Stay, Forever

16

George is alone in the basement when he hears a thud and then a loud crash from the floor above him. He tenses and strains to hear more.

The entire day, he thinks the house has been empty aside from himself. It's been a few days since he's really seen Dream or Sapnap, aside from quick conversations on their infrequent trips down to the basement. But other than that, he's been pacing the room alone, trying not to imagine what dangerous scenarios Dream could be in at the hands of his murderous parents.

There's another thud, and George holds his breath. He thinks he can hear uneven footsteps, and panic wells up in his chest. It could be anyone; from someone who works for his parents, to one of his parents themselves.

His eyes quickly flit around the room in search of something, anything, that he can defend himself with. The only thing he sees is the dull knife left behind from his last meal. But he thinks it's better than nothing, and he grabs it off the bedside table.

With his ear pressed to the door, he strains to listen. His breath catches, and he wonders if whoever it is will even think to check down here. He already knows the door is locked from the outside, so he couldn't escape even if he wanted to.

His hand tightens around the handle of the knife, and he pushes away from the door when he hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps descending the staircase that leads directly to him. Nausea burns low in his stomach, and the footsteps draw closer and closer still.

He retreats back across the room, and his back is pressed flat against the wall when the door swings open. A relieved exhale rushes from his lungs, and the knife clatters to the floor as he breaths out, "Dream, it's just you."

Dream sways where he stands, and George can see that his eyes are unfocused and hazy. He takes a step closer, and George notices how Dream's usually tanned skin is pale and colorless.

His heart rate picks up, and he speaks his name again, "Dream? Are you okay?"

Dream stumbles forward, catches himself on the doorframe, and mutters, "George, I need your help."

George rushes forward, and his eyes frantically search for visible injuries. He can't find anything, and as soon as he's close enough, heavy hands weigh down on his shoulders.

"Sapnap isn't here," Dream stumbles over his words as he speaks around labored breaths, "he usually helps me."

George tries to make sense of it, and he feels himself growing more panicked when Dream's eyelids slip closed and his words taper off. He tips forward again, and George manages to drag an arm across his shoulders to steady him.

Dream mutters something, and George sets his eyes on the bed across the room as he says, "just let me get you to the bed first, Dream."

With uneven steps and more labored breaths, Dream allows himself to be steered over to the mattress. George lowers him down onto his back, and his eyes roam again as he urges, "tell me what's wrong, Dream. What happened?"

Dream motions to his right side, and now George notices the way the dark fabric of his shirt is soaked in blood and clinging to his skin. His stomach turns, and he reaches for the bottom hem of Dream's shirt. Bracing himself, he pulls the fabric up gently, eyes widening when he sees the deep gash in Dream's side.

Dream winces, and George mutters, "shit, this looks really bad."

He can feel his pulse quickening, even as he's trying to keep himself calm. He's no stranger to treating childhood injuries since his parents were never there to help, but he's never had to deal with anything this serious. Bile rises in the back of his throat, and he glances up to see Dream's eyes searching his face.