Work Text:
“Leave and call me,” the words from earlier recycled through his head as Dream laid on his back, the black screen of his phone mocking him, getting into his head with doubts that George’s contact photo would ever flash in front of his face. Even after having moved to Florida, they both still relied on each other’s voices, each other’s presence, to fall asleep most nights. The house now sat quiet, all sounds of keyboards clacking or yelling into mics had long stopped, the slight creaking on the staircase breaking the silence after a few moments.
“Are you still awake?” George whispered from the doorway, peeking his head into the darkened room.
“Yeah, why?” Dream squinted at the silhouette closing the door behind him.
“You said to get in bed with you.”
The faint moonlight coming in through his blinds left a soft glow on the boy now standing beside the bed, awkwardly fidgeting with the sleeve of his pink strawberry milk shirt, the one he knew was Dream’s favorite.
“Unless... you didn’t mean it,” he continued.
“No, I- I meant it. I one hundred percent meant it,” he spoke at a near whisper, his voice raspy from post stream. He moved further to the side of the bed, lifting the blue and white striped comforter, inviting George to lay beside him.
“I just... didn’t think you heard it,” he mumbled as George settled on his side, tucking his hand under his face. And all at once the blankets and movement had settled leaving them facing each other. The screens that normally stood between them, leaving their conversations with a veil of romantic ambiguity, gone.
“I think we all heard that.”
George’s spoken words swept across Dream’s face in warm breaths just above a whisper. And it felt like he was floating. Floating across every breath, drawing him in closer and closer into the feelings he could no longer suppress...no longer wanted to suppress.
“I guess I’m not very subtle.”
“No. You’re not,” George let out a soft laugh. It was the same laugh that Dream had heard so many times before and yet had never failed to make his heart flutter, especially now as he could see the weak smile on George’s face, soft blue moonlight still blanketing his skin.
A comfortable silence settled between them, one that was so familiar from spending entire nights on the phone with George, allowing themselves to be reckless with their emotions, with their words, until the morning sun rudely reminded him that he lay alone in his room, separated by unforgiving fate of being oceans apart.
“Is it weird that I miss our 10 hour calls?” George finally broke the silence, moving his hand up to finger at the collar of Dream’s shirt mindlessly, as if he were trying to distract himself while he spoke.
“No, I don’t think so.” Dream felt his breath grow heavier with every accidental brush of George’s fingers against his neck as he fiddled with the fabric.
“I just think there’s something so intimate in falling for someone, even just their voice, that you can’t let them go, even while you sleep.”
“You fell for me?”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
Dream paused, all the times he was willfully ignorant of George’s flirting, rushing back into his head. All the times he had felt the butterflies dance in his stomach, refusing to attribute them to the ‘dnf’ jokes and the soft spoken confessions passed between them in their moonlit rooms.
“It doesn’t stop does it?” George interrupted the realization racing through Dream’s head, “The falling, I mean.”
Dream let the question sink it, and at the same time questioning if there were ever a time when he hadn’t felt like he was free falling for the boy who’s face was inches from his own, ethereal as ever.
“I don’t think so.” He finally answered to both his question and George’s.
“Good.”
George’s fingers teased their way up Dream’ shirt collar to his face, his thumb dragging itself across his bottom lip and down to his jawline, as he slid his head across his pillow until their lips hovered just against the others. George tugged Dream’s chin up towards his, connecting their lips. The soft breaths that, only moments ago, drew Dream in closer and closer now merged with his own. He reached his hand down to George’s waist, sliding the pink strawberry milk shirt out of the way for his hand to grasp at the flushed skin, pulling the boy against him. George turned his head toward the ceiling, catching his breath, his face already flustered as Dream moved his mouth down to his neck.
“Dream?”
“Hmm?”
“Promise you’ll never stop falling for me.”
“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”