on tour || DNF

❥29 | stars are made to burn

☆dreams pov☆

I woke up sprawled on the tour bus floor, tangled in a mess of blankets and pillows. The warm morning light filtered through the small windows, casting a gentle glow over the makeshift bedding. Punz lay next to me, his leg draped lazily over mine, while Foolish was on my other side, his long black hair brushing against my arm as he slept.

The bus was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the floor. The chaotic energy of last night had settled into a peaceful, if somewhat awkward, stillness. I squirmed a bit to free myself from the tangle of limbs and blankets, trying not to disturb anyone else.

As I stretched and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I glanced at the clock—it was already 11 a.m. I had missed the usual morning rush. The day ahead was relatively free for me, as I didn't have anything to do today. 

I gingerly untangled myself from the mess of blankets and quietly stood up, careful not to wake anyone. The bus was a mess, with pillows scattered everywhere and blankets draped over seats and the floor.

I padded into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise and wake up the others. As I reached for the kettle, I realized it would be too loud, so I settled for pouring myself a glass of apple juice. I took a seat at the table, the cool juice refreshing against my tiredness.

As I sipped my drink, I opened Instagram to catch up on the latest posts. One of the top posts was from George's band's social media team. It was a close-up of George, and my breath caught in my throat.

In the photo, George was framed perfectly against the backdrop of the old chapel. The image captured him in a moment of serene beauty—his head thrown back against the cracked, weathered wall, his features illuminated by a soft, ethereal light. His dark blonde curls were slightly tousled, adding to the relaxed yet strikingly elegant vibe.

His eyes were closed, and there was a soft, dreamy expression on his face. The chapel's dilapidated grandeur provided a stunning contrast to George's effortless beauty. The photo captured a rare vulnerability and strength, the kind of moment that felt both intimate and grand.

I couldn't help but admire how naturally photogenic he was, how he could make even an abandoned place look like a setting for a grand scene. I felt a pang of longing and admiration, wishing I could be there with him. The photo was not just an announcement but a beautiful, almost poetic glimpse into the music video, and it only made me more eager to see the final result.

As I finished my juice, I found myself replaying the image in my mind, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

I finished my apple juice and quietly rinsed the glass, trying not to wake anyone. My mind kept wandering back to the photo of George. I pulled out my phone and decided to send him a quick message, hoping it wouldn't come off too weird.

Dream: I'm not being a stalker or anything, but you look really, really good in that new post. 

As I dried my hands and put away the glass, my phone buzzed with George's response almost immediately.

George: What post?

I chuckled, shaking my head, knowing he probably hadn't seen the post yet. Before I could even think of a follow-up message, his response popped up again.

George: Oh, I didn't realize they posted that. Thank you.

I typed out a quick response to George.

As I hit send, I heard a rustling behind me. Sapnap was stirring on the floor, his groggy voice cutting through the quiet. "Who are you messaging so early?"