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Here’s the thing about being in love with your best friend: It’s easy. It’s so easy.
It is so easy to relish their presence, to smile when they do, to plan your life with them in it. It is so easy to feel pain and know it’s love.
People like to think that it’s all emotional turmoil and heartfelt confessions, that it tears you apart until you can’t do anything else but let it out. George knows that’s not true, not for him at least.
For George, his love is more subtle. It is the beating heart bassline beneath every stream and video and private call. It is the warmth everyone hears in his voice, the warmth that could just be friendship, but isn’t.
For George, love is beautiful, delicious pain. Not in a bad way, not like that. But the hurt is mixed with happiness so often that it has become impossible to feel that pain without seeing happiness shine through too. When Dream facetimes him for the first time and all George wants to do is kiss the grin off his face, he’s still seeing Dream. He’s still learning some deep, secret part of him that so few know, and he’s still the reason Dream is smiling. And when Dream calls him beautiful and something inside him twists to the point of shattering, he also calls him kind, a good friend, his best friend.
Sure, George cried over Dream once. Or twice. But George is happy where he is. Because there’s something beautiful about unrequited love, isn’t there? George gets to love Dream in a way few others do, gets to experience so much joy just by being around him. He’s never going to feel everything build up until he can’t face Dream anymore, because he doesn’t need anything to change. He’s been doing this for so goddamn long, and he can do it for as long as he has to. One day he’ll move on, right? Probably. Maybe. George isn’t sure. He’s never loved someone as much as he loves Dream.
But Dream loves him too. That counts for something, for so much. That’s all he needs, really.
Loving Dream is like breathing. It’s like life.
***
Here’s the thing about being in love with your best friend: It fucking sucks. Dream isn’t sure he can take it anymore.
Dream isn’t sure he can take another second of flirting with George or, god forbid, George flirting back. Every moment with him—romantic, platonic, anything—makes Dream feel like he’s bubbling up, ready to overflow at any minute, and one day he’s going to boil over and ruin everything.
Sometimes he fantasizes about beautiful, perfect confessions, about unplanned plane tickets and London rainfall and his heart laid bare on George’s doorstep. Sometimes he dreams about it, and it’s a fifty-fifty chance whether George will kiss him or slam the door in his face. He wakes up feeling lonely either way.
The thing about loving George is that he’s everywhere. For someone four thousand miles away, George is woven into every aspect of Dream’s life. He’s in the figurine on Dream’s desk and the shelves of the merch room and the Christmas card taped to the fridge. He’s in the videos Dream has to edit, his streaming schedule, his heart, always in his heart. For all the reminders of George surrounding him, it’s surprising how often he thinks of George with no reason at all.
Maybe it’s not so surprising. George is Dream’s everything. Everything.
He knows he’s on borrowed time. One day his secret will come out, surely, inevitably, and all Dream can do is pray that when the dust settles he’ll still have George. It’s a real possibility; George is just so kind and wonderful and amazing that he could see George putting Dream’s stupid feelings aside and loving him just the same.
Hopefully.
In any case, Dream also prays that he has more time before he slips. Because as much as holding this burning, painful secret to his chest is eating him alive, he’s more afraid of what might be on the other side.
So, secrets. One secret. One flesh-eating, mind-searing, heart-wrenching secret.
He’ll guard it to the end.
***
Here’s the thing about being in the same place as Dream, George realized a few days after his plane landed: It made everything so much more. The love, the pain, the beauty, the longing. All of it.
“I love your hair,” Dream said, running his fingers through it. George felt like he was burning up inside. It was amazing, it really was, being able to cuddle on the couch with his best friend. But that pain, the pain that used to be beautiful was eating him alive now. “It’s pretty.”
George rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. Or cry. “Simp.”
“You like it,” Dream teased, “admit it.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“C’mon, George, you looove me,” Dream giggled. “Gimme a kiss.” He puckered his lips like a cartoon character and made obnoxious kissy noises. George laughed along with him, but he also kinda-sorta-really did want to kiss him and it was a lot less funny when Dream was right in front of him, and somehow the laughs turned into tears.
“George? Wait, are you okay? Was that too much?”
George tried to speak, but he was crying too much and even if he could talk he wasn’t sure what he would say.
“I’m so sorry,” Dream said and scooted away from George’s side. He was so damn considerate, but the distance just made George feel worse. “George?”
“I’m sorry,” George blubbered.
“No, don’t be, it’s okay. Did I make you uncomfortable?” George still couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t completely give away his secret, so Dream continued. “Take your time, it’s okay.”
George curled in on himself and let himself cry (he didn’t do that often). When the tears stopped flowing and the sobs stopped shaking his body, Dream asked again what had happened.
“It’s nothing,” George answered.
“George… it didn’t seem like nothing.”
George laughed dryly. “Ugh, there’s no easy way out of this, is there?” Maybe there was. Maybe he could’ve lied or refused to answer and they could have forgotten all about this, but George had a feeling it wouldn’t be that simple. Dream would be worried about upsetting him again, because he’s caring and loving and perfect, and sooner or later the truth would come out. “I, uh, fuck, I like you, Dream. I’m sorry.” George rubbed at his eyes as an excuse not to look at Dream’s reaction.
“Really?” George refused to hear the hope in Dream’s voice. He must have been imagining things.
“Mhm.”
Suddenly there were gentle hands pulling his own away from his eyes, suddenly the love of his life was smiling down at him, suddenly Dream was saying, “I like you too!”
“What? You do?” For some reason that hurt too, just for a moment, because he was so used to hearing lovely things out of Dream’s mouth directed at him and tasting bittersweet. But this time there was no bitterness, this time Dream was saying exactly what George had reminded himself again and again that he never would.
“Yes!” Dream beamed, and George threw himself into Dream’s arms.
“I love you so much, Dream.” George had been saying it more often recently, mostly because he’d realized how much it really meant to Dream, but it was still rare enough that even without the romantic context Dream was overjoyed.
“I love you too, George. I love you so, so much.”
George pulled away just enough to look Dream in the eye. “So, um. Can I get that kiss?”
Dream grinned and cupped George’s face with both hands. “Oh, please, yes.” They both leaned in at the same time, and maybe it was a little awkward at first, maybe their noses bumped into each other and they were smiling too much and it took a while for them to get the hang of it, but George was certain it was perfect.
When Sapnap came home an hour later, he found them asleep on the couch, tangled in each other with their fingers intertwined.