ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ɪɴ ᴏᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ
:]
george is awoken by a gentle pressure.
he hums, thinking that he is speaking but being refused the privilege by his body. the first time he tries to open his eyes, nothing happens. the second time, the action is slow and the world around him is blurred slightly as he tries to make sense of the brightness attacking him.
karl comes into focus. for a moment, he thinks the brightness is simply karl eluding positivity, but, after a few more beats of coming back to consciousness, he recognises that his curtains have been pulled open.
"morning," karl grins and george's tired mind has to process the word fully before he can think about the smile on his friend's face. it takes even longer for him to actually process that karl is in his room, in his house, fully dressed and looking wide awake. and the sun is up, beaming through the window.
george groans, though he doesn't know what he's groaning about. "wha' time is it?" he slurs, rolling over slightly further so he can press his face into his pillow to avoid the brightness.
the patch of pillow he leans into is cool and it feels nice against his skin. he's hardly awake enough to process the warm temperature of the rest of his body but he grasps on to the fact that he feels comfortable. he feels relaxed, his body light and muscles loose.
"time for you to get up," karl answers like an idiot, and george smiles into his pillow. normally he would swallow back the fond expression but he's too tired to care. it hardly matters though, since karl can't see the look hidden in the pillow anyway. george groans again, just because he can. "come on. let's go out and do something."
the idea of having to experience the real world pulls george out of his half-sleep state. his mind brings back recollections of the day before- how he had cried to karl, how they'd cuddled, how the brunette had dragged him from bed to eat dinner and watch tv and insisted that they would hang out properly tomorrow (which is now today).
"can't," he starts. he wracks his tired mind for a long moment, trying to think of an excuse that isn't the truth. i can't go out. i don't have the motivation. i'm so sad, karl, i can't even bring myself to leave the house and fake a smile. "too tired."
"did you not sleep well?" karl asks. the bed dips as he takes a seat, but george doesn't look up from the safety of his pillow.
george never sleeps well so, even if it isn't exactly why he doesn't want to go out, it isn't a lie when he shakes his head against the soft cotton material.
he hears a gentle hum come from the other, a sound of distant thought as he presumably ponders what to do with the brit. george should've known that karl isn't the kind of person you can open up to and expect them to just forget about it.
"fine," he eventually says, but it doesn't sound resigned like george had almost hoped. it's confusing, how george wants karl to give up on him and leave him to rot in his depression, but how he also so desperately wants the brunette to be there for him. he wants to feel like someone worth fighting for. "but we're at least going to the lounge. your room is like a tomb."
george can't argue, he knows it's true. even overlooking his constant want to keep the curtains drawn shut, the room still feels stale, even with new light pouring in. george sort of wants to get out of his room and venture out into the living room, so he isn't sure why he sighs when he sits up.
maybe he's self-sabotaging.
it takes him another moment to adjust to the light in the room, even though he's more awake now, and he can't fight back the urge to let his lips curl up when he sees how karl is grinning at him. the brunette's smile is contagious, even if the feelings behind it don't manage to seep into george's everlasting darkness.
"come on then," karl chirps, far too energetically, as he gets up off of the bed. he holds out a hand to george and, even as his smile fades, the brit recognises a sprout of life in his heart when he reaches out and lets his own warm palm find the others.
karl doesn't really put much effort into helping george up, but the simple feeling of their hands held together seems to create a link between them that allows george to take in some of his friend's bright energy. for even just a moment, the darkness inside him goes quiet in favour of him focusing on the point of physical contact.
george never considered that his love language might be touch but he's starting to really contemplate the likelihood. he knows it's not words of affirmation, and he's never been huge on gift-giving or acts of service- he'd much rather have other people do those things for him. he likes spending time with people, sure, but that's been so difficult for most of his life, considering time zones and distance and covid. maybe touch has been his hidden need all this time.
george is blessed with the ability to let his brain empty as he's pulled out of his room by karl. he vaguely recognises that he hasn't brushed his teeth or had his morning wee but he doesn't really care, he can deal with those things later, when he isn't distracted by karl's warmth.
george often hates how his mind wanders and leaves him feeling like he's abandoned his body. he can get so spacey that he forgets what he was doing, or where he is, or, most worryingly, who he is. but right now, it's okay, because he can let himself float off and trust wholeheartedly that, no matter where he goes, karl will pull him back.
"are you hungry?" karl asks, his voice gently reeling george back to the moment. they're standing in the living room, right beside the doorway that leads to the kitchen.
he is a little hungry, yeah, but he doesn't have the energy to get himself food. karl would get him food if he asked but that would mean karl would be in the kitchen and not with george.
he wants karl to stay with him, so he shakes his head.
karl squints back at him, humming. "right," he says, but looks off to the kitchen. george almost verbalises his untrue disinterest in eating, just to ensure karl stays with him, but the brunette speaks first. "can you pour us some cereal?"
george looks over to where karl had directed the question. dream is standing barely a meter away, leaning against the counter closest to them with his arms crossed over his chest. his whole attention is on them, and george wonders when he had got there. when did he join their moment? did he offer food before karl and george just didn't hear?
dream replies with a nod and a small smile flashed in the brit's direction, but george doesn't get the chance to remind himself that he should be forcing a smile back before the blond has turned and made his way over to the fridge.
george says nothing, following obediently when karl starts to move again, their hands still together.
the fluffy-haired boy drops down onto the couch and tugs george down with him. it's all too easy for the brit to lean into his friend's side, dropping his head down on karl's shoulder and breathing out in relief at the comfort of a body holding his own, karl's arm wrapped secretly over his shoulders. it's surprisingly comforting, and george finds himself smiling without the need to impress anyone.
he is smiling for himself.
maybe somewhere inside him, there is happiness to be found. what he's feeling now, this warm goodness, isn't happiness. he knows that, but he also knows it's the closest thing he's felt in longer than he can remember and, in his eyes, that's tenfold better than nothing.
it will be easier for him to eat like this, with karl by his side, exuding a constant, gentle comfort.
he hopes, deep down, that both dream and sapnap will join them in the living room. maybe they could put something on tv, or the others could talk and george could listen along. he misses his friends, even though they are physically closer than they've ever been.
he supposes he only has himself to blame for that.
george feels his smile fade.
[:
i love you reader!
-kit