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George's eyes flickered open, awakening to the unmistakable smell of pancakes. He yawned, widely stretching his arms and groaning. For half of a second, he truly thought he was in England, only to realize with a quick glance around the room that he was in Dream's house. Wow. I don't think I'll ever get used to that fact.

It was only when George sat up that he realized he forgot to change into pajamas last night and was still wearing yesterday's jeans and sweater. Ew. I feel gross.

He took a few minutes to go on his phone and check through his social media. Nothing much. He did notice that he had 6 voicemails. All from his mom. He closed his eyes and forced himself to listen to them.

"George, honey, I don't understand why you're mad at me. Please, at least text me where you are? Did you go to America already?"

"Stop ignoring my phone calls. Are you still going to pay for my treatment this month?? I need to know George."

"Jesus Christ, I won't bring up your little fucking hobby of shoving your fingers down your throat anymore, just call me back! Stop being such a fucking twat, George. You know I'm the whole reason you exist, right? Least you could do is call me back or send me this month's money."

There were more messages, but George didn't bother listening to them, too depressed after the first few ones. He didn't know what to do. Yes, his mom was being a bitch, but was that really enough of a reason to withhold her cancer treatment money? George groaned at his inner turmoil. He had no idea what to do. 

He glanced at the date on his phone. He had at least three weeks to make a decision, so he would use that time to the fullest.

Realizing that he should probably get up and be productive, he forced himself off the comfortable bed and dug through his luggage for a comfortable pair of clothing. He opted to wear baggy black sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt.

There was a long mirror in the room that he stared at the entire time as he was changing. George was willing to admit that he didn't look terrible today; in fact, his stomach was looking relatively flat. But why do I always feel like I'll never be enough?

After throwing on the fresh pair of clothes, he peeked out from his door and examined the hallway. Empty. But he could hear sizzling sounds coming from the downstairs kitchen.

As he quietly walked down the steps, he heard Dream's voice

"-but I don't really think he'd want to go." 

George paused. 

"Seriously-no, you can meet him another time. Mom, please," Dream's voice sounded annoyed. There was a long pause before he spoke again, "Ugh. Fine. I'll ask him. I just don't want to put him in an awkward position, you know? Having to meet literally everyone at once would scare him a bit. Okay."

George peeked behind the corner of the wall, staring at Dream's back as he talked on the phone. I'm so confused.

"You've seen him before, mom. Just watch literally any of his streams. Yeah, I know, he's really cute. Mom! You're being weird!" Dream gasped. 

"Yeah. I'll see you then. Okay. Love you mom, Bye." Dream hung up on the phone.

George silently wished that his relationship with his mom was as good as Dream's. 

He waited for a minute or two on the top of the steps, hidden behind a wall before making his entrance. He didn't want Dream to know about his unintentional eavesdropping, even if he didn't actually understand much from it.

He made sure to be extra loud with his steps going down the stairs, which caught Dream's attention. He saw dream jump a bit at the sound of George, but then smiled as he turned around from the stovetop. "You're awake!"

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