Chapter Text
"Are you supposed to be drinking?" Dream asked, busying himself with doing the dishes to try and keep his own worries at bay. George's surgery was today and he had to be strong for him, but that didn't stop him from being afraid too. He just wanted George to be feeling okay again, wanted to watch him eat without the fear of another gallbladder attack, wanted to watch him laugh without being in discomfort, but he knew it would be a few weeks even after surgery before any of that could happen.
"They gave my two sheets, one said drink nothing after 6am and the other said 6:30am. It's only water, it'll be fine." He said, and Dream didn't argue back. George was sitting nervously on the couch in his living room, a small rucksack beside him with things to stay overnight with and one of Dream's hoodies pulled over his head. When he'd scheduled his surgery he didn't realise Dream would be there to look after him, but the idea of going home the same day was unappealing so he continued to say he would be alone when he returned home. He'd feel safer having someone take care of him for that first night.
As Dream finished he dried his hands on a tea towel, grabbing George's bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Anything else you need? We should get going soon."
"I think I have everything." He said, and Dream offered a hand to help him to his feet. They left his apartment hand in hand, George giving Dream the key and fob to let himself back in, before they walked down to the carpark. Dream had rented a car to make things easier over the next few days - thankfully an automatic so he didn't have to worry about figuring out manual gear changes while worrying about George. He wanted to start a conversation as they climbed into the car together but today had to go at George's pace, and if he wanted to sit quietly then Dream was more than happy to oblige.
Even this early in the morning traffic seemed to snarl in the streets of London and Dream was glad they'd set off early. He kept glancing at George as they stopped at seemingly every traffic light, and could see the nerves on his face.
"What's going on in your head?"
"I don't know." He said quietly, and Dream hated to fear he could hear. "What if something goes wrong?"
"Then you'll already be in hospital and they'll be able to fix you as soon as possible, and as soon as they call to let me know you're onto a ward I'll be coming to visit. I'll be here as much as I'm allowed to be, and when I'm gone we can call too."
Dream saw George's face light up just a little at that, and with his left hand he reached across to squeeze his thigh gently. "Everything will be okay, I promise."
"Do you want to make this funnier?" George asked, trying to lighten the mood a little more. "I get £100 for every stupid tweet I post when I'm recovering. And £500 for every photo I post."
Dream couldn't help but laugh at that, George was going to be just fine if he could still joke around. "Deal."
# # #
Dream took George into the reception of the hospital where he was directed to his ward and asked to say his goodbyes to Dream. George's hand held Dream's tightly, not wanting in the slightest to let go even though he knew he had to, but Dream's reassuring smile made it a little bit easier.
"I'll be here as soon as I can. I love you." Dream said, leaning to press a gentle kiss to George's forehead. As he moved in closer George snaked his arms around Dream's waist and clung to him tightly, closing his eyes and trying to memorize everything about him. Dream was going to be the only thought that would get him through all of this, and so he wanted to be able to remember every sight and smell and sound of him, to know how their bodies fit together.
"I love you too." George said, moving back just enough to press a kiss on Dream's lips. "So much."
"Stop being so soppy." Dream said with a smile, a hand moving to cup his cheek and brush his thumb against his skin comfortingly. "You're going to be so brave, I know it."
George nodded, taking in a deep breath as he willed himself to let go of Dream. He was supposed to be there for 7:30am and it had just gone 7:20 - he had a walk through the corridors to make that, factoring in time for him to get hopelessly lost, he'd need the full 10 minutes for.
With his bag over his shoulders he began to walk, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he began to follow the signs. Ward 29, right then left then the lift to the 6th floor. He was checked in and sat in a quiet room with three other people, all much older than him, and he immediately found himself on his phone texting Dream. While waiting for the reply he logged onto Twitter - he hadn't told his fans about his surgery, it had felt too personal at the time, but now that he was alone he felt like he ought to do it. He wouldn't be streaming for a while and while Dream could use his set-up he didn't know how much care he'd need, so he typed out a few different drafts before settling on one that made him chuckle.
'brb for a few days, becoming a grape xD'
It was stupid, but the replies came rolling in. There were dozens of confused responses before someone managed to hit the nail on the head. Of course it was Sapnap, he just couldn't keep his mouth shut.
'they did surgery on a grape lol'
As soon as fans saw his response the messages were no longer confused but concerned, and George let himself smile at that. Plenty of people cared about him and his wellbeing, and he felt a little bit safer as outpourings of love and we'll wishes were sent his way. Bad, Skeppy, a6d, Techno and Wilbur were all quick to respond too, as George hadn't told any of them what was going on. It was just a gallbladder removal, he would be fine, he'd only really spoken to Dream and Sapnap about it. Although with Dream suddenly and unexpectedly in the UK again people had assumed that something was going on.
"George Hutchinson?" A voice called out into the room, and George looked up as a man walked towards him with a smile on his face. "I'm your surgeon's registrar, do you mind if we have a quick chat? Leave your things here, it'll only be a minute."
George was taken into a side room with the man, who explained the same risks of surgery that he'd heard a few weeks ago. It all sounded terrifying, the chances of going from keyhole to open surgery, the risks of his bile duct leaking or a hernia forming in his stomach. He was told he could still say no if he wanted to, but what was that going to do? He didn't want to risk another gallbladder attack, and considering he'd been jaundiced when he'd first had his bloods taken they were keen to do something about it.
He signed the consent forms and went back to his things, Dream now back at home and replying to his texts. It helped to pass the time as he waited to be spoken to by more and more people - a brief conversation with the anaesthetist who explained what his role was and how he could expect to wake up after his surgery was complete, before sitting with a nurse to go through what felt like a mountain of paperwork asking about every aspect of his medical history. His oxygen saturation was fine, his heart rate was elevated but he'd had an ECG at his pre-op appointment at the end of the previous week when he'd had his heart traced and they'd found no issues there, and so he was given a wrist band and taken through to his room on the ward.
He was first on the list and everything happened quickly from there. He was measured for compression stockings and given a gown and some paper underwear to wear for the procedure. George sent one last text to Dream to say he was being taken to theatre and that he loved him, before switching his phone off and leaving it in the locker beside his bed and walking with the nurse through countless corridors until he was sat outside the operation room.
Once again he was asked the same questions as before and gave the same answers, though he could tell that he was starting to struggle with the denial of it all that has gotten him to this point. Half way through the questions the anaesthetist came through to put a drip into his hand and before he'd even begun, George had his eyes squeezed shut.
"Is this going to make you feel faint?" He was asked, and George shook his head. He'd be okay, he could just think of the way Dream smiled whenever he saw him, the way his eyes lit up and his entire face became so much more animated with joy. He could imagine Dream sitting beside him now, holding his free hand and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
He could do this for Dream.
It didn't hurt too much, the anticipation had been worse than the action, and he was helped to his feet before being taken into the room. There were a half dozen medical staff sitting around a small bed that he was helped into, machines all around him and a tray of metal instruments ready to be used on him.
Everything was becoming a lot more real with every step he took.
He was helped into the bed, the sides raised to keep him in place, and he felt pads being placed on his shoulders and across his body. A heart monitor was pulled beside him and he was hooked up to it, the familiar beeping starting rhythmically as he'd become used to over the last few weeks.
"We're going to give you some anaesthetic, see if we can't bring that heart rate down a bit."
George nodded silently, squeezing his eyes shut and preparing for the worst. This was it, no going back now, and he felt tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He felt a tingling in his jaw as the anaesthetic started to course through his veins and despite how afraid he was, he let out a giggle.
"That feels funny." He slurred, closing his eyes and feeling his head tip back onto the pillow beside him.
"We're going to take your shoes off now, alright?"
The next thing George knew, he woke up.
His surroundings were plain and unidentifiable, too drowsy to focus even on whoever was sitting beside him. Everything just seemed bright and dizzy, he felt nauseous and his mouth was dry.
"Welcome back." Came a gentle voice, one he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. "How're you feeling?"
George wasn't sure what he said in reply, but he felt the rim of a small plastic cup being placed at his lips. Had he said he was thirsty? Or could they read his mind? He honestly wouldn't have been surprised either way at that point. As he opened his mouth just a little he took the tiniest sip imaginable, and was hit with a wave of nausea so strong that he felt the water trickle out of the corner of his lips and down his chin. It wasn't a pretty sight, but he didn't care.
He cared even less when, despite the pain in his stomach, he leaned to the right and vomited.
The nurse beside him was unsurprised by it, prepared with a small bowl for him to throw up into and tissues to wipe away the bile. His mouth burned and the taste lingered painfully, but he didn't want to take another sip of water for fear it would happen again, so he settled back into the bed and let his eyes close again. He was somewhat aware of the world around him, but the anaesthetic still seemed to have a fairly decent hold of him as he drifted in and out of a light sleep. He felt them place a mask on his face after a few minutes to help him breathe, but it was only a short moment after that his hands moved to pry it away and he leaned to the side again to vomit once more. He didn't know what he had left in him to vomit, but he managed to cough up sick twice more, his head resting on the brim of the cardboard bowl. He could hear conversations happening about him around him, the amount he'd been sick and the fact that he'd refused the mask in order to be sick. Apparently at some point he'd been given an anti-sickness tablet but had managed to throw it up in an almost predictable show of irony.
He remembered the bed he was on starting to be wheeled away through the corridors to take him from the recovery room to his ward, but that was the last he remembered.
The next was a quiet room, plain and simple. There was a TV on the wall playing the news on mute, a clock directly in front of him and a small table to his right with a plastic cup and a jug of water. To his left was a window, but something was blocking the light from coming in. He frowned and lifted his arm, feeling his fingers come into contact with the object.
"You're awake?" Dream's voice sparked through his delirium and gave him something to cling onto. Dream.
"You're here?" He slurred, blinking a few times to focus on him.
"Course I'm here, told you I would be, didn't I?"
"I love you."
Dream laughed, looking out the window of the room into the corridor for any passing medical staff before he leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead.
"Love you too."
George pouted just a little and Dream couldn't help but laugh at his expression, his hand moving through his hair comfortingly.
"What's wrong?"
"Kiss on the lips." He whined softly, and Dream laughed again.
"Brush your teeth or drink something first, they told me how much you threw up in recovery." He said, picking up the plastic cup of water and offering it to him. But George shifted away, pursing his lips closed no matter how thirsty he was. He was terrified of throwing up again, the last thing he wanted to do was drink anything that might set it off.
Dream was concerned, but didn't force him and just placed the cup back down. Instead he held his hand, using his thumb to trace tiny circles over his skin. George found the experience relaxing, closing his eyes and breathing slowly through the pain he felt before remembering something.
"Hand me my phone?" He asked, and Dream let go to pull it from the locker for him. He'd seen his tweet from earlier and the thousands of replies from fans, it made sense he'd want to update them. George keyed in his password quickly, angling his camera to take a picture of their hands together and making sure to show off both their rings. He didn't think twice about posting it, using a simple caption.
'My fiance is so gay.'
After he put his phone back down and Dream felt his own buzz with the notification he opened it up, looking at the blurry picture of their hands and snorting.
"You're such an idiot."
"Maybe, but you owe me £500." He said, closing his eyes and falling back into unconsciousness once more. Dream didn't let go of his hand, but he did watch the replies to George's tweet roll in and then, as expected, the messages from their friends.
The fact that they were dating hadn't been kept particularly secret from the people they knew, but the last two weeks of their engagement had. The fans had been completely in the dark about everything. Dream decided to leave the messages for later, when he was inevitably kicked out of the hospital and George was left alone to rest.
The next few hours passed in a similar way, with George speaking a few sentences every half an hour or so before falling back into a light sleep, and they were interrupted fairly regularly to have George's blood pressure and heart rate taken. As George continued to reject his painkillers, water, and eventually dinner Dream was concerned, but visiting hours were drawing to a close. Dream managed to convince them to let him stay until George was conscious again so he could say goodbye, and he did so as quickly as possible.
"Will you come back for me?" George asked weakly, and Dream's heart shattered in his chest.
"Of course I will, I love you George. I'd be lost without you."
"You're so gross." He slurred, a smile creeping into his face, and Dream leaned down to press a final kiss to his forehead.
"Promise me you'll try and drink something? And you'll have something to eat? The sooner you're eating and drinking, the sooner you can come home."
George watched Dream leave sadly, slipping an ear plug into his ear to listen to some music. In his room alone there was no one around to judge him for singing along to the Fallen Kingdom series of songs, and even if there was he found too much comfort between the mumbled words to stop. As he promised Dream he tried to take small sips of water, and found that the sickness from immediately after surgery had faded. The taste still lingered somewhat in his mouth, but the feeling of cool water running down his throat was a relief he didn't know he needed. But now he had a new problem.
He needed the bathroom.
The toilet might have been only a few steps away, 10 at most, but his body felt so weak and in pain from his surgery that the mere thought of making the trip was like considering trekking to the North Pole naked. He felt utterly pathetic. He lived alone, had done for years, and suddenly didn't even have the strength to sit upright? The call button for the nurses sat beside his bed but he was utterly filled with shame as he looked at it. He had to try.
George clenched his fists together tightly and kicked with his legs to shimmy up the bed and force his body into a somewhat more upright position, before using his elbows to push himself away from the mattress. It was fruitless, his body shaking with effort but no real movement being made. He was in pain, tears flowing freely and quickly from the corners of his eyes as he continued to try and fight through and sit up. He had to be able to do this, to cling to his last scrap of dignity.
A sob broke through his chest painfully and his breathing shifted, light and desperate and panicky as he held his stomach in, afraid that letting it go would result in only more pain. He couldn't press the button, he wouldn't, he was too ashamed and embarrassed to press it. What was he supposed to do?
It didn't matter, because a nurse came through to take his blood pressure, heart rate and temperature again. The man gave him a reassuring smile, moving to his side to help support him as George tried to find a steady breathing pattern again.
"You're doing just fine." He said gently, helping George to ground himself.
"Just… Can you help me get to the bathroom?" He asked quietly, his voice small. "Can't stand up."
"Of course." Came the reply, two arms wrapping around George's shoulders to help him get to his feet. As he moved he felt more tears leaking from his eyes at the pain, his whole body shaking as he finally put weight onto his feet. He felt awful, his head spinning as he reached forwards to find something to hold onto to help him balance. The nurse helped him to take the few steps to the bathroom and let him grab on to the handrails before taking a step back.
"Press that black button when you're done, I'll come and help you back to bed."
George nodded and the door shut behind him, sitting himself down and continuing to tremble from exhaustion. Even the act of going to the bathroom had him in extreme pain, and he couldn't help more sobs tumble from his lips. He hated feeling completely helpless, and as soon as he'd finished he pulled himself upright using the handles, wanting to retain some dignity. He washed his hands before pressing the buzzer, careful not to knock the cannula as he did.
The door opened and the nurse helped him slowly back to bed, letting him get comfortable before taking his blood pressure, heart rate and temperature again. George was asleep again before he'd even finished, and sunk back into his bed weakly as his head lolled to one side again.
After a little while longer of cycling between being awake and asleep, George was most definitely awake. It was late, the clock on the wall showing 9pm, and he was hungry. He remained where he was in bed, once again not wanting to click the button to call a nurse. Eventually someone would come to check on him, right? So for now he’d stay where he was and try not to think about how hungry he was. He decided that he’d spend a little time on his phone, messaging Dream and their friends so they could hear from him that he was awake and doing well.
Except when he opened up discord he had dozens of messages from his friends and he blinked, trying to remember what he’d done over the last few hours that could’ve---
Oh.
He loaded up Twitter quickly, ignoring his notifications and messages and immediately checking his own posts and he groaned. It wasn’t that he wanted their relationship to remain a secret, just that this wasn’t exactly how he’d planned on telling people - certainly not their friends.
Shrinking back into his bed he loaded up discord and started to go through messages from Sapnap, Bad, Skeppy, Techno, Tommy, Ponk… The list was endless. They were all the same, shock and surprise but utter joy for the pair of them, and George thanked as many as he had the energy to and let them know that he was doing alright after surgery. After he had practically copied and pasted his response a dozen times over he clicked onto Dream’s profile, sending him a message.
George: I’m awake, I love you, I miss you :(
Dream: If I knew it was this easy to get you to say you loved me, I’d have been giving you anaesthetic for years xD
Dream: How’re you feeling? Did you have something to eat? Have you had water?
George: I had some water, I’m hungry now but no one’s here to ask for food.
Dream: Haven’t you got a button to press? Or do I need to sneak in with cookies.
George: I don’t want to bother them, I feel like a burden… You’re going to hate me so much when I come home, I can’t do anything for myself. Someone had to help me walk to the bathroom earlier, do you know how humiliating that is?
Dream: I could never hate you George, ever. I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you when you come home.
George put his phone down at that, he felt emotions towering over him once more and tears started again. He loved Dream with all of his heart, he just wanted to be back at home with him and to be held carefully while he felt so awful. He wanted every little bit of affection that Dream had to offer, all the support and kindness he was prepared to give. And he’d pay him back tenfold for it one day, whenever Dream needed something he’d be there. Whatever Dream needed, he’d give it to him.
As he sniffed and wiped at his eyes he heard footsteps and a gentle knock at the door, a kind looking nurse poking her head through with a smile on her face.
“Can I get you anything? Tea or coffee?”
“Could I have some toast?” George asked quietly, and the woman nodded just as kindly as he’d hoped she would.
She left him alone again before returning with two slices of toast and butter, placing the plate down on the small table beside George and leaving him once more. He promised Dream he’d try, so he did, and he began nibbling at the corner of the first slice slowly. His bites were tiny and he struggled to eat it, but the more he had the hungrier he became and he began to get enough strength back to take larger bites.
It took fifteen minutes to eat the first slice of toast, and it took five to eat the second.
When he’d finished he sent Dream a quick text goodnight before closing his eyes and settling back into bed to sleep again. Hopefully when morning rolled around again he’d feel a little bit more like himself and be on his way home before he knew it. The warmth of the hospital blankets and the soft sounds of rain hitting the window outside were enough to lull him into a proper sleep, though while his body rested his mind was fitful and his dreams were full of nightmares. He just couldn’t wait to be back home.