The Railroad

Chapter 9

"Huh. Well, where are you two headed? Maybe our paths intertwine."

"Not interested, thanks."

The blond took George's hand, beginning to pull him away again, but Corpse reached out and grasped the brunet's other arm. This grip was nothing like Dream's: it was harsh and firm, the ravenette's painted nails digging into the pale skin on George's arm. He inhaled sharply at the slight pain of it, mostly because of how abrupt the contact was, and Dream turned.

His glare was intense as he ripped Corpse's hand off of George's arm. There were red marks indicating where the fingers had been and George massaged it gingerly. The blond stood face to face with Corpse, both of them less than two inches apart. Dream's eye had such hatred in it; it was an odd sight for George to see. Clearly this other smuggler had done something in the past that really ticked him off.

Corpse, on the other hand, looked almost amused. His thumbs were looped through the belt strap of his jeans and his weight was shifted onto one leg. The brunet imagined he would be smirking if not for the mask. The testosterone levels were high; they had some obvious history between them.

"Don't ever touch him again," Dream snarled finally.

"My bad," Corpse responded monotonously, voice dropping even lower.

"Dream," George whispered, tugging on the blond's arm. "Can we just go? Please?"

The brunet's anxiety was getting increasingly higher. He tried to hide his shaking hands, but then his foot began to tap and he wanted to just get away from here. He didn't want to be scared, but the tension was ridiculously high and Corpse was incredibly intimidating. He didn't seem too focused on George, but he was probably the only thing there that the ravenette could use to get to Dream if he wanted.

Corpse's eye flickered to George for a second, and the shorter took one step back. He imagined the other winked then but, again, mask. He took another step, and he was about a foot and a half away from the two then. Dream was looking back at him, concerned and confused. His body rotated when George stumbled on his next step back, so he was facing away from Corpse. He didn't seem to care, he was focused entirely on George.

He'd had his share of anxiety attacks in the past, and he was not interested in having another. He screwed his eyes shut, clenching his fists as he counted his breaths in his mind. In for 3, hold for 2, out for 4. In for 3, hold for 2, out for 4. In for 3, hold for 2, out for 4.

It was sort of working, but not well enough. The anxiety just refused to leave: it was odd how it worked that way. So, he just... sat. On the ground. With his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. His eyes remained closed, fingers finding their way to his dark brown hair and getting a good grip in it.

In for 3, hold for 2, out for 4.

But a photo of his mother came into view. She was so beautiful, short brown hair that was only a few shades lighter than George's, gorgeous green eyes which he realized were very similar to Dream's, light skin that she always attempted (and failed) to tan, and a perfect body. She was perfect, in more ways than one. And by god he missed her so much. More than anything.

He'd take having zombies in the world forever if it meant he could have her back. But he couldn't, and he knew that. He liked to believe he'd skipped the five stages of grief, going immediately to acceptance. But he still wished, the only thing was he knew it would never get him anywhere so he'd stopped caring. Or trying.

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his face as it gently lifted his chin. The brunet let his fingers untangle from his hair and his eyes opened to see Dream kneeling down next to him. Corpse stood in the same spot as before, uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other.

"Princess, what's wrong?" he whispered, voice low enough that Corpse couldn't hear.

George just shook his head and pointed with his thumb to where they were headed.

"I know, I'll get us out of this." He stood back up, looking back to Corpse. His calves were at eye level for George, and he was blocking the view of the ravenette, or rather the ravenette's view of him. "This was fun, but we're gonna be off now. Sorry we couldn't stay and chat, but we didn't want to."

"Ah, come on. I think he likes me," Corpse laughed, gesturing to where George was still sitting on the ground behind Dream's legs.

"Bye Corpse."

Dream grabbed George by the forearms, pulling him to his feet, and this time let him go first. The blond kept a steady hand on the brunet's waist as he directed him, as if he were afraid that George would fall. George couldn't exactly blame him: he felt uneasy and wanted to go back to sleep. He was bound to be wobbly, but he himself didn't notice.

Corpse didn't try to stop them, but George could feel the almost black eye digging into his back as he watched them leave. He shivered again, wrapping his arms around himself as he walked and shoving down the anxiety threatening to rise again.

God, he didn't know how we would make it through this trip.

~Word count: 1,606~

A/N: there was really no purpose for adding Corpse in, but i felt like it so deal with it. i have so much school work to do and i dont want to do any of it, i just wanna read a fanfic. why is that so hard to ask? i hope that all of you are able to get your work done timely so you can read all the fics you desire :D