms go limp. "I'm freezing. Get me a blanket. Oh, or get me one of your hoodies. That works too." The late hour is catching up to me, and I'm semi-delirious. Normally, I'd never be brave enough to outright ask Dream for his hoodie. 

The thought of a familiar hoodie, warm and familiar smelling, is enough to make me blush a little. If only, I think ruefully, knowing that there's no possibility of that happening.

I sigh, and let my eyes closed, drifting for a moment before a gentle shaking of my shoulders makes me perk up a little, just enough to be coherent. "Hm?" I ask sleepily, looking around. The rooms is dark, with a faint glow from the window and a fancy nightlight that glows when it detects darkness, and can be switched to white, yellow, or blue light. Dream was the one who bought it for me, although there's no surprises there.

"George, are you actually cold?" Dream questions, voice low and distractingly close to my ear. "If you are, I'll get up." 

I blink a few times, trying to keep myself awake, before nodding. "Feel my hands, they're practically ice cubes." I press my hands to his neck, which is again something that I wouldn't even consider doing when I was awake and alert. It was just another action that blurred the line between friends and something more, although by now the "line" was more of a hazy shadow. 

For me, at least. 

He yells at the frigid touch, gasping away from the contact. "George! Don't do that." 

I laugh lightly as he pulls himself to his feet, not really paying attention as he steps forward until he hesitates, swaying slightly. 

"Dream?" I say, sitting up enough to see him more clearly. Is his face pale? "What wrong?" 

He doesn't answer, only takes another step, and then he's falling. "Dream!" I rush to catch him, sudden adrenaline shocking me awake, but I'm too late. He hits the ground hard, and I feel tendrils of panic wind around my throat. 

I practically throw myself to his side, kneeling next to him and frantically shaking him. 

For about five seconds, there's no response, and I can't breath. After what feels like a lifetime, his eyes flutter, and I exhale sharply. "Dream! Dream, oh my god, Dream! Can you hear me? Dream!" My voice is taught with desperation. Is he sick? Shit, what do I do? My thoughts are a mess of fear, only worsening as Dream's nose scrunches up and he groans faintly, eyes flickering open.