Chapter Text
The hum of the lights overhead felt too bright for midnight.
George shuffled through the candy aisle, yawning behind his hand. “This is your fault,” he muttered, scanning the shelves. “You said you didn’t want anything. And now here we are.”
Dream smirked, trailing behind him with his hood up and hands shoved into his pockets. “You didn’t have to come.”
“You said you’d get lost without me.”
“I would.”
George rolled his eyes, but he smiled, just a little, as he reached for a bag of peanut M&Ms. “Okay, we’re getting these and leaving. I want to be under a blanket in like five minutes.”
“Deal.”
Then the door opened behind them.
Not the normal jingle, a slam.
George turned halfway, just as a voice cut through the quiet.
“Everyone on the ground. Now!”
Dream stiffened. George blinked.
A man stood by the entrance, face hidden behind a black ski mask, one arm outstretched. A gun in his hand.
George’s stomach dropped.
Dream moved instantly, stepping in front of him. “Stay behind me,” he said, barely above a whisper.
But the gun swung toward them. “You,” the man barked, pointing directly at George. “Come here.”
Dream shifted to block him again. “Don’t. He’s not—”
“Come here!” The man lunged forward.
George barely had time to react.
A hand grabbed his shirt, yanked him forward hard enough that his feet scraped against the tile. Dream reached for him—“Let him go!”—but the man struck first.
The gun cracked across Dream’s face. A sick sound. He dropped.
“Dream!” George screamed, struggling, trying to turn back, but the man dragged him toward the front of the store, keeping the gun pressed tight against his ribs.
“Don’t move,” the guy snapped at Dream’s crumpled body. “Don’t even breathe, or he dies.”
George’s legs shook as he was shoved behind the counter. The gun dug into his back. He couldn’t look away from Dream—still on the floor, dazed, blood streaking down from his temple.
“I swear to god,” George said, his voice barely holding steady. “If you hurt him—”
“Shut up!”
The barrel of the gun pressed harder.
George bit back a sob.
Dream raised his head, just barely, through the haze. Their eyes locked.
Even now, even bleeding, Dream’s face hardened with something wild and burning.
Not fear.
Fury.
George’s chest felt like it might collapse under the weight of everything. His voice cracked as he whispered, “Don’t… don’t try anything.”
Dream didn’t move.
But the promise was there—in his eyes, in the silence between them.
I’m coming for you.
And George believed it.