Angels (DreamNotFound/Gream)

Chapter 18: The Code Blue

THE CODE BLUE

George had barely gotten out his desperate scream for help when six doctors ran into the room and crowded around Dream's bed, pushing George away. He fell backwards onto the cold floor and watched them helplessly as his eyes blurred with panic. His mind felt unable to comprehend anything; it had gone completely blank except for his only thought, which kept repeating in his head:

This can't be real.

He watched the doctors as their hands swarmed over Dream's body like insects, checking his pulse and shaking him as the beeping noise from the heart monitor persisted. The scene seemed distant, muted and blurred, as if he were watching it through a fog.

A shout suddenly bubbled through like it was breaking out of water. "He's not breathing!"

A choked sob escaped George's lips as he gripped the edge of a wooden chair tightly as if it was the only thing holding him in this world. One of the doctors took out a yellow thing that the back of George's mind distantly recognized as a defibrillator, and George inhaled sharply as Dream's bandaged chest violently jerked from the electric current sent to his body from the machine. Through George's sense fog he felt a coppery taste fill his mouth, and realized he had bitten his tongue.

A distinct silence filled the room suddenly. After a moment of confusion, George realized, sudden intense relief almost knocking him over again, that the heart rate monitor had stopped beeping and the line was going up and down normally again. A white haired doctor put his fingers to Dream's neck, checking his pulse, and nodded at the rest.

One of the other doctors, a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair and a heart-shaped face, turned to him, seeming to suddenly realize he was there. She extended her hand to help him up, a small reassuring smile crossing her hassled features. "He's okay."

George shakily got to his feet, trying to muster a smile, but it turned out as more of a grimace. "Thank you," he whispered.

She nodded, following the other doctors from the room, and George immediately ran to kneel by Dream's side. He put a trembling hand on the wavy haired boy's chest and was slightly calmed to hear a pulse and feel the rising and falling movement of his breath. His face crumpled with emotion and he stared down at Dream's unconscious face without blinking, eyes burning with tears. He stroked his tousled hair gently, brushing the stray strands out of his face, staring at his features like he was never going to see them again - he might not, he realized. His eyes raved over the little details of Dream's features that he had never really noticed before, like the small freckle at the side of his mouth, the natural curve of his long eyelashes, and the upturned tip of his nose. He managed a small smile as his finger languidly stroked the curve of his cheek. Dream was a human angel.

Hopefully he won't become an actual angel anytime soon.

The intrusive thought flew into George's mind like a bullet and he inhaled sharply, tensing up. He shook his head slowly, staring down at the bandaged boy. "Please don't leave," he whispered.

His hand stroked Dream's hair, shaking slightly. He took a deep, shuddering breath, hating himself more with every passing second for believing Amanda. If he hadn't been so stupid, Dream would never have gotten hurt. Right now they would probably be cuddling up, watching a movie, laughing uproariously about some stupid joke one of them made, instead of in the hospital room where he knelt by Dream's limp, unconscious figure, hoping desperately that he wouldn't die.

"I love you," he muttered without thought.

His eyes immediately widened as the realization of what he had just said flew into his head. But he had no time to contemplate it, as Dream's family rushed back into the room, their faces all white with shock.

"The doctors told us his heart stopped beating," the youngest of the girls said, rushing to kneel by Dream. Tear tracks stained her pale face as she looked at her brother mutely.

Mr. Johnson looked at George for confirmation, and he nodded slightly.

Tears were silently sliding down Mrs. Johnson's face as she stood over his broken figure. "Did you witness it?" she asked George, not taking her eyes off of her son.

"Yes." George shut his eyes tightly, trying desperately not to remember the moment, and flinched as he was suddenly pulled into a bone-breaking hug.

He hesitantly put his arms around Mrs. Johnson as she hugged him so tightly he thought he might stop breathing. She finally pulled back and looked at him, her fatigued features filled with motherly concern.

"That must've been awful," she whispered.

"It was," he said in a low voice. He determinedly fought back the lump in his throat, willing himself not to cry in front of Dream's family.

They sat in miserable silence for a few minutes until the oldest of Dream's sisters suddenly spoke up. "We used to tease him about you, you know," she said, words directed at George but eyes never diverting from her brother.

A choked laugh drew from George's lips, and his eyes flickered to her. "You did?"

"Yeah," said the younger sister quietly, a sad half smile curved on her lips. "You'd say you loved him, and it'd be all he talked about for days. We'd all laugh at him and call you his boyfriend, and he'd always just laugh and say, 'I wish,'."

An intense longing like he'd never had before filled George as he looked at Dream's unconscious, battered body. "Oh," was all he could get out without breaking into tears, but he had a feeling they understood.

They stayed by Dream for the rest of the day, huddled around his bed. George had asked Dream's parents if they wanted him to leave, but Dream's mother shot him down immediately, saying, "He would want you here... he loves you."

So he stayed, staring at Dream as if he could wake him up with his gaze, hoping desperately he would be okay, all the while thoroughly contemplating his mother's words. Was Dream in love with him? And was he in love with Dream? Had he meant it that way? He had said it so thoughtlessly, so recklessly, but it had fallen out of his mouth with such ease that he couldn't help but wonder if it might be true.

To their great relief, Dream seemed to be getting better and better throughout the day. The doctors checked in on him regularly, flitting around with complex instruments and machines, checking his breath and heart rate. At around four in the afternoon, they confirmed he was stable. Dream's mother let out a sob of relief, and George buried his face in his hands, concealing the tears of solace that escaped without his control.

It was a quarter after six when Dream's hand, intertwined with George's, twitched slightly. George inhaled, looking desperately at Dream's face for any sign of awakening. His family had noticed, and were too staring at Dream urgently, their faces taut.

"Dream?" George whispered hesitantly. "Can you hear me?"

There was silence for a moment, and then slowly, Dream's eyes fluttered open.

_____

sorry for the late update, i forgot lol

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