A merman's tear (dreamnotfound)

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was getting really late. The sun had long stretched under the horizon and the moon had taken its place. The moon was always something that comforted George, it did have some sort of celestial connection to him, after all.

It was something truly magnificent, so much bigger than anything he knew. So close to his heart, and yet so far away.

George gazed up at the moon that hung heavy in the sky and let out a little sigh. He felt Dream squeeze his hand, so he looked over to the man sitting next to him.

"Are you tired?" Dream asked, voice mixing with the wind.

Despite the exhaustion seeping through his body, George shook his head. It was so peaceful right now. So perfect. He didn't want to sleep.

Too bad his body betrayed him, as right after he shook his head he yawned loudly.

He clamped his hand over his mouth, eyes blinking to stay awake, and Dream laughed.

"Not tired, my ass."

Dream stood up, pulling George to his feet and handing him the cane. George probably didn't need it, considering he was leaning on Dream so much (he's tired, so it's fine), but he took it anyway.

They walked across the length of the ship, Dream waving goodnight at some of the people still awake before they stopped at the two entryways. One that led down the hallway to George's room, and the other a staircase leading down to the crew's rooms and main area.

George thought of his room. The blankets thrown haphazardly on the floor, Dream not being able to sleep comfortably while George had the 'bed'. He bit the inside of his cheek, looking up at Dream, who was obviously lost in thought, probably on the same problem.

They stood there in silence for a moment before Dream sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Let's just go to my room." he said, moving towards the stairs.

George paused for a second, before moving alongside Dream.

They carefully made their way down the stairs, and then walked through the corridor that George had not seen yet.

At the end was a door and another one on the wall next to it. Dream opened the one at the direct end, and George followed him.

It wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. It was an average-sized room, at least from what George could tell, he didn't know a lot about human stuff. He was taking his knowledge from the shipwrecks he'd explored when he was younger.

There was actually a real bed in this room, in comparison to the blankets that they'd pretended were a bed in George's room. 

George was too tired to protest when Dream told him he could sleep in here. Maybe if he wasn't actually dead on his feet, he'd have insisted he just go back to his room, but as he sat on the bed, and realised just how comfortable it was, he decided he wouldn't have the energy to argue anyway.

It was absolutely the softest thing he'd ever felt. He wasn't sure if he'd been this comfortable in his whole life.

He wondered why, when Dream had this, he'd been sleeping in George's room. He glanced over to Dream, who was climbing onto the other side of the bed, kicking off shoes. George also wondered why he didn't have shoes like everyone else. Whatever. He'd figure that out later.

Dream flashed him a smile, and George blinked tiredly back at him, before looking up at the roof.

He tried to stay awake, not to be rude to Dream, who was obviously still very awake, and reading a book, at that. Dream noticed this and laughed, flicking the side of George's head.