Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

George sighed as he stepped out into the open of the airport, suitcase in hand and jacket thrown over his arm. The air had a slight chill to it, to his surprise, sending a shiver down his spine as he looked around the crowd. 

He didn’t know what to expect, in all honesty. Of course, George knew what Dream looked like, with a slight curl to his hair and freckles dotting his cheeks, what he knew were green eyes staring at him through the screen, crinkling at the corners. George knew what Dream looked like, and, in all honesty, that made things so much worse for him.

George was familiar with the sensation of bottling up his feelings and throwing them out the window for the sake of the relationship as a whole. It was never pleasant, but it was what had to be done at times. He would take the papers from the shelf and grab a lighter, watching it all go up in flames as he turned back to the person.

He just loved too easily. And George found that that applied even over 6,979 kilometers, to his dismay.

Dream was someone who valued honesty, and George could feel the guilt curl up in his chest and scratch against the lining of his throat whenever he heard the younger laugh. It was a bright and warm sound, something he came to hold so close to his chest, something that he could listen to and never get bored of. 

So, George didn’t know what to expect. The crisp December air kissed his fingertips gently, his hands shaking slightly. He scanned the crowds for familiar faces, humming to himself as his eyes landed on an outlandishly tall blonde standing beside a Starbucks. 

George pushed through the crowds without much thought, scuffed shoes hitting the white and grey floors easily. The blonde was turned around, talking to someone relatively shorter  than him. With a sigh, George reached up and slammed his hand between the man’s shoulder blades, a familiar voice making a startled noise as he turned around. 

“You really forced me to walk all the way over here?” He asked with a lack of bite, words tinged with jetlag. The taller smiled broadly, scratching the back of his head lightly with birdsong laughter.

“Sorry, I guess,” Dream replied. “Damn, you’re small.” A hand reached up and ruffled his hair lightly, and George frowned lightly. 

“Maybe you’re just freakishly tall.”

George felt his expression soften as he heard Sapnap laugh from beside Dream, giving a small greeting to the youngest of the group. They exchanged hugs, embraces warm and welcome and feeling like home. 

They chatted for a couple minutes, the bustling crowds around them serving as white noise in their conversation. “We should get going,” Dream said suddenly, glancing down at his phone casually. “I want to have dinner before seven.” The taller reached out for George’s bag, who looked at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?” He asked lightly, both of their hands resting on the handle of the bag. George glanced up at Dream, his eyebrows pinched together, all too conscious of how their fingers brushed against one another for the briefest of moments. 

Dream looked at him like he was crazy. “I’m taking your bag?”

“Yeah, I got that,” George quipped lightly. “But why? I’m perfectly competent at taking care of my own belongings.” 

“Just let me take it, George.” Dream sounded slightly exasperated, an affectionate note high and clear in his voice. George sighed and let his hand slip off the black plastic, and Dream smiled at him softly, and George felt himself melt the tiniest bit.

Goddamn it, he had it bad, didn’t he.

He heard Sapnap laugh beside him, and George threw a glance at him. “You two are such idiots,” Sapnap said easily, the words holding a slight weight to them George couldn’t quite place. 

1.

George hummed along to the music mindlessly, head leaning against the window of the backseat as the sun filtered through the glass. He listened to Dream and Sapnap talk about what they should make for dinner or if they should just order takeaway, about if they should stream, if they should record a vlog or something along those lines.

“George, do you have anything you want to do while you’re here?” He heard Sapnap ask, his friend glancing over his shoulder to look at the older. George didn’t bother to answer, his bones tired and mind slow with sleep. “George?”

He let his eyes slide closed, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. Dream chuckled lightly as the car slowed at what he assumed was a stoplight. “Let him sleep,” Dream said in a softer tone to Sapnap, who just hummed in response. The music was turned down, acoustic strings and falsettos fading into the background. 

It was warm. It was warm and bright and gentle, the slow movement of the car being a comfort as George slid into something akin to sleep, but not true unconsciousness. Soft words were spoken in hushed tones, familiar voices laughing quietly at a joke, choking on air as they tried to keep from waking George.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that, curled up on the stiff carseat, arms pulled close to his chest and feet propped up on the edge of the seat. There was an uncomfortable crick in George’s neck when he came back down to earth, opening his eyes slowly as he blinked sleep away. George yawned and pushed himself up, feet sliding off the seat and hitting the floor unceremoniously. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Sapnap murmured as he heard George shuffling slightly. “How was the nap, Sleeping Beauty?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice, and George sighed in fake exasperation.

“Nevermind, I’m going back to sleep.” Sapnap made a strangled sound, and a smile creeped onto George’s face as he heard Dream wheeze lightly. 

They cracked jokes casually, poking fun at one another without much thought to the words. At one point, Dream and Sapnap started telling stories about when they first moved in together. They told stories of domestic moments, complaining about one another’s cleaning habits. It made George’s gut turn uncomfortably, the thought of them being together for months on end. It made him feel lonely. 

“I swear, Sapnap is weirdly clean. Like, I knew that he liked to keep his things neat, but it’s kind of ridiculous,” Dream noted as he switched lanes.

Sapnap snorted. “Okay, it’s not my fault you never had to deal with living in a triple dorm. You never even applied or filled out the FAFSA.”

“The hell is the FAFSA?” 

“Do you see my point?”

Their bickering was entertaining, almost making them sound like an old married couple who fought but never meant it. George smiled softly at the interaction. He was glad to know that their friendship wasn’t changing because they all met up, that it wouldn’t be any different now that they were going to be living in the same house for a month or so.

Their friendship was stable- it was safe.

George almost wished it wasn’t.

1.

“Sapnap, that’s not how you sear steak- oh my god, you’re ruining it,” Dream wheezed, slamming his fist on the marble countertop as Sapnap poked at the meat in the frying pan with a spatula. 

George laughed along with them, eyes crinkling at the corners ever so slightly. “Uh, Sapnap?” He asked after a moment, and the two stopped to look at him. “I think- I think you burnt it.”

They mechanically turned to look at the frying pan, the charred meat staring back at them menacingly. 

“You’re kidding me,” Sapnap breathed in the silence, which held for barely a second before both Dream and George broke down into laughter. “Don’t laugh! I tried!”

“If you had just listened to me-” Dream started, his words getting cut off by his iconic tea kettle laughter. Sapnap bitterly threw the meat away, setting the pan in the sink as he mumbled curses under his breath. They settled around the island, Sapnap sitting down while Dream leaned against the counter, phone in hand.

“Should we just get take-away?” George asked after a moment, and Dream hummed.

“I’m feeling like pizza,” Sapnap offered, and Dream nodded easily. He watched curiously as Dream called and placed the order, feeling himself shiver slightly.

They sat in silence for the most part, George steadily getting colder as the time passed. He rubbed his arm absentmindedly, scrolling through Twitter and liking the shaky photo of him and Sapnap that Dream had tweeted without context. He let out a small puff of air when scrolling through the replies, saving a few of the reaction images to his camera roll for comedy’s sake. 

“Are you good?” Sapnap asked after a moment, and George’s gaze snapped up from his phone to meet Sapnap’s eyes, one of his eyebrows quirking upwards in a silent question. “You keep rubbing your arm.”

George blinked once, twice, and then laughed lightly. “I’m just cold, don’t worry about it.”

Dream frowned. “You’re literally in Florida.”

“Yeah, and?”

“How the hell are you cold in Florida?” George let his eyebrows pinch together out of confusion, his head sticking forwards ever so slightly, as if it were obvious.

“Because you keep this damn house freezing?” He asked, and Sapnap laughed brightly at the words. 

The youngest let his torso fall forwards, his hand hitting against the countertop as he gasped for air. “I told you!” He yelled once he sat up, pointing an accusing finger at Dream. “I told you! You keep this house so fucking cold!”

“It’s not that cold, you’re just sensitive,” Dream reasoned, scratching behind his ear slightly. The doorbell rang, and Dream held up a hand, gesturing for a pause in the conversation as he got up to go get the food. 

“Maybe you’re just weird,” George said under his breath, quiet enough for Dream to miss it but loud enough for Sapnap to hear and snort at his words. 

Pizza box in hand, Dream returned and set it on the counter without much fanfare. They cracked open the box, grease staining the cardboard, and grabbed plates from the cupboard. Dinner was a quiet affair, with George still tired from his flight, and Sapnap and Dream holding quiet conversation, George chiming in from time to time.

Eventually, Dream paused, his eyes tracing George’s features and running over him for a brief moment. George had let the chill settle in his system, giving up on his attempt to stay warm in this godforsaken house. He grumbled silently, fuming about how he didn’t think to keep a hoodie on him despite being in Florida of all places.

“Are you really that cold?” Dream asked, the words quiet and fond. George nodded slightly, taking a bite out of his pizza in lieu of responding verbally. With a sigh, Dream fished his sweatshirt off the seat beside him, folding the fabric quickly before holding it out to George. “Here.” 

George stared at the fabric quizically, trying to piece together why the fuck Dream was giving him his sweatshirt. The blonde rolled his eyes and shook his hand, the sweatshirt moving slightly in the air. “If you’re that cold, take it. I don’t want to hear you complaining.” The words were lighthearted, and underlying rhythm to them that was oddly familiar.

He took the sweatshirt hesitantly, thumbing the soft material before throwing it over his head. The sleeves bunched by his wrists, the extra fabric folding as he adjusted it so that he could actually use his hands. George hummed lightly, picking up his pizza once more and taking another bite.

“Idiot,” Dream scoffed lightly, and George felt himself warm at the word. 

1.

George sighed as he opened his suitcase, taking out his toiletries and setting them on the bed. He shuffled for a few moments, riffling through his possessions and laying them all out for him to organize. T-shirts, sweaters, jeans, sweatpants and the like were strewn across the mattress as George wandered around the room, trying to decide how to best organize his clothes. 

“You settling in okay?” He heard from his doorway, and George smiled when he found Dream leaning against the frame. 

He nodded lightly, returning to putting his shirts in the closet. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Silence met his words, and George paused for a moment, letting his feet fall flat against the hardwood floors from where he was standing on his tip-toes. “Are you-?”

“Shut up,” Dream said, and George laughed brightly at the words.

“Well, feel free to sit on the floor or something,” George said, gesturing to the rest of the room. “I mean, you’re the one renting this place.”

“I’m not clingy or anything,” Dream muttered, but he wandered inside and settled himself at the desk. George watched the taller run his hand along the furnished wood, eyes tracing the laptop George had brought with him. “Do you want to stream while you’re here? You can use my PC if you want to- or Sapnap’s, if you’d want to.”

George hummed, turning away from the closet in favor of grabbing his jeans. “Maybe. I’m not sure what I’d stream though- maybe GeoGuessr, but I don’t know. I’m not really feeling it right now.”

“That’s fine.” 

Their conversation was brief, but it was easy, reminiscent of the hours they would spend on call with one another, laughing easily and bickering like childhood friends. George didn’t mind the silence he shared with Dream. It always held this weirdly nostalgic feeling, and that was no exception to the silence right now. 

It was light and airy, open to conversation with neither bothering to say anything. They relished in one another’s company, simple companions sitting in a bedroom while one organized their life and the other watched. 

They were friends- nothing more, nothing less. 

Chapter Text

George wasn’t an envious person. George was calm and collected, keeping his emotions and his words close to his chest, ready to be thrown away the moment someone asked for it. George wasn’t an envious person, but something about living with Dream and Sapnap made jealousy and bile rise in his throat whenever he saw the two of them together, laughing in the kitchen, sitting on the couch, living their lives. Together. 

Something about it made him burn, and he couldn’t place his finger on it. 

They weren’t the most touchy, but it was the small things they did for one another. Sapnap would get Dream something to drink and eat when he forgot to take care of himself, Dream would sit on the floor of Sapnap’s room for hours on end. They would cook dinner together, making enough extra for George to eat after they finished having their meal together. They would do one another’s laundry, vacuum one another’s room if they were cleaning upstairs. 

It was small, domestic actions, and it made George sick for some reason. 

“You have something on your cheek,” Dream said absentmindedly over dinner one day, when they were eating Chinese take-away. George had tried and failed to teach them how to use chopsticks, the affair ending in soft laughter and sighs of exasperation. Sapnap hummed, reaching up to wipe it away, but missing just barely. “No, it’s still there.”

They went back and forth like that for a few minutes, Sapnap trying to wipe away the stray grains of rice and Dream trying to tell him where it was. “You’re such an idiot,” the taller eventually said, reaching over the table and wiping the flecks of white away with his thumb. 

George felt envy rear its ugly head as Sapnap laughed, watching Dream eat the few grains of rice off his thumb. Affection was high and clear in both of their gazes, and there was something about it that set him off. 

The fondness in their eyes almost made him hurt.

2.

Dream had let George hold onto the sweatshirt from his first night in Florida, letting the older throw the soft polyester over his t-shirt whenever a chill ran up his spine. It was comforting, how the oversized piece of clothing fell several centimeters lower than he was used to, a familiar scent wrapped around him like a warm embrace.

“Keep it for a bit,” he remembers Dream saying later that night, when the blonde was reclined in his desk chair. George had asked why, the words quiet and a bit shaky. “It looks better on you then it does me.” 

George had felt warm the remainder of that night.

But as all good things must come to an end, George threw the article of clothing in the wash alongside his laundry. He was a bit bitter, he supposed, that he couldn’t just ask Dream for a hoodie whenever he was cold. He was a bit bitter that he knew that if Sapnap asked, Dream would hand one over without much thought.

He was a bit bitter, but they just weren’t that close.

So George washed his clothes, determined to forget the thought of asking Dream for an embrace whenever it was a tad bit too cold for him, to hold these thoughts hostage for the sake of their relationship as it was. 

He was willing to lose his heart if it meant they could hold onto one another. 

Clutching the folded fabric to his chest, George walked to the living room without much fanfare. “Have you done laundry yet? I’m going to do mine soon,” Dream asked when he noticed the shorter, glancing up from his phone momentarily. 

“Yeah, I just finished,” George replied easily. He held out the sweatshirt to Dream, who looked at him curiously. “I washed it, and I thought you might want it back.” Dream simply hummed and nodded, taking the sweatshirt from him without any questions. 

It hurt a bit when he saw Sapnap wearing the same sweatshirt later at lunch.

2.

A couple days passed, and it was the tenth of December. They were gathered in Dream’s room, relishing in one another’s presence as Dream streamed GeoGuessr on his alt. There was light teasing every once in a while, bright laughter filling the room whenever Dream yelled about how he messed up. 

They would hold banter with chat on occasion, jokes passing between the three men. They would flirt as they would, throwing compliments at one another, putting on the show they were so used to. They would dance for the bit, twirling in one another’s arms as they faked holding one another closer than they already do. 

It was nice, until it got a bit too real. 

Chat never noticed- they always made sure to have at least some composure. But the weight their words held shifted at one point, the bright banter shifting to flirting with a slight heat to it, like it was a pot of water set on the stove, boiling ever so slightly. 

“You look good in that sweatshirt,” Dream said casually at one point, eyes trained on his monitor as George glanced up from his laptop.

He knew the words weren’t directed at him, even if he was wearing a hoodie.

“Thanks,” Sapnap replied mindlessly, his eyes watching Dream’s slight movements, the bouncing of the older’s leg beneath the desk. The youngest fiddled with the cuff on the sleeve, and George felt his eyebrows pinch ever so slightly. It was the same sweatshirt that Dream had given George on the third, and George had seen Sapnap wearing it around the house on multiple occasions since then, each on different days.

Their words were soft and personal, glowing with a slight warmth. It was a seven word exchange, but it held far too much weight for George to be comfortable with. He wasn’t sure if they kept talking, if their flirting continued to get a bit more heated or if it was just the two of them doing a bit. 

It was too close for comfort. He choked out a half assed excuse, saving his project and closing the editing software he was all too familiar with. Dream and Sapnap said their goodnights, the words filled with less affection then the ones they spoke to one another. 

George closed the door, and his hand hesitated on the handle as he stood in the hallway. 

Fuck.

2.

George wasn’t one to dwell on missed opportunities or the loss of a prized possession.

He was pretty decent at moving on- he would curse himself for missing something for a day or two, letting his anger swallow him whole as he stepped back from the online world he was spent hours on. He would skip bargaining and let himself cry for about an hour, maybe two, and then would carry on with his life. 

It may not be the healthiest thing, but it worked. It got him through painful moments.

But this time, George cursed himself up and down, tears pricking at his eyes and threatening to crawl down his cheeks and trace lines on his throat. He was so bitter- he was so, so bitter. He knew that it could have worked out if maybe he said something a year or two ago, if he had just tried. But he had been scared, worried that everything would come crashing and burning down the moment the words left his mouth.

Turns out it all fell apart the moment he saw his best friend in a romantic light. Who would have guessed? Who would have fucking guessed?

He remembered spending nights alone in his flat, Cat curled up in his comforter, the slight heat of late summer nights pinching at his cheeks. The 2 a.m. London ambiance right outside his window, taunting him with something he knew was never going to work out.

Thoughts of what could be had circled his head, of domestic fights while cooking dinner, of chaste kisses pressed into warm palms. Of chapped lips running along soft skin, of long fingers tangled in ragged hair.

George missed those nights.

He missed when he could think of those things and not worry about the object of his affection falling for another, missed when he could sit on call with Dream for hours and talk about nothing, his only focus being that tea kettle wheeze he loved so fucking much. 

Because now he was just bitter and alone and cold, sitting on a bed he didn’t own in a country he didn’t belong to, listening to warm laughter echo through the halls outside. George wasn’t one to dwell on missed opportunities or the loss of prized possessions, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter at losing something so precious. Because at this point, none of it mattered. Because at this point, he could leave and they would be fine. Because at this point, they had one another.

Because at this point, he was in love with the thought of someone.

2.

It was just polyester. 

That’s all it was- a stupid polyester hoodie, a piece of fabric, taunting him whenever he saw Sapnap clad in the soft fabric. It seemed to say you’re never going to have this, or why do you keep longing? He would see Sapnap flapping the sleeves over his hands with a broad smile, and it would sting. Just a bit, but it would sting.

Jealousy was something George came to consider an old friend over the next few days, one of the few constants of his visit. When they went to the mall, it followed him into the food court while he watched Dream and Sapnap bicker about where they should order from.

It followed him around the house, whenever he would see Dream’s arm thrown around Sapnap’s shoulders as they watched some shitty show on Netflix or HBO Max. It was there whenever they were streaming, watching him from behind, cold hands wrapped around his lungs. 

George, typically, wasn’t a bitter person. He wasn’t bitter, he wasn’t judgemental, he wasn’t one to assume the status of another’s relationship. So, he lied to himself. They’re just friends, he told himself. They’ve known one another for almost a decade, of course they’d be affectionate. 

He knew that he was lying, but George had always been good at lying to himself. So he turned a blind eye, refusing to believe what he was seeing unless one of them truly told him. Days passed, each minute feeling like a stab in between his shoulder blades. It hurt, but he refused to acknowledge it. 

It was just polyester, after all.

Chapter Text

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask. Truly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know how Dream felt about Sapnap. So, standing outside of Dream’s door, George hesitated.

George didn’t hesitate very often.

It had been a couple more days, Christmas nearing like a future ghost of someone lost. 

Curious by nature, George had asked a lot of questions in his life. Questions like when the hell would you need to factor quadratic equations outside your mathematics class and should a star die, is it reborn. George asked a lot of questions, and he often came to his own conclusions. Conclusions of no, you’re never going to use this in your life and not very often.

He had come to, over the years, shove these questions beneath him and use them to keep himself afloat. He would shut up about something he was confused by if someone asked, apologize with a light laugh, and move on with his day, Googling his question over a lonely dinner. 

George asked a lot of questions.

George didn’t want to ask Dream his question.

With a deep breath, steeling his resolve to not cry, to not break, to not crack and let all his emotions pour out, George turned the handle and pushed the door open slowly. “Dream?” He asked, the name familiar on his tongue. 

“Yeah?” Dream asked, turning in his chair to face the door. “What’s up?” 

George closed the door behind him, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked further into the room. “Uh, I- wanted to ask you something.” Dream laughed lightly.

“I gathered. What’s your question?” Fuck, George didn’t know if he could do this. He swallowed and rubbed the back of his right leg with his left foot, mulling over his words. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, everything- everything is fine, I promise. I just noticed that you and Sapnap- fuck, I don’t know how to say this. Is something happening between you two?” The words rushed out of him, and he stumbled a couple times, but he couldn’t care less. He asked what he needed to, and now he just had to wait.

Dream was silent for a moment before he returned to his monitor, closing Eclipse after saving his work, pausing the playlist he had going in his headset and closing Discord and Spotify, along with Chrome. Dream sighed and rubbed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face and letting his chin rest in his palm.

“Fucking hell. Am I- Am I that obvious?”

George blinked, and he felt his heart break the tiniest bit. 

He really didn’t want to hear that. He would have taken any answer- an awkward laugh, a deadpan ‘no’- over ‘ Am I that obvious’. Fuck, George didn’t know if he could stay there. He felt a rock settle in his stomach, his eye twitch ever so slightly.

“I guess so,” he replied with a laugh, moving to sit on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” He smiled weakly as Dream nodded, settling his headset around his neck and fully turning to face George.

“He’s just- fuck, I don’t know how to say it. He makes me feel warm, like my heart is full and fit to burst at any moment. I’ve known him for years, George- almost a decade. I don’t even know when this first started, it just did.”

“Most types of love are like that,” George said absently, a slip of the tongue letting his thoughts out. Dream laughed lightly at the words, and George melted just a bit. Fuck, he loved that sound. He could listen to it for days. 

He listened to Dream ramble about how his affection for Sapnap went from platonic to romantic, waxing poetic about the younger boy without much thought. It stung a bit, to listen to Dream speak, but George stayed. He didn’t cut him off or offer his own thoughts, he just let Dream talk.

“Just, fuck, George,” Dream breathed after a couple minutes. He sounded breathless, as if his love had robbed him of air, had stolen his lungs and that the only time he could breathe, he could live, he could be was when he was around Sapnap. “I love him so fucking much. I love him. I love him so much, George. It hurts, almost. And I’m scared of losing him, if I tell him.”

George’s eyes burned at those words. 

He remembered how he told himself he wouldn’t cry, not until he got to his own room. George smiled gently at the suntouched boy before him, freckles standing out against slightly tanned skin. It hurt to listen to this, it hurt to listen to his best friend talk about the love of his life. 

It hurt so fucking much, but there wasn’t anything he could do. He could feel the fire eating at his body, flames licking at his bones hungrily as they waited to prey on his corpse. To reduce his emotions to ashes, to let the cinders of his body be swept away by an overworked janitor and a mop on linoleum floors. 

George sighed, steeling himself once more, and opened his mouth to speak. “Honestly, Dream?” The words were tired and hollow to his own ears, and he wasn’t sure how he sounded to Dream. He couldn’t care about what he sounded like right now. “I think- I think that Sapnap feels the same.”

The blonde was silent at the words for a brief moment. “Really?” He asked, sounding like a child given a ray of hope for the first time in his life. George nodded, the motion slightly stiff, and he felt himself break just a bit more.

Dream beamed at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and lips pulled wide. Dream was happy with his words.

And George? 

George let himself burn. 

3.

Christmas was a quiet affair. They exchanged gifts, laughter bright and eyes dry. George watched Dream’s gaze, constantly trained on Sapnap. On occasion, the younger would turn to look at George, who would nod encouragingly, his expression falling every time Dream looked away.

It hurt so much, watching the person you love so fucking much love someone else. But, as cliche as it may sound, sometimes you need to let the person you love go. 

So George steeled himself when he saw Dream join Sapnap on the patio outback, and he settled. He settled in his grief when he saw his two best friends’ lips meet, the action gentle and filled with warmth. He smiled when they came back inside, fingers intertwined and grins painted onto their lips.

He congratulated them, patting Sapnap on the back and hitting Dream on the forehead, chastising him lightly for being so unsure. The couple laughed at George’s words, and he felt himself smile.

As long as they were happy- as long as Dream was happy, he’d settle. 

George called his sister that night, letting himself break down as he recounted the weeks he spent with his friends to her. She gave him her soft assurances that everything would be okay, that it would stop hurting over time. Tears were wiped away haphazardly, hiccups erupting from his throat as his voice broke every once in a while. 

“I wish I were-” he had choked out, his vocal chords failing him before he could say Sapnap’s name. “Fuck, I wish- I’m so bitter. I’m so fucking bitter.” The words were coating with malice and envy and they were ugly and deformed, thorns picking at his tongue as he spoke. “I’m not even half as pretty, not half as self assured. What the fuck was I thinking? Why the fuck did I think I even had a chance to begin with?”

George didn’t get a response from his sister.

Instead, he hung up and called his mother. He didn’t tell her about how much he hurt, about how he didn’t think that he liked the holidays anymore. George swallowed his emotions, his bruised pride and put on a show for his mother, laughing and telling stupid anecdotes from his time in Florida.

George was good at lying, and he was good at pretending. For fuck’s sake, he could cry on command and sell it to thousands of people if he wanted to. George knew he was a damn good actor, a damn good liar. So he put on a mask and drew on a simple smiley face, two dots and a line. 

‘Happy Christmas’ he said. 

Everything was fine.

3.

He was still sore when New Years rolled around. He sat with a flute of champagne in North Carolina, having driven up with Dream and Sapnap to see Karl and Quackity. They made jokes with one another, the atmosphere calm and easy. They poked fun at Dream, throwing around subcount jokes and the like. The blonde would always laugh it off, and George felt his insides squirm whenever he saw the looks he and Sapnap shared.

It hurt, just a bit, but George pushed it away every time, preferring to smile at them warmly. 

“Damn, and everyone thought George and Dream were going to get together,” Quackity quipped after Sapnap and Dream did something affectionate, the coveted feral boys laughing brightly at his words. George glanced over at Dream, who wiggled his eyebrows at the older in an odd motion. George snorted lightly, and his eyes slid away from the younger slowly.

If only they knew. 

The night continued without much of a hitch, each of them getting a bit more tipsy as the hours passed by. Karl had an arm slung around Quackity’s shoulders, the gesture casual and friendly. Dream and Sapnap were getting progressively closer, their fingers intertwined in Sapnap’s lap as they lounged on the sofa.

And George was just… there. Nothing much. Nothing special.

It hurt, just a bit.

They kept an eye on the television, where the New York ball drop or whatever the hell it was called was on display, but George couldn’t care less. Something in his chest ached each time he looked at Dream and Sapnap, warm and happy and whole in one another’s company.

The thought that he could just disappear and neither of them would notice solidified, but he tried not to think about it.

Because Dream was in love with someone else, and George was in love with Dream.

So when the clock struck midnight and they all burst out into cheers, shouts of happy new year echoing in his ears, George’s world became muffled. Because, amidst it all, was Sapnap and Dream, foreheads pressed together as they laughed.

It was almost comedic, how George saw it happen. It was in slow-motion, like it was straight out of a shitty romcom off of Netflix that fell wayside of greater movies. He watches as their lips touched, the action messy and warm and full of love. 

It hurt, just a bit.

George simply raised his champagne flute and downed the entire thing.

3.

They bid their farewells at the Orlando International Airport, suitcase in hand and jacket thrown over his forearm haphazardly. Sapnap threw his arms around the older and pretended to sob, mock misery at his leaving rattling a laugh out of George’s chest. 

“You’ll come back, right?” The younger asked, face buried into George’s shoulder. The words were a bit muffled, a bit wet, a bit sentimental, but George simply hummed as confirmation. “Promise?”

He laughed brightly, pretending like it didn’t hurt to breathe as he made eye-contact with Dream over Sapnap’s figure. “When did you get so clingy? Yes, I’ll come back, you dunce.” The words bit as his tongue before he spoke them, leaving scars marring his bones. 

Sapnap wailed some more, wiping away non-existent tears as he pulled away. George sighed at the younger’s dramatics, and his smile tightened when he saw Sapnap walk to Dream’s side, the taller wrapping a hand around Sapnap’s waist. 

“You’re welcome to move in with us if you ever want to,” Dream said, the offer holding a hopeful note. The bright lilt to his voice made George want to cry, to let his body fall apart on the cold linoleum floor of the stupid Florida airport.

George simply shook his head and Dream sighed, a smile painted on his lips. “The offer stands, whenever. Anyway, uh- thank you.”

That caught George’s attention. “What are you thanking me for?” Something in him knew the answer, and knew that he didn’t want to hear it, but George pretended that he didn’t know. That the little voice, the only thing that cared about his own wellbeing, didn’t exist.

“You’re- you’re such an idiot,” Dream said with a lighthearted scoff. “Thanks for getting me to talk to Sapnap.”

At the words, Sapnap blinked, seemingly startled. “Wait- you- you wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t talk to George?” There was a fake offense to his words, and Dream laughed and shook his head. They went back and forth, the words teasing, insults half-hearted. But George just wanted to sink into the floor and die, to leave them be, to let them have their stupid happily-ever-after.

Whoever wrote all his childhood stories as happy endings should rot, George decided then. They all lied to him, and now he was lying to himself. 

They looked too bright together, as though they were the sun, a flaming star at the center of it all, and George was left to circle around them aimlessly, nowhere to go, no one to turn to. 

Words were spoken over the intercom that George didn’t hear, but he didn’t care what they said. “Shit, I gotta go,” he said, glancing at his phone to check the time. “I’ll call you guys when I get the chance, okay?”

Dream and Sapnap both beamed at him, and George smiled back weakly. He walked towards security, passport and ticket in hand as he turned away. They called out well-wishes, lighthearted insults being hurled at him as he left. George let himself laugh for a moment, his shoulders shaking slightly.

If the lady who looked over his passport and ticket noticed the faint tears running their course down his cheeks, she didn’t comment on it.

George turned away, not bothering to look back. It hurt, just a bit.

3.

George wasn’t an envious person, that much had been established. George was one to let his sorrow eat at his rotting corpse, let the maggots bury themselves between his ribs as he suffered through the pain, voice breaking every time he tried to speak.

George wasn’t an envious person. 

But, despite it all, George was envious whenever he heard Sapnap walk into Dream’s room. George was envious whenever he got Snapchats of the younger wearing large hoodies he knew belonged to Dream. George was envious, and he hated that he was envious.

And eventually, that hatred towards himself became hatred towards one of his closest friends.

He had no reason to hate Sapnap, George knew that much. But it hurt, because with these small things, George knew that they had found one another. They had found one another, and they were perfect together. They had moved on, and left George behind, even if they didn’t mean to.

George just wanted to be the one, but that timeline was done, going up in flames like a dying star. 

Sapnap was kind to him. They sat on call together, talking about random things as they edited videos and made thumbnails, Sapnap talking about some weird event that had happened while George tried to keep himself from falling apart. Sapnap was kind to him- he was generous, gorgeous, a sight for sore eyes. 

Eventually, the hatred he had been so familiar with faded away, leaving him painted a soft blue, the acrylic smeared all over his body.

It hurt, just a bit, but that was okay.

George was going to be okay, because as long as the person he loved more than he loved anything else- as long as Dream was happy, he’d settle.

He’d settle and watch for a thousand years if that was what it took.

3.

George streamed. He recorded videos with his two best friends, laughing brightly as though his heart didn’t break each time he and Dream flirted with one another for a joke. He felt like he was losing a game of Pacman indefinitely, standing alone at the arcade at 2 a.m., with nothing but the sounds of the game taunting him. 

He was addicted to a losing game, and he never wanted to let it go. George was fine with losing if it meant Dream was happy- he would lose every time for the blonde, for the man who smelled of lemongrass and early mornings, who he imagined tasted of peach and passion. 

George would lose it all if it meant Dream was bright and warm and full of life.

3.

“Do you think I should ask?” Dream said absentmindedly one day, the faint sound of the man’s fidget spinner leaving traces in George’s headset. The winter was bitter, and it was a few days into November, the chill of his flat leaving him wearing a familiar black hoodie, the soft folds of the oversized fabric a comfort through it all.

The brunette sighed, a fond expression adorning his worn features. “Why am I always the one you ask about this?” 

Dream laughed brightly, and George relished in the sound. “Because you are far older, and far wiser, Mr. George. How does it feel, knowing that you’ll turn thirty next year?” George groaned at the notion.

“Please don’t remind me,” he cried, forcing a tea-kettle wheeze out of Dream’s chest. “Anyway, should you ask?” 

The younger sighed, and George could imagine his expression, right eyebrow quirked upwards ever so slightly, his head leaning to the same side and headset slightly askew on his head. Green eyes half-lidded with sleep and nostalgia, George smiled at the image. 

“Sorry, sorry. You’re- how old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“You’re twenty-six. Sapnap’s- wait, how old is Sapnap again? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? You guys have been dating for five years now. That’s half a decade, Dream! And you’ve known one another for fifteen years at this point. I think that if you’re even thinking about asking, you should.”

Dream chuckled at his words, and George felt himself smile. “I guess, yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll ask him. Thanks, George.” 

They talked for a little while longer, reminiscing about when they had first met. Laughing at their hesitance, remembering how they had learned one another so carefully. Eventually, Dream had to go, and George was left alone in the deafening silence he was all too familiar with. 

George felt like he was burning. But it was okay. 

Everything was okay.

3.

And then he was back in Florida, a couple short months later. It was all coming to a close, his best friends getting the happily-ever-after they craved like the craved one another. George watched, with a heavy heart as they slipped rings onto one another’s fingers, wide grins plastered onto one another’s faces. 

George watched them wrap their arms around one another in a flurry of flowers, laughing as they pressed chaste kisses to one another’s lips as they spun as though nothing else mattered. It was a magical sight, seeing his two best friends orbit one another like they were all that mattered in the world. It was heartwarming, yes, but George felt his bones ache and his heart break and splinter. 

It hurt, just a bit.

He watched with a sad smile as they looked back at him, nodding their heads in slight thanks. George huffed a light laugh and shook his head, a fond expression finding its way onto his face. “The hell are you guys doing, looking at me?” He laughed, the words spilling out of him before he could really think about it. 

They laughed heartily, their bodies shaking as they hooked their pinkies together, and George was happy for them.

3.

“I’m going to be frank,” George said, standing at the edge of the table as those who had come to the wedding watched. “If you had told me that I was going to watch my two best friends get married and then give a toast at their wedding fifteen years ago, I wouldn’t have believed you.” 

A unanimous chuckle fell over the table, and George saw out of the corner of his eye Sapnap placing a hand on his chest, an overdramatacised expression of offense painted on his face while Dream shook his head lightly, a fond smile on his lips.

“My favorite idiots fell in love. My favorite idiots, who had known one another for so many years. I’m almost surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner, but they’re both rather dense, so I’ll let it slide.”

The audience laughed again, and Dream let out a scandalized noise, forcing George to bend over with a laugh of his own. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop making fun of you two for a moment.” He cleared his throat, mulling over his words. “I think now would be a good time to tell you all that I forgot to write anything for this, so bear with me for this.” 

“I have never, not once in my life, seen two people as infatuated with one another as those two. I remember, when I first came to Florida, I had been just a bit confused. I was staying with Dream and Sapnap- or, Clay and Nick, I guess, but it feels fundamentally wrong to call them that- I was staying with them for around a month. 

“I remember waking up and going downstairs just to see them making pancakes, throwing the batter at one another and laughing brightly. I remember seeing them on the couch, watching some shitty- pardon my language- movie on Netflix at two in the morning, cuddling. I remember thinking to myself ‘there’s no way’, but I guess they figured it out. I asked Dream about it, and I can literally recall his words like he said them yesterday. ‘Am I that obvious?’ He asked. ‘I love him so much, George, it almost hurts,’ he said. Do you- do you remember that?” George ended on a question, turning to look at Dream with a questioning look. 

Dream scrunched his face up for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I think I do. I thought you were going to be upset or something,” he finished, a slight chuckle following his words. George scoffed lightheartedly, shaking his head briefly before continuing. 

“You’re so dumb,” he sighed, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Anyway, moving on- I think they got together on Christmas, and I swear, I could feel it in my bones. ‘Oh, they’re going to last’, I remember thinking later that night. And now, here they are! Married and happy!” George spread his arms out slightly, gaze racking across familiar faces.

He saw Karl biting his lip, looking like he was trying to keep himself from laughing. Quackity was so close to losing it, and George felt a smile pull at his lips. A few other members of the SMP were there, faces George saw so often online now in person, seated at rounded tables, wearing suits and dresses. 

George looked back at Dream and Sapnap, and he shoved down the small ache in his heart. “I wish the two of you the best of luck in this next chapter, although I doubt you’ll come across many hardships,” he said, sobering up to take this seriously for a moment. “I can’t say much, or give a lot of relationship advice and whatnot, but I can say this, and this goes for everyone.” 

George let his gaze turn to the glass in his hand, swirling the liquid around the glass casually. 

“If you love someone, tell them. It’ll save, like, a whole angst arc if you just have clear communication,” George said. He laughed and shook his head, thinking back on the past years he had spent in England, thousands of kilometers away from the person who felt like home. 

Letting his sight slide back to Dream and Sapnap, George raised his glass to the two, the corners of his lips turned upwards despite the slight pain in his bones. “Again, I wish you two the best of luck, and if you ever get a divorce, give me your cats.” 

With a orchestra of laughter at his final words, everyone raised their glasses to the toast.

It hurt, just a bit, but maybe George would be okay.

3.

He stood to the side with a glass of wine, watching people laugh as they twirled on the dancefloor, lights low and expressions bright. A slight chill seeped into his bones, pricking at his skin as the evening settled. 

George saw Sapnap and Dream off to the side, flowers overflowing from their arms. His eyebrows pinched together as Dream tossed a look back at him, a slight glint to his eyes. Sapnap grinned at him from a distance, and George didn’t bother reading back into it. 

“Gogy!” A familiar voice called, an arm being slung around his shoulders. “What a speech you gave. Who knew you could be so poetic without writing it out?” George let his expression fall into something akin to exasperation as Quackity bumped shoulders with him casually. 

“Be quiet, Karl. I was just doing what I was supposed to,” George quipped, no real bite to his words as Quackity and Karl laughed beside him. He let himself grin as they chattered for a few moments, let himself forget the burning that was a stab in the back.

A shit-eating grin was plastered on the youngest’s face, the twenty-something year old poking George in the ribs. “It’s hilarious, how everyone thought you and Dream were going to get together, and it ended up being him and Sapnap.” 

George felt the faint smile tracing his lips tighten ever so slightly. He sighed something warily, careful to keep his voice void of any emotion. They continued talking, Karl and Quackity casting glances towards Dream and Sapnap every once in a while, making eyecontact and exchanging silent words George couldn’t place. 

He decided not to think about it until he had to. 

“Anyway, we have more people to go talk to,” Quackity said absentmindedly, grabbing Karl’s arm and dragging him away. “We’ll see you later, George!”

“Yeah, see you later,” he echoed, glass of wine held close to his chest. Taking the occasional sip of the dark, rich liquid, letting the slight bitterness coat his tastebuds, George looked around the venue with tired eyes. 

Tommy and Tubbo were pestering Drista and her older sister, the young girl waving them off in an attempt to get some peace. A couple meters away was Sapnap’s sisters, chatting with Punz and a few others. 

Nikki and Wilbur were off to the side, laughing at a joke the British man had made, leaning against the white picket fence easily. Ranboo was walking towards Tubbo and Tommy with a fond smile, trying in a valiant effort to get the two to stop annoying Dream’s family. Purpled was sitting at his table, chatting with Dream’s younger brother. 

It was peaceful, warm. 

“Hey, George!” He heard Dream yell from where he was standing. George turned to look at his friend, his soulmate who never was, with a quirked eyebrow and a tilt to his head. Standing beside him was Sapnap, wearing a shit-eating grin, flowers spilling from his arms like an overflowing sink at sunset, colors he couldn’t see falling to the floor slowly. 

A couple people turned to look at them, eyes trained on George and Dream. He reached up and pulled at his tie, eyes flitting around to the people who were watching him. Tommy and Tubbo, he noted, with soft smiles and mischievous glints in their eyes, and a couple others he couldn’t bother to name. 

Without any prompt, Sapnap ran forwards a bit and threw the flowers into the air, directly in George’s direction. He laughed as they flew through the air, a few stray petals delicately drifting to the ground. Realization at what Sapnap and Dream were doing- something everyone else was likely in on, now that he thought about it- dawned on him, and George felt his eyebrows pinch together before he sighed.

He stepped to the side ever so slightly, and let the bouquet fall beside him unceremoniously. 

A couple laughs spawned amongst the crowd, and George smiled and shook his head. Sapnap and Dream ran up to him, and Dream let his face morph into an expression of mock scandalization. “I can’t believe you didn’t catch it!” He said with a slight wheeze, clearly trying to keep himself from full on laughing. 

“I’m so offended, Gogy,” Sapnap said, always one for dramatics. He held his hands to his heart, clutching his suit as though he had been broken time and time again. “How could you? I simply wanted you to find someone, too.” 

George let himself laugh for a moment, bringing his glass to his lips momentarily to take a small sip of the red wine. “Please, Sapnap,” he scoffed lightly, the words leaving behind a trace of pain. His eyes slid from Sapnap’s face, where a small smile pulled at the younger’s lips, to Dream’s. 

Tanned skin and freckles, green eyes George couldn’t even appreciate. He loved him so much it hurt to breathe, so much it hurt to speak. It pained him to think that someone else got to hold onto Dream’s arm and laugh with him, to hold domestic memories with him, to stay up until the wee-hours of the morning with. 

And so it pained him to say it, but it was the most honest George had been in the past five years.

“I have no intention of falling in love.” 

3.

Turns out, George and the universe seemed to have come to a mutual understanding as the months went on. He flew back to England a few days later, expression soft as he remembered the first time he left them like this. He pulled his earbuds out of his coat pocket, plugging them into his phone and opening up Spotify. 

He scrolled through the few playlists he had made and the many of Dream and Sapnap’s he followed until he reached the bottom, finding one he made the night before he left. George smiled softly as he leaned back in the seat, the cushions softer and more comfortable, as Dream had insisted on buying his ticket and getting him a seat in business class. 

He pressed shuffle, and let his eyes slide close. The words of why would you ever kiss me, I’m not even half as pretty rolling around his head easily, George registered the song as Heather by Conan Gray. It seemed a bit too fitting, but he let it play out anyway. 

The progression of the music hurt him, just barely, but they also provided a slight closure. Gone by Rosé, Mr. Loverman by Ricky Montgomery, I Wish I Was the Moon by Ewan J Phillips, Arcade by Duncan Laurance. They all hit a little too close to home, and George let himself hurt. 

He walked off that flight with wet cheeks. 

3.

George didn’t know how to love anymore. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to love anyone else.

It was eight in the morning when he noticed, a gentle numbness, the feeling of self-loathing he was so used to enveloping his body disipating as he sat on the floor of the kitchen, a spilt bottle of whatever he had been drinking rolling on the tile beside him. He barely registered that it was the third of December, a day he had slowly come to despise over the years. But this year he just felt numb.

It was eight in the morning on a Monday when he noticed, feeling like someone had hit and run him. George’s bones were heavy with age, light filtering through his window weakly.

His cat had wandered over to his weak and frail body, nudging his face against his owner’s palm in a cry for food. It was something so small, but George felt criminally empty at that moment. 

So long ago, he had given himself to Dream. The man had taken his love and left him numb, leaving him to wallow in his grief as he took his heart and put it through the paper shredder without even knowing. Dream with his sunkissed skin and starlit freckles, his stupid laugh and the way he spoke. The way he pronounced ‘wolf’ like ‘woof’ and ‘milk’ like ‘melk’, how he would refuse to wait for his food to cool before eating it.

George had decided to wait for Dream, but instead Dream found someone else. 

It hurt, just a bit, now that he thought about it. It wasn’t the searing pain he was so used to, but rather a dull ache in his fingers and a heaviness in his bones, a pounding in his temples as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets. 

And then, it was finished. All his love was gone, all because of someone he met online all those years ago, someone who had been faceless for so long. All his love was gone, and George sighed in defeat. Dream was dead and gone, no more then a past love, his last love. He wasn’t even sure if he could love himself, at this point. He was hollow and numb and cold and alone, and that was it. 

An anticlimatic end to the saga, he supposed. How fitting.

Ah, he thought with no pomp, no flare, no orchestral fanfare. So this is what an ending feels like.