Chapter Text
"I trust my Dream."
George can't believe he actually said it. Out loud. On live stream. In front of 89 thousand people.
"Oh my god, what am I going to do?" he mumbled to himself as he crawled into bed, desperate for the day to be over. As he waited for sleep to take him into its welcoming arms, the quiet buzzing of his phone grabbed his attention. Who would call him at this hour? He flipped his tired body over with a frustrated groan, and mentally chastised his face for blushing when he saw that it was, in fact, Dream calling. With a sigh, he reached for his phone and accepted the call.
"George. GEORGE," he heard Dream wheeze into the phone as soon as he picked up.
"Yes?" George replied groggily.
"We're famous!" Dream exclaimed excitedly.
"Dream. You have 15 million subscribers on YouTube. I think we know you're famous."
"Nonono, George. We're Twitter famous. #MyDream is actually going viral right now."
A sliver of panic settled itself into George's chest. He hadn't meant to say that, but it was true, wasn't it? He did think of his best friend as "his," maybe a tad possessively too. But it was only platonically... right? They've always been close to each other, but only as friends, right? Whenever Dream called him late at night, like he just did, it was because they were best friends, not more, right? And those cursed butterflies he felt in his stomach when Dream sent him pictures of himself, little clues to what he truly looked like, were only there because he liked a good mystery.
Right?
Knocking those thoughts out of his head and realizing that he's been silent for a while on their call, he answered with a panicked, "Oh, yeah. The fans must be going crazy right now."
"Okay, well, judging by your tone, it must be late over there, so I'll let you go."
"Alright, good night," George said, getting ready to go back to sleep again.
"Good night, my George."
George's phone played a little beep, signaling that the other end had hung up, and George laid on his bed in, well, shock.
That last part was a joke. It had to be. Dream was, as far as he knew, straight, and definitely did not feel that way about him. Hell, he didn't even know if he felt that way about Dream. Troubled by his thoughts and, at this point, pretty tired, George rolled back over in his bed and entered what was to be quite an interesting night of sleep.