Chapter Text
Even back home, surrounded by people he’d known for years, George had been lonely. He didn't believe in best friends. He'd always been a rather introverted person, preferring his own company rather than that of others. It meant he didn't allow others close to him. It meant that sometimes, he isolated himself.
It was never really a problem, though. He was fine with distance, the impersonal air between himself and his friend group. If he was ever jealous of their bond, he hid it. It wasn't their fault that his crippling anxiety and trust issues strained their relationships.
It wasn't until George went to college, when his chest began to ache with longing, when all he could do was wish he wasn't so fucked up inside, that he realized just how much he was missing.
His friends would talk about FaceTiming together for hours, never growing tired of the other's company. They would talk about inside jokes and shared secrets. They would talk to each other for hours on end, and all George felt that he could do was helplessly listen.
George realized that it wasn't his friends' faults, of course, but he couldn't stop the boiling pit of resentment in his stomach. What was wrong with him? Why did he have to be so distant and cold all of the time?
He wanted someone to talk to when he was down, he wanted to encourage them in exchange. He wanted to lay his soul bare with no fear of pity or judgement. He wanted to know that someone, anyone had his back, no matter what.
So, what was stopping him?
---
Another group project, George gripes to himself. He would end up doing all the work, or the group would make a valiant effort to work together but the project would be shit at the end. Either way, George wasn’t looking forward to it.
George didn't have any friends in this class, but it didn't matter anyways. The professor always let the computer form the groups for her, telling the students, "If your group isn't here, figure it out yourselves. It's not my damn problem."
This week, George had been partnered with Nick and Clay. He frowned. They were two kids that always sat in the corner of class, messing around. George couldn't imagine either of them being very productive, as Clay's signature wheezes were often the target of the professor's glare. They'd both been kicked out of class more than once.
Speaking of the devils, Clay and Nick were walking up to George's desk now.
"Hey, George, right?" Clay calls warmly.
The aforementioned nods curtly.
"I'm Clay, but you call me Dream if you'd like."
George's nose wrinkles in confusion. "Dream?"
"Yeah. Sap calls me that because I use it for like, online stuff, and I thought it would be less confusing for you if we only used one name." Dream explains. "As for Nick, I call him Sapnap. Sap for short."
George nods, already done with the subject. "Okay then. Let's get working on this project."
Surprisingly, Dream and Sapnap were really good at coding. Like, insanely good. Apparently, the reason they paid so little attention in class was because they had learned everything the syllabus covered years ago. George warmed to them immediately after that realization. He could understand boredom-driven troublemaking.
"We actually learned the basics of coding from Minecraft." Sapnap chuckled. "That's where we met, too!" He adds, making a kissy face at Dream, who returned the gesture.
“That’s cute,” George remarks. “Do you still play?”
"Yeah! Dream actually has a YouTube channel where he does Minecraft shit!"
"Sapnap, stop exposing me-" Dream begins.
"He already has half a million subs! Pretty cool, you should check it out. Plus, I'm in some of his videos-"
"Sapnap!" Dream interjects loudly. "Sorry George, you probably don't give a shit about any of this."
"No, it's interesting. What's your channel name?"
"You'll never find it-"
"Let me guess, is it Dream?"
Dream falters visibly, and Sapnap nods with fervor, giggling.
Before George can pull up YouTube on his laptop, the professor loudly dismisses the class, shooing them all out before shutting the door behind them.
"Guess we'll have to keep working another time." George sighs. He'd really hoped to finish the project that day so he would be free to work on other assignments for the rest of the week.
"No worries." Dream told him. " I was actually just going to finish it up tonight, if that's okay with you? I already have most of the code written."
"What?" George cranes his neck to look over at Dream's screen, seeing most of the project done already. "How did you do that so quickly?"
"Years of practice," Dream shrugged. "Don't worry, I'll send it to you before we turn it in. Do you have Discord?"
After exchanging contact information and bidding the pair farewell, George feels inexplicably cheerful. It's most likely a result of Sapnap's easygoing humor and Dreams incessant charisma. For some inexplicable reason, he feels comfortable around the duo, as if he’d known them for years.
---
George is studying in the campus library when he sees them again. He’s sitting in a chair by a window, glancing up from his laptop and spots them playing with a frisbee on the green outside. Dream throws the disk far and Sapnap dives, falling in his desperation to catch it. Dream keels over, and George can imagine his trademark wheeze. He can’t stop the small smile that spreads across his face as he observes them.
After they both clamber to their feet, Sapnap spots George watching them through the window and waves. George waves back, and Dream turns to see who Sapnap is interacting with. Grinning to each other, the pair race to the library entrance, frisbee forgotten in the greenery.
Within moments, they're by his side, and despite barely knowing them, George offers them a warm smile as they occupy the seats beside him.
"Whatcha doin' George?" Sapnap asks him.
"I'm just working on this essay for English. Did you have fun frisbee-ing together?"
Dream snorts, loud and sudden. "Sapnap's awful at it."
Dream gets a shove to the shoulder for his response. "You're just being a bitch because I'm better at basketball."
"In your dreams, short-ass."
"I watched a few of your YouTube videos last night, Dream." George tells him, suddenly, unprovoked.
This was an understatement. He'd actually binged all of the videos on the channel, unable to tear his eyes from the screen. Eventually, he'd fallen asleep to the sound of Dream's voice. It was soothing, in a way. He'd felt drawn to Dream's charm, the interactions he had with his friends, his evident skill in the game.
"Did you like them?" Dream asks, sounding more nervous than George had ever heard him. "I'm always looking for more feedback."
"I actually liked all of the videos I saw," George tells him earnestly. "No criticism. I'm surprised you don't have more subscribers."
Dream flushes prettily. "Thank you. That means a lot."
George and Dream take a moment to gaze at each other, smiling. They only stop when Sapnap calls them out on it, subsequently telling them to get a room.
George colors, shoos them away to finish their game. He tries to focus on the screen in front of him, but his eyes keep drifting to the window, where a certain boy is tossing a frisbee.
---
George tries to spend time with his old friends. He eats lunch with them, plays games with them, attends group study sessions, but something is missing. He’s had a taste of something more, and he can’t get enough.
One day, when he’s at a cafe with his friends, he feels the gentle buzz of an incoming call. That’s weird. Everyone that calls him is here, sitting at the table together. His parents, maybe?
When he finally manages to pull his phone from his pocket, he sees that Sapnap is calling him through Discord. Why? They turned in the project yesterday. Swiping at the screen, he picks up.
“Hello?” George greets tentatively.
“Georgie~” Sapnap giggles, clearly trying to keep his voice down. “Look behind you!”
George turns, seeing Sapnap, whose body is shaking with ill-concealed laughter, and Dream, whose face is buried in his hands. George waves at the pair across the cafe. “Hello,” he says again. “I didn’t know that you were stalking me.”
“For the record, we were here first.” Sapnap retorts. “For all we know, you’re stalking us.”
George rolls his eyes, disconnects the call, and stands, walking over to them. His other friends won’t care, anyways.
---
"Movie night!" Sapnap whoops, barrelling into George's dorm room.
"Wha-" George flails, almost falling from his desk chair. "How do you know where I live?"
"Dream told me!" Sapnap says gleefully. "He's on his way with popcorn and drinks."
George rolls his eyes. Trust Dream to give away confidential information. He'd only told Dream his dorm number so the boy could drop off some coffee earlier that day, when George had been immersed in studying for an exam he felt he did moderately well on.
"Well, make yourself at home then." George says, eyeing the way Sapnap had already sprawled over his bed. "What are we watching?"
"I dunno. Dream has Netflix, if you want to use it. We were just going to let you decide."
"Hm…" George hums, pulling up his own Netflix account. "Have either of you seen Scott Pilgrim?"
Dream enters the room then, bringing with him the distinctive scent of burnt popcorn. "I fucking love Scott Pilgrim."
"Dream's been begging me to watch it for a while, so that sounds good to me." Sapnap shrugs, snuggling himself into George's duvet.
Sighing, George settles himself next to Sapnap on his bed, setting his laptop at the edge. Dream hurries to sit at his other side, putting the bowl of singed popcorn in George's lap.
George hadn't touched anyone in so long. So, when Dream's hand cards through his hair playfully, he can't stop the way he jumps unconsciously, the way his breath catches in his throat. And when Sapnap throws his arm over his shoulders, he can't help but lean into the other’s touch.
George almost falls asleep during the movies, he feels so warm and at peace. And maybe it's illogical to feel like this about a pair of mischievous boys he'd met that week, but he'd give anything to stay like this, with them, forever.
---
"Hey, everyone!" Dream welcomes warmly, "Today, I'm streaming with Sapnap and George. More people are joining soon, too!"
"Hey chat!" Sapnap cheers.
"Hi chat," George says shyly.
It had taken a lot of convincing on Dream's part to persuade George to join the stream. Well, it felt like a lot, but George knew that he would do pretty much anything the blond asked him to do anyways.
Today, they were playing Hypixel party games with a few of Dream's content creator friends. Dream had assured George he wouldn't feel too out of place, as he would know a lot of them already. Apparently, their campus held a lot of budding YouTubers.
Dream and Technoblade, a competitive English major that George recognized from his Greek Mythology course, were dominating the majority of the games, neck-and-neck for points.
“Not even close,” crowed Techno as he won the final game by a mere point. “If you wish to defeat me, train for another 100 years!”
The crew all laughed together, congratulating Techno on his win. Their characters bounced around the lobby together, still talking animatedly. Techno’s the first to end his stream, talking about viewer retention. He doesn’t log off of Hypixel, though, just leaves the party to “beat some orphans in SkyWars.” Tommy, Tubbo, Philza, and Fundy are the next to go, since they all have classes in the morning.
When Dream is the only one left streaming, he catches up on his donations and new subs, not bothering to mute/deafen since George and Sapnap are the only ones left in the call.
"Who is the cutest out of you all?" Dream reads, chuckling. "Definitely George. I wish you all could see how cute he is when he blushes."
And George blushes hard, covering his face with his hands. "Dream! What is wrong with you?"
"Just telling the truth! JessWasTaken, thank you for the 5 gifted subs! That's very generous, and I really appreciate it."
Even when Dream has long since moved on from the topic, George is still flushed red.
---
He’s sitting in the middle of his psychology class, dumbfounded. Most of his peers have already left the class, leaving him stranded in an empty sea of desks.
Why, he thinks desperately, why is it worth so much of the final grade?
As George finally had the strength to move, to pack up his belongings and trudge from the room, he feels a cold settle over him.
I could lie, he reasons, but that would be missing the whole point of the assignment.
The assignment in question? A five page, single spaced essay on George’s life, from birth to the predicted future. A detailed analysis on his past and who he was as a person. All for the professor to read and judge him on.
And George isn’t ready. He doesn’t want to wade through his tumultuous past, doesn’t even want to think about it. He doesn’t want the professor to look at it with a critical eye, doesn’t want him to know what George has experienced, he doesn’t want to be seen.