Scratches // DNF

Chapter 8

"Passport? Keys? Money - but leave dollars, I've got enough to get us to the airport and back. Just bring the British money," George stressed, marking each object off on his fingers as he checked them off.

"Yeah, I've got it all," Dream yelled from his room. Seconds later he emerged into the living room, wearing comfy joggers for the journey and a backpack. An unstable suitcase wheeled by his side, its tires knotting into the rug. He dragged it to the door before spinning around with a wide grin, his excitement fighting concealment. George smiled back in a brief break from the worrying which had consumed his past few days, ever since Dream had agreed to the Manchester gig.

George brought his own bags to the door, making a pile above the other luggage. They'd spent the last hour packing and obsessively weighing the bags on the scale to keep within the aeroplane mass limit. The reasonably simple task had ended up taking much longer than necessary, with the both packing a handful of shirts and removing them one by one until they were resting exactly on limit.

As George stood back up, he scanned Dream's outfit and came to a stop at his hands.

"Dream," he leant forward to grab the palm his eyes had paused on. He lifted Dream's hand to shine light onto the scattering of rings, decorating his fingers. "Do you think you're immune to that metal scanning thing?"

Dream glared. "It's almost like I can take them off before I walk through."

George rolled his eyes and began dragging the rings off his friend's finger, one by one. He collected the discarded in his pocket, a clinking sound ringing each time a new one collapsed onto another.

"Who the hell wears rings to an airport anyway? The aim is to be comfortable."

"I'm basically a rockstar now," Dream joked, snatching his hand back when it was bare of jewellery. "Gotta keep up the cool-guy persona."

George shook his head and moved away to unzip a bag. He tossed the rings inside, adding to the mess of the packed items.

The next few minutes were spent tying together any loose ends and stuffing forgotten possessions into their suitcases. After ensuring everything was packed, the taxi arrived and carried them to the airport.

They swam easily through security and had left enough time to grab some food before boarding the aeroplane. Before the first boarding call even sounded George was dragging Dream toward the queue, paranoid they would somehow miss their flight, despite him having stared obsessively at the vehicle through the window for far too long.

When the gates opened, George dove through and located his and Dream's seat. They'd managed to grab seats by one another, the prime reason being that the people who hired Dream had arranged and paid for everything.

They tossed their bags overhead and settled down, watching as everyone else shuffled onboard. The doors eventually closed and the pilot's voice was heard from the speakers. Following was the safety demonstration from the flight attendant and then there was nothing left to do but take off.

Dream was comfortable by this point. He leant back into his chair and searched through his phone for a downloaded film. When the plane began moving, he looked to his side and caught George biting his nails and staring down the aisle, unblinking.

Dream asked if he was okay, but George seemingly didn't hear in his hyper-focused state. He leant forward to take George's hand, almost as if he wasn't thinking. He plucked the palm away from George's mouth and engulfed it in his own hand, bringing it to his lap.

"Tell me the rules of chess," Dream said, his fingers massaging the back of George's hand.

George had turned to look at him in startle when his palm had first been taken. His eyebrows then furrowed as Dream's words converted the emotion to confusement.