The Railroad

Chapter 13

"Wasn't it you who told me it's okay to cry sometimes? Please don't apologize for it, I know what having to deal with a death is like. I know you and your dad were close but nothing to do now aside from move on."

Dream cocked an eyebrow. "You know what it's like to lose someone?"

"Oh, um, yeah. My mom passed away about two and a half years ago, so I know a little something about loss."

Dream's eyes widened. He led them over to a bench that was somehow not destroyed and sat them down, keeping George's hand held tightly (but not too tightly, seeing as it was his injured hand) in his own. "George I'm so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"We don't have to. I've kinda moved on, so I'm okay."

"George... can you at least tell me what happened to her?"

The brunet was confused by Dream's expression, he seemed strangely worried and cautious. He didn't understand, he was clearly fine. He felt fine. He had no issue with talking about the incident.

"You may have seen on the news that there was a breach in the wall around Tallahassee? Well, what the news didn't show was that a zombie had managed to slip through, and it managed to bite seven people before being apprehended. Those seven spread it to a total of thirty-four people, one of them being my best friend, Wilbur. He claims to not remember anything that happened that led to him being turned, so we're clueless as to who bit him... or kissed him.

"After someone is turned to a zombie it takes about two to three days for it to really kick in. Wilbur had no idea he had been, and he was over at my place for dinner one night. All of a sudden, it just happened. The cravings took over and brains were the only thing he could think about. When he attacked, my mom attempted to bring him back, coax him out of it or something. She believed zombies weren't any different from us and we could work with them even in their full on zombie state.

"She didn't listen to my warnings to get away from him. She didn't listen to the doctor who'd been studying zombies, who knew that Wilbur couldn't be stopped. She was the only thing between him and my father and I, but she still refused to get out of his path. We were shouting at her to get away, to run with us, but she was always so stubborn. I guess it's where I get it from. I saw it all go down as Wilbur ate her. I saw the life leave her eyes as her skull was cracked open. I smelled the blood and the rotting scent of zombie. I heard her pained screams and the last words she ever said to me: 'Never lose your heart, Georgie. Never let them take it from you. Never let him change you.'"

It turned out that he had been wrong: it stung so bad to relive it. Of course he had missed his mom terribly, but he didn't think the events themselves would hurt this bad after so long. He thought he had moved past it all. But if that were the case, tears wouldn't be threatening to spill again. His heart wouldn't be aching and beating so loud he could hear it. His head wouldn't be spinning as thoughts of the beautiful brunette from which he got his looks came in and out. He wouldn't be in this much pain.

"Who's 'he'?" Dream asked quietly.

"I didn't know until very recently. For awhile I thought she might've been talking about Wilbur, seeing as he was the one who killed her. But that hunch was wrong, and even still I had already forgiven him even before her death. He wasn't in control of his own mind and I knew that. I knew how the minds of zombies worked and I didn't think there was any reason to hold a grudge for something so meaningless. People can hold a grudge all they want, at the end of the day it's not gonna change what happened."

At the very end, George's voice cracked, signaling the limit of how much he could talk about while still being able to withhold the tears. They slowly fell down his cheeks now, some of the salty droplets falling onto his tongue.

Unlike the first time he'd cried in front of Dream, this time he didn't try to hold back at all. He full on sobbed as the blond pulled him onto his lap and held him while he cried. His breathing sounded pained and his chest was struggling to get air. It hurt so bad. Why did it hurt so bad? It wasn't the first time he'd ever thought back to that day, so why was it to this extent now?

The answer was simple. He'd repressed the emotions and the feelings so much that talking to another person about it released the tidal wave that could no longer be retained by the dam. The bottle in which he'd been storing his emotions had finally burst, no longer able to contain it all. All of it was flying free now, exposing him and making him vulnerable to everything.

Thank god for Dream, his shield, otherwise he didn't know what he would've done. The taller held him close, taking his turn comforting the brunet. After all, he'd dealt with this a long time ago all on his own. He wasn't about to let George go through it without any help, he'd already been through too much.

From what the blond could tell, George had always been independent. It was partially him, but it was also the loss of his best friend and his mother (and most likely his father) all on the same day. His best friend was sent to a hospital to be monitored and poked at like a lab rat, meaning George could only see him and visit him from a distance. His mother was dead, so he lost that very important figure in his life at an age far younger than he should've. And his father probably became a recluse after that, mourning the loss of the love of his life, so George would've have to have taken on a responsibility as huge as searching for the cure for zombie-ism with minimal guidance.

And on top of it all, George had obviously never been taught how to truly deal with grief. He shoved it all his emotions inside of him instead of processing them and spitting them back out in the healthy way, causing him to have a reaction like he was now. Dream was just glad he was able to be here, because if this had gone down before they'd met then who knows what might've happened to him.

The blond had had his own share of grievances and losses, but there were three big differences when it came to his and George's issues. One, everything that happened to Dream had happened years prior, therefore he'd had more time to sort himself out. Two, he didn't have the same responsibilities, the same pressure that George had on his shoulders. The brunet seemed to be carrying everyone with his intelligence and maturity that was uncommon and unfair of someone so young to have to bear. Three, Dream did know how to cope with his feelings. His mom had left when he was young, which was hard on him, but his father had helped him and showed him the right ways to go about dealing with the horrible feelings.

George didn't have anyone to be there for him, and Dream was never going to let that be the case again.

~Word count: 1,954~

A/N: just a little bit of angst. the events of dream and george's past have finally been explained a little more thoroughly. also, did anyone understand dream's last name? esempi, pronounced like SMP... its dumb lol but my brain said it's this or clay block.