Wanderlust - Dreamnotfound

Chapter Four

I cover my mouth with my hand as I snicker. "Sure, shortie." 

"Whatever, tree." 

The drive to the parking lot goes by much too fast for my liking. I'd managed to shove Sapnap in the backseat, leaving me able to gaze longingly at the driver, who was focused on the road. We joke and laugh throughout the short trip, until George makes a gentle turn and I recognize my friends. I can barely stifle a quiet whoop of excitement, and it ends up coming out like some strange combination of a cough and a hiccup. George laughs lightly, though, so it's all too worth it.

God, I'm a simp.

As soon as we park, I scramble to get out of the car, racing Sapnap over to our friends. In an instant, I'm caught wrapped in a hug from all of them, laughing and smiling. George stands to one side, snickering softly. 

As soon as I can escape the group-hug, I scoot to his side, draping my arm heavily around his smaller frame. His touch is lighter as he softly touches one palm to my back. My limbs feel like bricks, the adrenaline wearing off and making my eyelids droop as I gently hug my friend. 

As if reading my mind, George speaks up. "Tired?" He mumbles into my green hoodie. I nod, humming drowsily.

"Okay. Come on, let's go to the car. We were just about to leave anyway. I don't like it here, airports are scary." He says gently, pulling away from the hug. I swallow a wistful sigh, having enjoyed the way the smaller felt in my arms. 

After voicing his concern for his jet lagged friends, George climbs into the driver's seat with a tired sigh, brushing his fingertips over the dashboard as I follow. Sapnap, yawning, shuffles into the backseat, followed by Bad. The rest have somehow fit into Wilbur's car.

I pass out within the first five minutes of the drive.

|~|

George's flat is big. Like, it's still an apartment, but a nice apartment, to say the least. He's decorated it and cleaned it neatly, the only plain room his own, where his setup is. He manages to find blankets and pillows for everyone, except himself, but I notice how tired he is once, finally, everyone is comfortable. 

Which is perfectly justified. George had been driving all day, and had to deal with us. Plus, I can assume he didn't get much sleep the previous night. And also, Tommy. 

A quiet movie plays in the living room, and we all lounge there. The carpet is covered with cozy blankets and pillows, which are occupied by a bunch of tired, mostly sleeping YouTubers. 

I blink open my tired eyes, covering my mouth as I yawn. I run my hand through blonde hair-letting my hand fall lazily to my side- when I see him, eyes glued to the television, yet clearly not seeing a thing that happens. George is curled up onto the couch, dark shadows underneath his eyelids as he tucks his legs close to his chest and gazes around nervously at the rest of us.

"George?" I whisper. "What time is it?" 

He blinks drowsily as he scoops up his phone. "Um. Like, around 6:45, why?" 

I nod a little. My jetlag isn't bad anymore, thankfully, it's mostly just normal fatigue. "Oh. No reason, just curious. Are you okay? You look tired." I mumble. 

George smiles a little. "Aww, you care? But yeah, I'm just a little.. Um, tired." 

I chuckle lightly. "You look a bit more than 'just a little tired.'" I say, mocking his accent a little before sitting up and carefully weaving my way between the others, blanket in hand. I'm not exactly graceful through the process, but I manage to make it without waking anyone. So, that's good.