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Fluorescent hospital lights shine down and reflect off the beige vinyl flooring. Sobbing people and screaming children are mildly overwhelming as the sounds echo off the barren walls.
“Sir?”
Dream looks up to see a nurse standing in front of him.
“You can come in and see him now if you'd like,” she smiles.
Dream stands up, grabbing the coat that was laying on the chair next to him, and follows the nurse through the halls of the recovery wing. She stops outside a door, motioning for Dream to enter. As he does, he sees a familiar shape laying, head turned slightly to the door.
“Hi love,” Dream murmurs as he walks over to the bed.
George's eyes flutter open groggily and Dream looks longingly into the sepia toned irises, basking in every moment they are visible.
“Hi,” George manages to drawl softly.
Dream leans in, kissing the tip of George's nose gently, crouching down by George's bedside, running his fingers through George's soft, dark hair.
“Guess what Dream.”
“What?”
“I don't have tits anymore,” he says with a smile.
Dream tries to hold back his fond laugh. “No you don't.”
“Today is a good day,” he mumbles, before his eyes drift closed.
Dream’s smile doesn't fade as he makes his way to sit in the leather chair across the room.
“It's awesome, isn't it?”
Dream looks over at the nurse who was still standing in the doorway. “What?”
“Seeing them happy like this.”
“I mean, George has always been a happy person, he never really let anything get in his way. He's just been, bright, my sunshine. And he knows that I'll always be there for him.”
“That's what he needs. A good support system.” She looks out into the hallway. “I have to go, I'll be back later to check on him.”
“Okay,” Dream whispers.
Dream’s eyes drift back to the sleeping man in the bed ten feet in front of him. As he looks at all the bandaging that is on George’s chest, he starts to get flashbacks to the day George came out to him.
He remembers the movie that was playing, with Patches curled up at his feet and a head of soft brown hair on his shoulder.
He remembers how George leaned away and looked at him, calling his name to get attention.
He remembers seeing nervousness in George's soft features as he asked, “What's up?”
He remembers how the voice that is normally filled with happiness sounded so small, yet had so much confidence as it spoke the words “I’m trans.”
He remembers how any fear that was in the dark mahogany irisis disappeared as he smiled with acceptance.
He remembers not wanting to make a big deal about it, this was still the same person he fell in love with, and nothing was going to change that.
He remembers wrapping his arms tightly around George's body, swaying back and forth, movements limited by the blankets that were wrapped around their bodies.
He remembers whispering, “I love you,” as he pressed a soft kiss onto the crown of his boyfriend’s head, murmuring his name for the first time.
And he remembers how George's body melted into his loving embrace, just like it always had.
“George, don't.”
“Dream, I can open the car door by myself, I got top surgery, not my arms amputated.”
Dream laughs. “No, I know, but I just want your healing process to go well.”
“You're an idiot.”
“No, I just love and care about you.”
“Well, can you care a little less?” George asks as his feet hit the pavement of the driveway.
“I’ll remember that one when you need help changing your shirt later.”
“I was kidding, I was kidding, I love you.”
“That's what I thought.”
Dream swings the car door shut and walks up the bricklain path that leads to the front door. He pulls the keys out of his sweater pocket. Metal hits metal as he inserts the keys into the lock, twisting them, then the handle, pushing the door open. He moves behind it, waiting for George to enter, before closing it softly. He hears a quiet meow, and looks down to see Patches walking around George's ankles.
“Hi baby,” he coos as Dream bends down to pick her up. George extends an arm to run his hand softly down her back. Patches hops out of Dream’s arms and scurries into the kitchen. Dream chuckles as he watches George follow her, collapsing in a bar stool in front of their counter. He uses his arm to prop up his head as Dream walks into the kitchen.
“Do we have food?” he asks as Dream opens up the fridge to pull out a bottle of water.
“Well we have food-” Dream pauses to take a drink from the bottle. “-it just depends on what you want.”
“Anything, hospital food is very gross.”
“Why are you acting like you were there for ages, you only stayed overnight.”
“Still, I did not enjoy it.”
“Well you could cook your own food.”
“I just had surgery, I shouldn't be doing anything too strenuous.”
Dream rolls his eyes before opening the fridge again. “I can make you a sandwich.”
“I don't want a sandwich, I want real food.”
“You know you are a pain in my ass right?”
“That's my job as your boyfriend,” George snickers. “I'm going to go put my stuff away, be back.”
George slides off the stool, running swiftly up the stairs. Dream scoffs before pulling ingredients out of the fridge. He puts the vegetables on a cutting board and pulls the frying pan out of the cupboard. Five minutes later, he hears feet thumping loudly down the stairs.
“It's not done yet.”
“Yeah, I know. Can't I just sit down here?”
“I just figured you would want to nap or something.”
“No, I can sleep later. I’d much rather sit here and distract you then complain that you are taking too long to give me food.”
Dream lets out a fond scoff. “I appreciate your honesty.”
Food sizzles in the pan as Dream sautés the vegetables, turning his attention to the pot of water that was beginning to boil ferociously, pouring in the rice and covering it, turning down the heat and leaving it to simmer.
He reaches up to the cupboard, grabbing two plates, then opening the drawer and pulling out two forks, letting them clatter on the porcelain after being lightly tossed.
“Hey Dream,” he hears George call quietly from behind him.
Dream spins around slowly. “What?”
George smiles, which causes Dream to shake his head fondly. “What?” he asks again, biting back a smile.
Dark pools hypnotize him as he stares lovingly, feeling totally encompassed by warmth.
Finally George’s lips part to speak. “The food is burning.”
Dream exhales loudly as he spins around. “George, I swear. You're such an idiot sometimes.”
He shakes the handle of the pan, grabbing a large spoon out of the container about two feet away. He grabs the first plate, taking the large spoon and scooping out rice then vegetables. Dream hands George his plate, before piling food onto a plate for himself. He pulls out the stool next to Georges and sits. He stabs his fork into his food, bringing it to his mouth and blowing on it to cool it down.
“I have to get groceries tomorrow, are you coming with me?”
George mumbles something incoherently, mouth full of rice.
“Yes, I totally agree, lovely boyfriend of mine. I’m very glad that I could understand exactly what you said.”
George punches his arm as he swallows. “Okay, shut up. I said maybe, it depends how I feel.”
“Okay, I'll probably be going around noon, so if you're going, be ready around then.”
George mumbles something as he chews a green pepper, but Dream doesn't bother asking what it was.
After they finish eating and the dishes are loaded into the sink, Dream looks over at his boyfriend.
“Are you feeling okay enough to do something?”
“What is something?”
“I don't know. A short walk maybe?”
George’s face twists in contemplation. “I mean I feel fine, but this is the perfect opportunity to say I don't and get out of going.” George looks over at Dream and his face softens. “But I think I love you too much to dip,” he smiles.
Dream returns the gesture before motioning towards the door, George walking ahead of him. He slips his feet into his shoes, not bothering to grab a sweater because it should still be mild out. Dream opens the door, stepping onto the concrete step waiting for George. The pair walk down onto the sidewalk and begin on their trek.
The sun was starting to get low in the sky, sunset being only a little over an hour away. The air was starting to chill, but it was not uncomfortable. The air was light, it smelt like spring, earthly tones masking the scent of rain that fell the night prior. Dream feels warmth in his hand as pale, nimble fingers intertwine with his own.
It takes them around 45 minutes to walk around the block, taking a few minutes to stop and watch frogs that hopped around the small pond that was up the road.
After walking through the front door and kicking off their shoes, they spend the rest of their evening locked away in their room, huddled up under the warmth of the blankets, lost to the rest of the world. Patches was curled up between them, purring softly as Dream stroked a hand down her soft fur. Dream looks over at George, whose eyes have drifted closed.
“George,” he whispers, reaching out to shake his shoulder gently. “Darling, come get ready for bed.” George groans as he turns his head towards the bathroom door.
“Too far,” he mumbles, face half buried in his shoulder.
“But you gotta do it.” Dream swings his feet to the floor, grimacing at the cold feeling. He walks around to George's side of the bed, pulling the blankets off him. “I'm going to shower, you better be up by the time I'm out.” Dream trudges over to his dresser, pulls out a pair of pyjama pants and boxers and walks into the bathroom.
Slipping out of the day's clothes, he turns the shower on and steps in. The warm water washes down his body, pooling in the shallow dips by his collarbone. He tilts his head back to let the water dampen his hair before reaching blindly for the shampoo, flipping up the cap, pouring some into his hand and running it through his hair. His hands ruffle through his hair, evenly distributing the shampoo as it suds up, scratching at his scalp. He rinces the sickeningly sweet scent down the drain. He spends the next few minutes focusing on his body, covering himself in body wash, letting the water rinse away the feeling of grime that covered him.
He can barely hear the door squeak over the sound of the water pounding against the tile floor.
“What's wrong love?”
“I can't get my shirt off. I'm gonna need you to help me.”
“Yeah, I figured. Give me a sec, I’m almost done. Just do whatever else you need.”
Through the steamed glass he sees George reach for his toothbrush and the toothpaste, turning the tap on and wetting it, before applying it and bringing it to his mouth.
Dream rinses the last remnants of soap off his body, reaching to turn off the water and opening the door to grab the towel off the rack. He runs it over his hair quickly before and he ties it around his waist before stepping out into the cold bathroom air.
“George, c’mere.”
George turns around, toothbrush handing out of his mouth. He picks his shirt up off the counter behind him and tosses it lightly at dream. Dream tucks it between his knees after taking a step forward to meet George in the middle of the room.
Carefully, he reaches his hand under George's shirt, fabric clinging to his mildly damp hand. He reaches for George's left arm, stretching out the fabric around it so he can slide it out, repeating the same process on the other side, before pulling the now freed fabric over his head, turning to throw the cloth in the hamper. He bends down slightly to grab the shirt that's tucked between his knees. He reverses the motions he did to get the shirt off, all the while carefully avoiding the tender portion of George's chest.
“Thanks,” the brunet mutters half unintelligible due to the toothbrush that was still hanging from his mouth.
He turns back to the sink as Dream reaches for his clothes. He drops the towel, grabbing his boxers and stepping into them, preparing to do the same with his pants when his eyes drift up to the large piece of reflective glass in front of the sink.
After rinsing off his toothbrush and returning it to its place, George's eyes flick up to meet Dream’s in the reflection of the mirror. Dream bites back a smile as he pulls the pants up over his hips.
“What are you doing, Dream?”
“Nothing, just admiring how happy you are.”
“I am pretty content.”
“And it's adorable.” Dream walks up behind George, wrapping his arms around his stomach and resting his chin on his shoulder, shirt scratchy against the bare skin of his chest. “If I wasn't scared to rip your stitches and cause you extreme physical pain, I would tackle you to the bed and kiss you right now,” he mumbles, nipping gently at the soft skin of George's neck.
“How about, I take gentle kisses and you can do the tackling later.”
“Sounds like a deal to me.”
Dream’s kisses trail from George's neck up to his jaw, slowly making their way to the corner of his mouth. George pulls away before Dream can reach his lips.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yes, and I adore you with every fibre of my being, always.”
George smiles. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything. Being so supportive and always there for me. And especially not leaving me, you know, considering.”
“George,” Dream chuckles fondly. “You are the absolute light of my life and I don't know what I would do without you. I will never leave, no matter what happens.”
“Good, cause I’ll fall apart without you.” George’s head falls back, laying against Dream’s shoulder. “Can we sleep now?”
Dream spins George around by his waist before quickly and softly pecking his lips, taste of mint still apparent. “Yeah, let’s go.”
“Now, you will notice some swelling when I take off the bandages, that's normal. Nothing to be worried about.”
George nods and Dream sees that he's biting his lip nervously. The doctor removes the bandages slowly, careful not to get anything caught and careful not to injure George in any way. George's back is to Dream, so he can't see exactly what the doctor is doing, but not too long later, he takes a step back.
“Okay George, whenever you're ready you can turn and look.”
“Alright,” George mumbles quietly, shoulders rising and falling slowly with each breath he takes, before it stops and he spins around on his heels. Dream expects to see a reaction right away, but when he doesn't, he looks up at George's face to see that his eyes are closed.
“Sweetheart, you know that in order to see, you have to open your eyes, right?”
“Yes I know.” George's voice is shaky, worried even.
Dream stands up and walks over, resting a hand gently on his boyfriend's shoulder, using his other to grab George’s hand.
“I'm right here,” he whispers. He feels George take another deep breath before his eyes flutter open. Dream watches as ivory peeks out from behind George’s lips and as his eyes disappear behind his cheeks.
“It's you, George,” Dream smiles, softly squeezing George’s shoulder.
George chuckles before whispering, “it's me.”