-next morning-
Triggers
-dysphoria
Third person pov:
Much to George's disappointment he woke up alone that morning, both Dream and George hadn't really talked much yesterday and it the brunette was starting to overthink things.
Unfortunately the boy had once again woken up to the oh-so familiar feeling of hating himself, the way his body made him feel would always be something no cis person would understand, being born in the wrong body is not a fun experience.
He hated that same crushing feeling, so many times over and over throughout his life he felt it lingering, but he still never knew how to get rid of it.
George just lay there in his bed. For hours. He didn't want to move, he didn't feel like doing anything. He just didn't feel like he had the energy for it.
He would rather just lay in the comfort of his sheets and mope.
Sometimes his mind would wonder as he stared at the patterns of his ceiling, the way the paint dried that created scattered bumps and swirls. His eyes would trail across around them like a maze, sometimes shapes could be seen, sometimes he could make out different objects by the way the crusty paint was shaped. Like looking at clouds only from the comfort of your warm sheets.
As his gaze switched from crack to crack in the dried pale paint of his ceiling, his mind drifted in and out of different thoughts.
But everything thing his mind wondered to would always end up back to the same subject his mind turned to in this situation.
His body.
All he could ask was why.
Until eventually his thoughts would dissipate and he would be left with his white ceiling once again, counting and tracing every crack, chip, swirl, dip and bumb with his dark brown eyes.
Occasionally the brunette would turn his head to obverse how much time he had wasted, his digital clock on his nightstand being his answer. So far the boy had been lying there for 5 hours. He had woken up at 8am and handnt moved from where he lay until 1pm.
'God I'm so pathetic.' He sighed, 'sitting here and complaining isn't going to change anything... but neither would getting up and hating myself more.' He rolled back to his original position, looking back up at the ceiling above, 'why couldn't I just be born in the right body? It makes no sense. Why do I have to feel this way?' He complained.
A loud vibration on his bedside table brought him back to his disappointing reality, without breaking eye contact with the ceiling he grabbed his phone that sat beside his clock. He pulled it up over his face, his gaze empty. He really just didn't care about anything right now. Though he preferred it that way, feeling nothing sounded better than feeling dysphoria.
Quackity: wake up now. I know how to play 6 of the most annoying songs on the acoustic guitar. This is a threat.
Usually this would have made George laugh and get up to see what they were up to, but in his current state of mind, he could only seem to think negatively, he was not in the mood.
George: Rule number 5: no playing musical instruments in the house unless everyone currently in the house agrees.
He shut off his phone and dropped it back down on the table carelessly.
George was about to go back to his previous activity of staring mindlessly up when noises prevented him from doing so.
Quick and continuous knocks, rapidly in no particular pattern sounded at his door. "Ggeeeeeoooorrrrggggeeeeyyyyyy" a silly voice whined through knocks.
George pulled a pillow over his head and groaned loudly.
"Goggyyy~! Googgyyy~!" The voice giggled, clearly oblivious to the boys current state.
George threw his pillow across the room and angrily stomped over to the door, swinging it open to reveal a shorter male with longish black hair that escaped the edges of his blue beanie.
"What do you want, Quackity?" George deadpanned, sounding more aggressive than he intended.
Though Quackity didn't really seem to care too much about his friends tone, noting he wasn't in a very good mood he continued, "woaahh hey man what's got your panties in a twist this afternoon?" He joked, not amusing the taller, "come downstairs! Dream and Bad are the only ones home and I'm boreeedddd" he whined, the brunette did not find his words at all convincing, the smaller noticed this from the lack of expression in his eyes. He desperately thought of ways to get him to come downstairs, worried he would just lock himself in his room all day, "we made cookies?" He added, unsure if it was enough.
It wasn't.
"No thanks, Quackity. Sorry, not in the mood today." He responded. Quackity expected as much, sighing dramatically he placed a hand on his heart and tipped his head back, "nooo George doesn't love meeeee." He laughed, unable to hold of the charade, "it's fine dude, I'll come get you some food later or something if your busy." He smiled before running back downstairs to annoy Bad.
George shut his door and returned to his bed.
Quackity ran into the living room and Dream looked up at him, "how is he?" He asked. "You were right, I don't think he's feeling too dandy today" he confessed, Dream frowned at this, "I don't know why you didn't just go and ask him yourself." He shrugged, reaching for the plate of freshly baked cookies, Bad appeared out of nowhere and slapped his hand away making the noirette boy yelp, "no. We are waiting for Sapnap and Karl." He reminded him sternly, Quackity pouted but received no sympathy.
"I don't think he wants to talk to me." Dream answered.
Quackity rubbed the bridge of his nose, "dude I think your the ONLY person he wants to talk to." He told him, Dream raised a confused eyebrow, "I saw you two yesterday, Sapnap showed us a photo. There's no reason he wouldn't want to talk to you."
"What photo?" Bad whispered to the smaller.
"I'll show u later." Quackity responded, "why wouldn't he want to talk to you? You do something wrong?"
"Sapnap took a photo?" Dream didn't even register anything else he said.
"Yeah yeah just answer my question!"
"I don't know, he didn't seem too comfortable around me after? He seemed more nervous and jumpy in a way."
"Do you think maybe he was just nervous because he was embarrassed and maybe over thinking because you won't talk to him about something you clearly both want to talk about but neither has the courage to ask first?" Bad inputted, slipping into a different mindset.
Both turned to him a little shocked, "what?" Bad shrugged.
"That sounded like it came from personal experience" Dream stated.
Quackity nodded in agreement, "yeah man are you alright?"
Bad sighed, "yes. I'm fine but whatever happened between you two isn't going to be resolved unless you go up there and talk to him. He's your best friend."
This seemed to be enough to convince, though Dream never needed much convincing if it meant seeing George.
"Okay. Yeah, yeah okay alright. Maybe you're right." He said, he got up off the couch and left the room to go upstairs.
"Okay show me the photo." Bad clapped, almost jumping up and down with a huge smile on his face. Quackity immediately got out his phone.
Dream walked up the stairs quietly, when he reached George's room he stood there for a moment, he wasn't sure what to say.
He decided to start with knocking and see how it goes.
George still felt like shit to put it mildly. He felt the huge overwhelming urge to just cry, but the tears never came.
He heard a knock at his door once again. But nobody announced themselves.
"Who is it?" He called, his voice croaking a little.
"It's me." Dream responded, a little worried his suspicions may be right.
George didn't hesitate to get out of bed and plod over to the door. He reached for the handle before freezing, 'shit binder.' "Give me a minute."
He went into his blue sticker drawer, pulling out a looser binder, not loose enough to give it away, but not tight enough to hurt his ribs anymore than they already do.
He took off his hoodie and put it on quickly since it was a side clip one, then pulled his hoodie back on.
He opened the door, Dream stood with a small smile on his face, trying to lighten the mood as much as possible. His heart shattered when he saw the sad eyes of the brunette, his hair was messy and he had a small frown on his face.
Somehow the sight of Dream had already made George feel happier than he had all day, even if it was just a little bit.
"Hey" was all George said.
"Hi." The dirty blonde greeted.
They weren't quite sure what to do. Dream had come to check on him, but wanted to do more than just say hi but he was stuck. George knew this, he wanted Dream to hold him again, he seemed to be the only tranquilliser that could knock out his dysphoria longer than anything else he's ever tried.
George grabbed Dreams wrist, bringing him inside his room and shutting the door behind him. After closing the door, he just stared at the ground for a moment, he wasn't quite sure how to initiate the hug, or if Dream would even want to.
The brunette decided to just lean his head and torso forward, placing his head against the tallers chest.
Dream immediately understood, and pulled the small boy closer to him, leaning over slightly as the smaller wrapped his arms around his neck but kept his head against his chest.
It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable for either of them, but both felt they wanted to be closer.
Just like last time, the two ended up sleeping in the same bed, George feeling a million times better and Dream feeling happy that he could help George out and be with him.
But unlike last time, Sapnap didn't come in with his phone camera.