Extreme fear can neither fight nor fly.
— William Shakespeare

"Kristy, I don't think you recognize how bad this is!" George had been passing back and forth in his therapist's office for the past fifteen minutes. He couldn't bring himself to stay still. He wanted to be doing something—anything—to get closer to fixing his bubble.

"Yes, but that means we're having a breakthrough, George. I think it's very good you stepped out of your own comfort zone and are now communicating with your new friend."

"No! It's terrible!" George gave an exasperated cry and put his head in his hands.

"I understand this is scary. You're used to shielding yourself from everyone, but now you're starting to get ready to have friends again."

"I don't want to have friends again!" George felt his eyes prickle with tears, and he just slumped down onto the sofa. He felt a lump form in his throat. "I don't wanna go through all that again..."

"George, look at me. It's all gonna be okay. Just give it some time."

George opened his stringing eyes and looked at his therapist. She gave him a soft smile of reassurance.

"I know everything won't be; you don't have to gaslight me into it." The boy doubled over and put his cheek on his knees, his arms wrapping around the underside of his legs.

George felt a shift in the room, and shortly after, the sofa dipped in a bit to his left. Kristy didn't touch George or talk to him, and he was quite thankful for that. He focused on his bubble and the throbbing pain it was in because of the crack. George focused his eyes on the wretched lines that Clay had left. The crack was about the size of a clenched fist, like Dream had actually punched his bubble. And it sure left an indent.

"My bubble... It's... a protective layer. Walls that I put around myself... It was supposed to be an unbreakable bubble. Impenetrable. It was supposed to be indestructible."

"Yes, you've told me this before. I'm aware it's indestructible."

"So how- So how come it's starting to crack? How come it's all starting to crumble down?!" George's voice cracked. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. George looked at the tissues on the coffee table in front of him that always separated him from his therapist. His hands were too shaky to reach out and grab one.

"You need me to grab you a stress ball?" Kristy asked after George seemed to be calming down from his sniffles.

"No, I have mine..." The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue, squishy ball.

"That's good that you're carrying it with you." George could hear her beaming at the thought of him taking it everywhere in his pocket.

"I squish it in classes if I don't understand something or when I need to go up and talk to someone."

Kristy couldn't help but smile. "Even though you might not see it, I think you've improved a lot with your mental health, and you do a lot better socially as well. It's progress, and it's wonderful."

"Thanks, Kristy..." George muttered under his breath.

"Maybe... you should give Clay a chance. He seems like a good kid, and it seems he wants to be your friend." She nudged George with her elbow.

"He's desperate; it shows." George let out a chuckle.

"Well, don't keep the man waiting, let him be your friend. Little steps, George, remember."

"...Okay, I'll give it a try."

~~~

George, in fact, did not give it a try. It was his third day laying in bed not doing anything, and all he felt was dread enlaced with guilt. It's been too late; there's no point in trying to make amends. Hell, Dream probably hates him now. Someone unwilling to commit to a friendship, to have a shred of genuity, to not panic, and to shield yourself from close friends and loved ones.

"George? Can I come in?" George's mom knocked on the door quietly so as not to disturb her son even more.

George just huffed angrily and hid himself under his blankets.

"George, come on, you need to take your medicine. You don't have to go to school."

"Come in." The brunet spoke almost too fast, too quick to not be hiding his excitement for staying away in his room for another day.

"Here, I made you a few pancakes and cut up an apple for you." A tray was placed on George's lap, and all he could do was sickeningly look at it.

"Just try to eat something and drink these." His mom placed a few pills on the tray and pressed a small kiss on his hair.

"Thanks..." George sourly spoke.

"Do you still not feel well?"

He shook his head.

"That's alright." His mom sat down against the headboard with George and brought her knees up to her chest. "You don't always have to feel okay. But can you at least talk to me about what's happening?"

The boy grimaced at the words and just took a bite out of his apple slice. George knew his mother didn't understand his bubble very well and what purpose it served, which is why Kritsy helped a ton with talking her through the things George was feeling. It was easier than him getting frustrated while talking through something he himself couldn't fully comprehend and ending up feeling misunderstood.

"It's just..." George sighed. "I made a friend... or at least that's what I think is happening."

"Really? Tell me about your friend."

"His name is Clay... Well, he calls himself Dream- that doesn't really matter. He's, um... nice, I guess. Too nice. And he tries to sit with me, walk with me everywhere, talk to me, and it gets kinda annoying at times."

"Do you enjoy his company?"

George pursed his lips in thought. He didn't necessarily hate Dream's company. It was nice talking to someone other than yourself, after all.

"I guess it feels weird. I don't talk to a lot of people."

"Well... Having a friend is good. It's best you move on from what happened, really. It's been years."

"No. I don't want to. I know it will happen again. The whole thing will repeat, and I'll feel stupid about letting myself trip over the same mistakes."

"Well... Why don't you just try? Is Clay nice to you?"

"She was nice to me too." George coldly spat out. He finally picked his fork up to eat his pancake. He only had two on his plate, his mother knew he didn't have much of an appetite in the mornings.

"How long has your... acquaintanceship been going on for?"

"Like... two-three weeks maybe. We don't talk much, but he helps me with stuff I struggle with. He's in quite a few of my classes."

"It sounds like everything's good. What happened?"

"...My bubble cracked." George muttered sorrowfully under his breath.

"Hm?"

"My bubble cracked." He put his fork down and put his head in his hands. "And it pains me because no one understands how scared I am because of it."

"Oh, honey," George's mom hugged her son. "Just don't panic and try to weigh out the pros and cons."

"Well... Pros are that I have someone that tails me everywhere like a dog, and cons are that my life is going to shambles and it's killing me." George leaned his head against his mom's shoulder.

"...Why don't you sleep on it for now? You don't have to answer and jump to conclusions immediately. I gotta head off to work; try to get a bit of rest and charge up; you can't stay from school forever."

"I know." George mumbled. His mom pressed another kiss on his head and left the room. George finished up his food and set it to the side; he didn't want to go downstairs and put it in the sink quite yet.

After a bit of sitting and staring into a blank wall, he put the blanket over himself and made himself comfortable in a cocoon, like a caterpillar waiting to grow and change into a different creature. George hoped one day he'd have enough courage to grow up and change into a pretty butterfly. But not today; he wasn't ready for that yet.

~~~

A ringing phone jerked George out of his sleep. He hadn't even realized he was asleep until his eyes snapped open. And after sitting up tiredly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, it was apparent he'd have to pick up his phone.

George glanced at the unknown number and frowned. Maybe it was the school office calling to ask where he was?

He debated hanging up, but the only thing available was a slide-to-answer button, and suppressing a phone ring is pretty agonizing in itself.

He picked it up.

There was silence on the other end of the line. George didn't want to talk before the other person, just in case it was a scam call.

"Hello? George? Can you hear me?" A voice broke through on the other end of the line.

"Um... who is this?" George mumbled quietly.

"Oh good, you're here! It's Dream. Do you not recognize my voice?"

George wanted to curl into a ball, get swallowed by his mattress, and never get out. Why is Dream calling him? How did he get his number? George hasn't given his number out to anyone in the school!

"How do you have my number?" He asked shakily.

"I really had to dig for it and get through every grade to get it. Turns out someone had your phone number on their agenda from years ago for a class in case someone missed school to ask about homework."

"What do you want, Dream?"

"I was wondering if you were okay. You haven't been to school in days, and I was worried I might have overstepped my boundaries the day we met up."

"It's nothing you did. I just wasn't used to talking to someone this much, and I got overwhelmed."

"I'm sorry, really. I didn't know."

"'T's fine." George nearly scoffed.

"Can I at least get another chance at... being your friend? I won't be clingy or anything; well, I'll try not to be. Because I think you're really smart and witty and cute and nice to be around- basically- yeah. That's what I wanted to say."

George could feel his face heating up at the amount of unsuspected praise he was getting. No one's ever said such things to him before.

Why not give him a try? He flicked his eyes at the small crack. It wasn't that big. Spending a bit more time with Dream couldn't hurt.

"Um... yeah. Okay. I guess we can, um... do that." George tripped over his words, but the point was still there, and he believed Dream didn't really care about his nervous stutters. It didn't change him as a person in any way, and anxiety was just one of the big obstacles he'll have to get through, and Dream will have to be there to guide him.

"Awesome. I'll see you tomorrow, George." Dream noticeably beamed.

"Yeah... See you."

-
I'm a live little bean
1862 words