Chapter Text
June 3rd, 2013
Dream wakes up with a headache.
The sides of his temples pound, cursing him for the alcohol he drank last night. Light pours into his room. He tries to open his eyes, but they feel glued shut. He groans, shoving his head under his comforter.
He should not have had so much to drink last night. He’s grateful Sapnap walked him home, otherwise he would have woken up outside his house and to an angry mother.
Sapnap walked him home. Usually he walks back with George.
George.
He thinks back to last night, fire spreads throughout his body. The party, the alcohol, his hand in George’s, going upstairs, the kiss…
The kiss.
Holy shit. George kissed him.
George kissed him and then Dream kissed him back. Dream feels himself smile, he’s smiling and he’s laughing. Maybe he’s gone insane, absolutely out of his mind because he can’t stop smiling. He kissed George.
But George…
George kissed him and then he left.
A bitter taste sits on Dream’s tongue, worry bites at his skin. He needs to see George. He needs to talk to him now.
Dream looks at the clock on his bedside table—it’s 9:04am. He hurriedly gets out of bed, throwing on sweatpants and a random shirt laying on the floor. His shoes are barely tied as he rushes out of his room and leaves his house.
Trying not to trip over his feet, he runs up to the front door. He takes a deep breath before knocking three times. Inside he can hear a shout and footsteps, the front door swings open.
“Clay, darling.” George’s mom stands in front of him, a warm smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you coming ‘round so early.”
“Oh, yeah.” Dream tries to swallow his heart beating in his throat. “Uh, I left my geometry book here.”
George’s mom opens the door a little wider. “Well, George is still in his room, but you can go on up and grab it.”
Dream slides his shoes off at the front door before rushing up the stairs. He stands in front of George’s door, taking a breath before walking in.
George is standing by his dresser, he just finished putting a dark blue sweatshirt on. His hair is tousled from just waking up, he still has his pajama pants on. He looks perfect, Dream is screwed.
“Dream.” His friend is wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to come see you.”
George glances at the clock. “It’s nine in the morning.”
He falters, his palms sweating. “Last night... I just needed to see you.”
“Oh,” George tries to look anywhere but at him. “I’m sorry.”
Dream doesn’t know why he is apologizing. “What?”
“We were drunk and I wasn’t thinking.” He is fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “I’m so sorry, Dream.”
“George, what?” Dream steps closer to him, aching to hold his friend. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did. I kissed you, you were drunk- we both were.” His forehead wrinkles with worry. “I’m sorry. I just… I feel like I used you or something.”
Dream takes another step forward until he’s right in front of George. He grabs his friend’s hands, taking them in his own.
George looks up at him, eyes glossy. His lips are swollen red from incessant nervous biting. Dream looks down at them, it takes everything inside him not to kiss him.
“George, I wanted to kiss you.” Dream admits, squeezing George’s hands lightly. “I wanted to do it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You wanted to kiss me?” He asks, curious.
“I did.” A warm blush rises to Dream’s cheeks. “I do.”
George looks down at his lips.
Dream can still feel the way they felt against his last night, he can still taste citrus on his tongue. Fire spreads through his head again, reaching all the way down to his fingertips.
George is the sun and Dream has swallowed him whole. He is the sun and Dream would rather go blind than look away from him. He would rather burn to ash than let go of George’s hand.
And then George is pulling him forward, crashing their lips together. Dream is kissing him like he is air, as if he’ll suffocate without him. A part of him thinks maybe he will.
They pull apart, both breathless.
Dream gently caresses George’s face, placing a kiss on a pink flushed cheek. He leans back in, softly placing his lips against George’s. It’s different this time, more tender, every word that they have left unsaid being told through a kiss.
When they pull apart again, George pulls him into a hug. “I was nervous I was going to lose you.”
“You could never lose me, George.” Dream wraps his arms around him.
“Yeah well…” George pulls away from the hug, a small smile on his face. “Felt like I might.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re dumb.” Dream jokes. He takes George’s hand, fiddling with his fingers.
“Well, you’re the one who likes me.”
Dream stares at George, shocked by the sudden, blunt statement. George just looks back at him.
“Yeah, I do,” he finally replies, soft. “Do you like me?”
George huffs. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.” Dream mimics. “Nothing with you is obvious, George.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re dumb too,” George leads them over to sit on his bed. “I like you, Dream. I like you a lot.”
Dream wants to kiss him, so he does. He kisses him short and sweet and he doesn’t think he wants to go a single day without kissing George ever again. “This is so epic.”
“Epic?” George laughs, pulling Dream in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss.
“Yeah, super epic.”
They laugh in between kisses and eventually they lay back in George’s bed, legs intertwined and hands locked.
Dream places tender kisses all over George’s face, he doesn’t ever think he will get enough.
“Do you want to like…” Dream starts nervously.
George brushes his foot against Dream’s leg. “Want to what?”
“Do you want to, um, be boyfriends? Like be together, I guess. Really dating.”
George narrows his eyes before breaking out into laughter. “Of course, what, like if we like each other, why wouldn’t we date?”
“Okay, well… to be fair, you’re older, and—”
“I’m older?”
“Shut up! Like I just…” Dream sombers for a minute. “I didn’t know if you wanted to. And I really, really want to.”
George softens, smiles. “Well, you’re in luck, I guess. Idiot.”
The sun dances through the cracks in the blinds. Lines of light hit George’s face, coating him in a golden hue. Dream thinks he looks beautiful like this; messy hair, in pajamas, and covered in gold.
George is beautiful.
And then he’s getting drawn into another kiss, warm hands tenderly holding his face.
There is something behind it, something more than the words shared between them. Dream feels it, he knows it deep inside him. A force pulls them together, or maybe it’s more than that. Something so powerful that it can’t be explained by any kind of science or faith. Like the creation of the Earth and Sun. He feels himself getting drawn into the warmth, pulled into the light.
Gravity pulls and Dream allows himself to fall, endlessly, towards George.
September 14th, 2013
“I can’t do it.”
“Dream, you’re being dramatic.” His boyfriend laughs at him. “You can do it.”
Dream stands with his legs locked on slippery ice. His knuckles white from the grip he has on the railing of the rink.
“I can’t.” He argues. “I can’t do it and I am going to die.”
George skates towards him effortlessly. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to get the hang of it.”
Dream tries to move forward, but his feet slide underneath him. He holds onto the wall tighter. “No, I really can’t.”
“Here,” George offers his hand out to him. “You can hold on to me.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t move.
“You have to let go of the wall in order to do that.” George deadpans.
Right.
Dream just has to let go of the wall, that’s all he has to do. It’s easy, really. Just let go of the railing and hold onto George. His hands are numb from the metal of the ice rink’s rails and his legs feel stuck in place.
George is standing in front of him, hand held out expectantly. He doesn’t rush him, allowing him to take his time.
Just let go.
He takes a breath.
Carefully Dream lets go of the wall, slipping his cold hands into George’s. They’re warmer than his, the sensation rushing from his fingertips and up his forearms. “If I fall, you are coming down with me.”
George laughs. “Okay, Dream.”
George faces him, starting to skate backwards slowly. His nose is red from the cold and his cheeks flushed. If Dream wasn’t so worried about dying at an indoor ice rink in Florida he probably would kiss him.
Dream’s feet slip underneath him, he feels himself losing control. He tightens his grip on George’s hands. “Stop.”
“You’re so tense.” George slows their pace, bringing them to a stop. “Just trust me, okay?”
It feels like a test.
Maybe it is.
Dream doesn’t know whether to give in or not. His mind is telling him to leave the ice, that it’s too dangerous to be standing here with nothing but George to hold on to. The ice is slippery, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. One wrong move will send them both falling down.
But he let go of the wall.
Dream takes a deep breath and nods. “I trust you.”
They begin to glide around the rink again and eventually Dream finds his hands loosening their grip on George’s.
Children giggle as they skate past them, one chasing the other. A pop song plays through speakers, he finds himself lightly humming along. He doesn’t notice as George starts moving them slightly faster, pulling them around the rink.
The air is cold. It wraps around his bare arms, sending chills down then. He should have worn a sweatshirt. But George’s hands in his make the cold a little more bearable and the way he’s smiling makes warmth explode in the center of Dream’s chest.
They make two laps around the rink until George brings them to a stop by the entrance. He leads them off the ice and to the bench where they left their shoes. Dream can feel George watching him as he unlaces his skates, putting his converse back on.
Once his shoelaces are double knotted, he kneels down and starts to unlace George’s skates.
George looks down at him. “What are you doing?”
“Just helping.” Laces loosen and he slips the left skate off of George’s foot. A gentle hand is placed on his boyfriend’s calf. “Is that okay?”
“I can do it myself.” He huffs.
“Well, yeah…” Dream slides the right skate off George’s foot. “But this is more romantic.”
George scoffs. “How is taking off skates romantic?”
“It just is.” He grabs George’s white Air Forces, slipping them onto his feet.
George kicks on foot forward, lightly hitting his shoulder. “You want to see my sweaty feet or something.”
“What?” Dream laughs. “No, I don’t. You’re making this weird.”
“It was already weird.”
“Shut up. It’s not weird.” Dream argues, standing up with both pairs of skates in his arms. “I just like taking care of you, okay? It’s nice, that’s all.”
“Oh.” George looks up at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Cold floods in, his hands go numb. Dream worries he said something wrong, but then George smiles. Warmth blooms inside him once again. “It is nice.”
“See.” They walk over to the desk to return their skates. Dream hands them to the girl behind the counter. “I’m always right.”
“Sure you are.” George bumps his shoulder against Dream’s. His heart stutters against his chest.
They make their way towards the exit. Dream grabs his hand, pulling him closer and planting a kiss on his cheek.
“What was that for?” George asks, cheeks pink.
Dream shrugs. “Just wanted to.”
They walk out to Dream’s car, hand in hand.
January 1, 2014
Pinks and blues blend together across the sky as the sun dips below the horizon. Gold filters through the leaves of trees, coating the world in sepia and honey.
The orchard is quieter at this time of day, families dwindled out as the sun disappeared behind clouds. A cool breeze bristles through the leaves, a Florida winter chill wraps around him. The air always smells cleaner the first few days of the new year.
Dream has grown over the last few years, but the orchard has stayed the same. The same rows of trees, stretching for an acre or two. The same sweet clementines ready to be picked. The same company of his best friend next to him, sitting underneath a tree.
“It’s been four years,” Dream muses, picking at the leftover skin of an eaten clementine.
George looks over at him. “Huh?”
“Since we met here.” Dream tosses the peel off to the side. “It’s been four years.”
“Oh.” George pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his head on them. “It has, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” A comfortable silence washes over them. Dream presses his shoulder against George’s, leaning his body into his boyfriend’s. The air around them gets colder as the sun disappears, but Dream doesn’t mind.
George links their hands together, stretching his feet out in front of him. “Feels like longer.”
“How so?” Dream asks, knocking his foot against George’s.
“I don’t know.” He leans his head against Dream’s shoulder. “Just feels like I’ve known you for a really long time.”
“Well, four years is a pretty long time,” Dream rationalizes.
The sky has faded to a deep purple and indigo, a satellite winks at them from the sky. Dream knows it’s not a star, he makes a wish on it anyway.
“No, like…” George pulls their intertwined hands onto his lap. “It feels like I’ve known you my whole life or something.”
Heat rushes to his cheeks. Dream just smiles at him.
“Oh my god, that sounds so cringe now that I said it outloud.” George tries to laugh it off. “Just forget I said anything.”
“No, no, continue on how you’ve known me forever, Georgie.” Dream teases, letting go of his hand to wrap his arm around his shoulder.
George crosses his arms, sinking more comfortably into Dream’s arms. “I’m trying to be sweet.”
“Aw, baby,” Dream drawls. George’s cheeks burn red as he scoffs at the pet name. “You are so sweet.”
“Shut up,” George laughs. “You’re such an idiot.”
“You’re the one professing your undying love for me.” Dream squeezes his shoulder lightly. “You’re obsessed with me.”
“You’re so annoying,” George whines, but there is a smile on his face.
Dream runs his hand up and down George’s arm. “Come on, you know you love me.”
George hums. “I do, but not when you are being an ass.”
He freezes. “Wait, what?”
“What?” George sits up, out of Dream’s arms.
“You said you do.” Dream moves to look at George.
“Yeah.” George looks back at him.
Dream speaks carefully. His body is buzzing, warmth flickers inside him. “Like, you do love me?”
George just looks at him.
“Do you?” Dream presses.
The air gets unbearably cold around them, the sky is suddenly an icy darker blue, but Dream feels ablaze. His skin burns, sparks of lightning shoot out from his fingertips.
“Do I what?” George asks.
Dream stills, trying to take a steady breath. “Love me?”
“I-” George hesitates, looking down at his hands. And then he is looking up at him, smiling. “Yeah, I do. Love you, I mean.”
Dream cups George’s face, pulling him into a kiss. The taste of oranges linger on George’s lips. He tries to pull him closer, drinking in the warmth.
A breath is shared between them as they pull apart, foreheads pressed together.
Dream starts laughing. George smiles at him, pulling him by the collar of his shirt into another kiss. It’s soft and sweet and then George is kissing him again and again and again.
“I love you.” Dream tells him in between kisses. “I love you so much, oh my god.”
And how could he not?
When George is there—smiling, kissing him, holding his hand—how could he not.
May 28th, 2014
Dream stands next to George, listening to his boyfriend excitedly talk to Karl about some topic he is only half listening to. In all honesty, he doesn’t know what they’re discussing; he zoned out when Karl brought up dining hall food.
He didn’t realize graduation parties would be so boring.
It’s not that Dream isn’t happy for George. He is, incredibly so. But this has been all he’s heard for the past two months. All that has been occupying their lives since George committed to some school in New York, of all places.
New York is cold, it’s gross, and it’s far.
Dream hates it.
George graduated yesterday morning. Now they are in his kitchen, next to a bowl of chips, discussing college once again. Annoyance trickles down his spine. George has barely even looked at him all night.
He slides his hand into his boyfriend’s, a weak attempt of trying to get his attention. It doesn’t work, not fully. George just lightly squeezes his hand, continuing the conversation.
“So what are you two planning on doing?” Karl asks, turning his gaze to Dream.
“Uh,” Dream clears his throat. “About what?”
“Like, are you gonna continue dating and stuff when George goes away?” Karl pries, and Dream wishes he could just pour the entire bowl of chips over his stupid head.
“Oh.” Dream feels his face flush, he hates this. “I don’t know.”
“We haven’t really discussed it yet.” George cuts in, quickly trying to change the topic.
Dream doesn’t know when the air got so thick; he feels like he can’t breathe. A sour taste sits on his tongue.
Karl gives George a look. Dream wishes he knew the meaning behind it, but part of him thinks he probably doesn’t want to know.
“Well…” Karl awkwardly trails off. “It’s only summer. You have a few months to figure stuff out.”
“Yeah.” George lets go of his hand.
Dream feels like he’s going to be sick. Tears burn behind his eyes, he tries to blink them away.
“I think…” Dream runs a hand through his hair. He needs to pull himself together. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom really quick.”
Nausea rises in him as he rushes down the hall, hurriedly shutting the bathroom door behind him. His knuckles turn white from the grip he has on the sides of the sink. He takes a shallow breath in, then out. His mind is racing, his head feels light.
A quiet knock on the door pulls him back to reality.
“One second.” He calls out, his voice slightly cracks.
There is some shuffling and then, “It’s George.”
Dream stays silent, unsure of what to say.
“Can I come in?” George speaks softly.
“Uh,” Dream wipes under his eyes, checking in the mirror to make sure they aren’t too red. “Yeah, sure.”
He unlocks the door. George walks in, his movements cautious. They stay quiet, the air between them tense. Neither of them speak. This is the first time Dream doesn’t know what to say to him. It feels weird, not knowing. He hates it.
George makes the first move.
“Are you okay?” He asks, earnestly.
Dream looks down at his hands, picking at the skin around his nail. “Yeah, fine.”
His words are short, untruthful. He knows George can tell he is lying, he doesn’t really care.
George’s brow furrows. Dream can’t tell if it’s frustration or confusion, maybe a mix of both. “What was that earlier?”
“What was what?” Dream asks, refusing to admit he’s upset, that anything is wrong. If he admits it, then they have to talk about it… And that scares Dream more than anything.
“You got upset.”
And of course George knows. He knows Dream better than anyone. He can pick up on the subtle changes in his mood, a shift in tone. He’s his best friend. Of course he knows.
“No, I didn’t.” Stubborn. That’s what Dream is. His mother would tell him all the time when he was younger. He hates losing, and he hates admitting defeat.
“Yes, you did.” George persists. “Don’t lie to me, please.”
Dream stays silent, leaning against the sink. He doesn’t want to say it. He can’t.
George presses on. “Was it the college stuff?”
“No,” Dream replies immediately, but George knows. He looks at him and Dream knows that he knows. There is no point in pretending anymore. “Maybe.”
George gives him another look, his forehead wrinkles.
“Yes,” Dream concedes, his white flag raised.
George nods. “What about it specifically?”
Frustration boils inside of him. How could he ask that? George doesn’t know, he doesn’t see a problem in leaving Dream behind.
He’s going to be sick.
“We haven’t talked about it at all, George.” The dam breaks, words flood out like water. “You’re moving to New York and we haven’t even discussed it. I don’t know what you want. And then you basically all but said we are breaking up to Karl earlier.”
“I didn't say that,” George defends.
White hot anger flashes inside him. That wasn’t even the point of what he was trying to say. George doesn’t get it, he doesn’t even care.
Dream scoffs, “It was implied.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” George stands in front of him, unchanging.
Dream wishes he would just tell him what he wants to hear. That they aren’t going to break up, that they are going to be fine.
“Well how did you mean it then, George?” He spits, voice laced with venom.
“I just- I don’t know.” George’s face is twisted, his brow furrowed.
He really doesn't know.
Dream thinks that’s somehow worse.
“What?” He looks in George’s eyes, searching for some kind of answer. “You don’t know what?”
George goes quiet, his face cold. Why won’t he fight for him? Why won’t he tell him they will be okay? He just needs something, anything for him to hold onto.
“I just don't know, Dream,” George repeats. “That’s all.”
“You don’t know what you want?” Dream doesn’t understand. It’s him and George, it’s them. “You don’t know if you want to be with me?”
“I didn’t say that, Dream.” George snaps, his voice sharp, stern.
Then there is silence.
A moment where Dream feels himself start to crack. His hands go numb, his body freezes. He’s stuck in place, feet glued to the floor. Water pools at his feet, cold and dark. It rises to his knees and he thinks maybe there are worse ways to go.
“You might as well have.” Sadness rises in his throat, he tries to swallow it down. “It’s not fair, George. If you’re planning on ending things just fucking do it.”
George takes a breath. “I don’t think we should talk about this right now.”
If they don’t talk about it now, they never will. He knows that—fears it even.
Dream stays quiet. The water reaches his chest, then his shoulders. He has to lift his head to breathe.
“I’m just confused and I think we are hurting each other's feelings right now going back and forth like this.” George’s gaze burns him.
And he’s right, of course he is.
Dream is drowning. His lungs burn, begging for air. Cold water surrounds him, pressure builds inside his skull.
“Okay.”
George steps forward, taking Dream’s hands in his own. “Is it alright?”
The water drains, the heavy weight on his lungs goes away. He can breathe again, if only for a moment, only for now.
“Yeah.” Dream tries to give a convincing smile. “It’s alright.”
He almost thinks it’s true.
“I’m sorry.” George says.
Dream looks up at him, surprised. “Why?”
“For making you upset.” George squeezes his hand, words spoken softly. “I love you, okay?”
“It’s okay.” Dream finds himself saying. He isn’t quite sure if he believes it, but he allows the words to fall out anyway. “I love you too.”
June 3rd, 2014
Dream pulls up to George’s house in his mom’s car at noon. A bouquet of yellow carnations sit on the passenger seat, next to a card neatly sealed in a pink envelope.
They didn’t bring up the fight or college after the party ended. He doesn’t quite know what he expected, but a part of him is unsurprised. He thinks maybe it’s better this way, better for it to remain unspoken. If they don’t talk about it, nothing has to change.
Another part of him, the rational side, tells him they have to talk about it. If they continue to ignore it, it’ll only make it worse in the long run.
Dream won’t bring it up, not today at least.
He grabs the bouquet and card as he gets out of the car, walking up to the front door. He flattens out the wrinkles in his shirt as he knocks three times. Footsteps can be heard from the other side of the door and then the door is swung open.
George stands in front of him, blush dusting his cheeks and a smile on his face. The light pink shirt he is wearing softens his complexion, making his skin look like silk. Any leftover feelings of resentment from the fight leave at the sight of his boyfriend in front of him.
“Hey.” George smiles, very obviously checking Dream out.
“Hi.” Dream grins, heat crawls up his neck. He holds out the carnations towards George. “These are for you.”
George reaches out, grabbing Dream's wrist and pulling him into a kiss. “Thank you.”
“Happy one year anniversary.” Dream kisses him again, short and sweet.
“Let me put these in water before we go.” George takes the flowers and card from his hand, leading them into the kitchen. He struggles to grab a clear vase on one of the top shelves. Dream walks up behind him, his chest flush against George’s back. He grabs the vase with ease and walks over to the sink, filling it with water.
George leans against the kitchen counter, watching him carefully unwrap the flowers and placing them in the vase. “Where are we going anyway?”
“Oh, right.” Dream grabs a towel, drying his hands and points towards the envelope. “Open that.”
He watches as George’s slender fingers carefully open the card, pulling out two tickets inside. A smile grows onto his boyfriend's face as he reads them. “Tickets to Disney?”
“Yeah. I, uh, saved up some money from working.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought it could be fun.”
George draws him into a tight hug. When he pulls away, he kisses him, hard. Dream feels himself get pushed against the kitchen counter, George’s body presses against him. The kiss deepens, George’s hand trailing down his back, grabbing his waist and pulling him impossibly closer. Static shoots out his fingertips as he grips onto George’s waist, his hips.
Lips part and then George is kissing his cheek, down his neck. Dream’s hand finds its way into his hair, lightly gripping the soft locks. George presses a quick kiss into his lips, pulls away, then smiles. He groans, resting his head on George’s shoulder and plants a kiss against his neck.
“Are we gonna go or not?” George asks, a devilish hint in his voice.
Dream picks his head up, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, was a little distracted.”
George just laughs and intertwines their hands, leading them out the door and to Dream's car. The drive to Disney is short, filled with teasing jokes and stolen red light kisses.
They make their way into the Magic Kingdom and George insists they go to Space Mountain first. George holds his hand, weaving and dodging them through the crowd.
When they get to Space Mountain, George sits in the front, forcing Dream to sit behind him. He makes George give him his hand through the whole ride, squeezing it tight.
With bright smiles adorned on their faces, they walk from ride to ride, enjoying the park to its fullest. Laughing between kisses and inside jokes and everything good. It’s wonderful, and for a moment, Dream forgets all about College and the fight.
The music for ‘It’s A Small World’ plays as Dream and George sit in the back of the ride. The row in front of them is empty, leaving them to whisper and giggle to themselves.
“This ride is terrifying,” George speaks low, his breath hot against Dream's ear.
Dream places his hand on George’s thigh, kissing against his temple. “It really is.”
“Disney is nice.” George muses, “I can’t believe I’ve only been here once since I moved to Florida.”
“We should come here more.” Creepy animatronics smile at them as the ride slowly floats on.
“Maybe.” George hums.
A pang of worry flashes through Dream.
Maybe.
Maybe they’ll come back. Maybe they won’t.
Maybe if they’re still together. Maybe if they don’t break up.
Dream moves his hand away from George’s thigh.
When they exit the ride, George decides to drag them to Frontierland, but Dream’s enthusiasm died down on the ride. He follows shortly behind George, trailing like a shadow.
Dream wonders if it's always been like this. Just him following George blindly, willing to agree with whatever he says.
As they get off Thunder Mountain Railroad, George turns to him with a slight frown on his face.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, concern paints his face.
“Nothing.” Dream tries his best not to let his voice give anything away. He doesn’t want to ruin their day. They can talk about it tomorrow, but not today. Today is for them.
If George notices it’s a lie, he doesn’t say anything. He just grabs his hand, interlacing their fingers together and squeezes lightly.
“Do you want to go watch the parade before we go?” Children scream running past them. Disney music lightly plays through speakers.
Dream turns to George, the sun shining above them. He smiles and kisses George’s cheek. “Sure, let’s do it.”
After the parade they decide it’s time to drive back home. Dream parks in George’s driveway, pulling him into a soft kiss.
George grabs the sides of his face, kissing him like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it. Dream wonders if maybe it is.
“I love you,” George breathes. It’s spoken like a secret, something he can’t bear for anyone else to know. Dream doesn’t know what to say, so he just kisses him.
And then George is leaving his car and going inside his house. Dream is left alone in his car, alone in the silence.
He makes it to his house before he feels the water swelling up at his feet, filling his car until he is trapped. It fills his lungs, restricting his breath, burning his body with a freezing cold. Shaky hands undo his seatbelt, opening the door to his car and forcing him to walk to his room.
Dream collapses onto his bed, hot tears stream down his face. A suffocating sadness encloses around him.
Maybe.
Dream knows that it won’t last. That they are just stupid teenagers in love. That they aren’t going to survive another year, let alone a month.
Maybe.
Where did it all go wrong? He used to be able to tell George everything, used to be able to know what he was thinking just by looking at him. But now… Now he can’t even tell if any of it was real to him in the first place.
Maybe.
Maybe it’s better if they aren’t together.
Maybe George is right.
Maybe.
August 2nd, 2014
Dream finds himself at George’s house late that day.
The plan was to watch a movie, maybe make out a little, and then get dinner. Somehow that turned into Dream sitting on George’s bed, watching him pack his clothes into a duffel bag. Sorting out what he needs, what he can get rid of.
George leaves soon for New York, and they still haven’t talked about it.
After the third sweatshirt gets thrown into the duffle bag, Dream can feel irritation prickle at his skin. He lets out a sigh, flopping back onto the bed.
“This is taking forever.” Dream groans. He would much rather be doing literally anything else. “When will you be done? I want my boyfriend back please.”
“I need to pack.” George mumbles distractedly, not paying any mind to Dream. “I leave in like a week.”
Oh.
One week.
He knew it was soon, but one week? That’s not nearly enough time. They haven’t even talked about George leaving at all or what it means for them. He sits up, needing to look at George who is still folding clothes into a bag. Bitterness sits on his tongue, frustration itching to break through his skin.
“Yeah. You sure do.” Dream bites his lip, holding back anymore snide comments.
George freezes his movements, turning towards Dream. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, just that you leave in a week.” Dream shrugs. Maybe this will finally give them an opening. Maybe George will finally talk about it.
“Yeah, I do.”
Then he is turning back to his closet, sorting through clothes again. Dream is angry now, he feels it burning in his stomach, flames underneath skin.
“That’s it?” He asks, “We’re not gonna talk about it?”
George throws a white shirt into the duffle bag, looking at Dream with annoyance glazing his eyes. “What’s there to talk about, Dream? I’m leaving.”
“Yeah, you’re leaving, George.” He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get it, how he is so okay with it all. “You’re leaving me.”
That’s what it really is about, isn’t it? Being left alone, left by George. His first friend, first love, the one person who knows him better than anyone.
“What? Are you saying I just shouldn’t go to college?” George’s forehead wrinkles, Dream can tell he’s upset. “Stay here with you in Florida forever?”
It’s said like it’s the worst thing that could happen to him, like he’d rather die than spend one more moment by Dream’s side.
“No, that’s not what I said.” Water seeps into George’s room, soaking the carpet. It’s cold on Dream’s feet, he allows it to numb him. “You don’t even care that you’re leaving.”
“That’s not true.” George defends.
“It is.” Dream insists. He stands from the bed, moving towards George. “If it wasn’t true, we would talk about it, about us. Just fucking admit it, George.”
“What do you want me to say?” George asks, “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Dream is enraged, white hot burning anger coursing through him.
“It’s not about what I want, it’s about what you want.” His voice is stern, loud. “Do you even know what that is? Or are you too much of a coward to admit it?”
Admit it, he begs, admit it before we both drown.
“What?” George snaps, “What is your problem?”
Water rises, freezing his legs. Cold ice rushes through his veins. For the first time, George’s gaze doesn’t bring him any warmth.
“No. No, you shouldn’t be the angry one.” Dream can’t breathe, his eyes burn as he blinks away tears. “It’s not fair, George. I’m the one getting left behind, not you.”
“Why are you making this all about you?” George’s voice is cold. “I’m leaving you, leaving my family, all of our friends. Do you not think I am fucking terrified about it?”
Dream scoffs, “It sure doesn’t look like it.”
“This is your problem.” The water rises to his knees. George looks at him like he’s a stranger, like they haven’t spent the past five years together. “You just make all these assumptions about what I am thinking, how I’m feeling. You never once asked me—”
Dream cuts him off. “Because you never want to talk about it.”
“You never once asked me how I felt about it.” George repeats.
“Well, fine. How do you feel about it then?” Dream asks, but he already knows the answer.
George stays silent, the water is almost at his hips.
“You don’t know, do you?” Dream presses, “You’re leaving in a week, one fucking week, and you didn’t put aside some time to figure out if you want to be with your fucking boyfriend.”
“I don’t know.” George crumbles, the truth spilling out of him. He moves to sit on the bed, refusing to look at Dream.
“I don’t know what to do, Dream.” He continues, “I love you, I do, but then I think about the logistics of everything. The distance, how busy we’re both going to be and then… I just- I don’t know.”
And then the water is rising faster, surrounding him. Pressure builds in his head, his body numb. He can’t breathe.
“That’s not enough, George.” A painful admission.
George looks up at him, glassy eyes meet his. “What are you saying?”
Dream looks at George, tears threatening to fall at any moment. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t even know if they want to be with me.”
“Dream…” A shaky breath.
The water reaches the ceiling now, but he gave up on trying to breathe long ago.
“Tell me, please.” Dream moves to sit next to him, taking George’s hands in his own. “Just tell me to stay, tell me you want me here. Tell me you think we’ll be able to get through this and I won’t go.”
George says nothing, he just looks down at their intertwined hands.
“Just tell me.” Dream pleads, his voice breaking.
A breath and then, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
It happens just like that.
Water enters his lungs, restricting his lungs. He can’t breathe, his body burns, screaming for a release. He isn’t scared of it this time. He allows it to happen, and allows the water to pull him down.
“Okay.” Dream pulls his hands away from George’s.
George reaches for him. “I’m sorry, Dream. I love you-”
Dream cuts him off, standing to leave. “Don’t.”
He needs to get out of here. He needs to go outside, needs to be able to breathe.
“Dream.”
“Just don’t, okay? It’s settled.” Dream moves to the door, racing to get out of the house. “I’m just, I’m just gonna go.”
Dream doesn’t say goodbye to George’s mom as he leaves. He simply hurries down the stairs and out the door, his feet rushing him back to his house.
Feet pound against the pavement as he runs down the road, his shoes full of water. The sky is dark, street lamps are the only thing lighting the way, painting the neighborhood in an orange glow. Hot tears stream down his face, his lungs burn.
When he gets home, he rushes past his mom and sister on the couch. The door slams behind him as he enters his room.
He sits on the edge of his bed, hands gripping the comforter below him. From the corner of his eye, he sees a painting sitting on his desk. A painting of him from five years ago.
He walks towards the desk, picking it up. Objectively, it’s not a good painting, but at the bottom is George’s name signed in blue marker.
Dream’s heart aches, tears begin to well in his eyes again.
He used to believe George was the sun embodied. He used to feel thankful for the warmth he felt every time the boy was near him, held him, kissed him.
But George isn’t the sun, he is just a boy.
A boy he met five years ago on a farm. A boy who taught him the difference between a clementine and an orange. A boy who held his hand underneath a tree. A boy who kissed him softly as the sun rose.
A boy who taught him love.
A boy who allowed Dream to believe that it was something made for him.
But that’s all he was.
Dream puts the painting back down on his desk.
Finally, he can breathe.
June 27th, 2019
It’s been four years since Dream moved away for college, but his room still looks the exact same as he left it.
The walls are still the same shade of light gray. The floor is still the same wood. Even the comforter is the same dark green that it was all those years ago.
There are sticky notes from Sapnap taped to the wall. The bookcase is filled with the same books he read when he was young. If he rummaged through his desk he was sure he could find some old homework assignment he forgot to finish.
It feels foreign to be in his room now, like he doesn’t belong.
His room has stayed the same—yet he has changed, he’s grown.
Dream thought graduating from high school would be his biggest accomplishment. After a whole year of pushing himself, late nights crying to Sapnap, he graduated and enrolled in college.
He spent four years at a university in central Florida. Four years figuring out what he wants from life. Four years making new friends, new memories to replace the old. Four years spent learning to let go, learning to stand on his own.
Now he stands in his childhood bedroom, newly graduated, with a degree in English and absolutely no idea what the hell is going to do now.
Dream lays on his bed, staring at the plaster on his ceiling. He’s not quite sure what to do with himself.
Boredom itches at his skin. He used to love summer, but now coming home makes the days blend into one another. An idea festers in the back of his mind; he doesn’t know if it’s a good one. He doesn’t even know if he should do it at all, but it beats just laying in his bed.
After lacing up old converses, he rushes downstairs to the garage. His sister’s bike is too small for him, but it’ll work well enough. They got rid of his once he went away for college.
Dream doesn’t remember the last time he’s ridden a bike. He pushes hard on the pedals, heading off down the road. His knees hit the handles, but he pays it no mind.
He remembers the way to where he’s going. It’s ingrained in him, just like riding the bike. It takes him exactly fourteen minutes to reach a dirt path and wooden fence. He gets off the bike, walking further up the path.
It’s quiet, too quiet. The farm is usually crowded with families, especially over the summer, but there is no one here. He walks further down the path, into the farm.
The bike falls to the ground as he looks at an empty field.
Acres and acres of trees, gone.
Dream feels his heart sink to the bottom of his chest, his knees feel weak.
How could it all just be gone?
He runs up to the wooden barn, a piece of paper in a plastic sleeve is nailed onto the door.
LAND SOLD. Closed until further notice.
For the past five years, Dream returned to the farm.
He didn’t know why, call it nostalgia or stubbornness, but he found himself walking down the same dirt path. And now… it’s all gone.
Just like that.
Dream feels his hands begin to shake. He doesn’t understand how the farm could just be gone.
He was here over winter break, in January. The trees were here then, so why are they gone now?
It’s ironic, really, if he thinks about it hard enough. Something that was there his whole life, taken away just like that. The place where he met George, where they fell in love and it’s just gone. It’s ironic and he can’t help but laugh.
The afternoon sun hits his shoulders, burning his skin. Sweat drips down the back of his neck. He walks back to the bike, the metal of the handles singes his hands. He gets back on the leather seat and pedals hard against gravel, making his way back to the main road.
The heat makes each push harder than the last. His legs ache and his knees are bruised from hitting the handle bar one too many times. He decides to get off his sister's bike, pushing it next to him as he walks the rest of the way home.
It’s close to one in the afternoon as he continues walking down his street. He is nearing his home when a familiar house comes into view.
George’s house.
A house he spent nearly every day at while growing up. A house he knew far too well. A house he has passed by many times in the past five years since George moved away, since they broke up.
It’s been five years since they last spoke.
Five years since their last conversation that ended in tears and final goodbyes.
George left a box of Dream’s stuff outside his door, and he never saw him again.
His heart starts to race as he walks faster, trying to pass George’s house. Out of the corner of his eye, a figure appears, towing a trash can down the driveway behind him.
“Dream?”
Dream stops in his tracks. His hands grip the handles of the bike, knuckles turning white.
And there is George, standing in front of him in gray sweatpants and a white shirt. Dream has to refrain from pinching himself to make sure it’s real. He looks just as beautiful as he did five years ago. His hair is longer, thicker now. Dream always liked it longer.
George is staring at him, dumbfounded, like he forgot Dream lived on this street, like he forgot he even existed.
“George.” Dream breathes out the name like it is air, like it is everything he has ever known. “Uh, hey.”
George gives him a confused look, like he’s unsure of what to say. His brow furrows. “What are you doing here?
“I- uh, I went for a bike ride.” Dream nods towards the bike he is gripping ever so tightly.
George cocks an eyebrow at the bike. It’s small, with pink rimming all around it. “You’re riding that? How did you even fit on that?”
“Well, I didn’t really.” Dream explains, “That’s why I’m not on it anymore.”
“Oh.”
Dream scuffs his shoe against the pavement. “Yeah…”
George stands awkwardly in front of him. The sun above them is brutal, Dream can feel beads of sweat start to build on his forehead.
“I went to the farm.” It’s spoken like an apology, a sorry for lost time. “The trees are gone, I think they sold it.”
George just nods. “Oh, that sucks.”
“It does,” Dream agrees. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
George squints at him, the sun in his eyes. He still has a small patch of freckles under his eye. His cheeks still flush as easily as they did all those years ago.
Dream thinks George is going to tell him to leave, that he has to go inside. That this will be it, their last conversation, and then they’ll go back to never speaking again.
But then he asks, “Are you home for the summer?”
“Yeah, I just graduated.”
George knew that. Dream knows that he knew that, yet he asked anyway. An empty question with an answer he already knew, just so he could talk to Dream a little longer. If the sun doesn’t burn him alive right now, George might.
“I graduated a year ago.” Dream just nods in response, not knowing what else to say. George continues, “I stayed in the city for a year, freelanced for a bit, but nothing stable enough to keep me there. So I’m back now.”
There’s a flutter in the bottom of Dream’s stomach. George is home. He’s back and he’s home for the summer.
Dream shifts on his feet. “I’m here until I find somewhere else to go.”
George laughs lightly. “Yeah, me too.”
“Well, I’ll see you around then?” Dream asks. An olive branch, of sorts, extended between them.
George smiles and then Dream is smiling back and he feels like he is going to die.
“Yeah,” George nods, “I’d really like that.”
June 30th, 2019
Dream can’t sleep.
It’s been three days since he saw George and since then he hasn’t been able to sleep. His nights have been spent staring at the ceiling, racing thoughts. He feels restless, all he can think about is George, George, George, George.
George’s hair and how it compares to the last time Dream saw it. The small patch of freckles under his eye. The sweatpants, the flushed cheeks. All the things that are different now. All the things that stayed the same.
George is running through his head and Dream feels like he is a teenager all over again. Sweat makes the sheets stick to him, his face feels unbearably warm. He kicks his comforter off of him, rolling onto his side.
Five years. Dream has spent five years without George. Five years trying to move on, learning to let go. He spent five years, and he was able to do it. He has moved on, he let go. So why does it feel like that all crumbles to dust the second he sees the boy standing in his driveway?
But he can’t help it. Not when George is standing there with his hair so soft and his cheeks so pink. Not when George was the best friend he has ever had. Not when a part of him knows, no matter what, he will always love him.
The morning sun peaks in through the cracks of his blinds. Golden rays light across his room, particles of dust fluttering in and out of them. Deja vu hits him, reminding him of gold dancing through green leaves, a warm hand intertwined with his, someone kissing him gently.
Dream sits up, his heart racing against his ribcage. He frantically pulls on shorts and a shirt, putting his shoes on as quickly as he can.
He needs to talk to George.
Without checking the time, he races out the door and onto the pavement. Heavy feet carry him down four houses until he is in front of a very familiar front door. George’s mom's car isn’t in the driveway, she’s probably left for work already. He gives a sharp knock on the door three times.
The drum of his heart pounds in his ears, he tries to steady his breath. There is a quiet rustling behind the door until it is swung open.
“Dream?” George stands in front of him, messy hair and plaid pajama pants still on. His mouth is gaped open, his forehead wrinkles. “What are you doing here?”
And it’s all too familiar, too much like something they have seen before, for Dream to not be in awe of the boy in front of him.
“I just- I couldn’t sleep last night.” Dream starts, then the words tumble out of him. “I kept thinking about the farm and you and I just had to come talk to you. I had to come see if it was the same.”
George just stares at him, eyes slightly glazed over with sleep. “It’s nine in the morning.”
“Oh, is it?” Dream falters, his heart stammering in his chest.
“Yeah, but… it’s fine.” George runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth out the mess. “We can talk.”
“Yeah?” Dream asks, hopefully.
George nods. “Yeah.”
It’s an opening to something, a new beginning. Dream doesn’t know where it’s going to lead, but he allows himself to take it gladly.
“Cool, cool.” They stand there, staring in silence. He has no clue what he wants to say, he didn’t think he would even get this far. “Uh, the farm… it’s gone.”
“You said that the other day.” George hums, his eyes cast down at his shoes.
“Yeah, but that was our thing.” Dream tries to catch his eyes, needing to know what the boy is thinking. “Are you not, like, sad?”
George pauses for a moment, chewing his bottom lip before answering. “Honestly? I thought we were never going to talk again… So I just never went back to check.”
“I went back a few times.” Dream finds himself saying, but it’s more of an understatement. George gives him a look, like he knows he’s lying. Dream looks down at his shoes. “Uh, maybe more than a few. I checked every summer.”
George lets out a small laugh at that. “Yeah, well, you’re insane.”
“Maybe just a little.” Dream smiles back at him.
They stand there, looking at each other for a moment. Neither one says anything, as if they don’t want to say the wrong thing. Worried that they might scare the other away.
George clears his throat, looking away from Dream. “You never texted me.”
“You broke up with me.” Dream deadpans.
“Yeah… I did.” George looks down at his feet, unsure of what to do next. He takes a breath before asking, “So, college?”
And it’s almost comical, really. How they’re both just dancing around broken glass, trying not to step on something too sharp.
“Uh, yeah, English major.” Dream flushes. He doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed to admit it.
“Really?” George asks, eyes crinkling with a smile. “I did Comp Sci.”
“Yeah, I knew that.”
“Right. Of course you did.” George’s smile falters.
Dream steps forward, needing the conversation to continue. The cool air from George’s house pours out the door. It still smells the same. “Did you- How was it?”
“It was good, really good.” George admits. Dream thought it would be hard for him to hear that. Maybe five years ago that would be true, but now… Now he is just happy for his old friend. “I liked it a lot. And you?”
“Same, actually.” Dream smiles. Curiosity scratches underneath his skin. He doesn’t try to hold himself before asking, “Is it- is it weird if I ask if you’re seeing anyone?”
George laughs, “We are kinda weird.”
Dream smiles at that, because it’s true. They are weird, they always have been. So it’s not surprising that it hasn’t changed, even after five years.
“We are, just a little bit.”
George shakes his head. “Uh, I’m not by the way.”
“Oh.”
“Are you?” George asks. The air gets impossibly thicker, Dream struggles to breathe it in.
“No,” He answers a little too quickly. “No, I’m not.”
George’s lips quirk up just a little bit, his cheeks blush lightly. “That’s… yeah.”
“I tried dating, uh, in college,” Dream confesses. “It just- Nothing really stuck, I guess.”
It feels embarrassing to admit, but… it’s just George. They used to tell eachother everything, so maybe it’s not so different.
“Same.”
Dream looks up at him, surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah.” George nods. “I went on some dates and stuff, but… nothing serious.”
George is looking at him, the same way he used to look at him years ago. The same look he gave him on the Fourth of July at the farm, before their first kiss, after he said ‘I love you’. Dream feels his stomach flip inside of him, his hands buzz.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Dream blurts out, alarming himself and George.
George tilts his head, an eyebrow raised. “Right now?”
“No, let me come back in two hours and then we can go,” Dream replies, sarcasm laced in his words.
A small smile forms on pink lips. “Did you forget it’s nine in the morning?”
“Well, no. I just thought maybe we could talk or something,” Dream reasons. He doesn’t care what they do, really. He just wants to be with George. “Maybe it’d be nice.”
Brown eyes match green, like he’s searching for some hidden meaning. When he can’t seem to find one, George just nods. “Sure. Let’s go for a walk.”
Dream waits by the door as George slides on his sneakers, stepping out the door and closing it behind him. They walk down the driveway in silence, the morning air is cool and the sun hasn’t peaked yet. Dream feels his shoulder brush against George’s, warmth shoots down the side of his arm, his stomach flips.
“I missed you, like, a lot,” Dream admits, his voice low. It’s honest, too honest even, but he doesn’t see a reason to lie.
George looks at him, eyes shining lightly. “You did?”
“Yeah, so much.” Their hands brush lightly, Dream has to stop himself from holding onto George’s.
George turns to look back at the road. “I missed you too, Dream.”
The wind bristles through vibrant green leaves. Morning birds call out to one another overhead. They continue down the pavement, side by side. Dream tries his hardest not to hold George’s hand.
“Like not just as a boyfriend, but I don't know,” Dream rambles, “I just missed you, George.”
It’s the truth. Dream would give George nothing less than that.
He really did miss him, he missed his best friend. He may have moved on, but he didn’t forget. He could never forget George.
“I understand. I feel the same.” George goes quiet for a moment, the air between them shifts. “But I don’t- I don’t regret it.”
Dream stays silent, allowing George to take the time he needs. They reach the park at the end of the road, slowing their walking to lazily stroll through.
“I don’t regret how things ended between us,” George says, his voice steady and calm. “The break up, all that.”
“I don’t either,” Dream finds himself saying, not knowing it was true until the words left his mouth.
George hums before continuing, “I feel like I grew a lot moving away, living by myself. I needed to do that on my own, I think.”
Dream nods, a comfortable silence washing over them. George slows his walking, stopping to look at Dream.
“But that doesn’t mean…” He takes a breath. “It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to try again.”
Oh.
Whatever imaginary lines they had drawn between them disappear in a simple sentence. Dream doesn’t say anything, he just stares wide-eyed at George. His heart jumps in his throat, he tries to swallow it down.
George steps forward, worry flashing behind his eyes. He backtracks, “Or at least as friends, at first.”
“I would like that.” Dream smiles at him. He takes a step towards him, closing whatever leftover space they had in between them. “Friends, at first.”
“And I really did miss you so much, Dream.” George looks up, his eyes meeting Dream’s with sincerity, his voice raw.
Dream feels his breath hitch in the back of his throat. George’s eyes are holding him in a trance. He breaks their grip, looking down at pink lips and blush dusted cheeks. Dream can feel George’s breath on his chin, hot and short. He didn’t realize how close they were until just now.
“I don’t know if I am going to be able to be just friends with you, George,” He whispers, looking back up at brown eyes. “I think I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.”
“And now?” George asks. His hand moves forward cautiously, hooking his pinky behind Dream’s.
Dream steadies his breath. He shifts his hand, interlacing his fingers with George’s. A golden warmth spreads through him. It’s not burning or blazing, but it’s comfortable, it’s safe. Dream allows himself to step into the light.
“I’d like to get to know you again, learn how to love you again, if you’d let me.” Dream squeezes his hand lightly. George’s cheeks lightly flush pink.
“I think- I think I would,” George speaks quietly, his eyes cast down at Dream’s lips. “Let you.”
Dream lifts his free hand, using it to cradle George’s face. George’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into the warmth of his palm. He looks up at Dream, eyes heavy with wanting. Dream looks down at George’s lips, yearning explodes inside his chest. They lean forward simultaneously, drawing their lips together.
The kiss is soft, gentle. Dream feels dizzy, like his body is floating away. George tastes like citrus still, even after five years.
George pulls away, resting his forehead on Dream’s. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know.”
They share breath. Dream doesn’t care what they do as long as he gets to kiss George again.
George leans forward slightly, his nose nudging against Dream’s. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” Dream rubs his thumb over George’s knuckles, still holding onto his hand. “Is it okay for you?”
“Yes, yeah.” George smiles, his words spoken breathlessly. “Very much so.”
And then he’s leaning forward again, capturing their lips in another kiss. This one is deeper than the last. There is more behind it, like it’s making up for the last five years of wanting, of missing.
Dream lets go of George’s hand, cupping his face in his hands. He breathes into the kiss, pulling George impossibly closer. Lips part as he feels George’s hands gripping the sides of his shirt, tugging him closer by his hips. Heat rushes through his veins, comfort settles deep into his bones.
They pull apart, trying to catch their breath. George’s lips bruised red and swollen, his cheeks brightly blush. Dream’s heart swoons at the sight of him, he quickly kisses his lips again.
“What happened to just being friends at first?” He laughs, taking George’s hand with his own.
George takes a steadying breath, lightly squeezing Dream’s hand. “I think you were right, about not being able to just be friends.”
“It’s okay. We can just- we can just take it slow.” Dream smiles at him, warm and bright and gold. “One day at a time, together.”
Dream didn’t mind slow, not if it meant George was with him. He spent five years without his best friend in his life, he didn’t mind waiting a little longer. As long as he got to hold George’s hand, he didn’t mind at all.
George smiles back. “I’d like that, if it was me. If it was you.”
They walk back to George’s house, hand in hand. The sun rises between stolen kisses and light laughter. Dream looks at the boy next to him, holding his hand, smiling so brightly. It’s so warm and real, but it’s different than before— it's better. Because to him, George is just a boy. A boy whose cheeks are dusted pink, with soft citrus-smelling hair, and a patch of freckles under his left eye.
He is just a boy, and Dream loves him fully.