behind closed doors

battleships

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

☾

dream groans frustratedly as he pulls up on the road outside his house, unable to park in the driveway since it's already full. "i'm already so pissed off and i'm not even in the house yet," he sighs, leaning back in his chair and glancing out the window.

"it'll be fine," george assures him, picking his bag up from the space between his feet. "just chill in your room," he suggests, "you probably won't even realise they're there."

dream shakes his head, getting his bag out from the backseat and opening his door as george does. "you don't get it," he complains, "this is punz's friends we're talking about. they're loud as shit."

"don't stress about it dream, you've got this," george assures as they both get out of the car. "plus, if it gets too bad i'm literally right across the street," he points out, shutting the car door.

though, secretly, he hopes dream won't want to come over, because he really needs some sleep.

"yeah, i suppose so," dream sighs, looking back at his house again, as though he's seriously dreading it. "well, see you in a bit, george," he says, the pair exchanging a smile before dream turns to leave.

george watches dream heading up to the house before turning towards his home.

he crosses the road, just stepping up onto the curb when he hears, "george!"

and he almost considers putting himself back on suicide watch. then he tells himself that that wasn't a funny joke to make- even in his head.

he looks back, watching the fluffy-haired brunette check the road before jogging over to the brit. "hey," he smiles.

"hi," george replies, emotionless, unbothered, hoping the other boy takes it as a fuck off.

"are we okay?" he asks hopefully, smiling like fucking always.

george scrunches his face a little, shifting from one foot to the other. "well, i mean, not really," he answers honestly, shrugging just slightly, "i don't even know you."

"yeah, right, sorry," karl apologises.

george nods, turning away to leave.

"wait, george!"

the brit turns around with an audible sigh. "what?" he asks, clearly frustrated.

karl hasn't exactly done anything wrong, sure, but every second he spends with the brunette makes him more and more uncomfortable, like he can feel his skin literally crawling.

"i know we don't like, know each other," he says, "but- but you can talk to me."

george's eyebrows pinch together in confusion, his arms instinctively crossing over his chest. "what?"