wasteland - dreamnotfound

Chapter Nine

~|Dream|~ 

Her laughter is cold and dark, humorless, even, her red tinted hair flowing around her like blood.

Maybe it is, the blood of her enemies, her targets, the people she's used, to try and find a cure.

I can't move, can't breathe, can't feel my heart beating. 

I have to kill George, the boy who had saved my life. The boy who I'd saved the life of. 

The boy who'd long held my heart, with his delicate touch and soft smiles. 

~||~

My eyes flutter open, a soft, gasping breath racking my sore body as I regain the ability to use my muscles again. 

I'm wrapped comfortably in blankets, resting on a hard, sunken in mattress- Although it's nicer than where I'd usually sleep. 

It was a nightmare. Of course. She's not here.

Instead, replacing the redhead, I suddenly catch a glance at a certain brunet, his clout glasses resting on the top of his head as he gazes out an old, wavy window covered in dirt, leaning his elbow on the sill, head in his hand. I exhale softly, snuggling more into the quilt and gazing at George again.

His clothes are tattered, his washed out blue tee-shirt hanging loosely around his small, skinny frame, stained with dirt and blood. His hair is fluffy and slightly knotted, and he keeps running his fingers through it as though uncomfortable about it. George's bow rests against the wall, his quiver now filled with fresh arrows, that I recognize as Bad's handiwork. 

The soft light of dawn highlights his features prettily, making the small wisps of hair that brush across his eyes more prominent and making his long eyelashes a slight silvery shade at their tips. I can't quite get a glance at his eyes, though, no matter how much I long to.

"You're pretty." I can't catch myself before the words tumble out of my mouth, too tired to recover from the sudden compliment. As soon as I realize what I'd said, I flinch, blushing madly out of embarrassment. 

George jumps slightly, his gaze quickly turning to mine, or at least as close as it can get with my mask. I bite my lip nervously, caught up in the wave of his stunning eyes, suddenly remembering just exactly how they'd felt all those years ago. I could've sworn there was a slight pink tint to his cheeks as the brunet stands and lingers beside the bed.

The brunet smiles awkwardly. "You're awake." He mumbles, mostly to himself, looking down as if to hide his multicoloured irises. He tugs his clout glasses back over them, looking up again. "It hasn't been long, by the way- maybe a few hours?- But uh, I took care of some of your wounds. Nothing infected by zombies." 

I nod slightly, still recovering, not only from the searing pain in my arm but from the utter embarrassment and lovesickness I'd just put myself through. "Okay." 

"Techno's going to come later with new clothes for you, your shirt was-" George coughs softly, looking uncomfortable again. "Kinda messed up." 

I'm suddenly painfully aware of my condition, gauze wrapped around my waist and arm, a dull ache in my torso, and a mild chill around my bare chest. Instantly, my hand flies to my face, letting a soft exhale of relief when my fingers make contact with the plastic mask. 

"Don't worry, I didn't see your face. I figured if you wanted to show me it, you would, so.. Yeah. But Techno says he can clean up your face later, if you need." George reassures quickly. 

"I didn't know you were an archer and a nurse." I tease, carefully lifting myself to a sitting position as George perches on the edge of the bed, a glass of water in his hand.