after you, blue || dreamnotfound

four

George

George slowly opened his eyes. Bright sunlight filtered through the small window in his room, and it burnt scorching holes in his eyes. George slammed his eyes shut again, groaning. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes.

"Ah, you're awake finally. I was starting to get a bit worried."

George rubbed his face in confusion. He quickly tried to sit up, but fell back down again from the aching pain in his head.

"Who- who are you? And what am I doing here. What are you doing here?" George croaked.

A small and warm chuckle came from the side of the room.

"Do you really not remember anything?"

George groaned again, slowly sitting up again. He rubbed his eyes, and thought hard. Oh, right. School. The boy in black. The tall boy with the pretty-

"I remember," George said, suddenly realizing what was happening. "I remember everything now. What are you doing and how did I get here?"

George stopped rubbing his eyes, and turned to stare intently at the boy sitting on the stool across from him. The boy was dressed in an eye-piercing green colour.

"Well so you fell down in the middle of the hallway, and I had to carry you home," the tall boy said. He seemed extremely proud of the last bit in the sentence.

"Home..." George muttered. "Uh, how do you know where I live?"

"One of your teachers told me. How could they resist all of this," the boy smirked, gesturing to his body. George rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"And my mother just let you in without any sort of interrogation?" George continued to question.

"You're mother loves me," the boy in green grinned widely. "She thinks I'm 'very brave for bringing her son back.'"

"Where is she now?" George asked suspiciously.

"She said she would be out running some errands. I said I'd take care of you."

George's face softened at those lines. Then he gave himself a mental beating for doing so.

George huffed and covered his head with a pillow. "Who are you anyways, you creepy stalker?"

"I'm..." the tall boy faltered for a bit.

George looked at him expectantly.

"Just Dream is fine," he said quietly.

What kind of name was Dream? George tried to stifle his giggles with the blankets on his bed. The tall b- Dream glared at him. There was an awkward beat of silence.

"T-thanks for bringing me home, Dream."

"I would do it time and time again," Dream smiled softly. A strand of his floppy, dirty-blonde hair fell onto his face. There was almost something familiar about this. George nearly smiled back.

Suddenly, another wave of dizziness and nausea zig-zagged through George's head, and he cried out in pain.

"George!" Dream shot up from his stool and scrambled to sit down beside the smaller boy.

George whimpered in discomfort again, and Dream casted worried glances down at him.

"George, George, it's okay," Dream murmured comfortingly into George's ear. "You'll be okay. I'm here."

Dream wrapped his arms around the small boy. George hugged his legs close and buried his head into the soft fabrics of the taller boy's hoodie. Dream's grin turned into a bashful, sheepish smile as he hugged George tighter.