𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒫𝒪𝒱

I watch him bustle to the counter, apologizing to the small line of customers left waiting in front of the register because of his absence. They order and George sets out to make their drinks as fast as possible to make up for their wait. A few lattes and a black decaf coffee later, he comes back as I turn off the running water, shaking it off my hand.

He looks at me expectantly, gesturing toward the barstool outside the employee space. I surprise myself and comply, pushing through the swinging wood of the gate and plopping down on the stool with a roll of my eyes.

"George–relax." He ignores me and grabs a clean navy towel, soaking it in cool water as he eyes my wrist. I extend it, watching him intently as his fingers wrap the soft towel over the small burn. "Seriously...it's not a big deal."

His eyebrows lay smoothened above his eyes, mouth drawn into an unimpressed scowl. "I just don't want to get fired."

Right. I suppress a smile at his focus and flinch violently, pain written convincingly across my face. "Oh shoot! Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?" George apologizes, the corners of his eyes crinkling in sympathy and apology.

A laugh falls from my lips, bright and colorful after the tiresome day. He watches me laugh for a while with a scowl, glaring daggers at me. I glance at his expression and only laugh louder and he slowly but surely joins in, quiet giggles sounding from behind his hand.

I look at him, watching as he tries to stifle his laughter. "And here I thought we weren't friends."

I watch as my statement invokes several emotions, but as his laughter fades, he settles on annoyance like usual. "You said that, not me." He frowns.

I look at him thoughtfully as he wraps my hand again, clicking his tongue at the burn. "I think I took what you said the wrong way."

"You did take it the wrong way." He agrees. His own features are also drawn out in thought, deciding to add more on despite his reservations. "I'm well aware of my job options. It's a preference. I don't like people judging me over it."

"I wasn't trying to judge you." I tell him simply. He hums. "Anyway, I've got some stuff to do so I'll let you get back to work." I look at my hand awkwardly and he gently takes the towel off.

It doesn't look worse than a sunburn. I bet it'll go away in a day or two. Huh. "See? I work magic." He smiles cockily.

"You missed your calling in the medical field." I tell him sarcastically. He sticks his tongue out, rushing over to his register and greeting the man looking at the menu, effectively ending the conversation.

"Hello there! Having a nice time?" A lady asks and I look up from my laptop.

"Ah yeah?" I ask, a little confused.

"Oh, I'm the owner of the cafe. Gloria, nice to meet you." She beams and I smile politely in realization, shaking her extended hand.

"Nice place you've got here." I tell her easily. She seems positively delighted at the praise, bowing her head humbly.

"Ah, this old place. What would I do without it. And the kids are so nice and hardworking." She exhales blissfully. It's like owning this tiny cafe is all she needs in life to be happy. She reminds me of the teapot from Beauty and the Beast. A kind, motherly personality with too much blush on her smiling cheeks.

"You've got some really great customer service." I tell the woman, nodding my head in George's direction. She chuckles, sending a proud smile his way.

She thanks me for the conversation and makes her way to the back, standing near George's side. I watch as they talk, Gloria looking in my direction with a grin. The Brit follows her gaze, staring at me for a few moments before dipping his chin to the floor with an embarrassed flush.

I look back at my laptop with a smile.

Again, just like most nights, people slowly start to filter out as the night progresses. I fall asleep a few times, not more than ten or fifteen minute naps before waking up to a notification or the bell of someone coming in for a late night hit of caffeine.

As 2 AM approaches, the cafe is empty excluding me and George. He walks over to me quietly, placing a tea cup that's only filled halfway. He puts the rest in a glass holder and caps it, placing it on my table.

"Don't spill it." He says, his words slurring together like he was drunk.

"George, are you okay?" I ask, observing his face. Instead of the usual confident stance he took, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes drifted dangerously close to sleep with each blink. He looked like a raccoon with how dark the bags under his eyes were. It hurt just looking at him.

"Mmhm. Fine." He says, turning to walk away.

"You know that weird thing called sleep? Like what humans need to function properly? I know it isn't a very well known concept or anything but you might want to try it sometime." I mention.

He seemed stunned by the amount of words thrown at him, blinking dumbly at me. Settling for a quiet hum, he walks away. I facepalm, sighing into the screen that was starting to hurt my eyes. I put it away, choosing to rest for a moment when Sapnap rings.

"Hey dude. What's up?"

"Why are you awake so late?"

"I could ask you the same." I yawn.

I snort at the mirrored yawn from the other side of the call. "Just work. Hey, you're at the cafe right? Is Karl there?"

"No, it's George today." I mumble. I turn my gaze to the kitchen, where George was cleaning the polished granite of the countertop, half-lidded eyes glowing in the dim light.

"Aw man,"

"I'll tell him you said that."

"Georgina knows I love him."

"You've known him for like a week." I deadpan.

"Soulmate connection baby."

Something turns in my gut, a bad feeling caught like a flytrap in my chest making the acid in my stomach gurgle violently. But, my feeling unfortunately wasn't an action. Honestly, him falling over wasn't completely unexpected knowing him. What I didn't anticipate was the loud thud of George failing to catch himself like he usually does.

"Oh fuck," I breath, loafers clacking against the hardwood as I hurry to the other side of the cafe. "Sap, I'll call you back."

"What hap–"

I swing the gates open and immediately crouch down. "Crap, George. What the hell did you do?" I murmur worriedly.

George was laying on his side, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he tried to get up. I immediately crouch next to him, before my gaze catches on the large gash that was bleeding profusely from his forehead. Dark crimson flowed from the wound, sticking into his hairline and dripping down into his eyebrow.

"Ow," He whines as I thank God he's conscious. "That hurts."

I try not to panic, standing up for a second to grab paper towels near the counter. I wet them and sat down next to George who had wiped at the blood threatening to blind him. He's staring at his fingers slick with red, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"George." I try to make my voice as calming as possible, but he cuts me off before I can start.

"Dream–" He tries, blinking tears out of his eyes. He gags, dropping his hand and pitching forward. I catch him with little effort, ignoring his sharp fingernails digging into my wrists to steady his trembling frame. "Oh my God I'm gonna die."

"No, no you won't. Heads bleed a lot, it's completely normal. I'm gonna call you an ambulance. Just ah...just hold still." He manages to obey, laying against my shoulder as I press the wet paper towels against the wound. Pristine white vanishes, surrendering to the violent scarlet that has slowed a bit, but still hasn't stopped.

"Don't call an ambulance." He slurs, near incoherent as he shakes his head. I stare at him like he's senile. "I don't have insurance."

"George!" I hiss and he winces, turning his face away from me. I make a mental note to lower my voice, pressing a new kitchen towel to the wound. One hand pressed against his forehead, I reach a blood-stained hand into my back pocket to grab my phone. "We have to get you to a hospital. Are you crazy?"

"I'm fine. Justa scratch." He struggles to get off my shoulder, trying to shake away my help. Agony spreads across his face with every word and I reach for him again, supporting him before he can fall over and split his head open a second time. "Please Dream, just don't call an ambulance."

I think he's delirious. He has to go to a hospital.

"Okay, okay." I exhale, stress bubbling up my throat. If he has a concussion, we're both fucked. But I look into his eyes only to find pure desperation, and I can't bring myself to pick up the phone.

Instead, I just declined another call from Sapnap. "You're going to the hospital whether you like it or not though. You think you can stand?"

He hums, nodding slightly and I rise to my feet. George leans stiffly on me, like his head was too heavy for his shoulders to support it. I grab a towel and hold it under warm water, reaching over to turn the lights off before handing it to him.

"Had to one up you." He snorts softly, face immediately relaxing with the comfort of the material.

"Yeah, splitting your head open is such an accomplishment." I mumble, paying little attention to my words as I lead him to the door. He flips the sign on the patterned window to closed, mumbling about how Gloria was going to be upset. I roll my eyes. If Gloria was going to be upset about anything, it would be that he got hurt.

We made it to my car, which was thankfully parked pretty close to the door. The midnight black doors swing up with a press of a button and I carefully lower George into the backseat. He stretches out over the cushions, sighing in relief.

"Dude, what the hell happened?"

I pull out of the parking lot, speeding out onto the road and checking Google Maps to make sure I'm going the right way. "George fell and cracked his head open. I'm taking him to the hospital." I tell Sapnap.

"WHAT. Dude. Why didn't you call an ambulance you fucking moron?!"

"He didn't let me!" I defend myself.

"What does that even mean–jeez just gimme the address, I'm coming."

I don't bother arguing with him, instead, reading off the address. Stopping at the red light, I glanced back at George, noticing that his eyes were shut, chest rising and falling steadily. His features were bathed in glowing red light, the blood crusted over the gash marring his milky skin.

Emerald green blankets his features abruptly and I ease my foot onto the gas, focusing back onto Sapnap's curses and shuffling about. I can almost imagine him stumbling out of bed and tripping over his shoes in his haste to get to the door.

He asks me what happened as I drive and I explain everything I know. I wonder out loud if we should call Karl, maybe he has some of George's friends' contacts. Sapnap rejects it. Karl has only known George for a few weeks, there's no way they've met each other's friends.

"Okay so what the fuck do we do? We can't just wait until his family starts to get worried, Sap." I stress.

"One thing at a time. Just get him to the hospital first 'kay?"

"Good plan," I murmur. "Grab me a change of clothes will you?"

"Sure."

I pull up next to the curb in front of the emergency room, unlocking the doors and hopping out.

"George," I shake his shoulder, crouching down uncomfortably into the backseat. He doesn't stir and my heart picks up. If this bastard dies in the backseat of my car I'm going to kill him. With a little hesitation, I kneel on the tar of the road, hissing as sharp rocks pierce my knee. Ignoring it, I crane my neck to observe the brunette.

"Are you seriously asleep right now? George, wake up!" I shake his shoulders and he doesn't move an inch. "You're freaking me out."

My fingers shift soft brown hair away from the large cut and I wince, noticing just how much blood had coagulated around it. He was pale, too pale, and it didn't look like he was going to wake up any time soon.

"Fuck," I hiss in annoyance. This was way more than I bargained for. Still, concern clouds the veil of irritation. "Okay, I'm gonna um...I should have called a fucking ambulance, thats what I should have done. Seriously, I'm supposed to be smart."

Cursing at my stupidity, I carefully lift George out of the car, cautious not to hit his head on the top as I pull him out. I leave my car wide open, keys in the indignation and all, praying that no one steals it while I'm dragging his clumsy ass to the emergency room.

"I hate you so much," I murmur to his unconscious face. "I think I preferred you bumping into me more than this." He shifts his face, eyes furrowing in discomfort. As a few nurses finally notice what's going on, they start shouting for help, asking me a slew of questions that go over my head.

Instead of trying to pay attention, I focus on George. His nose presses into my chest, and I barely catch a pained whine. I stay quiet after that, nodding at the nurse and depositing him into a gurney that they push away.

She tells me a blur of information, explaining how they're going to have to give him something called a CT scan to make sure he doesn't have a concussion or brain damage.

As I wait, someone hands me my keys, telling me that my car is in the parking lot. I guess the rules against that kind of thing don't count at 3 AM in the morning. In any other circumstance, I would be fuming if some random person got in my car without my permission. Right now, however, I'm way too fucking tired to care.

Ten minutes later, she comes out to get me, smiling as she assures me that George was fine, and that all he needed were a few stitches. I breathe a sigh of relief. Well that's good.

She tells me that I can sit in the room while she stitches George up, and that it was a bedside procedure so it doesn't need any written consent. We arrive at a room, a table already prepped with gauze, thread looking stuff that are probably stitches and other shit that I don't know the names of.

"I'm pretty good at sutures. But it's a forehead wound so it's going to leave a little scar. I'll try to make it as light as possible for you okay?" She asks gently. I hum, sitting down in the chair next to him.

I look down at my hands only to find them smeared with blood. I suppress a retch, asking if I can use the sink in the corner of the room. It's only then when I find my hands are still shaking, if only slightly. That idiot really gave me a scare.

"When will he wake up?" I ask quietly, standing next to her chair as she cleans the area.

"Not sure, probably sometime tomorrow if I have to guess." She doesn't look at me as she purses her lips, her focus solely on George.

"He's—" I frown. "He's okay right?"

"It was a hard fall for sure, but he'll be fine in no time don't you worry. If you don't mind me asking, are you a friend?" She asks.

I wince at the question. "No. Actually...I'm not really sure to be honest with you."

She frowns at her work. "This is a stranger?"

"No, we're definitely not that anymore." I admit, wishing this nice lady would stop being so nice and leave us in silence. "We work together." I decide it's the easiest explanation.

"Looks like he hasn't been sleeping all that well." She comments.

Olivia was rambling on about how George had taken every single night shift this week. She also told me how his rent was due sometime this week as well. She didn't leave out my part in it either. I know George was working this much to pay me back the money he owes me. If I had known this would be the result, I would have told him to forget about it in a heartbeat.

By the time I pulled myself out of my thoughts, she was already done with six of the stitches.

George hadn't moved an inch. His dark hair shields his closed eyelids, chapped lips drawn upward with the peace of sleep. His hand stuck out of the sheet, slightly calloused fingers hanging precariously off the bed. A quiet ringing starts in my ears and I groan, smushing my face into the side of my chair. "I think this was my fault."

She doesn't stop in her practiced movements, fingers steady as she lets out a soft chuckle. "Unless you pushed him into the table or something, it wasn't your fault."

But it was. But there's no use explaining to this lady why.

"His family might want to know that he's in the hospital. If you can give somebody a call that would help us out a lot." She says, exhaling as she finishes off the final stitch.

I watch as she sticks a white bandage over the sutures, taking care not to get any of his hair stuck in the adhesive. Then, she grabs a cloth and starts cleaning the remaining blood out of his curls and off his forehead, throwing it into a plastic bag in the corner of the room when she was done.

"Dream?" I look up at Sapnap's voice and the nurse moves out of the way, greeting him as she leaves the room. "Aw man. He's not looking too good."

"Yeah." I agree tiredly. He tosses me my change of clothes and I catch it gratefully, scowling at him when I realize which shirt he picked out. "Seriously?"

"Shouldn't have called me." He smirks. His smile fades as he notices the blood stained across my grey suit jacket and pants. I probably look like I came straight out of a horror movie. "You okay dude?"

"Fine, just tired." I tell him. "Do you know anyone we can contact? Any of his friends?"

"Are we not his friends?" Sapnap pouts.

"No, we're barely acquaintances. Now shut up and help me think of something." I roll my eyes, shouldering my suit jacket off my shoulders. I unbutton my shirt and strip out of my blood-speckled pants, using the alcohol wipes on the table to wipe myself off before pulling on the pajama pants and t-shirt.

Sapnap falls into the chair, sighing at the ceiling. A knock sounds on the door and we both look toward it, the nurse from earlier coming in with a frown.

"He doesn't have any emergency contacts on file. No family in this country or roommates either. We're going to have to wait until he wakes up."

"Well that's fucking perfect." Sapnap gripes.

"Also, if you don't mind I need help getting him out of his clothes and into this gown. We're understaffed." The nurse smiles, holding up a gown and staring at me expectantly.

Sapnap and I both gape.. "a-ah...no—sorry, he wouldn't be okay with that—" I panic.

A shiny smile envelops her face and she laughs, holding a hand against her chest. "Sorry, sorry your face is priceless," She giggles. I scowl as Sapnap gets over it, laughing in my face along with her.

"You guys suck." I grumble. She goes to say something else, but her pager beeps and she excuses herself, running back into the hallway.

"Are—" Sapnap is still reeling, trying and failing to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. "Are you going to stay with him?"

"Probably." I sigh, punching his shoulder with a bit more force than was necessary.

George should have someone here to explain what happened. If not that, just a familiar face to wake up to. Wait. My genius brain strikes again at the last possible moment, and I stand up abruptly. "I have an idea, can you move him a little? I have to get his phone."

"Ah, sure?" Sapnap keeps George's head steady as I turn him over slightly, slipping a hand into his pocket. "I'm pretty certain that's a privacy violation." He mutters as I swipe past six missed calls from some dude named Jeremy, putting his password in. "How the fuck do you know his password?"

"Luck." I mutter, scrolling through his contacts.

Releasing a sigh of relief, I click on the first emergency contact that shows up. Who the hell...I can't even judge too. A few of my friends' and interns' nicknames can easily rival "Quackity".

"Dude, it's so late. It's fine I'm still fucking awake helping Wilbur look for his stupid fucking watch. He's an idiot, your honor. He thinks he left it in the hotel and he's been pestering me all fucking daaay. I've been telling him he didn't bring it but now we can't even fucking find it–"

"Excuse me?" I interrupt, mind reeling from the amount of information thrown at me in approximately six seconds. "Are you Geo–"

"Who the fuck are you? Why the fuck do you have George's phone huh? Who is this? If you fucking did anything to–"

"Please just listen!" I yell into the phone and he goes silent. Sapnap stares and I stick my middle finger out at him, turning away."I'm George's...ah associate from work. We were both at the cafe and he passed out and hit his head. I brought him to the hospital and you were in his emergency contacts. Could you call any family he has and tell them to come over?"

"Oh shit. Over here, I am his family. Well, me and Wil. His mother lives in Brighton." I hear him tripping over stuff as worry tints his words, then he covers the speaker, muffling the sound of him yelling at somebody. "We're on our way. Send the address. Is he okay?"

"Yeah, the doctor said he'll be fine. He hasn't been getting enough sleep." I swallow away the guilt. "I'm not exactly sure, but it looked like he passed out from looking at a light?"

"Yeah, it happens sometimes pal. His eyes are shit. Wait a second, who are you again?"

"Dream."

"Wait wait wait, Dream? As in Wilbur's boss Dream? As in Tommy's fucking celebrity superhero Dream?"

"Ah, I'm not Wilbur's boss, and I'm Tommy's mentor but yes." I pinch the bridge of my nose, massaging the sleep away. "Are you saying Wilbur is George's friend? Wilbur Soot?"

"Wil! Come talk to your boss and figure out what the hell is going on!" I wait for a few moments before a familiar voice speaks through the phone. "Dream?"

"Wilbur. He's going to be fine before you ask. I just sent the other guy the hospital location...you never told me you knew George," I question, squatting back into my chair.

"It wasn't relevant beforehand. We're only a few minutes away. Do you mind staying with him until then?"

"Of course not." I assure him. "I'll see you soon."