Chapter Text
“George, what’s going on?” Dream waited a beat, hearing a breathless groan through his headset before speaking again.
“George, this isn’t funny, what’s happening?”
“I’m dying.” George said, trying to sound cheerful even though his voice was strained. Dream could hear the pain he was trying to hide, and he found himself only becoming more worried. He’d heard George in pain before, it was hard to forget the videos with the shock band that had left his screams ringing in Dream’s ears, but hearing George like this was different. This wasn’t fun and games, it wasn’t for their channels, he was just in pain .
“George, turn your camera on, why are you hurting?”
“Can’t, ‘m on the floor. Not getting up.” He replied, taking in another gasp of air.
George felt utterly awful: his forehead was clammy and cold, and his hands were covered in sweat. While he’d jokingly said he was dying, if someone approached him and told him that he was he probably wouldn’t have questioned it. The pain in his stomach had come from seemingly nowhere and it had him in pain, lying on the laminate flooring to try and use the cooler surface to relieve himself. It wasn’t working, every position seemed to hurt: sitting upright, lying on his stomach, his side, or his back. Calling Dream had been the only thing he could think of doing, and yet as he heard his voice he somehow felt worse. He needed someone with him, someone to help, but Dream was thousands of miles away.
“Talk to me George?” Dream said, concern lacing his voice. The extended silence - punctuated only by whimpers and sounds of discomfort - and the fact that he couldn’t see his fiance had his mind running at a million miles an hour. “What’s happened?”
“I was just at m’ desk editing ‘n everything just started to fucking hurt.” George said, hissing through his teeth as he felt another sharp jab in his chest. “I just wanted to hear your voice. It’ll make this a bit easier.”
Dream couldn’t help but disagree, hearing George in pain and being unable to do anything about it was horrific, but if this helped George then he would try.
“Okay, have you got your phone nearby? If you think you’re dying you should probably call an ambulance.” He said, trying to keep his tone light. Maybe making George laugh a little would calm him down before someone that could help got to him?
“Mhm.” George replied, reaching up to pull his phone off the corner of his desk. He was somewhat reserved about the idea of calling an ambulance, worried that he was overreacting, and instead dialled 111 and put it on speaker. Dream heard the pre-recorded message at the same time as George and he felt his shoulders relax just a little, he was going to get the medical attention he needed. That meant that he could focus on making sure he stayed conscious and was distracted from the pain for a little while. It was the least he could do for his fiance.
Just thinking about that word made the whole experience worse. George was his fiance, they were supposed to be getting married and he wasn’t even there to help him when he needed it. So, for the second time in a year, he found himself quietly clicking through websites to find the earliest flight leaving for London. As George described his symptoms he clicked faster, not even bothering to book a seat with more legroom as he confirmed his ticket and started running around his room to pick up a few things.
He could buy more clothes when he was in the UK, for now he just needed to be with George.
“Dream, are you still there?” George asked quietly, Dream racing back to his computer and nodding even though the other couldn’t see him.
“Of course, I’m here, what did they say?”
“They’re sending an ambulance.” He replied. “‘S late, I can’t get to hospital on my own and they wanna figure out what’s wrong.”
“Good.” Dream said. “That’s good.” It wasn’t good, not at all, and the way George was slurring his words left him feeling sick to his stomach. “Did they say how long the ambulance would take?”
“No, does it matter?”
“I just want to make sure they’re with you before I catch my plane.”
There was a moment of silence between them and Dream’s heart was in his throat, but he heard a gentle groan leave George’s lips.
“Thank you.”
If he hadn’t been terrified before he was now. George didn’t put up any kind of fight, and he felt even worse about not already being with him. It was going to be damn near impossible to get him to leave England after this, the idea of being apart from George the next time he was in pain tore him to shreds. So as he zipped his rucksack closed he decided it was time for part two of his plan - distraction.
“So when I move to the UK, where do you want to live?”
“What?” George asked, and the confusion in his voice told Dream that this was doing the job he’d intended it to.
“When we get married, where do you want to live? Where’s your favourite place in England?”
“I don’t know, I always thought I’d stay in London. Maybe we could move out of the city a bit?”
“That sounds nice.” Dream agreed, although when George was feeling better he might negotiate a little more. But now wasn’t the time, this was just to keep his mind occupied with other things. “When you’re better we’ll have to look around some places together. Oh, we could get an old house and renovate it, that could be fun!”
“Yup.” George replied, and Dream noticed that he sounded strained again so he shifted tactic.
“Take in a deep breath, breathe slowly if it’s hurting. Just keep breathing, someone will be there to help you soon, I promise. And I’ll be there as soon as I can, you’ll wake up safe and I’ll be right there holding your hand.”
“How’d I get so lucky to have you?” George asked, following Dream’s instructions and focusing on his breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. It still hurt like hell, but it was helping to calm him down just a little. Dream tapped away at his phone, booking an Uber for the airport as he listened to George.
“Dunno, you must’ve done something pretty good in a past life.” Dream chuckled, his lips turning upwards into a real smile when he heard George laughing too.
“I love you Clay.”
“Shut up.” Dream replied, the sick feeling returning to his stomach once more. The way he’d said that, used his real name , George was a lot more worried than he was letting on, or maybe he was in more pain than Dream thought. Either way, Dream panicked at his tone. “You’re fine, okay? Stop worrying. I love you too , but stop worrying. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I know but--”
“George, stop it. You’re going to be fine, the next time you say you love me is going to be face to face okay? I told you I’m coming, give one of the doctor’s my phone number and have them tell me where you are so I can come straight to the hospital.”
“Okay.” George said, taking in another breath and shutting his eyes for a moment. “I think the pain is getting a little more bearable. I’m gonna try to grab some things to take with me.”
“Do you want me to stay on the call?”
“I want you to go catch your flight.”
“I will.” Dream said gently. “If you pack your bags and the ambulance isn’t there yet, call me. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise. I love you .”
“Shut up.” George said, a pained laugh rolling off his lips. He ended the call, Dream not having the heart to do so, and slowly got to his feet. The pain didn’t stop but he searched his flat for a small bag and gathered a few things to take with him: a change of clothes, his Switch and a few chargers. As the ambulance arrived he was terrified, but the paramedics helped to keep him calm. They locked the door to his apartment for him and carried his bag, giving him some pain relief and taking notes of his heart rate and oxygen levels as they drove through the city streets.
The paramedic in the back of the ambulance spotted the ring on his finger and asked him about his fiance. The rest of the journey felt better, gushing to a complete stranger about Dream - how they’d met, how they’d proposed, the fact that he was flying to England as they spoke to be with him - helped take his mind off how terrible he felt.
Once he was in hospital and given some slightly stronger pain relief he sent a picture to Dream to let him know he was okay, fumbling the name of the hospital via text message before the strength of the medication really kicked in and he fell fast asleep.
Dream was at the airport well in advance of his flight, and if he could’ve sprouted wings to get to England any quicker he would’ve done. Before takeoff, he had a selfie of George in a hospital gown with a wrist strap on and a bandage from where he’d had his blood taken. George was smiling in the picture and his eyes were out of focus. The message he’d sent, riddled with typos, along with the picture confirmed to Dream that he’d been given plenty of painkillers. Still, he’d managed to text the name of the hospital he was at before, Dream assumed, he fell asleep.
The flight to England had never felt so long, and Dream experienced every single second of it. Knowing that George was in hospital helped a little, but the sounds of pain he’d heard over the call still echoed in his head. Until he was at George’s side, he wouldn’t be able to properly relax.
# # #
Morning came. George woke up, his head heavy from medication and his body numb. As promised, Dream was at his side and holding his hand.
George knew everything would be okay.