28. Five Hours

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Clay's POV

Where the hell is George?

It's been well over five hours since he left us behind outside. Even if he had struggles finding the way to Fundy and Karl, he shouldn't need hours to get back. It can't be that long of a walk either. The instructions weren't like ten pages long or something, it should have been a pretty quick run back and forth. They only needed to know we're still alive, that was it. George wouldn't purposefully stay there to keep me worried. He'd come back. He wouldn't talk to me, but he'd come back at least.

Wouldn't he?

Of course he would, he's not the type of person to consciously leave me concerned about him. He knows I care about him.

Right?

Does he?

I wasn't nice to him, I said things I shouldn't have said, but those were all out of impulse. I didn't mean them, they were just the first things that came to mind. He must know that I didn't mean them. Yeah, surely he knows. He's just hurt by them, but that'll pass once I get to apologize to him. If I get to apologize to him.

What if they found him alone, in the middle of the street? What if they attacked him as a group? It's daylight, but I'm sure they don't care about that anymore. They'll just do whatever they want now, we hurt them and they'll do whatever it takes to hurt us back. They were going to behead him in front of me, all to hurt me. They'd do it all.

What if he's already dead by now? Maybe they saw him and speared him right on sight, not leaving any room for error. I feel a lump appear at the back of my throat when I think about that scenario.

"You should really sit down, this pacing around isn't going to help you," Bad says as he lays his hands on my shoulders, in an attempt to stop me from continuing to walk back and forth around the bunker.

"He's been away for hours, something is wrong," I respond. "We need to go look for him, he could be in trouble."

"Dream, take a breath. George can take care of himself, he's probably fine," Bad tries to reason with me, but I shake my head.

"I'm not taking that chance, we need to go, now," I tell him as I shake him off, grabbing my jacket and mask.

"We can't walk around aimlessly and just hope we'll spot him somewhere, Dream."

"That's why we're going to find Fundy and Karl, best case scenario he's just hanging around there," I tell him, grabbing as many weapons as my belt will fit.

Why the hell was I so mean to him? I should have just listened to him, give him a chance to talk, but I was so quick to judge. Fuck, why did I try to kiss him, instead of just talking to him? That may have been my dumbest mistake of all. He probably felt like I wasn't taking it seriously. Fuck!

Bad sighs deeply before also putting his jacket on again, following me through the hallway and out of the bunker. I lead him to Fundy and Eret's old place, trying to remember the instructions on the note. George took it with him, so it's going be a little bit of a guess where to go.

"You don't happen to have some amazing photographic memory, do you?" I ask Bad, earning a tiny chuckle from him. We take a gamble on the general direction we think we need to go in, keeping our eyes peeled in case we run into anyone. I'm trying to spot brown hair and sunglasses around every corner, but I'm met with disappointment each time. Why didn't he just come home? What does he think of me now?

"Do you think George hates me?" I ask, my gaze fixated on the road ahead of us.

"I think he's hurt, but he doesn't hate you," Bad says, laying his hand on my shoulder in consolation. "Just give him some time, and apologize when he's ready to hear it."

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