Chapter Text
A stranger is quickly forgotten. Bumping shoulders and scuffling across fissured asphalt. The asphalt that Dream had walked on nearly every day onto his work. Summer mornings where he'd push through the air-conditioned doors of his office, forehead muggy with sweat. Heat rays dug into his back with dull blinks of repetition. His atmosphere was colorless. It held no life; his days held no love.
Although, that bland aftertaste was washed away quickly. Before Dream even could acknowledge that he had halted in the center of a near-busy sidewalk, his snap of transfixion was beyond illusive.
His gaze met an archaic hole in the wall, accented with flowers of sundry tints of yellows and pinks. The dinky endearment of the shop wasn’t nearly what Dream had first noticed. His verdant eyes stopped on a man, one whos dusky-brown hair highlighted under shadows and rays of the hot climate, whose pale-rose lips would tuck in as he'd focus on a floral handcraft. The man made the beat in Dream’s chest thrash significantly harsher, making his legs weighted to the cement. Not even the group of men that had shoved past him could break his cogitation. He felt entranced, solely from a random stranger.
He’s so...
Dream’s shoulders twisted to match his gaze. He watched the man’s sooty, pale-brown apron shift as reached to hang a plant next to the entrance of the shop. It was like Dream’s blood-stream coursed butterflies when the man’s deep eyes pulled his way, peeking through lashes that could be seen even across the street. While he was surrounded by showy petals and stems so viridescent, the only thing he glued to was the small smile sent his way.
“Pretty.”
The words ghosted his lips as fast and as easily as he fell for this boy. The boy that works at the flower shop.
He could see as a small bloom of amusement escaped the other. Dream could feel the heat in his face rush, bringing the back of his palm to his mouth.
He left out of embarrassment, but the man stuck to the back of Dream’s thoughts hopelessly. The feeling of absolute weightlessness clung. He wanted nothing more than to feel that way again- and again. To lock pretty eyes and share shy smiles. Which was why he never changed his way to work after the first encounter. Which was why his balcony slowly dotted vases of flowers. Flowers he’d buy once a week just to strike a conversation. These conversations gradually became routine. Some in the morning, some after work.
Without fail, however, Dream remembered to buy a small batch of flowers every Monday. The first flower he had bought had now been hanging upended on his fridge to dry it out, to preserve it; to never let the beauty of the flower wilt.
Dream never wanted the memory of their first talk to wilt either.
“You’ve never bought flowers before?” The man’s lips curled almost into a smile at the question. His words were laced with foreignity, an accent that was smooth like flower petals.
“Not for myself, no.” Dream smiled back as he rested his forearms on the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “What would you recommend?”
The man’s eyes flitted down at his own hands, fidgeting with a wheel of ribbon. A laugh from him was muffled under his breath.
“Recommend?” He echoed to himself, glancing around at the displayed shelves with arrays of alluring bouquets and reefs. “Camellias are quite pretty.”
A brief silence rang through the chilled store. It was empty, but it felt like there was more life than Dream could handle. Their eye’s made contact, like the day before. However, it was much different this time. It felt intimate- devoted, almost. Dream could take in every small detail of his features and write them down by heart. He took in how indistinct, gentle freckles spotted under his light blush. How one eye was nearly more aqua than the other. He quickly realized that just looking at this boy made his knees weak.
“I’ll take a bundle of Camellias, then.” Dream’s reply came off almost dazed, not breaking contact with the other, and neither did he.
“Right.” He mumbled before clearing his throat, the entrance door swinging open with a welcoming ding . What sounded like a couple walked inside and trailed off to the back of the store to browse.
Dream watches as the other moved away from the counter to an encased shelf of multi-colored Camellias. He faced his body to the right, leaving one arm still on the counter. It was amusing to him as the other’s heels dipped off the wooden flooring in an attempt to reach the high-placed vase; A grin plastering Dream's face because of it. It was then he realized the drastic height difference.
“Ah- sorry I forgot to ask,” The boy began as he brought the vase to the counter. “What color do you want?”
The prismatic colors and petals stared back at Dream as he began. “Well uh-” His eyes glossed back up at the other, heart shuttering as he contemplated forwardness. “What's your favorite color?”
The laugh that escaped the other was enchanting. “That’s not a question I should be asked.”
“Oh?” Dream’s brow raised. “Why's that?”
A lip dragged under the male’s, attractively white, teeth. “Colorblind. Kind of ironic, huh?”
Dream couldn't help but let a mirthful chuckle shake his shoulders, glancing at the vibrance that surrounded the two of them. It was the first of many small facts Dream learned of him. He wanted to know more. To know if he’s a morning person, what his favorite song was, how he’d look when waking up next to him.
“You’re a florist and you hardly know what you’re working with?” Dream stifled a laugh, running a finger along the stem of one of the delicate flowers. He pinched the base of one, pulling out white Camellia and tilting it towards the man. “Then I’ll get the white ones,” His eyes skimmed down from the base of his near-stubbled jaw to the hem of his pale blue shirt. Dream began to read an embroidered name tag peeking through the strings of his apron. “George.”
George.
The name plunged into Dream’s head and stayed pathetically.
Stayed through the days that, since then, blotched lively embers and cobalts. They infused color, tasted of sweet motivation to get out of bed. To hear the sounds of summer. To see the person that made him so gratified.
His balcony dotted flowers that hooked him through puppy love. He often sat there as he typed reluctantly for work, occasionally peering up at the arrays of petals and the shine of the moon dancing along them magically. No matter what, his mind would revert to their amorous conversations beside the shop. To picture George’s eyes, lips, shoulders.
With earbuds tucked to meet his eardrums, Dream ran a hand over his face with a sigh at his defiant will to focus on work. Dulcet melodies laced his time outside. Melodies, all from a playlist which George had recommended to Dream, and he had been listening to religiously since.
His chin inclined, resting the back of his head against his chair as a breeze brushed his features. Dream’s lashes clashed with his waterline, closing them in a deep breath that stopped time. He felt like Geroge had imprisoned him in the most lung-emptying way possible.
Time resumed with a silvery chord progression. One that was forign to Dream, one that made him assume it was a new addition since last played. It drowned the scenery. From the showy nature of the arresting roses and lilacs, to beguiling asters and astilbes. The summer night chirps of crickets were gone; The singer’s voice began to tell a story Dream melted into all too easily.
I’m not the man that I once was.
But I'm changing everyday because I want to find someone like you.
He pictured George with his absent eyes as he stared at the flower he gave to Dream.
You’ve got eyes that could tear me down, but all they do is build me up.
He thought of his delicate fingers, fragile frame and alluring attitude. He thought of how he sun kissed his face so perfectly with every highlight and ray of sun.
So hold my hand before my heart erupts.
Dream glanced down at his phone as he tucked a hand under his chin. Tilting it over, he read the song as the chorus began: “A Lovely Mess- Front Porch Step”.
And darling I may not be everything you want, but I can give you all I have.
I’m not the perfect man, but you are just so perfect and I want to be the one that holds your hand.
The song broke into an emotion-ajorning riff. Dream rubbed his throat, thinking of the lyrics. It captured his feelings so well, feelings that- at this point, were running rampant. Captured, and encased for a moment. His chest sooth at his association with the words, how the lilting tune could drown the world as he tasted ardor.
I’m sorry if I come off strong.
Dream’s eyes darted back down to his phone.
And it could be that you’re all wrong for me but I just had to see.
‘Cause you are broke-
The song paused and phone buzzed at an abrupt timing. An alarm ran in his ear as the screen read the name he was all too fond of. This halting moment was the first of many, although it sent Dream into a shell of timidity. He had never called the other before, it only sent more anxious assumptions on what it would be for.
Dream almost dropped his phone as he picked up the call.
“Where are you right now?” George’s voice welcomed suddenly through the phone.
Dream was taken aback at the immediate inquiry. “My… apartment?”
“Well, I know that. It’s too late to be at work. Are you inside right now?”
“No. I’m on my balcony.” Dream’s cheeks lifted at the excitement weaved into his tongue. “Why do you ask?”
“The moon looks so pretty right now.”
His tone left a burn in Dream’s chest. One of sweet tenderness, warmth, desire.
“I haven’t looked at it yet.” Dream breathlessly replied.
“That's why I called- I had to share it with someone.” George paused for a moment, Dream could hear the endearment in his voice. It was real- and raw. “Someone like you.”
“Like me?” Dream laughed gently out of appreciation. With his heel, he tilted the chair back. He wasn't able to see it before, although after leaning over the moon was in clear view. “How generous.”
The milky rock stared from above, hallowed shapes and curves illuminated heavenly. It was full of fervor, looming above his dewy-eyed gaze. It captured Dream like the words in the song he’ll forget to finish because the moon’s aura was too enticing.
“Isn’t it crazy?” George started, silky vowels coaxing his accent.
“Hm?” Dream hummed.
“How we are staring at the same moon, yet feel so far away?”
Dream grinned softly. “It almost makes us feel not so far at all.”
-
Summer smiled at them. It would smile at the humid nights where Dream would go to bed grinning at a text of theirs; at the days he would stay at George’s shop just to talk up endearing conversations until he’d flip the “open” sign to “closed”. Their friendship walked perilously on a line that was blurred . Where their times together would go from jovially picking on one another to gentle forearm touches. Along with rare nights that coated sweet tension, like when they looked at the moon together.
Dream would have to roll under the fleece of his covers, tugging a pillow over his head just to stop thinking about those moments.
George: I get the day off tmr, maybe we’ll bump into each other : )
The radiance of his phone screen marked shadows on his features. The fan in his room made small collections of his sandy hair wave across his forehead. It was a Monday the next day, and it seemed that Dream, unfortunately, wouldn’t be getting his flowers.
Dream: If you’re off then how would we?
His thumbs tapped across his screen in response with a small eyebrow raise. He lowered his phone to his side with an exhale. The ceiling above him stared back almost mockingly. It was times like this he felt embarrassed- guilty, almost. Guilty for how much he anticipated a reply from George, or how he’d watch the clock for the second he’d get off work just so he can rush off to the other’s company. His chin tilted down to look at his cat, Patches, resting on his chest. He ran a hand across her fur, scratching between her ears with his thumb. Dream adored his cat; If anything made him feel better, it was the rumble of her purr against his skin.
George: There’s a fair going on down the street from the shop.
A text bubble of blinking dots followed his message and Dream immediately started to daydream. The domestic glister of walking through a park, fingers entwined and knees brushing against each other.
George: I’m sure you’ll find me either way.
Dream promptly looked forward to an outing that wasn’t just meeting at George’s work. He knew he was getting ahead of himself to think George’s words were an invitation to something romantic, however, his wishful thinking struggled to separate modesty from coquettishness.
Although, he almost believed it was crushed when asked to cover a shift at his work the next day, staying an extra two hours. Two hours that deepened the sky’s azure luminosity to dusty saffron. By the time he met the sidewalk that led to his home, the sun kissed the edge of the ether. It hardened shadows within trees and lampposts, making the rays of the sun burn a little less of smoldering summer heat; a tolerable stroll home. He enjoyed walking at sunset. However, he believed the fair might’ve been packing up at this point. The small thought of letting down George weighted his heart to the ground.
The pace at which Dream stepped was antsy. That, until, vague vibrations of music could be felt at his feet. He turned the corner, following the sounds of gathered chatter, instruments, and laughter. He was greeted by the fair, shooting relief in his lungs. The sight of the park was- vivacious. Vibrant banners, animated exchanges. It shot a sense of comfort, almost as if it was nostalgic. If Dream saw this festival as a child his heart would leap out of his chest. With that, he approached the fair keely.
It was comparatively crowded. There were enough people to make him nearly bump into shoulders and groups. The colorful booths surrounded a concrete center of the park; one big enough to hold a small stage where a man was strumming the steel string of his acoustic guitar. Children scattered around everywhere he could look, running about and nearly screaming. The scent of food drifted throughout the hot air, making Dream realize he skipped lunch. However, the aromatics tied together the vivid atmosphere. He pivoted his leg, scanning the area, taking in the dynamic scene.
George was quickly proven right; Dream does have a special way of pointing him out. Within only a few seconds of looking, Dream’s eyes settled on the shorter man who was nearly overtaken by the height of other people. He locked dead on his figure, his clothes, his hair. Seeing George in a place like this felt almost foreign. Until now, he had only seen him in that- small, dirty brown apron; In the dinky flower shop on hot summer noons. George looked lost, eyes distant and mouth slightly parted. The deep brown of his eyes- so raven it would be hard to distinguish from his iris. Though when his chin tilted over, eyes peering to Dream, the fire of the summer sunset luminated them.
Dream couldn’t help but let a faint smile lift his cheeks, his light freckles shifting through golden rays. The two of them immediately pushed through the groups who were viewing the people performing on stage.
“Hey, George.” Dream’s tone was elevated moderately to be heard over the speakers.
George smiled back softly. “ Hey, Dream.”
The small halt in everything around them seemed to blur the scene- like they were the only two there; like both their lungs emptied simultaneously.
Although, George was the first to break it.
“When did you get here?” George had also pitched up, however, his voice still managed to be as gentle as usual.
“Just now. I’m really sorry I’m late. Someone’s- I think, mom was in the hospital?” Dream halted the hand fidgeting with his phone in his pocket. He didn’t realize, or even know why he was so nervous. “I had to cover their shift.”
“You’re fine,” George began with a small chuckle; He could tell Dream was apprehensive. “I only just did too.”
“Yeah? And what were you so busy doing?” Dream grinned down at the other. It was mirthful conversations like these that highlighted his week.
“Sleeping in on a day off can be quite time-consuming, y’know.”
Dream replied with a small laugh as he realized how overwhelming their stance was; standing mid-collection of bodies under chatter and beats. He brought a hand to the back of George’s shoulder, nudging him by his side out of the crowd.
“It’s loud here, want to find somewhere to sit down?”
Their night together then started as they approached an empty, oak bench. A honey Locust tree swayed above them. The whispers of its rustled leaves blended through the two’s conversation. One that was truly- casual. The subjects would dash from one thing to another, from the way the rusted nails of the bench would creak to discussing what type of dog they would be. It was all too casual.
Dream wanted it to be a date. From the nights he would fantasize of some sort of romantic occasion, to the heart strums in his chest making music when he’d hear George’s laugh. He wanted nothing more than to run the pads of his fingers against George’s knuckles, slowly intertwining through skin and bone. Dream wanted to connect in a way that wasn’t just teasing comments or thoughtless touching. However, it wasn’t a date. He wasn’t specifically asked to come with George, he didn’t dress up for the occasion, he didn’t make sure to swish out a cap-full of mouthwash prior to the day. His and George’s relationship was friendly, whether he liked it or not- which he didn’t.
It led to when he was- in a way, relieved when the two of them decided to pass by an ice cream booth. It was almost an excuse to catch glances at George’s lips as he licked away a splotch that made Dream’s mind run rampant. Since then, the rest of the night was fun . Fun in a way that Dream hadn’t been able to experience in who knows how long. His job, schedule that overtook his time of leisure, lack of friends that weren’t just online; he didn’t get out anymore. That made the- whatever they were calling this outing, so much more congenial.
He almost felt like he did like he had when he was much younger, having the time of his life online. This boy made him feel young, hopeful.
“Let me think,” Dream started under his breath. The road was hushed. It was quite extensive, however, only a car or two had passed by on their walk. The time which passed was far too fast, leading to the point of Dream asking to walk George home. The street to his apartment was unfamiliar to Dream; the cracks in the sidewalk were not the ones he’d known, nor were the trees that cast leafy shade above them. The sun at this point was low enough to stain half the sky deep blue, and high enough to keep a specific glow onto the other’s face. George had asked Dream a question, one he hadn’t even asked himself in quite some time.
“I’ve always wanted to code video games, maybe do youtube or something like that too.” Dream settled.
“You’re joking.” Surprise poked at George’s words.
“What? Is that really that hard to believe?”
“No, no. I just mean-” A lip tucked between George’s teeth, Dream’s eyes peered over enticingly. “I’ve always wanted to do coding as well.”
Dream was just as shocked that they mutually shared some sort of life-goal. It made George all the more intriguing.
“Oh, c’mon. You’ve got to be the one joking, now.” Dream laughed, elbowing lightly into the other’s shoulder.
“Nope. The whole artsy, flower stuff is cool but-” George’s tone softened in a way so slightly it shouldn’t be noticeable. Dream, however, did notice. “It’s been a dream of mine to go to school for it.”
“Well,” Dream began, eyes tracing window sills and roof frames. “What’s stopping you?”
His words seem to strike something in George, opening his mouth for a moment to reply before biting it down. His pace slowed for a moment, punting a small rock with his shoe.
“I guess I just couldn’t afford it, and student loans are a pain.” He shrugged.
“You know you don’t have to go to school for that stuff.”
“I know.”
The two strolled in silence for a moment. They passed one building- then two, then three. The silence wasn’t very long, but it wasn’t awkward, nor was it muggy. It was the type of silence Dream enjoyed purely from another person’s presence.
“So,” Dream’s throat cleared. “That’s it then? Just coding?”
“Well,” George laughed under his breath. “I’ve always wanted to find someone- like, the right someone.”
Dream couldn’t help but lean over a little at George with a ludic grin.
“God- I don’t mean romantic or anything. I just mean,” Dream noticed George’s fingers anxiously coiling. “like a partner, friend, companion-”
“Soulmate?” Dream parted in.
“Yeah.” George muttered, smiling softly at the ground. Dream’s chest at this point was fueling a sense of ardor that he couldn’t handle. The dusty pink that smeared George’s cheeks, the golden light reflecting in the dark of his eyes. It was like a flame- one that was engulfed to be irresistible.
Dream’s legs stopped, grounded to the asphalt beneath him. George turned, stopping with him. Their eyes connected in a way they haven't before. It was charged by passion, desire, want .
“And why haven’t you found them yet?”
A small gust of wind cut between them, brushing through the golden locks of Dream’s hair as he looked at a- somewhat, entertaining reaction from George.
“I, um-” George stammered as he broke eye contact, peering to the left of him at an apartment complex. It was a nice, clean one. The neighborhood was luckily decent. It relieved Dream of what he had been wondering since they started walking. “This is me, by the way.”
“Oh? Avoiding the question, I see.”
George, at first, replied with a small laugh, stepping up from the sidewalk to the gate that surrounded the complex. Dream followed shortly behind, however, keeping a few feet between them, knowing that he was to leave soon.
“I’ll let you know when I know.”
George looked over at Dream, keys chiming as he pulled them from his pocket.
They paused for another moment, this one short and fleeting. However, a package of emotions came with it. Dream was relentless to kiss George. The eyes that dug nails into his chest, that were so rich- and profound; they stared back. Stared, yet, Dream had no clue what they wanted. If George wanted him as badly as he did. Dream wouldn’t allow himself to pursue something blindly.
“It was nice hanging out, George.” Dream dipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket with a faint smile. He took a small step back, dipping off one of the stairs that led to the gate.
“Leaving already?” George asked, halting his thin fingers at play with his keys. It struck hope into his lungs, filling it with the chance that, maybe, any of this might lead somewhere.
“Does somebody want me to stay?” Dream chaffed.
George’s next move dropped his stomach to the floor. He stepped off part of the stairs, body facing Dream and neck leaned in. It was dangerous. “Maybe someone does.”
“Oh?” Dream’s eyes fell amorous, dipping down to the pale pink of George’s lips, and back up to the intoxicating pierce in his eye. “And what would happen if I did?”
“I can’t tell if you’re a tease or just clueless, Dream.” His voice was at an octave Dream had never heard before. It felt like one no one had either- like it was reserved. A tone used just for the two of them. A look in his eye that screamed Dream’s name.
“God-” Dream breathed, hand instinctively rising from his pocket to the base of George’s jaw. He could tell his breath hitched. “You’re getting more and more difficult to resist.”
The warmth of George’s chest pressed on him made his heart rattle; He could smell roses and taste dahlias.
“Then don't resist.” George whispered.
Before they knew it, their lips laced together softly. Dream could feel his breath on his top lip, the gentle hand that dragged up his forearm. The taste of the ice cream they had prior. It wasn’t what he had imagined- no. It was far, far better.
The kiss was the first of many, dotting summer evenings and morning afters. Dotting- like the weekly flowers that filled his porch. Although, this time it tasted less of longing- of something chimerical, and more like the blossom of something he’ll eventually call his. Of admiring the freckles of the boy in the summer heat. The heat that percolated the windows of the flower shop. The summer that smiled at them.
However, summer does not last forever; the seasons can change as fast as they can wilt a flower.
Though, Dream was not ready to wilt.
Not yet.