wasteland - dreamnotfound

Chapter Thirteen

~|Dream|~ 

He looks afraid. 

George is afraid of me. 

A soft, shaky breath escapes my still slightly parted lips as I stare at him. His hands still rest on my chest and hair, but it's as if he doesn't know, or maybe doesn't care. 

As Clay, I know things are harder. 

As Clay, I'm his best friend. Who pushed him away. Who has to kill him. 

But as Dream, are things any better? As a stranger, a murderer, who kissed him?

The silence hurts, it hurts so bad. 

"George..." I mumble. "Please, just.. Say something." 

George exhales. He shakes his head slightly, in clear disbelief. "I'm not going to pretend things are okay.. Clay." He pauses at my name, as if shocked to say it again. "But I'm glad to see you." He gives me a small, sad smile. 

I can't decide if this is relieving or not.

~||~ 

"So, uh, it's not too difficult, I guess." 

The tension in the air is thick and suffocating, things clearly awkward between George and I as he carefully helps me position my hands on the bow. We're in the place George and I had come to when I still had bandages to get out of the cottage. 

The two of us are both quite obviously dancing around the clear topic at hand, instead focusing on distracting ourselves and training. 

George knows I'm supposed to kill him. But he trusts me, he trusts Clay. And right now, standing beside him, mask discarded at my side, that's enough.

"Clay!" George giggles suddenly as my hand slips out of place. "You're so dumb." 

I like the way my name sounds on his tongue, and I like finally being able to hear it again after so long. "I keep getting distracted by your pretty face." I tease, relishing in his soft blush and fond eye roll. 

"Excuses, excuses." George replies, carefully slotting his fingers between mine to tug my hand back into place. "Now pull the string back, and don't drop the arrow this time." I catch his tiny, playful glare and stick my tongue out at him. 

As I carefully pull it, I feel the string tense underneath my fingertips. It's not nearly as comfortable or natural as a blade may feel, but admittedly it's fun to try something new, especially with George. He pulls away his hands from mine.

"Aim." 

I direct the arrow just above the makeshift target, breaths loud in my ears.

"Fire." 

I let go of the string, and the arrow flies from between my fingertips, hissing as it slices through the air. It lands just short of the target- Although admittedly it's still a vast improvement.

George grins. "Nice! You're getting better." 

I smile, letting the bow drop to my side. "Yeah. My scabs are a bit annoying, though." 

"Right, and who was the one who insisted on coming out here anyway even though I told them it might hurt?" George giggles, tilting his head a bit.

I laugh softly, rolling my eyes with a fond smile. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I wanted to teach you some melee, too." 

George takes the bow, slinging it over his back. "Alright, teacher, go ahead." He says, crossing his arms with a gentle smile and leaning his shoulder against the tree.