The Viscount Who Loved Me {Dreamnotfound}

The Viscount Who Loved Me

Ice cold rain runs down Dream's collar as he rips off his coat, wrapping it carefully around the unconscious scholar on the ground before him. "Stay with me," he mumbles as he carefully lifts the man up, his fingers numb. "Come on, now. Stay with me,"

He wraps George's arms around his neck and cradles him in his arms, standing up carefully as his heart pounds in his chest. He whips his head around, searching for the horse he had just alighted and sees it distantly running off into the storm.

"Stay with me," he mumbles one more time, holding the scholar carefully as he runs towards the main road. "Help!" He shouts to a passing farmer, the cart he was steering slowing to a stop, allowing him to climb aboard.

"My lord!" The footman from before calls as Dream runs into the house, the sopping wet water dripping off of him and the unconscious George. The adrenaline pumps through him as he ignores the help, running up the stairs as quick as he can, to get George to safety.

"Make room!" He shouts, his throat raw and his voice hoarse. His fingers burn from the drastic change in temperature.

"Oh my God!" Lady Davidson meets him halfway down the stairs, her eyes wide in a panic. "George!" She calls in anguish as they run up the stairs to the scholars room.

"Get the surgeon at once!" Dream commands forcefully as he lays George down carefully.

"He has a cut on the back of his head," Dream tells the surgeon breathlessly, his hands shaking, as the doctor runs up into the room. "I kept pressure on it, but it needs stitching,"

"Mister Davidson?" The surgeon asks as Dream frantically adjusts the blankets across George's legs. If they had not done what they did last night would George be in this predicament? On the edge of life and death? Is it his fault that the man he had longed for was unconscious and bleeding out on the bed in front of him while he is unable to assist? "Can you hear me?" The surgeon asks, with no response.

"He needs more blankets, he's shivering!" Dream yells, his thoughts running sprints across his mind.

"Allow me to get to work," the surgeon tells him firmly, pushing him out of the way to assess George further.

"What happened?" Quackity asks as he runs into the room, his eye brows furrowed in worry. "My valet saw you carry Mister Davidson inside. Is he all right?"

"I do not know," Dream tells him, his eyes trained on George, wide in horror.

"Are you all right?" Quackity asks him more pointedly, resting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

Dream looks to Fundy, where he stands sobbing in his mother's arms as he takes in the sight of his elder brother unconscious on the bed. Would they be in this situation if Dream had just let the bangle clatter on the floor? Would he have married Fundy while George was safe in London once again? He was the reason that George and his brother were not talking. He was the reason that George was still in America, and not back home safe.

"It's my fault," Dream whispers, his voice shaking. "It is all my fault,"

His chest tightens, feeling like its filled with thick tar. He steps back uneasily, not hearing his younger brother call his name, feeling as though he is looking at the world around him through a thick pane of glass. The sheet of melted sand stopping him from helping George. It it all my fault repeats in his head like a mantra. He swiftly walks out of the room.

"Mama, I wish to visit Niki," Bad tells his mother as he stands up from were he was sitting in the window sill, the soft morning light shining bright after the days of rain. "It has been a week!"