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“Do you even know why I hated you so much?” Dream hissed, twirling around to face George.
“Yes, because of your family,” George replied callously.
“No, because you made me question everything they ever told me,” Dream replied, a sad smile on his face as he tilted his head down towards George, ignoring the throbbing pain in his skull and closing the space between them.
~~~~~
It had taken approximately two weeks for Dream to give up fighting and fall completely and utterly in love with George. They were both princes of separate kingdoms, arranged to be married through a stupid mistranslation in which Dream’s kingdom thought George was a princess and George’s kingdom just didn’t care. Dealing with the fact that guys could actually be romantically and sexually interested in other guys was half the battle for Dream, and honestly the other half was realizing that he was, as George called it, ‘really fucking gay.’ They speedran their relationship afterwards, which honestly was kind of necessary considering they only had a few more weeks before their (very public) wedding ceremony.
Since coming to terms with his feelings, every time Dream looked at George he got a pounding headache and a pit in his stomach and unbearable anxiety. He knew why, and he coped with it, the swirling confusion every time he considered why he hadn’t been aware of homosexuality and why his parents wouldn’t even look at him when he tried to bring it up- why they wouldn’t even look at George . Dream thinks that if it wouldn’t have started a war, his parents would have executed George on the spot. At the beginning, Dream probably would have let them. Everything that he learned was being uprooted and at first he blamed George- thought of him as disgusting and unnatural, and then he continued to blame George because he made Dream feel things that he had never felt and made him motivated to rebel from the strict norms he had been raised under.
~~~~~
“I’m gonna live my whole life in a castle away from my family, who I miss very much, let me tell you, surrounded by people who think my life is worth less than theirs. It’s just unfair!” George had cried out in the midst of a particularly nasty argument about the attitudes of Dream’s parents. It was his fifth day there.
“The world wasn’t created equal,” Dream had said simply. George could tell by his stone cold gaze that he had struck a nerve, but not one to know when to quit, he pressed on.
“Yes, it was. Then someone decided they were better.”
The silence was loud . Dream just stared, his eyes drilling through George’s skull and making him feel absolutely tiny. But the explosive rage that George was expecting never came, Dream instead huffing and muttering a stream of words under his breath before pointing at his bedroom door. “Out,” he said simply, but his words weren’t filled with malice.
George glanced at the couch behind Dream, and then back at him. “Where am I meant to sleep?”
Dream let out an exasperated sigh. “Just… just come back later. I don’t care, I’m going to bed,” and that he did, not even waiting for George to leave.
He must’ve fallen asleep quickly, or just been too stubborn to get up, because George didn’t leave. He just gazed softly at Dream’s sleeping figure, the usually tense shoulders relaxed onto plush blankets and his shirt bunched up under him, exposing tanned muscles. George swallowed and quickly looked away. He felt frozen, wanting more than anything to stare at Dream for hours until his eyes were heavy and legs weak from exhaustion, but knowing that it was weird and that he had to leave. He had to respect Dream’s privacy. But seeing him so… soft, just existing, raw, with his guard down, left George breathless in the best way possible. But that was a problem for a different day, so George walked carefully over to the couch in the back of the room and lay down on it, not bothering to really get ready for bed. Was it in an attempt to not wake Dream? Maybe, but George wouldn’t admit it.
Not yet, at least.
~~~~
George wrestled his way out of Dream’s arms, hitting the ground with a soft thud. “Stop! If you do that again, I’ll throw you out the fucking window you- what are you doing?”
Dream was leaning halfway out of the tall window, holding himself up on his forearms, his white sleeves pushed up above his elbow. George gulped. “I’m checking how high the drop is. Y’know, seeing if it’s worth it,” Dream replied, and George could just hear the cheeky smile on his face.
George rolled his eyes. “You’re so annoying.” He gestured to the window. “And? What’s the verdict?”
“Hmmm,” Dream pretended to think, pushing himself off the windowsill and standing up straight. He looked down at George, and moving fast, faster than George realized was humanly possible, he scooped him up. “I think we’re going together!”
“Wait, no, shit-” George screeched as Dream jumped out of the third story window, holding George tight to his chest. The seconds that they were falling felt like hours, the wind rushing by them and chillin George to his bones. He clung onto Dream for life, fingers grasping at the cloth like it was going to disappear into thin air. He tried to think about if he would die. Maybe. It was possible. If not, he was bound to break at least a couple of bones. Was this Dream’s plan all along? Get George to trust him, then-
Oh.
They landed with a thud in a huge pile of hay, Dream laughing loudly and breathlessly, kind of like a tea kettle. George hit him in the chest. “Oh my GOD Dream, what is WRONG with you?” Dream didn’t reply, he just kept wheezing, his arm laid over his eyes dramatically, the other arm still wrapped around George.
Wrapped around George. Oh. Dream felt his face heating up, all of a sudden much more aware of the human-shaped pressure on his chest. His laugh died out as soon as he realized that George wasn’t moving, instead just lying on him and staring at him in pretend anger, brows furrowed but a huge smile on his lips, which quirked up as he started to laugh, and why was Dream staring at George’s lips all of a sudden? That was kind of weird. George had gone silent, staring into Dream’s eyes.
He hated the way George’s gaze made him feel, how it gave him chills all over and made his heartbeat echo in his head. Some little part of him was screaming to be let out, to show George just how honest he could be, but the voice wasn’t loud enough. It was only day eleven.
~~~~
Dream barged into his bedroom, breathing heavily and covered in dirt and sweat. “George!” he yelled, smiling widely when the prince shot up from his slumber. His hair stuck up in every which way and he grumbled unhappily, pointing incoherently between Dream and the bed that he had just been sleeping on. They’d taken to sleeping in the same bed around the tenth day after George had complained about his neck being sore. The bed was huge, after all, and took the word “king size” to a whole new level. It was large and circular and plush and honestly, Dream would be a bad host if he hadn’t let George sleep with him. They were getting married, after all.
“- and you could’ve at least knocked,” George finished, rubbing at his eyes, his morning voice low and rough.
“Oops,” Dream shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I got you something!” He held up a bouquet of stunningly blue cornflowers, walking over to sit next to George before remembering he was incredibly dirty from the journey to the side of a mountain on the other side of the city. That was the only place the flowers grew and none of the flower shops were open this early.
George had gone silent. His eyes were wide and his mouth was silently open in an ‘O’ shape. “How’d you- how’d you know those were my favorite?” he asked, his voice low. If Dream didn’t know better, he’d think George were about to cry.
“Well, you like blue a lot so I did some research and, well that’s a lie. I... uh actually I um… I wrote a letter to your sister,” he admitted sheepishly. “A few days ago, that is. She said you were really annoying and liked to talk about flowers all the time, which I actually didn’t know, so I guess it was a lucky guess that I wanted to get some for you.” Dream trailed off, wondering why George was just dead silent. He bent down to see him more clearly, his eyes widening when he saw the tears in George’s eyes. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? Sorry if this was creepy, I just thought it would be a nice pop of color-”
“No! No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just the opposite, actually. No one’s done anything this nice for me. Judging by the state of, um, you, I’m assuming you got them yourself?” Dream nodded. “Fuck, man.” He hesitantly reached out to take the bouquet of flowers from Dream, his thumb brushing over the prince’s hand and sending sparks up both of their arms. George knew he should take the flowers and move on with his day, but he didn’t. He instead opened his fist and lay his palm overtop of Dream’s, looking at his face through blurry eyes.
Dream didn’t know how to react. He felt weird, but he also felt warm and fuzzy and happy, and was happiness really so wrong? So he slowly sat down on the bed and scooted closer to George, taking his hand and gently wiping away George’s tears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, as George leaned in towards him. He wanted to scream, to punch George, to list all the reasons that this was wrong , but he couldn’t. And when George didn’t tilt his head up and kiss him and instead leaned his head into Dream’s shoulder and wrapped around him in a tight hug, he couldn’t tell if he was more relieved or disappointed.
It was the beginning of the thirteenth day. One more and everything would come crashing down.
~~~~
Dream and George spent the fourteenth day on a picnic (date? neither were sure.) by the lake within the castle grounds. Dream had been thinking for a while. About love. About romance. About George. He knew he was into guys, way more than he had ever been into girls. He had spent the last few nights lying in bed (next to George) trying to sleep, imagining scenarios in which he lived in a little mushroom cottage in the prairie with a faceless man, kissing and touching and loving and being in the way that he imagined only two people truly in love could. And slowly, the man started to become less and less faceless.
He didn’t know how to tell George. He didn’t know how to tell him he was thinking about him in this way- this gross, loving, lustful way that made his stomach churn and head pound. Dream knew that George was interested in men, his sexuality had been their first real debate, and the conflict had lasted for days. While Dream was okay with the fact that George liked men, in fact he was weirdly pleased with it, he couldn’t stomach the fact that he himself was as well. He had briefly mentioned it to George, who had sympathized with him until Dream got overwhelmed and left to go on a walk by himself. George had understood, he was always so patient and understanding with Dream and it was so unfair because Dream didn’t WANT to love him and-
Oh shit. He loved him.
The day was uneventful, Dream hiding his feelings during the whole picnic, until it was ten pm and the moon was shining bright on the boys as they ran through the castle corridors back to their room, trying to stay quiet so as to not wake anyone. Especially not Dream’s parents. If they were holding hands, neither of them mentioned it. They were both giggling and tripping over their feet, drunk as hell on expensive wine, and the day seemed like it was going to end on a high note, until George said something so, so stupid. “If someone told me you were gonna fall in love with me when I first arrived I never would’ve believed it, but here we are.” He thought he was joking, he meant to be joking, but the joke failed to deliver so badly that George cringed outwardly.
Dream just stopped in his tracks, turning away from George and holding his head in his hands. It was so hot in here, when had it gotten so hot? Or was Dream’s head just burning? “What the hell.” It was a statement, not a question.
“S-sorry, it was meant to be a joke, because you hated me, y’know?” George offered, his voice small.
“Do you even know why I hated you so much?” Dream hissed, twirling around to face George.
“Yes, because of your family,” George replied callously.
“No, because you made me question everything they ever told me,” Dream replied, a sad smile on his face as he tilted his head down towards George, ignoring the throbbing pain in his skull and closing the space between them.
And they kissed, at first awkward and uncomfortable and then as they both realized just how much they wanted this, they melted into each other. Dream pulled George closer to him and continued their kiss with a fervent intensity, simply feeling and loving. The pain in his head decreased with each desperate grab George made at the back of his shirt, with each tear that spilled down his face, and everything was okay.
Maybe it wouldn’t be forever, but for now, everything was okay.