Archive of Our Own

For two happily married soulmates, Dream’s parents were surprisingly against the idea of having a ‘perfect match.’ All throughout his early childhood, they’d refused to tell him what the words on the inside of his left forearm meant or represented. After age four, Dream could read the words, but he still had no idea what ‘Is my mic working?’ meant or why they were permanently imprinted on his body in the first place. Every time he would ask, he would receive the same reply, “That’s just how it is.”

Dream accepted that answer relatively quickly because after all, he had no reason to question it at that point. So, on the first day of third grade, when someone asked “What does your soulmark say?”, he furrowed his brows and tilted his head without a reply. “So you don’t have one? That’s pretty weird. Momma says to stay away from people like you.” Dream sat alone throughout the day, other than when his teacher made him pair up with a shy girl for think, pair, share , rubbing his fingers over the bumps on the inside of his wrist and somehow not connecting the (literal) dots.

This time, when Dream came home with teary red eyes and asked, voice trembling, “What’s a soulmark?” his parents had to give in.

The conversation was a long and winding one and Dream honestly didn’t remember most of it by the next day, but a few things stuck out to him.

Soulmates can be romantic or platonic.

Not everyone has a soulmark. Sometimes, you just won’t meet your soulmate.

Keep your soulmark hidden. It’s a private thing.

You are allowed to love people who aren’t your soulmate. In fact, we encourage it.

Dream found it kind of hypocritical that two soulmates who had found each other when they were eleven and been in love since said that they encouraged you to love people who weren’t your soulmate. But, he supposed, that wasn’t the point.

~~~~

George was raised the exact opposite. His parents were traditionalists, believing that soulmates were strictly romantic and that if you didn’t have a soulmark, or if your soulmate wasn’t the opposite sex, you were a complete and utter failure. An abomination, if you will. Each day of his childhood, his parents would tell him how great it was that he was normal , that he had a soulmate. He wondered how they knew that his soulmate was a girl, but he didn’t ask. He had no reason to question it.

He proudly showed off his soulmark to everyone who asked. It wasn’t super generic, like hello, which he was thankful for. It was a simple, ‘Wait, George, what did you just say?’ To be honest, a young George found it a little strange that the first sentence his soulmate would ever utter to him had his name in it, but his parents assured him it was all part of God’s plan. Maybe eventually he’d start to question that.

But not yet.

~~~~

Somehow, Dream was fairly popular in middle school. He supposed it had something to do with fitting the Floridian teen beauty standard, not to mention his obsession with football. He had many friends, many secret admirers, and a hidden passion for an up and coming game called Minecraft (the general public didn’t need to know about that, though, he just played with some kid from Texas and didn’t mention it to anyone he’d actually known in person ). He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the attention at some points, but it got overwhelming. A lot.

When he was thirteen, there was a girl who he shared several classes with, who seemed peculiarly interested in him. She would stare at him when she thought he wasn’t looking and would purposefully push past him in the hallways, always glancing down at the ground. Dream asked a few of his friends about it and they just said that she probably had a crush on him and that she was pretty and he should ask her out. He’d never spoken to her, though, so it seemed strange to immediately ask her to go on a date.

Well, he didn’t have that problem for long, as a few days later she confidently walked up to him before school started and said, “Is my mic working?”

Dream’s eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead and his mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape, before he closed it with a mechanical click and furrowed his brows. He glanced down at his wrist, where his soulmark was completely covered by an armband, and furrowed his brows, his face becoming a bright pink. “Wha- I-.” He sighed. “Well- can-.” A pause, then another sigh. “Show me your arm.”

She paled and turned away, scuttling through the busy hallways until she was out of sight. It was then that Dream realized why his parents wanted him to keep his soulmark covered up. People were creeps . He forgot his armband a lot less after that incident.

~~~~

By age fifteen, George had a very specific mental picture of how his soulmate looked, how she acted, what she sounded like. He would subconsciously scour the world for this imaginary girl, instantly denouncing anyone who didn’t meet his standards. His parents called him a psychic, blessed with gifts. His friends called him delusional. George? Well, he didn’t call himself anything. He just tried not to think about it.

In fact, he tried not to think much about soulmates in general. He blamed his parents for flooding his brain with these thoughts about an imaginary perfect lover, blamed them for putting cracks in his friendships when they didn’t have the same opinions on soulmates as he did. He had eventually gotten over the whole ‘no soulmark equals abomination’ thing, but deep down he was much more wary around people without soulmarks, and much less likely to talk to them, not to mention befriend them. George constantly wondered what his life would be like if he had been born without a soulmate.

Or if his soulmate was a guy, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

~~~~

Dream spoke to Sapnap for the first time on his fourteenth birthday. After months of just texting and playing Minecraft, they had gotten close, and Sapnap had called him to surprise him for his birthday. Dream answered excitedly, then growing confused when he heard nothing on the other end of the call, until a crackling noise and a, “Is my mic breaking up? Can you hear me?”

Thump, went Dream’s heart, echoing in his head. Thump . He took a deep shaky breath in, then a long breath out, and glanced down at his arm. The text was just the slightest bit different from what Sapnap had said. Not soulmates. Okay.

The rest of the call went off without a hitch, their personalities ricocheting off of each others’ perfectly, with hardly any room left for awkwardness. It was much, much easier to speak to each other over voice chat as there weren’t pauses as people typed and you could just ramble without having to think about how to phrase it. They talked about everything under the sun, from sports, to girls, to politics, to soulmates .

Dream wasn’t sure how the topic came up, but he shared his lack of interest with soulmates. He acknowledged that they were there, and that one day he would meet his, but he was rather apathetic when it came to searching for them.

“That’s cool,” Sapnap had replied. “I don’t have a soulmate. I mean, I do, but I don’t have a soulmark.”

“Oh,” Dream said, then was silent for a minute, thinking back to third grade. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Nah, don’t be. I’m honestly kinda glad. Like, sure, I’ll get picked on occasionally, but I can love who I love without feeling guilty, y’know?”

And Dream did know, but that didn’t change the fact that he was itching to meet his soulmate, the one made for him .

~~~~

George was getting really tired of soulmates. He was tired of his parents asking if he had found his, tired of his friends challenging him to debate about soulmates with him because he was the only traditionalist they knew. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he counted as a trad anymore. His parents were, sure, but traditionalists were supposed to believe in the purity and beauty of soulmates, and, frankly, George just wanted to find his soulmate and punch him in the gut.

Fuck.

Not him. Not him, not him, not him , not HIM , not him, NOT HIM.

Her. Remember her, George. She was going to have dark hair and kind eyes, a great sense of style and a passion for music. She was going to love living in the city and going for playful walks in the snow. She was… she… It was starting to get harder for George to picture her. The more he avoided his parents and their extremist views, the more he did actual research on the internet, the harder it was becoming for George to think of his dream girl.

One night George tried to bring it up to his parents. Just like every other night, his parents brought up soulmates between bites. “So, George, any new on the soulmate front?” his mum asked, “Maybe you’ve, uh, dreamt of her name or whatever?”

“I’m not a psychic,” George said quietly, picking at the ziti on his plate with his fork.

“Pardon? Speak up dear,” his mum instructed.

George sighed, setting his fork down. “I don’t know her name because I’m not a psychic. I just made all that stuff up about my soulmate because it’s my type or whatever. Who even cares about soulmates?”

He could tell by the silence that he had messed up. His father continued to chew on his food, his fork clanking against his plate, but had lifted his head to look George in the eyes. His mother just blinked a few times, heavy blinks, the type that would leave your eyes hurting. She spoke slowly, “George, you know how important soulmates are. Not only to us, but to the world order. How God assigned a perfect match just for you, just for everyone who deserved it. Everyone but the sinners. ” She spat the last part and George’s blood ran cold.

His father spoke before George could reply. “You’re changing.”

George scoffed, physically recoiling and scrunching up his nose. “Yeah. So is the rest of the world.”

~~~~

Dream was incredibly glad that his parents had agreed to let him be homeschooled. He had a huge passion for coding and computer science, spending all of his free time chatting with Sapnap and coding for a minecraft server. He had met a guy named George on said server, they had been hired to work on a couple projects together and continued texting after, quickly becoming close friends. Eventually, he created a group chat with both Sapnap and George, and the trio was completed.

They just… fit like puzzle pieces. Their dynamics clicked together instantly and they would all stay up late talking to each other, sharing their secrets, discussing the meaning of life and their aspirations, and, of course, talking about Minecraft. Dream had a difficult time with staying concentrated in school, and he relied on his friends’ support to help him get through it. They were also there for him as he engaged in the responsibilities of his blossoming adulthood, going to college interviews, and saying goodbye to his parents.

He was originally a bit depressed after moving out of his house and into his dorm. He had never been away from his family for much longer than a month, so what was essentially a complete relocation (albeit temporary) and further a separation from his cat was obviously difficult for him. Time itself seemed distorted; Dream would blink and three weeks would pass, then all of a sudden he would have to force his way through a few perpetual days, glancing wearily at the clock every minute. One night, he found the motivation to chipaway at code that he felt like he had been working on forever. He couldn’t comprehend how long he had spent his days blearily blinking at a bright screen in a dimly lit room while trying his best to make a plugin that was miles above his skill level.

Dream glanced over at the clock in the right hand corner of his computer screen, slamming his hands down on his desk. “Fuck!” he yelled, biting back tears, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He bounced his leg up and down aggressively, wringing his hands out in an attempt to calm himself down. It didn’t work, and he numbly pulled up Discord, his mouse immediately darting to the start call button. He realized a little too late that he had called George instead of Sapnap, which filled him with an unreasonable amount of panic. He had never actually talked to George- it was just an unspoken rule between the two of them that they texted, played video games, and coded, but they never called. They never called .

It was too late, though, the call picked up with a ding! and Dream could hear faint crackles  on the other side of the line. He didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare breathe, filled with fear that it would come out as a sob. The air around him was colder, the room was too dark, and when he stared at the blank walls, all he could visualize was what George may have thought if he could have seen his face.

And then George spoke.

“Is my mic working?”

~~~~

George wasn’t sure why Dream was calling at what would be past 3AM for him, but he knew it had to be important. After a moment of consideration, albeit it brief considering how (as much as he would never admit it) eager he was to talk to Dreamhe answered the call. He cursed softly, realizing that he had the wrong microphone connected, and switched it as quickly as possible. “Is my mic working?” he asked, trying to make sure his voice didn’t crack and that his accent wasn’t too strong.

“Wait, George, what did you just say?” Dream asked, his voice breaking and chest heaving, making it very obvious that he had been crying. But George didn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about anything. His eyes just snapped down to his wrist and he stared, at first not blinking, not breathing, just sitting in silence; then he realized that the world wasn’t silent, and that his own wracking breaths were echoing in the air around him, and that he was sobbing, loudly, borderline screams wracking his body like a storm does a ship in the ocean. The world fell apart.

He deafened quickly.

~~~~

Dream knew. Based on George’s reaction entirely, he knew. He didn’t even have to ask what George’s soulmark said. Not that he could, George had deafened immediately after Dream spoke, cutting off what must’ve been an anguished gasp. Dream laughed bitterly- he did have to admit that his mind had been taken off of his assignment, not that that was a good thing anymore. He debated texting George, just a quick ‘ u ok? ’, but ultimately decided against it, instead staying in the call while going to text Sapnap.

Dream: sap?

Sapnap: yo

Dream: george is my soulmate

He didn’t know how else to put it, really. There was no point in sugarcoating it, since soulmates were supposed to be a beautiful thing, your perfect match, your one true love. Or one true bestie. Whatever.

Sapnap: oh shit, really??

Sapnap: did you call him or somthing

Then why didn’t George treat it like a beautiful thing? Why didn’t he laugh, or cheer, or at least stay undeafened long enough to talk to Dream? Was it really that gross to be Dream’s soulmate?

Dream: yeah, on accident actually

Dream: we’re still in call but he deafened

Dream: like immediately

Dream: i think he’s crying

To be honest, Dream was kind of happy that George was his soulmate. They just got along so well, and Dream would be lying if he said he hadn’t had a slight crush on George as well. He didn’t see his face often, but from the few photos he got, he knew George was really pretty- not that it mattered, though.

Sapnap: honestly dude i think you just gotta talk to him

Sapnap: im sure he’s not

Sapnap: like

Sapnap: disgusted at you or anything. he probably is just disgusted at himself or sum. 

arent his parents really religious?

Oh yeah. There was that, Dream supposed. George avoided talking about his parents whenever possible, but to the best of Dream’s knowledge, they were pretty strict traditionalists. It was always an awkward subject considering Sapnap didn’t have a soulmark and Dream was pretty sure he was into guys, so they didn’t bring it up much. 

Dream: true

Dream: i’ll see if he unmutes soon, if not i’ll just go and text him later

Sapnap: k

Sapnap: good luck :)

Dream: thanks man

As far as he could tell, George had no problem with either of them, but tonight’s events were starting to change his mind. It was probably a little unfair to assume the worst, but Dream wasn’t really thinking straight. He was just trying to contain the stream of tears pouring down his cheeks, trying to control and slow his breathing, trying not to completely break down. Maybe it was a little selfish, but Dream found it unfair that George could just deafen and not think about how Dream had to be feeling.

He was debating hanging up, just dealing this in the morning when he was well rested, when George unmuted. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, voice hoarse, before hanging up the call promptly, leaving Dream sitting alone in the dark.

Well.

~~~~

George immediately jumped out of his seat and ran to his toilet, crumpling at the knees and dry heaving into the porcelain basin, wrapping trembling hands around it in an attempt to hold himself up. He coughed, sputtering a bit, before slumping down and holding his stomach in an attempt to quell the nausea. After a few minutes of heavy breathing, George glanced through the flung open door of his bathroom and into his bedroom, where his computer was left on his direct messages with Dream. The light pouring through his windows blinded him and he looked away from the computer with a groan.

The voice of reason inside his head was quiet, but not gone. What the fuck was wrong with him? He had just found his soulmate - his soulmate!- and yet he just wanted to crumple onto the tile floor and die. Admittedly, he was pretty damn close to doing so. If only his heart would stop beating, perhaps it would be an easier death. George didn’t know what to do; there was no point in pretending like this hadn’t happened, but he didn’t know how to even begin to bring it up to Dream, not to mention his parents. He shuddered. He definitely wouldn’t be bringing it up to his parents soon, if ever. But, he supposed, the robotic rationality taking control again, he might as well be honest with Dream, more honest than he had ever been before. He didn’t understand how Dream was just able to put his heart on the line, telling the truth about everything he was feeling. He had never done that. He had never wanted to do that. What changed?

Maybe he should just call Dream and let him do the talking.

But if Dream did the talking, how would George apologize? How would he explain that he wasn’t disgusted with Dream, rather with himself? How would he get Dream to laugh again, to send him stupid photos of little doodles he drew of the two of them on sticky notes he posted all over his desk? How would he get him to stay up late at night and make fun of George’s music taste and play games with him until the sun came up?

He needed to talk to Dream, but he couldn’t yet. He could hardly  find the energy to push himself off the ground and walk the twenty feet to his computer, much less to be shattered by the melodic sound of Dream’s voice. The air itself was choking him, and it refused to take a hand off his neck. Everything was just. So. Much.

~~~~

They talked eventually. It had taken multiple hours for George to get off the bathroom floor, but once he did, he was able to press the ‘call’ button with surprising ease. The conversation was long, and difficult, and honest, but they both came out of it with a mutual understanding. For a few weeks there was a pleasant sort of awkwardness surrounding the two of them, a peaceful state of limbo. And then George asked if Dream was going to tell his parents. He knew that he should tell them, and that, logically, they’d be very happy for him. But there was a little nagging voice at the back of his head, a little whisper telling him that they’d cast him aside, tell him ‘no’, or any other number of atrocities. Anxiety really was a bitch.

He had to get it over with though, so the next time they did one of their ‘family calls,’ Dream brought it up tentatively towards the end. “So, I found my soulmate,” he said with mock confidence. Fake it till you make it, right?

His parents shared a shocked look that lasted maybe a little too long, before looking back towards him. “Congratulations!” his dad cheered, an overly toothy smile lighting up his face. “I hope, um, I hope you’re happy with them.”

“Who is it, may we ask?” his mom added on.

Dream blanked, opening and shutting his mouth multiple times while looking for the right words. “I’m, um, he’s um, a, my inter- my friend named George.”

“Oh,” his mom said, her face visibly dropping before turning into a sad smile. “Aw, sweetie, it’s okay. Plenty of people have platonic soulmates, there’s nothing wrong with that!”

Dream blinked, squinting in confusion. “What?” he scoffed, out of all of the things that he expected to go wrong on this call, this was not one of them. “N-no, that’s not…” another exasperated sigh, “I don’t want a platonic soulmate. “I want him to- I want him,” he trailed off, looking down in shame.

“Well in that case, we’re really happy for you,” his father said, after a momentary pause. Dream muttered a thanks and they all just kind of… sat in awkward silence, no one really knowing what to say.

“Okay, cool um. Do you wanna see Patches? I put her in a turkey costume,” his sister interrupted, and Dream made a mental note to thank her later.

All things considered, it could have gone worse. When Dream hung up the call he had a smile on his face and warmth in his heart, immediately pulling up Discord to text George.

~~~~

It only took George a few months to come to terms with the fact that he truly was in love with Dream. It was a hard thing to ignore when every waking thought of his involved Dream somehow. When getting dressed: ‘Would Dream like this outfit? What if we went shopping together?’ When making meals: ‘I wonder if Dream can cook. I should ask him when we call later today!’ When laying in bed trying to sleep: ‘If only Dream were here right now… I really need a hug.’ He had yet to say ‘I love you’ to Dream, but he didn’t have to say it. George was so appreciative of the way Dream constantly reminded him he was loved, even though he couldn’t say it back. Sapnap would make fun of him for it, calling him a simp and saying Dream was doing the bare minimum, but it was all lighthearted. He was happy. They were all happy.

Late one night Dream and George were messing around in a normal Minecraft survival world. Sapnap had been there earlier but had left to work on homework, leaving the other two alone. Dream had been chasing George all around the map, consistently getting him down to half a heart before letting him eat and attempt to run away again. After almost half an hour of this, George let go of his mouse and covered his face with his hands, screaming into them, “Dream, stop it! Oh my God, I love you, but sometimes I want to throw you off a cliff.”

“You love me, huh?” Dream asked, chuckling a little on the other end of the line.

George’s heart skipped a beat but he replied without any hesitation, “Yeah. I do.”

“Oh.”

“I’m still not telling my parents you exist, though,” George added in, giggling a bit.

Dream wheezed, regaining his composure to say, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” before dissolving into a fit of laughter again. George’s heart churned with warmth and love and he stared fondly at the monitor in front of him, at the game that helped him meet his one true love. That’s what Dream was, he reminded himself, his one true love.

He pushed away any negative thoughts, any unwarranted nausea. Now was not the time. This was blissful, ephemeral, and he was happy. He was talking with Dream, and he was happy.

~~~~

“Who are we to each other?” George had asked out of the blue one day.

Dream considered this for a bit, looking all around his room and just. Thinking. About everything he and George had been through. They’d discovered they were soulmates almost a year ago, and since then, had been inseparable. They loved each other, for sure, and they did technically couple-y things, but they had never actually asked each other out. “I- I, I don’t know,” Dream said after a moment. “You tell me.”

“Well, I love you,” George said matter-of-factly, and Dream felt his face heat up a bit. George continued, “and I’d love to be, y’know, officially dating you. I had a feeling we kind of were, uh,” silence, then a cough, “boyfriends, but let’s make it official!”

“I mean okay,” Dream said, caught completely off guard. “Yeah, sure!” He paused for a second, gauging the situation, before joking, “Does that mean you’re gonna tell your parents about me?”

“Hmmm, no, no I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” George giggled. “Cool idea though.” It had become a recurring joke between the two of them, but both at very different reasons for joking about it. Although Dream tried not to let it show, his jokes all had undercurrents of genuine curiosity - he really did want to know. For George, the jokes were almost certainly a coping mechanism. As much as he tried to hide it, Dream could tell that acknowledging his feelings for Dream made George uncomfortable, if not physically sick at times. He had become better with talking to Dream, but the isolated environment of their friendship was different than its implications in George’s real world outside of late night Discord calls and video games. Dream knew that. He tried to understand it. He also knew that it had to do with George’s parents, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to punch them at least a little bit for cursing his friend with perpetual insecurity. But he accepted that George didn’t want his parents to know. It was okay, they would take their relationship at George’s pace. Dream could wait forever for him, if need be.

But maybe he wouldn’t have to.

“Hey, George, what if we met up?” he asked, interrupting whatever George had been saying to him. Oops.

“Like in person? Actually meet up?” George’s voice revealed no immediate reaction.

Dream was getting more excited for this plan by the second. “Yeah! You could fly down to Florida, that way we wouldn’t risk bumping into people you know, and we could have our first real date, go to Disney World- or Universal Studios! I know you like Harry Potter. Maybe even…” he smirked, “you know.”

There was just silence. Dream was expecting George to laugh or tell him to shut up but it was just silent, so Dream just giggled to fill the space and continued, “You know, hold hands. Maybe. If you’re up for that.”

“Oh my God I hate you,” George said dryly, punching Dream’s Minecraft character towards the cliff edge in front of them. “But yeah! I’d love to meet up. I could totally beat you in PVP without the server lag. My wifi is shit.”

“That’s what you-” Dream paused to wheeze, “that’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Well. Yeah. And doing this,” George said, without elaborating further. Dream squinted in confusion, glancing over at his second monitor where discord was. A few seconds later, George’s camera turned on to show him, cheeks flushed and hair messy, hugging a white, smiley, blob and burying it in little kisses.

“Did you- George, how did you get that?”

George held it up to the camera, a toothy grin on his face. Dream was obsessed with the way that George’s resting face was a smile. “I made it myself! I learned how to sew for this, so you better be grateful.”

“Aw, that is the cutest thing I have ever seen,” Dream said, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Thank you! I tried making one based off of you, and not just your little blob guy, but my sewing skills are kind of subpar,” George said, setting the blob down and beginning to furiously type, biting his lip in concentration

“No, it’s perfect,” Dream said genuinely. “And, of course, I always love seeing your face. You should turn your camera on more often.”

George giggled, “Shut up. I won’t have to turn on my camera when I come to Florida in, ummm, one week.” Just as he finished speaking, Dream’s discord pinged, and he saw that George had sent a screenshot of purchase receipts for plane tickets.

“A-already?”

“Yeah,” George’s face dropped. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay! I was just taken aback, you’re uh. Really cute, is all,” Dream admitted shyly.

George scoffed, “I’m cuter in person,” before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

Yeah, Dream thought, I bet you are.

~~~~

A week later, George ran around his room in a sort of panicked, excited, frenzy, throwing half-folded clothes into his suitcase and sifting through his gaming setup for things he wanted to bring with him to Florida. His camera was on, and Dream sat watching and directing him, giving advice on what he might need. “Sheets?” George asked, gesturing to a pile of folded bed covers in his closet.

“George, why would you need bed sheets?” Dream asked dryly.

“O-oh-”

“Dude that’s not what I,” Dream sighed. “I just meant that I have plenty of spare sheets! But I mean, if you wanted-”

George cringed, his head twitching to the side, and he took a deep breath to stabilize himself. He slowly went back to folding sheets. “Sorry,” Dream said sheepishly.

“No,” George replied. “ I’m sorry. I guess I kinda gotta get over this, huh? Since I’m gonna be flying over literally today. What do you even look like?” He quickly changed the subject. “How will I know it’s you?”

“Turn around,” Dream replied simply, so George did, and he breathed in sharply. He was staring at a smiley, freckled man with wavy hair that framed his face and sparkling, centrally heterochromic eyes. George looked him up and down, then side to side, taking in every little detail of the man he had grown to love. He walked quickly over to his computer, sitting down at his desk and greedily taking in as much of his soulmate’s appearance as possible. He had been waiting years for this, and he never wanted to forget it.

“Dream,” he finally breathed out. “It’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dream replied, and George was amazed at the way his lips moved over his teeth, the way his eyes crinkled when he spoke, the way his nose twitched just a bit when making the ‘y’ sound.

“Um, I should probably get back to packing, but you’re really pretty,” George said, slowly getting up. He found himself having to physically pry his eyes away from Dream, and he kept wanting to look back at Dream, to stare at him forever. He knew he would be able to see him in person if he packed, so that kept him going. It was funny how it was mostly things Dream did that kept him going these days.

After he finished packing, George ran back over to talk to Dream. “Alright, I’m gonna leave in about fifteen minutes, so I’m gonna hang up but I’ll be semi-available to text until I get on the plane! I love you.”

“Okay, bye George! I love you too, stay safe.”

George rolled his eyes. “When am I not safe? I’ll be fine. Planes hardly ever crash, anyways.”

“Right, right,” Dream replied. “Well, I won’t keep you here any longer. Go, go, get to the airport!” he waved his arms in the air, gesturing for George to go, and George swore he felt his heart physically swell up with affection. He waved bye one last time and hung up the call, turning to get his stuff.

After a few minutes, George decided it was time to leave. He ran out of his house excitedly, double checking to make sure the door was locked, and put his suitcases in the trunk. He walked over to the right hand side of the car, pulling the seat belt over his chest and smiling contentedly. He began to drive, trying and failing to hold back a fit of laughter. He was just so excited . He had propped his phone up in the cupholder next to him, Google Maps directing him to the airport.

He was very careful about driving, especially considering his colorblindness, having to triple check the stoplights every time he came across them. His paranoid driving habits probably annoyed the other drivers on the road, especially when he slowed down to make sure a light was actually green, but after a particularly bad experience in a taxi, he refused to take them anymore. He didn’t mind parking in the long term lot at the airport, especially since he was only visiting Dream for a couple weeks. He would have loved to stay longer, but he did have to work, and his parents would probably get suspicious if he remained in Florida indefinitely.

George put his foot on the brake, sliding to a stop in front of a red stoplight. He looked around, waiting patiently for the light to change and fiddling with the leather of the steering wheel in front of him. He flinched as his phone started buzzing violently next to him, shaking the cupholder and indicating an incoming call. He looked over in confusion, only having call notifications on for Dream, and sure enough, it was him calling. George picked up the phone and tried to press the answer call button, but Dream had already hung up, and he ended up pressing on a text message.

Dream: sorry about that! misclick xD

Laughing slightly, George began to type out a quick ‘np,’ before remembering that he was still driving and had to be responsible. He looked up to make sure the light was still red, and of course, it wasn’t. “Oh, fuck,” George muttered. He had to go before the drivers behind him got upset, or worse, only saw the light and didn’t realize that he was sitting there stationary. He stopped typing and dropped the phone back in the cup holder, putting his hands back on the steering wheel and-

He shot forward, blinding, searing pain traveling up his spine and to his head, kind of but not really noticing that the car was rolling over and over, just focused on the pain and his stomach churning and then-

Nothing.

And then he woke up, his eyes blurry and head hurting, but awake nonetheless. George looked around his surroundings, quickly realizing that he was upside down and trapped in. He pushed himself up with his legs, and then started to cry because he wasn’t moving . He was trying to move his legs, trying to push himself out of the driver's seat, but he was trapped. George choked out a sob, then a scream, such a loud scream that it hurt his head, but no one came to help.

Looking out the window, George could see that he had sort of rolled down a hill, and near the wreckage was a large, busted up fuel truck. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus, not quite processing the tear in the tank and the gas gushing out and covering the field, pooling around his own car. “Ugh,” he croaked out, noticing how incredibly painful it was to speak. He turned his head to his left, looking for his phone because he had to call for help, had to call 911, had to call Dream .

And then he saw his phone and reached for it, grabbing, grabbing, not moving. Why couldn’t he move his arm? Why was his back hurting so badly? “Oh my God,” George choked out, because it wouldn’t matter either way- the phone was in the same condition as him. It was basically split in half, shards of glass and electronic bits scattered all across the floor, part of the phone seemingly missing from the rest. “Dream, please, help-” he started to cough and sighed harrowingly. He could do nothing but wait for help, he supposed.

George wondered why he was hearing hissing from underneath him. He had been hearing a low, rumbling hiss since he awoke, and at first he thought it was just his head, but after the ringing faded a bit he realized that it was real. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of gasoline and blood, and tried to relax. Then there was a loud noise, and then there was dirt flying everywhere, and then there was the worst pain of his life, and then there was heat- so much heat, why was it so hot?- and then once again:

Nothing.

~~~~

Dream was becoming increasingly nervous by the minute. He was waiting at baggage claim- the right one, he had double checked- but George was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t responded to any of Dream’s texts either, not since Dream had accidentally called him while he was supposedly on his way to the airport. The message was marked as read, and George had even begun typing, before he went offline completely. Dream tapped his foot impatiently, trying once again to text George and, once again, receiving no response. He had called him a few times too, but all of the calls went straight to voicemail.

There was no way George was avoiding him… right? Almost all of the suitcases were gone from the baggage claim for George’s flight, and yet the brunet was nowhere in sight. Maybe he was lost? Or had to use the bathroom? But it had been half an hour with no sign of him, and Dream was having trouble breathing. He walked over to the baggage claim, checking the little nametag on every suitcase, looking over and over for ‘George,’ and he did this for five minutes, checking every single bag again and again in the hopes that maybe he was misreading them.

After who knows how long, an airport worker walked up to him. “Sir?” they asked tentatively.

Dream looked up, ruffling his hair. “Oh, um, yeah?” he replied, hoping the distraught look on his face wasn’t too obvious.

“Are you missing your baggage? You’ve been looking for quite a while. If you give us your name and flight information we can look for it!”

Dream weighed his options. On one hand, it was maybe a bit weird to impersonate George and look for his luggage. On the other, George had been radio silent, and Dream couldn’t just stay at the airport all day hoping that he would come strutting through the doors and pull him into a warm hug. He sighed, glancing sadly at the last suitcase sadly making its way around the baggage claim. “Yeah, I am.”

A bit later, Dream found himself in an awkward situation, desperately trying to explain why he had lied about who he was. At first he had played dumb, insisting that he indeed was George, but the employee quickly shut it down. “Sir, George never got on the plane, so I find it difficult to believe that you’re him.”

“H-he-” Dream swallowed, his throat dry. He looked everywhere but at the person standing in front of him, fidgeting with his phone and licking his chapped lips. “He never got on the plane?”

“No sir,” the employee smiled sympathetically, “never even went through security.”

“Oh,” Dream said, a smile lighting up his face. “Thanks!” He walked away quickly, starting to giggle before laughing hysterically, his wheezes quickly turning into loud sobs. He thought George was excited to come over- he had said he was excited to come over- but here Dream was, sitting alone in his newly cleaned car with a bouquet of roses resting in the cup holder. He grabbed the roses and brought them to his chest, hiccuping and letting his tears water them, before letting out a guttural yell and throwing them into the back seat.

After a few minutes, Dream felt more numb than sad. He knew he would probably properly freak out later and that he would need Sapnap’s company, but for now, he just had to get home. He turned on the directions and set his phone carefully in the cup holder where the roses once were, within arm’s reach in case George called. He rolled down the windows all the way, keeping them down even while he drove on the highway, the wind hitting him in the face and keeping him painfully aware of his surroundings. Some song blasted throughout the car, loud beats resonating through the seats and his body, though Dream wasn’t sure what was playing. Honestly, he didn’t care.

Upon arriving home, Dream immediately threw himself onto his bed, ignoring brushing his teeth or changing out of his carefully ironed clothes. He numbly clicked on Sapnap’s discord profile and called him, flinching every time the ringtone finished without Sapnap picking up. Eventually, though, he did. “Dream? What’s up?”

“Sap, man, I-” Dream began, choking on his words. “George didn’t show up. He didn’t even go to the airport,” he managed to let out.

“Oh my God,” was all Sapnap said before Dream let out a loud sob, clear as day, drowning out whatever else his friend was saying over the line. They stayed on call all night, not much being said, just tears and hushed whispers of ‘it’ll be okay’ and barely any minutes of sleep caught in between.

~~~~

“Do you think he was just scared?” Sapnap asked about a week and a half after ‘the incident.’ “Because of his parents, or whatever?” Dream stayed silent on the other line, drumming his fingers on his desk and staring dully at the ceiling. Sapnap continued after a few moments of silence. “Maybe coming over to see you was just… too much.”

“He would’ve at least told me, right?” Dream muttered, not even sure if the mic was picking up what he was saying. “He would’ve told me if he decided not to come down. He’s- he’s not a prick .”

“Is it possible that he was just afraid? I mean, it’s hard to know how people would act-”

“Yeah,” Dream interrupted loudly, “I’m sure you’d say that. Hell, you hardly knew- know him at all! George doesn’t talk to you like he talks to me, doesn’t let himself go, doesn’t truly be himself around you! Don’t say that I wouldn’t know how he’d act. Don’t.”

Based on the total lack of noise from the other side of the call, including breathing, Sapnap had completely frozen. Dream sighed and sat up, immediately regretting his harsh words. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, really. Just, y’know,” he gulped and covered his face with his hands, “I’m dealing with a lot.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap said, “I know. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go now. I have school, man, and we’ve been on a call for like eighteen hours now. I’ll text you later?”

Dream exhaled. “Okay. Talk to you later,” he smiled, about to wish Sapnap luck with school when the Discord hangup sound dinged softly. Dream leaned back in his chair, now almost parallel with the ceiling, and breathed in slowly, trying to steady his fast heartbeat. His eyes darted across the texture of his ceiling, desperately trying to find something to focus on to distract Dream from the fact that he couldn’t breathe. He was trapped in a box underwater, pinned down by his own thoughts. His arms lay trembling on his chair’s armrests, and the longer he lay the colder he felt, goosebumps snaking up the inside of his arms and squeezing his torso. He folded his arms over themselves, rubbing his palms over them in an attempt to warm up, while simultaneously blinking away tears.

His fingers grazed over the bumpy text on the inside of his arm, and Dream froze. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, his brain just filled with white noise. Somewhere in the chaos, a calming voice rose above all. George , Dream thought, it was George. Well, obviously it wasn’t actually George, but maybe it was as close as he was going to get.

His thoughts clashed with a warped version of George’s voice, saying, “Dream, you need to take care of yourself. You need to calm down. You need to stop .”

Stop what? Dream tried to ask, but his head was swirling and he couldn’t move his mouth, couldn’t hear anything other than the static in his head and his own heartbeat. It got the point across, which made sense considering that he was speaking to a voice in his head, and the warped George whispered back, “Just breathe. You’re hurting yourself.”

So Dream breathed, taking in huge gulps of air over and over for who knows how long, until he could see clearly and think coherent thoughts. He let his left arm drop, pulling his right arm up to push his hair out of his face. He recoiled as a strong metallic stench hit his nose and he glanced up at his fingers, which were slightly red, and although it was hard to see in the dim lighting, Dream knew instantly that it was blood. He glanced numbly down at his soulmark, which was covered in scratch marks and streaks of smeared blood. He inhaled deeply. 

Oh.

~~~~

It had been a while since the incident, and Dream liked to think that he was coping. He still sent George good morning and goodnight messages, not to mention calling him every once in a while, but his life was kind of back to normal. He was back to school full-time and had called and explained to his parents how George had ghosted him. They suggested calling George’s parents and asking if he was okay, but Dream had to explain begrudgingly that they weren’t even aware that George had a soulmate, and that Dream had no way to contact them anyways. He managed to hold in his tears during the phone call, but immediately after, got on a call with Sapnap and just cried.

Sapnap had been so understanding since the beginning, and was being so understanding, even now, after he had been forced to put up with Dream’s sudden depressive episodes for over a month. He didn’t say anything for the first few minutes, just sat with his camera on, waiting for Dream to explain what had happened this time. They had begun turning their cameras on after Dream experienced a rather nasty anxiety attack where he was only able to see, not really hear, and Sapnap had no way to calm him down. Dream just felt more comfortable that way, had something to focus on other than his smooth ceiling and uncluttered desk.

“I’m sorry, I just,” Dream began after a few minutes. “I told my parents about George. Or, rather, lack of George. God, I just feel so pathetic ,” he spat, malice in his eyes. Despite knowing it wasn’t aimed at him, Sapnap flinched at the anger in Dream’s movements.

He recovered quickly. “It’s okay, and you’re not pathetic. You’re just… coping. With the loss of your literal soulmate.”

Dream sighed. It was true, George had been perfect, his one true love. Hell, he could’ve proposed at any moment and Dream would’ve instantly said yes. He enjoyed talking to Sapnap, but he missed his multiple-day-long calls and overseas dates and long, spiraling conversations with George. He hoped he would get them again one day. 

“Thanks. Sorry for bringing it up again. But thanks.” Dream brought his arms up to ruffle his hair, throwing his head back against his chair with yet another loud sigh, eyes positioned at the ceiling and missing the way Sapnap leaned forwards in his chair and stared at his monitor aggressively.

“What’s that on your arm? Are those bandages?”

“Yeah,” Dream replied, quickly lowering his arms. “Cover up my soulmark, hide bad memories, you know.”

“Don’t you… have a… cover thing for that?” Sapnap asked, pausing between every couple of words, seeming to be either very confused or conflicted and struggling to put his thoughts into words. “Why are you using… gauze?”

Dream looked down, catching Sapnap’s eyes on his own. His eyes flicked down to look at his wrist, then back up at Sapnap hesitantly. He licked his chapped lips and swallowed- why was it so hot all of a sudden? Why couldn’t he breathe? Why couldn’t he speak, or move, or think?

“...Dream…” Sapnap said sadly, his eyebrows twisting up and mouth opening slightly in a knowing frown. He didn’t have to say anything else, Dream got the memo.

“No, it’s just, I-” Dream squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head and tried to think of how to describe how he felt, “I get overwhelmed, y’know, I- I have to ground myself somehow. So I don’t, uh, so I don’t…” he trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” Sapnap said decidedly. “I can do school online, let me fly over. I can get a ticket and head out tomorrow.”

“No! No, please, not that, please don’t,” Dream shouted at first, which then turned into a sad pleading. Memories of him and George planning their meetup flashed quickly, so quickly that he wasn’t really able to process any of them, just the longing, aching, calling for George that plagued his heart. Sapnap raised his eyebrows, processed the connection, and quickly stopped any talks of flights to meet each other up. He tried his best to keep his eyes off of the bandage wrapped tightly around Dream’s wrist, tried not to notice how hard Dream was trying to keep it out of sight.

The conversation dwindled, with Sapnap comforting Dream and then telling stories about his own life while they played minecraft, since distracting Dreams was the only solution he could come up with with him stuck hundreds of miles away. They talked about everything, from coding, to school, to pets, to Sapnap’s first date with a markless girl he had met at a coffee shop, which had apparently gone well.

Sometimes, when Dream wasn’t thinking about his soulmate who despised him, he could feel moderately happy. It was progress.

~~~~

It had been almost five months since the incident. Dream never called George anymore and hardly ever tried texting him, either. At one point, late at night and on the verge of a panic attack, Dream had searched George’s full news everywhere on the internet he could, but found nothing promising. He no longer called Sapnap late at night with tears in his eyes and choked sobs dying in his throat. He thought he was close to reaching acceptance. That was the last stage of grief, right?

And then there were other days, where Dream would hear the word George in a T.V. show or on the street and completely break . He would clutch his soulmark- which was permanently messed up with deep fingernail scratches slicing through the letters- close his eyes, and picture the last conversation he ever had with George- the one where he turned on his camera and showed his face for the first time. Maybe it was too much for George, seeing Dream as an actual male and having to face that reality. Even if it was internalized, Dream struggled with the fact that George absolutely hated him. His soulmate despised him, so much so that he broke contact without warning.

Dream didn’t know why George ghosted him. He would probably never know, despite the many messages begging for some sort of explanation. Sapnap assured him that it probably had to do with his parents, with how he was raised, but sometimes that just wasn’t enough for Dream. How come George could just decide he wasn’t ready, that being with Dream would hurt him too much, and toss him aside without a second thought? It wasn’t fair.

But the world wasn’t fair, was it?

~~~~

It had been just over a year since George was supposed to arrive in Florida.

Dream was okay. He could reminisce about the good times with George without immediately jumping to how much he missed him, how much anger he felt.

Once in a while, Dream would go through old photos in his google drive, to find hidden gems, clear out trash, and make space.

He wasn’t expecting to see a screen recording of George dancing to Dream’s singing.

He wasn’t expecting to lose his breath and tear up at the four second clip.

The silence was too loud.

The static was too much.

His left arm started to pulse.

Dream wasn’t really okay, after all.