count on me

tossin' and turnin'

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

✭・.・✫・

a good sleep schedule is not something that any of the men of the house have been blessed with. usually they can fall asleep and wake up at pretty good times, especially now they all dedicate so much time to rosie, but occasionally there will be days when something is off and their schedules shift. something like: dream getting too focused on something and staying up much longer than he was meant to, or sapnap falling asleep during the day and not being able to sleep again that night.

or george, getting lost in his head and drowning silently in the loud shouts and screams of his own thoughts, each one circling around him and constricting uncomfortably like a snake, leaving sleep as an impossible goal.

tonight is one of those nights.

it's frustrating him because he is so tired and absolutely craving the relief of some good sleep, but his head just isn't letting it happen. he's been tossing and turning for near on three hours now and the annoyance of it all is creeping back to him in the form of a headache, digging its claws into the edges of his brain and scratching at the inside of his skull.

george would never kill himself, but the idea creeps in at moments like this. he just wants sleep and, theoretically, his own death would be a pretty fast route to rest and the headache would go pretty quickly too.

of course, that doesn't mean he wants to actually die.

even though george knows he will never give in to the intrusively dark thoughts, he still hates that his mind even suggests that it may be a plausible option to solve his problems. it's like he's unconsciously trying to convince himself that it's a good idea.

eventually, george gives up trying on his own, and his sleep-deprived mind decides that he should displace his troubles onto someone else. someone who would know how to fix it.

so he drags himself out of bed, grimacing at how his bones click and shivering from the air-conditioned coolness that runs over his skin like silk, and he drags himself slowly out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

despite this home housing four people and a cat, it was dark and quiet, the only sound noticeable being the hardly coherent whir of patches' water fountain in the kitchen. everything felt still and untouched, almost as if the house itself had fallen asleep alongside the people in it.

george shuffles down the hallway to the end door, pulling anxiously at his own fingers for a short moment before reluctantly bringing a hand up to rap his knuckles against the door.

he doesn't bother waiting for a response before quietly pushing the door open, and the light from the hallway window spills through the crack in the door and illuminates the room enough for george to watch the blanket-bundled figure as its head looks back over its shoulder.

tired eyes blink open, adjusting to the light, and dream's raspy voice croaks out sleep-ridden, "george?"

"sorry," the brunette whispers, one of his hands fiddling with his shirt hem whilst the other holds tightly onto the doorknob, ready to retreat if he is sent away. "did i wake you up?"