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“Wait, you play the guitar?”
Dream chuckles, the low, smooth voice of his a melody in George’s ears. George is streaming, and his chat is going batshit crazy at that new information. Hell, even George himself doesn’t know it too, so he almost maneuvers his character into a pit of lava when he hears Dream admit it.
“George, watch out- oh my god, yes! Did you not know?”
George huffs, barely saving himself. “No, you never told me!”
A familiar noise cackles through his headpiece, and he realises that Dream has placed down his headset. He focuses on parkouring through the Nether, occasionally answering donations and entertaining his stream, waiting for Dream to come back.
He cringes a little when the same loud noise blasts in his ears, frowning.
“I’m back!” Dream announces, and George can hear Dream smile from those words.
“Where’ve you been?”
George is answered by silence, and after a few seconds, he opens his mouth to repeat his question again, afraid that Dream hasn’t caught it. Instead, a strum on the guitar is heard, and George gasps.
“That’s a guitar!” he says, his voice rising a little due to excitement. Dream laughs again, strumming another chord. “Play a song!”
“No way, I haven’t practiced in so long,” Dream protests, and George can see chat whizzing by, mostly keyshashes and ‘pog’s filling in the small, white rectangle. George pouts, unable to contain his disappointment. “Okay, maybe one day. I gotta prepare, chat! Can’t make any mistakes, can I?”
George decides to let Dream off, changing the subject of their conversation. The chat doesn’t let go, but after realising that there is nothing they can do, they move on to the next topic.
Hours pass, and George feels lethargic as he grows more and more tired. He goes to the main menu of Minecraft, and says goodbye to chat. Greeting him with messages of farewell, he ends the stream, leaning back with a groan of relief as soon as he’s done.
“Well, that was something.”
Dream chuckles again as he strums the strings, humming a little tune. George keeps quiet as Dream continues playing the guitar, though it doesn’t go any further than the few chords he knows how to play. It’s times like these when he wishes that he can see Dream’s face, the way he’d look so peaceful yet immersed in the melody, his eyes closed, leaning back onto his chair, the string instrument in his lap.
“Do you know how to play a song?” George asks, the question slipping out of his mouth before he even realises it.
“No, but I used to know how.” Another strum. “Maybe I could learn again.”
“Maybe,” George parrots.
“I can serenade you,” Dream says, and George sputters out a laugh, hiding his face in the sleeves of his hoodie.
“Serenade me? Sure, Dream,” George rolls his eyes, though a stupid grin is plastered onto his face. “Well, my birthday’s coming up, so you can do that if you want.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No, it’s a gift. For me,” George adds, and he hears Dream mutter ‘you’re ridiculous’ under his breath, though a certain fondness betrays his words, which causes George’s heart to stutter. “Maybe you can even turn on your facecam, y’know?”
“One more word and I’m not gonna do it.”
“Aw, come on, Dream,” he coos. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you before.”
And it’s true, especially after Dream’s visit to the UK, George has been waving that fact in Dream’s face. Dream almost regrets it.
Dream groans. “Shut up. I hate you so much.”
Somehow, the supposedly malicious words cause George to melt in sweetness. It’s probably because of the way Dream delivered it, the softness around the edge of the sharp, hurtful words, coating them with fluff and cotton and George swears he’s going to get diabetes just from how sugary everything is.
But maybe that’s how having a crush feels like. Sugary sweet, with a cherry on top.
*
For the next few days, Dream has been awfully quiet, lying low on streams and videos, unlike his usual self. George is worried at first, but after many reassurances from Dream that no, he is not sick, and more frustrations, George gives up on the topic as he lets Dream be. He can sometimes hear the faint strum of a chord in the background as they call each other, but he pays no mind to it. Sapnap sometimes questions the guitar, but Dream only waves it off, promising Sapnap that he’d message him about it. As soon as he receives the notification from Dream, a loud squeal pierces through the latter’s ears, followed by a loud ‘what the fuck, Dream!’
George pushes Sapnap and asks about it, but hell, Sapnap is loyal to Dream as he keeps the secret. Frustrated, George puffs out his cheeks as he accidentally falls into the ravine, dying of fall damage.
He throws his headphones in anger as his friends laugh at his misery.
*
He’s dying to know, and as days pass, Dream is becoming more cryptic with his actions. Sapnap, as well, is joining Dream in his journey to confuse George even more, refusing to let George into their little plan, which annoys George further.
It’s a cycle he can’t escape, really.
A sense of dread washes over George as he recalls the night when he spilled his true feelings for Dream to Sapnap in the heat of the moment, overwhelmed by emotions and confusion. Despite their chaotic dynamic, George trusts Sapnap, and when you have a crush on the person you trust most, who can you go to other than the second person you trust most?
Which, George bitterly thinks, is the worst decision he could’ve made, apart from giving Dream his address (he got a package full of glitter in his mail, thanks to Dream). He sighs as he slides down his gaming chair dramatically.
“You good, buddy?” Sapnap asks, genuine concern seeping through his chuckles as he watches his friend fight an internal battle with himself, snapping George out from his thoughts. George wonders if he should bring his worries up.
It’s the perfect time to do so. They’re alone in the call: Dream has gone out to get food, so there is privacy for George to ask Sapnap about it. He sits up again, and bites on his lip. Sapnap senses a shift in atmosphere as his cheeky grin leaves his face, replaced by a serious look.
“Sapnap,” George starts, taking in a deep breath, “please, tell me what’s going on?”
George hates being in the unknown, and surprises aren’t usually his cup of tea (though, he hates tea in general), so two of his friends hiding away something from him is driving him crazy. He looks down and fumbles with his fingers, his heart dropping when Sapnap sighs.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m in the place to say it,” Sapnap says, his camera unfocusing for a second as he shifts in his seat. “It’s Dream’s idea.”
“Did you… did you tell him about it?”
“About what?”
George clicks back to Discord, and after making sure Dream is still muted, he goes back to the call. “That I… uh, I like him?”
“George, what makes you think I’d do that?” Sapnap mumbles, the subtle hurt in his tone almost making George guilty. “I won’t betray you like that.”
“Then what are you hiding?”
Sapnap rubs his forehead, a conflicted look on his face. Silence rests between them for a moment, and George squirms. His fan is way too loud in his ears.
“Okay,” Sapnap looks into the camera, “okay, I can’t tell you much, because it’s important to Dream. But all I can say is something is happening on your birthday, so just… wait till then? You’ll get your answers.”
The notification rings, and George realises that Dream is back as the sound of rustling plastic bags is picked up on his microphone. Sapnap switches the topic, a smile slapped onto his face as he talks about his school life.
His birthday. It’s three days away.
He holds onto the tiny shred of information desperately as he tunes back into the conversation.
*
“Are you free on your birthday?”
“What?”
It’s five hours later, and Sapnap has bid them goodbye as he hops off the call to complete his homework, leaving Dream and George alone. It’s late, but George stays up anyway, because in between his fucked up sleep schedule and hazy mind, he chooses Dream over his health and sanity, which isn’t good for George.
But then again, falling for your best friend isn’t the best choice he has made either, so really, George is screwed either way.
Dream clears his throat. “I mean, are you celebrating your birthday with your family and friends?”
“Of course I am, Dream, who do you think I am?” George scoffs, and Dream lets out a wheeze, squeezing in an apology in between laughs. “I’m free at night, if that’s what you’re asking.”
George hears papers shuffle on the other end. “Uhh, around 9?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, birthday boy, can I book your schedule from 9 to 10, then?” Dream says. George lets out a chuckle at Dream’s shitty British accent, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, I should be fine by then. The party stops at 8, anyway.”
“You have a party? What are you, five?”
George whines. “No! My parents decided that they want to throw a party for me and my friends to celebrate it, I don’t know.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dream waves him off, and George rolls his eyes again, threatening to end the call with Dream, only to be stopped by Dream as he begs George for forgiveness. They end up talking for two more hours, until George is barely able to fight away his sleep, slurring his words as he speaks.
Though, amidst his foggy mind, a pang of disappointment hits him as he closes Discord, and he wishes that their conversation lasted longer instead.
*
The party is kind of boring.
George loves his friends, really, but when you’re in your 20s and still rejecting alcohol because you can’t stand the taste of it, watching your friends all get simultaneously drunk as they danced and enjoyed themselves, George can’t help but feel a little left out. He’s drained from the loud music and flashing lights in the club, and he almost lets out a loud cheer when the clock struck 8, the crowd slowly thinning until all that’s left are a few of his closer friends, staying back to help the staff clean up.
It’s around 8:30 when he reaches home, accompanying his parents back to their own apartment and thanking them for forking out their money for the party (even though he doesn’t enjoy it). Sighing, he decides to slip into shower and change out of his tight jeans and T-shirt, opting for a more comfortable hoodie instead and sweatpants.
8:45 rolls by, and George is contemplating life as he hears Baby’s bell dangle in the distance, signalling his presence. He stands up and fills up his food bowl, petting him on the head, although he shrinks away from his reach. It’s quiet and cold in his apartment, but George feels more at peace, though his heart is beating quickly at the reminder that Dream has something planned for him.
He’s in his usual seat in front of the computer at 8:50, and he is trying to calm himself down as he clicks through the statistics of his YouTube videos, trying to see if they’re doing well. It’s a shitty distraction, but a distraction he needs nonetheless, as he steers his mind away from his shaky hands and his quickened breathing, his nerves overtaking his entire body. He has never felt this nervous before, except for a few instances where he has to walk up the stage to receive an award. He was in highschool then: it has been long since this feeling has haunted him, yet he finds a sort of sick satisfaction at the familiarity of it.
It’s about 8:55 when he sees Dream’s invisible status turn green, signalling that he’s online. His mind tries to calm his heart down as he reminds himself over and over again that Dream is merely his friend, chanting it like a mantra in his head, though the quiet whispers from his heart denies it. It’s the first time Dream has scheduled a call with him outside of work, and George is terrified. Sapnap is online as well, but George thinks that it’s just coincidence.
George sees Dream type something out at 8:59, though the three bubbles appear and reappear far too many times for George’s liking. He sighs in frustration as the cycle continues, and decides to take matters into his own hands as he types out a message and sends it.
George: you good?
Dream stops typing for a moment, and George is reaching out to type another message when the reply comes in.
Dream: yeah, i’m fine
Dream: can we call?
Without another word, George clicks on the ‘audio call’ button, their usual routine. His heart drops when Dream declines it, and endless thoughts start running through his mind as he starts to panic about the abnormal behaviour from Dream, only for them to be silenced when the familiar ringtone blasts in his ears.
It’s a video call.
George accepts it.
A rustling noise can be heard, and as the camera focuses, George almost forgets to breathe as Dream waves at him shyly. A soft yellow glow illuminates his entire room, and in the background fairy lights are strung up, an assortment of colours blinking back at George. It’s simplistic, but somehow, it feels like home for George.
“Hey,” Dream scratches the back of his neck, a small smile stretched across his face. “Happy birthday, George!”
“Thank you,” George giggles quietly, leaning his head in the palm of his hands, his elbows propped on the surface of the table. He sees Dream bite on his lip, and he swears at that moment, his soul has left his entire body, rendering him helpless as he reminds himself to keep his cool.
“I… uh, I actually have a gift for you,” Dream chuckles, though the shakiness of his voice gives away how nervous he is. George is tempted to reach out to his screen, to somehow put his hand on Dream’s to take away some of his nerves. He gives Dream a smile instead, hoping that it’d be enough for now. “Uhm, I… gimme a sec.”
Dream is silent as he types away on his computer, his eyes flickering between his keyboard and the screen of his computer, and George can’t help but stare at how Dream subconsciously frowns when he’s focused, biting on the inside of his cheek, showing off his dimple. A small hum, and a flash of white illuminates Dream’s face. George watches silently as Dream takes in a deep breath.
“You, uh, you can mute yourself if you want, or not, I don’t care,” Dream rambles, and as he shifts a little in his seat, George notices the familiar string instrument sitting on his lap, finally in view.
“That’s your guitar!”
Dream looks down, his hands brushing across the surface of the polished mahogany wood, fingers lightly strumming the strings as it emits a quiet tune. “Well, I’m… uh- I’m gonna perform for you? You don’t have to mute yourself if you want, but just… don’t judge me?”
“I won’t, Dream,” George whispers, and everything feels so intimate, with the way Dream is worried and the way he’s running his hands through his wavy hair, messing it up further. George’s heart skips a beat at the view, and he bites on his lip to remain quiet, reaching to the side to grab his shark plush that Dream got for him at IKEA.
For a moment, everything is still. Then, with deep breaths and steady fingers, Dream plays the first chord. At first, it sounds unfamiliar to George, but as soon as the lyrics leave Dream’s mouth in a raspy, low voice, George is falling hard.
Wise men say, only fools rush in.
George is covering his mouth now, and he feels his cheeks hurt from smiling so widely as Dream continues on with his song. Focused on strumming, a few curly locks fall and cover Dream’s eyes partially, but Dream doesn’t seem to notice, and George feels himself drown as another wave of fondness and love crash over him, and oh fuck, I love him so goddamn much, don’t I?
He barely catches Dream stumbling over his words as he messes up on a chord near the verse, disrupting the smooth melody for a while, because he’s so immersed as he watches Dream bite on his lip in concentration. It’s such a picture perfect view that causes his stomach to somersault and his heart to soar higher and higher, and he wonders if he has died because what he’s feeling is heavenly.
Take my hand, take my whole life too.
For the first time since the performance, Dream looks up and makes eye contact with George, and the thought of Dream singing to him and him only makes him swoon in happiness, his heart swelling with something so much bigger than just love. It feels so private and right, as if everything has led up to this one moment, so when Dream gives him another one of his dimpled-smiles, George is so overwhelmed with emotions and he’s so high on serotonin that he’s sure he’s going to combust.
The soft, quiet words fall out of Dream’s mouth, and George feels the weight behind every single one of them, as if Dream means them, as if the faint blush on his cheeks and the slightly glazed over look in his eyes isn’t enough, as if George isn’t looking at him like he means the entire world to George. George is hugging the shark so tightly that he worries that it’s going to leave a permanent dent, but it’s the only way he can ground himself before he floats off into space with how much he’s feeling right now.
Before he realises it, he’s joining Dream in the duet, and Dream almost stumbles when he hears George. George whispers the final sentence of the song, fearing that if he’s too loud, he might shatter the entire atmosphere into pieces that he knows he has no courage to pick up. He hides behind the words, praying that the strength and the message that he has sent to Dream is enough for him to pick up the clues to his true feelings.
For I can’t help falling in love with you
The final strum of the guitar ends the song, and the duo is soon eased back into silence, staring at each other. Dream’s hold on the guitar loosens as he proceeds to put it away somewhere beside him, while George mentally connects the freckles that are splashed on Dream’s face, making up his own constellations.
Dream is the first one to break the silence.
“Happy birthday, George.”
It’s so subtle, so quiet, and George almost doesn’t catch it as the words drift off with the cool November breeze, but he holds them close to his heart, cherishes them in his grasp. He looks up at Dream, half of his face covered by his hoodie sleeves as he leans his head on his table, and he’s transported back into July again, when Dream has arrived in the UK with nothing but a flimsy, last-minute plan and a bit he’s determined to keep up.
“I… uh, I actually have something else, too.”
George tilts his head as he watches Dream lean back into his chair, pushing his hair up so that it doesn’t obscure his view. Dream looks at his hands, before returning to maintain their eye contact again with a more determined gaze.
“George, it has been about five years since we’ve met, and ever since that day, you’ve changed me for the better. I don’t know whether you realise this or not, but I’m… my life has been different. You’ve made such a huge impact, not just on my career, but on… everything
“I don’t know how to say this, because words literally cannot describe how strongly I feel right now, but thank you so, so much. Thank you so much for being here for me when I was at my lowest, and celebrating with me when I’m at my highest. Thank you so much for being my best friend, and the missing piece of my life that I never knew I needed.
“I… I don’t know if you know this or not, George, but I mean it every single time when I said I love you. I love you so fucking much, it actually hurts. I love you as a friend, and more than a friend, and god, when I met you? In the UK? Your smile was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“And it’s okay if… if, y’know, you don’t like me back, and I’m sorry if this ruined your birthday, but I just… I love you so much, George, and I don’t think I can live without you. And it’s okay, y’know, if you don’t wanna… if you don’t feel the same way, but all I ask is that we still remain friends after this. You can forget about all this if you want, but please, you’re too important to lose.”
At this point, George can see tears flowing down Dream’s cheeks as Dream laughs and wipes them away, mumbling ‘god, I’m such an idiot’ under his breath. George reaches out to the screen, wanting to wipe Dream’s tears away, but the warm buzz of his computer screen below the pad of his thumb pulls him back to reality, that they are separated miles apart from each other, and the only possible way to confess is through the Internet.
But god, he’s so lucky.
He’s smiling, but he feels a stray tear forming at the corner of his eye, and soon he’s nothing but a crying and laughing mess as the words played over and over again in his head, a broken record that for once, he appreciates.
Dream fucking loves me. He loves me back.
“George?”
“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?” George sings softly, though his trembling voice ruins the tune a little. Grinning, Dream reaches for his guitar as his fingers find their place back onto the fretboard.
“Cause I can’t help falling in love with you.”
They lock eyes again, and the stars seem to align as the universe comes to a standstill, holding her breath, waiting for them to complete their song. The night watches, but they are so lost in their own little world that they pay no mind to prying eyes. For once, they're free.
“Cause I can’t help falling in love with you.”
Love is sugary sweet, with a cherry on top, and as soon the words leave his mouth, entwining with Dream’s, George knows he’s home.