Stay, Forever

36

*TW: mentions of death

**We've reached the part where the old title would have made sense, so I guess just keep that in mind since it's no longer called nightmare :]

George wakes with a start, heart pounding and hands scrambling in a desperate reach for his throat. He presses his fingertips down against warm skin, and feels the pulse that means he's alive, he's okay. And where he expects to find blood or a knife wound, there's nothing but the stretch of smooth skin that's perfectly intact.

He drags his hands down his face, and tries to even his breathing. Sweat beads at his hairline, and when his hands fall back towards his lap, his eyes drift up to see a figure move through his room.

Curtains are pulled back, and George winces as harsh morning sunlight floods the tiny room. He breathes out, and when he sees who it is, he mumbles, "Karl, it's just you."

Karl hovers near the window, and answers, "sorry, did I scare you? I thought you were awake already."

George presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, and shakes his head in response. He can feel Karl watching him, and then he hears him quietly ask, "are you alright, George?"

George raises his head to find Karl across the room, and he can tell that he's worried. He breathes out, and his heart is still beating a bit erratically in his chest as he answers, "I'm fine, it was just another nightmare."

"You're still having those?" Karl questions, "it's been months, right?"

George nods; it has been months, and he's beyond over them.

They started right around Halloween, and they haven't slowed down since. If anything, he thinks they've only progressively gotten worse. And it doesn't help that his real life childhood memories have become so ingrained in the nightmares that he can't even tell what's real and what's not anymore.

It's starting to blur the line between his dreams and his waking hours, and he feels like he's slowly losing his mind. It's more than fitting, really, because he's spent the better part of his life in group homes for troubled children, and he's been in this particular psychiatric hospital since he was eighteen.

"You've told your doctor about them, right?" Karl questions as he nears the bed. He's still worried, but when George nods, he seems to relax at least a little bit.

"Good," Karl hums quietly, busying himself with the clipboard in his hands.

George settles back against his pillows, watching as Karl scribbles something down, and then glances over the page. Across the room, the door swings open, and George's eyes drift over to see who it is.

"Oh," Karl breathes out, half surprised, "morning, Sapnap. I didn't know you were working today."

George can't help but smile, and he tries to hide it by keeping his eyes fixed down towards his blanket. But he knows that when he looks back up, he'll most likely see a light pink blush creeping up Karl's face. It always seems to happen when he talks to Sapnap.

"Yeah," Sapnap answers, "I'm only here for a couple of hours this morning. I came to check in on George, but I didn't know you were in here already."

George finally glances up, and sure enough, Karl's face has flushed a deep shade of pink. He's holding the clipboard to his chest as he responds, "oh, okay. We must be on the same schedule then."

It's not completely uncommon for them to be working the same shifts. They've both been working at the hospital for a couple of years now, working mostly part time while they finish up college. And more often than not, George sees them working the same shifts.