Chapter Two|The Land of the Living

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George didn't know what to do.

Three days ago, George got a call from Dream's mom about Dream being hospitalized. He remembers exactly what he was doing when his world became worry and fear.

He had been up super late editing his videos; the sun was already begging to rise on the horizon. George leaned backward, his spine snapping and popping as he did so. He groaned loudly as he stretched his arms far above his head, his shoulders joining the cacophony of popping.

That's when he got the call.

Dreams mom had called him at seven am, her voice tired, worried, and strained from crying.

Dream had been hospitalized, and he was in a medically induced coma. George had asked how it happened, but Dream's mom seemed really adamant about leaving that information out of the picture; Not knowing about it scared him more than anything else.

He booked the earliest flight to Orlando and only packed a backpack, shoving everything together so he could go as soon as possible.

Nearly twelve hours later he was finally in Orlando, about ready to keel over from his fucked up smoothie of exhaustion and nervous energy.

In a matter of half an hour, he is was finally at the right hospital, his heart beating harder than anyone's had a right to. The door shook on its hinges as he threw them open, the expanse of the lobby now in front of him.

A woman walked up to him; she seemed absolutely exhausted, the bags under her eyes darker than his own. She seemed relieved and scared to see him.

"Here; you can come with me to see him." She told him, walking up to the front desk while George stared at nothing, the thoughts rushing through his head more than enough to keep him company.

When he got to the room door, he hesitated. He reached his hand out to open it, to see his best friend for the first time ever, and it had to be with one of them in a hospital bed.

He felt his panic and worry dissolve into a heavy sludge of despair as he pushed open the door, his eyes going blurry with unshed tears.

And there he was, just where George knew he would be. He was asleep, the heart monitor a steady static in the background as George walked up to the side of the hospital bed, placing his hands on the bed to the left of Dream, tears slipping down his cheeks like raindrops.

He reached his arm up to his eyes, wiping his face vigorously, but he couldn't stop the sobbing and the way his face was pulled into an ugly, dejected expression.

As he felt the mother of his best friend put a hand on his back and start rubbing in circles, he wept.

It was just a couple hours later that Sapnap, or Nick, got there. George had just been staring blankly at Dream's peaceful expression, trying as hard as he could not to break into a million pieces right in the middle of the hospital room. George didn't even look up to see if Nick had brought Skeppy.

Nick sat next to him, leaning his side against George to give him some support as Zak leaned against the wall, his face pulled into a frown.

The next morning, true to his word, Bad got there. He seemed tired, and when he saw Dream, he full-on whined, tears springing to his eyes. Zak awkwardly held the taller man close as Darryl put his forehead on top of Zak's head, just trying not to look at the comatose man.

They waited.

Nick dragged George out of the room three times a day to eat, even though George just picked at his food, answering any questions in as little words as possible. He felt broken; He was gone without Dream there to be his anchor, his pillar.

He needed Dream more than anyone else in his life.

It was on the third day that Dream had shuffled around in bed, making everyone's gaze snap towards him as they just stared, trying to make sure they weren't hallucinating.

And then he groaned, sitting up on his elbows.

"Clay!" A cacophony of voices spoke up, rushing to the boy's bedside. George was on his right, holding onto Dream's hand in a grip that was probably way too tight, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Hey Nick... Darryl..." And while his voice was sandpaper from lack of use, the words felt like a blanket of relief draped over George, hot and heavy on his shoulders. He smiled widely, laughing as globs of saline dripped from his chin.

And then it happened.

Dream turned to look at him, and the smile slipped from his face.

"Who... Who are you?"

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