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The kitchen is filled with soft hums and mundane whispers, the smell of steak sizzling on the stove and the lingering scent of the summery candle George had lit hours ago.
George sits on the counter, his legs swinging back and forth. His socked feet drum dully on the cabinets beneath him. The song changes, and George reaches over to his phone and skips it.
“Hey, I like that one,” Dream pipes up quietly from his spot in front of the stove. He clicks his metal tongs in George’s direction, a playfully disappointed look on his face. George smirks and leans forward on his knees.
“You’ve had it on loop for hours, I’m going to need to remove it from your playlist before I lose my mind.” Dream smiles fondly at George’s words and turns back to watching the steak in the pan. He’s wearing a dumb cat-galaxy apron that George bought him a year ago, his housewarming gift.
They had moved in together after ages of saving up and planning. They argued (lightheartedly) about location, rent, and everything in between, but when they came across this small two-bedroom apartment they knew it was perfect for them.
Ever since they were young, Dream had sworn to George that they would move out together.
Even though they’re only renting, and this is in no way a “forever home,” it still felt like it was. George never really knew why people could be considered home until he met Dream. Anywhere they were, he felt like he was home. That was likely a reason why he loved this apartment so much, he didn’t care too much for the accommodations.
Dream grew into the apron over the year they lived here. He works out more than George does, and it shows. His shoulders are broad and muscular, but it’s tasteful rather than intimidating. He’s tall too. That hasn’t changed much over the past year, but if you would believe it, George used to be the taller one.
He still remembers their first meeting vividly. Dream was just a scrappy kid, too dumb to know boundaries and social etiquette. George found him knocked back on the asphalt after a fight that Dream couldn't remember the trigger of. George was an older child separating the sea of younger ones. He had power, and he used it to extend a hand to the bloody-faced boy. With a sneer and wipe of his crimson-stained nose, Dream reluctantly took it.
That was the start of their friendship.
Dream didn’t like George too much at first; he assumed that George was like everyone else. Too impatient to stay with Dream, too impatient to look past the constant fights and rebellious behaviour.
But George had nobody. He never really did, but it wasn’t his fault that his interests clashed with his peers. So he stuck around Dream as he had nothing else, and together they eventually dug past the superficial personas they both portrayed.
They were quickly stuck like glue. They complimented each other perfectly, banter bouncing back and forth effortlessly. Dream was all that George had wished for in a friend.
He still is.
He observes the curvature of Dream’s nose, a small bump being the only thing left to document the fight. He smiles and rests his head in his hand. He finds it adorable, and no matter how many times Dream brushes him off, he will repeat it.
If he looks closely, he can see the memories of their past written all over Dream. Sure, most of them were scars from close calls and mistakes, but some were things only George could see.
His eyes fall on Dream’s pink lips in particular, and he is reminded of a night they once had.
They were at George’s house one late night, maybe in their early years of middle school. The bright lights and noises of whatever game was on George’s N64 blasted in his memory.
Their playful shouts filled the house, and George could vaguely remember his parents leaving the two boys for the night.
Dream had paused the game at some point, and turned to George. His lip was worried between his teeth. George immediately began to complain about the pause (cause of course Dream pauses just before he was just about to win) when Dream spoke up.
“Have you ever seen boys kissing?” Dream had asked.
He set down his controller. “What? Of course I have, my dad kisses my mom,” he said, twisting his face in disgust for effect. “It’s gross.” Dream laughed and rolled his eyes.
“No, George. You’re such an idiot. I meant two boys. ”
George looked up at the ceiling and contemplated if he had. As much as he wracked his brain, he had never seen that. He shook his head. “I’m not sure that even happens.”
“Can they?”
George shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’s all the same, isn’t it?”
“I guess…” Dream trailed off. He played with the controller in front of him but didn’t start the game back up again. “I only ever see boys and girls kissing. Like our parents.”
George just shrugged again, a lame response. Dream’s eyes were fixed on his controller and he was uncharacteristically silent. He looked down at the blond boy and nudged him. “What’s wrong?”
“George, can I maybe kiss you? Just to test it out?” Dream blurted out, wide eyes looking up at George.
George’s brow furrowed, but he shifted to face Dream nonetheless.
“Kiss me?” George smirked, and Dream nodded. George had nothing to describe the feeling that blossomed from his chest; it was something akin to fear, but warmer. He nodded and leaned forward, placing a quick peck to Dream’s cheek.
But knowing Dream, as impulsive and reckless as he was, grabbed George by the collar just as George pulled away, and yanked him forwards. Their lips crashed together, and George’s stomach was assaulted with butterflies.
The kiss ended as quickly as it began, and George was pushed away abruptly.
He stared at Dream, and Dream stared back. He brought a shaky hand up to his mouth, wiping the saliva off of his lips. “Uh-”
“What did you think?” Dream said abruptly, leaning into George’s space again. George’s mind was blank, but he managed to get a response out.
“I wonder if it’s the same with a girl,” he whispered, and Dream nodded thoughtfully.
He turned away from George with a small giggle and started the game back up again. George felt like his blood was infused with lightning for the rest of the night.
Neither of them brought it up again. Which is weird for them, they tend to talk about anything and everything. But somehow, that night was sacred and untouchable.
George assumed it was different with a girl. For good reason, and it wasn’t because he got a girlfriend.
No, it was Dream who had found someone.
He seemed so happy to tell George. He came running to his doorstep one day in high school, banging on his door repeatedly. George had smiled politely, and jumped for joy. As long as Dream was happy, he was happy.
It didn’t last long, and George was tired of their conversations only being Dream complaining about something his girlfriend did. All he did was compare her to George. George would never do that, George wouldn’t hurt him.
They broke up, and George didn’t get any of the details. Everything about that time of their life was odd. Dream was distant and bitter, and George was tired of listening about Dream’s latest fight.
And now here they are. Painfully domestic and happy. Neither of them have bothered to pursue a relationship since both of them graduated from high school, but they barely just moved in together. Adding another person into their fragile dynamic would be dangerous.
George clears his throat and pushes a foot into the small of Dream’s back. Dream hums in response, sparing him a quick glance. He bites his lip, and he dares to bring up what they wordlessly swore they wouldn’t.
“Do you remember that one night in middle school, when my parents left us alone?” he said slowly, hoping Dream would pick the one night out of thousands. Dream turns to look at him, squinting slightly. He needed to offer up more. “We played on my N64?”
Gradually, realization floods Dream’s features. He smiles widely and he laughs while turning back to the stove. “Thanks for being my first kiss, George. You know, you could have started with that, we’ve had lots of sleepovers.” He pauses and looks up. “Unless that wasn’t the night you’re talking about. If it’s not, this could get really awkward.”
George laughs breathily with a nod. “No, you’re good.” He shifts further back on the counter. Does he continue? “So, was it the same with a girl?”
Dream cocks his head with a goofy grin, nothing other than adoration plastered on his face. “The kiss?”
“Yeah.”
Dream hums in thought and flips the steak, the loud sizzle breaking up any lingering tension. “Do you want the honest answer?” he asks and makes eye contact with George. He nods, curious about Dream’s next words. “Well, it was better with you.”
George’s stomach flutters, and he feels like he’s back in his childhood bedroom, video game music echoing in his ears. “What?”
“Well I mean, to be fair, the kiss itself was nothing special. But I remember I was really happy. I don’t regret that night at all, actually. Truthfully, George, there’s nobody else I would have chosen for my first kiss.” He brushes his hair out of his eyes. “I think- I think I played that moment on repeat for months after it happened.”
George kicks the cabinets below him mindlessly, more of an action to ground him than anything else. He feels floaty, like his limbs could detach from the earth at any second. “Maybe you were happy for a reason,” he says as Dream pulls the pan from the burner and shuts the element off.
Dream looks at George carefully. “Elaborate.”
George clears his throat with a shrug, attempting to appear as nonchalant as possible. “Well, I’ve never had a girlfriend. I have my reasons for that… and you broke up with yours. You haven’t even tried to find another one since we moved in together. And, Dream, I think there was a reason you kissed me,” he pauses. Dream looks pensive, but doesn’t say anything. “You always compared me to your ex, was there nothing to that?”
Dream blinks slowly. “You’re playing a dangerous game, George.” He looks down at the pan and grabs a plate. He dishes it out and rubs his face tiredly. His moves seem calculated. “I don’t like being messed with, you know this.”
“I’m being serious-”
“I don’t buy it,” Dream interrupts with a chuckle. “I’m calling your bluff.” He walks over to George, positioning himself between George’s knees. “What do you think of this?”
George can only laugh, and he feels a twinge of embarrassment. It’s hard to have serious conversations with Dream when they’re together. One of them always has to lighten the mood. He tucks his head into Dream’s chest and he relaxes, feeling Dream’s heartbeat against his ear.
He sits up with a dumb grin on his face, and Dream puts his large hands on George’s knees.
“Think about it, Dream. We’ve known each other for years,” he pleads. “Even that waitress the other day thought we were together. Our futures are each other’s, you know this. We’ve talked about this. I haven’t cared for anyone more than I have you. I’ve had people flirt with me, but I know that I wouldn't give you the attention you deserve if I had entered a relationship so recklessly.”
Dream exhales shakily, hanging onto every one of George’s words.
“You can’t tell me you can imagine a life without me. We have been through everything together, and the mutual understanding we have is impossible to replicate.” He bites his lip, studying Dream’s eyes. “I can’t see a future where you aren’t by my side.”
Dream is pressed against George, he isn’t sure when he got so close. Slowly, his hands cradle George’s jaw like he is made of porcelain. “I think it says something that this isn’t an unfamiliar position for us,” Dream murmurs.
He’s right. They cuddle and caress each other daily, it is a habit for them. Now that George thinks about it, the line has been more blurred than he thought. It’s been smudged for years, and he can barely see the pencil line.
In a breath, Dream places a soft kiss to George’s forehead, brushing his fringe to the side. It’s gentle, making George feel held. “The way we act is so close to a relationship, it would be easy to go with it,” George whispers, eyes fluttering shut.
He feels a firm kiss press against his cheekbone, and his face reddens. The blood pools in his cheeks, and he exhales shakily. “I don’t want to ruin what we have, and we don’t need to do anything about my thoughts if you don’t feel the same, or even if you think it wouldn’t work-”
George’s rambling is cut off by Dream kissing him twice on both sides of his jaw and pulling away quickly. George opens his eyes, almost whining at the lack of contact.
“Have you- have you not been paying attention to anything I’m doing? I don’t casually kiss my friends, you idiot.” He leans forward and places another kiss to George’s cheek. He pulls away with a cheeky smile. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But I would like to kiss you, properly.”
George inhales sharply, the warm feeling blooming in his chest again. “Dream, you know I would love that.”
Dream’s large hand cups George’s jaw again, and tilts it up to meet Dream’s angle. George is the one to close the gap, pulling Dream down and interlocking their lips. They kiss soft and slow, taking the time to relish in each other’s presence.
George wraps his legs around Dream’s waist, pulling his body closer, and Dream’s hands move from George’s jaw to his hips. They press deep into the soft skin, making George sigh into his mouth.
They slot together perfectly, as if they were made for each other. And maybe they are. Two puzzle pieces sat next to each other, but never interlocking until this moment. George thinks they were bound to end up like this.
They found home in each other, after all these years.