There was a weight in his lungs immeasurable and an aching behind his eyes unbearable. He felt heavy and cold and detached in the most horrifically all-encasing way.
Despite effort after effort, his body remained immovable. It anchored heavily to the mattress beneath him, duvet that partially covered it providing no help in thawing the ice within. The frigid temperature in his core felt as though it were seeping through the pores in his skin and diffusing about the room.
He hadn't the effort to go and turn the air conditioning off, nor the effort to pull the sheets up from where they were draped over his legs. The cold sweat that had formed a sheen over tan skin and drenched through thin clothing proved that the effort would be worthless and only cause further problem.
It felt pathetically degrading to be able to do little more than blink and breathe all because he'd let his own mind get the better of him; let that horrible dark shroud seep over his eyes and blind him from reality.
A thick, sickly guilt settled in his lungs like tar as he listened to George's echoing footsteps pass past his door, only weighing them heavier.
George had come to visit, had come to see him. George had taken the nine hour flight to come and be with him in person, to see the sights and to spend time with his best friend and yet Dream was selfishly holing himself away in silent solitude.
He hadn't the heart to tell George that he ought to just go home; that sometimes Dream was simply like this and he likely wouldn't be useful for the duration of George's stay. He hadn't the heart to tell George that he'd wasted his time.
A dark, dismal voice told him that George already knew.
George was so bright, blindingly so; so happy; so kind; so uplifting, even when he was spouting insults. He was warm in the way he called Dream stupid; soft in the way he'd excitedly display every moment that his kitten decided to accompany him; quiet in the way he mothered Dream when Dream had flown over to visit.
That only served to make Dream feel worse.
George had been such a good host when he'd flown over on a whim. He'd made the house feel like home, had never made Dream do any chores for himself, had even offered to bring his fan down from the loft when Dream had offhandedly mentioned missing the ambient sound.
He'd had a nervous energy to dispel, sure, but he'd still put so much silent care into assuring the Dream enjoyed his first time in rainy old England. And here Dream was, entirely ruining George's first time in Florida because he was too weak to get past the cruel commentary of his conscience.
He didn't deserve George at all, let alone to have his company. He had half the mind to buy him a connecting flight to Texas - he'd likely have more fun with Sapnap than he'd have with Dream in this state.
But that wasn't the root of it and Dream knew it. He wasn't just upset over being a bad host. He was upset over being a bad friend - a bad more-than-friend if he was willing to risk spiralling.
Two soft knocks on his door roused him from that train of thought, however. After failing to do little more than twitch his fingers in attempts to get up and open the door, he instead let out a low, rumbling hum. George peaked tentatively around the door.
"Hey, just wanted to ask whether you wanted any dinner." He asked with a lopsided smile and then, as though it would entice Dream, he added in a singsong tone "I made pizza."
Dream tried, he really did. He tried desperately to tell George that pizza sounded amazing right about now; to ask him whether he wanted to watch a movie or play some minecraft or even decide to ditch the pizza to be reheated another day and go out for dinner instead. What came out, however, was a disinterested and frankly sad hum of denial.
He could tell that George was disappointed and it tugged harshly on the threads around his heart and in the back of his mind. He couldn't do anything though as George sighed and slipped from the room. Nothing but pray that George would forgive him some day.
He lay still for what felt like hours but could have equally been minutes, mulling over and pulling apart his flaws. He'd always been overly critical, sometimes harshly so, Dream knew that but it didn't make it any harder to deal with.
Before he had the chance to convince himself that cutting ties with George would be the kindest option, so that George didn't have to deal with this overly attached burden, George was opening the door once more.
This time, however, he strolled in with a sense of self-surety and placed a plate of haphazardly arranged pizza and dip on the bedside table before disappearing again. Within moments, he'd returned with a can of carbonated melon milk - George still hated the stuff but Sapnap had successfully gotten Dream hooked - and a can of coke, placing each beside the plate. On his third trip in, he closed the door behind himself and strode directly towards the bed that Dream occupied, laptop and Patches cradled in his arms.
He plopped Patches delicately onto Dream's chest before sliding into bed beside him and opening the laptop. Dream felt something pull inside him when it opened to a half-edited video they'd recorded over a week ago.
Figuring that simply staring at George wasn't going to get him any answers, Dream managed a confused little noise that formed in the back of his throat.
"You looked like you could use some company." George answered in that ever nonchalant way he seemingly always did. Dream swore, to this day, that he'd never know what went on behind those cloudy-brown eyes of his. "Want to watch a movie?"
Dream almost shook his head; almost turned to his side wordlessly and blocked George out for his sake before realising how much of George's effort doing so would waste. He was willing to indulge himself if it meant making George's time worthwhile.
He nodded softly and then realised just how easy that had been. After almost hours in a near paralysed state, he only needed mere moments of George's company to begin to thaw the still in his bones.
"The Hobbit or Harry Potter?" George asked and, bless his golden heart, held one finger out to represent The Hobbit and two to represent Harry Potter. Dream was able to lift a single finger and it was all worthwhile for George's blinding smile. "Sounds good."
It didn't take long for George to set the movie up, pushing the laptop to sit low on his thighs so that Dream could see it properly too and placing the plate of pizza in his lap above it. He nestled the can of melon milk into the covers between them wordlessly.
Dream felt rather pathetically close to crying. He'd done nothing for George, nothing but catch an Uber with him from the airport and wish him a goodnight with a tight, lingering hug that first night, and yet George was more than willing to do so much for him. When George's right hand came to settle in Dream's frankly greasy hair, idly playing with the strands, he felt himself crumble and let himself cry.
And George was ever calm as he shifted everything from the bed once more, even gently shifting Patches off of Dream's chest. Dream found himself able to sit up just enough to slump into George when he twisted back with open arms. George held him, a solid and comforting weight, as Dream let out shuddering sobs that ultimately stained George's shirt.
"Do you want to talk about it?" George asked softly once Dream had fallen silent and limp against him.
"I don't think I can put it into words." Whether his voice was hoarse with tears or disuse, he wasn't all too certain.
"That's fine, we can keep watching movies if you want to." George reassured, smoothing his hand down the back of Dream's creased shirt.
"Whatever makes it okay."
"You do." Dream mumbled. "You make it okay."
George smiled, warm and kind, and pressed his nose to the skin just behind Dream's ear. "Then I'll stay."
And he made good on his word. He stayed until Dream released his hold and adjusted to sit more comfortably, pressed against his side; he stayed until Dream finally took an offered slice of pizza; he stayed until Dream helped him finish the plate and had finished his melon milk too; he stayed until the end of the movie.
George stayed all the way up until Dream fell asleep curled against his side, thoroughly warmed, and then he stayed some more.
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1.6k words
This could be seen as platonic if you want it to be - I might do a part two that isn't if that's cool with everyone :]
Sometimes all you need is someone at your side
Requested by FunTime_Tori , I hope this is somewhat what you were thinking of!
Requests are open!!
Yours, Dandy