Chapter Text
“You are a little in love with your best friend.”
George’s easy laughter almost immediately follows as Dream reads aloud the quiz’s answer description, trying to contain his own, somewhat hysterical chuckling as he does so. He doesn’t know why he had thought that taking an Are you in love with your best friend? quiz, live, in front of thousands of people, was a good idea.
Dream is insane. Dream is an idiot.
“You don’t want to ruin it, Dream,” George’s mumbled answer floats into his ears, and Dream holds back a laugh as he scrolls down to look at his results.
Thirty-one percent a little in love.
Thirty-three percent totally in love.
Two percent not in love at all.
“There’s a two percent chance there,” Dream points out, and he doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince. There’s some sort of mental breakdown going on behind his eyes, and he is trying very hard to pretend he is completely okay, for the sake of the podcast and the little bit of dignity he has left. He wonders if it’s working. “Now we know.”
“Well,” George responds, the rest of whatever he was going to say being swept away by a yawn. Dream has half a mind to ask what he was going to say, but he doesn’t, resulting in an abrupt stop in conversation. A silence follows when neither of them say anything more, and it’s a little stuffy and tense, like a lot of their on-stream silences are, and yet neither know quite what to do to break it.
“Alright,” Dream begins when the silence begins to suffocate him, quick to move on, “what other tests are there?”
There’s another few minutes of futile quiz searching before Dream feels all motive to keep chatting slowly slip away from him, until he lets out a sigh and begins looking for someone to unofficially raid. George isn’t the most talkative for the rest of the call, offering spineless commentary as they pretend to be sensible people in front of over ten thousand people.
It’s both the quickest and longest five minutes as they - or rather, Dream, desperately attempts to figure out what to say as he gathers everyone listening to raid someone, with George pestering him if he was really going to leave like that.
He can tell he leaves in a hurried exit, accidentally leaving George to fend for himself in front of all their listeners, and he’d feel a little bad, but he doesn’t. An entire minute passes as George lingers on the stage, presumably saying goodbye, while Dream takes this time to get a hold of himself.
The shadow of what the last two hours had held haunts him, and despite what many of his viewers may think, Dream was very, very stupid.
Thankfully, the sound of George calling him interrupts his internal speal of how much of a disaster he is. When they both connect onto the same call, it is suddenly so very apparent of it only being just the two of them. Dream ignores the weird weight that settles into his chest.
Dream chews on his lower lip, more out of habit than anything. They’ve pulled this sort of thing before; wobbling on the thin line and accidentally stepping over, before hastily returning to the line. It’s nothing to be nervous over. Dream isn’t nervous. He is calm. Very calm. The calmest.
"Why did you leave so quickly," is the first thing George says, accusatory but lighthearted all the same. "Where do you have to be?"
The weight on his chest lessens. "Nowhere," Dream chuckles, not completely lying when he says, "I was just getting tired."
"Right," George scoffs, but his smile is evident in his words.
A silence passes, and it's the same sort of one that's frequent in calls between them; a little tense, but not awkward enough to address. He's been noticing them a lot recently.
"So," George begins again, the munching of his food ceasing, "a little in love with me, huh?"
Dream should've expected this. "Oh my God," he groans, rubbing the side of his face while George's laughter fills his head. "Shut up, George."
"Mm, no, I don't think I will," he responds, in that tone of voice he does, jokingly pretentious, and Dream can't help the smile rising on his face.
"You're such an idiot." Dream's chair squeaks as he leans back, rolling his shoulders. The Discord podcast wasn't even a proper stream, yet he still feels the same sort of exhaustion that follows. He's tired, and yet he still asks, "Wanna play Bedwars?"
“I can't,” George’s voice, a little low, a little quiet, tells him, the crinkling of his McDonald’s bag accompanying him as he says so. “Karl asked me to be on his stream later. Might nap for a bit before then.”
“Yeah, okay. I might - go bother Sapnap or something. I don’t know,” he replies, clearing his throat, feeling a little more nervous than he did before.
“Okay.” There’s more shuffling, a few moments of silence, and then George says, “Bye.”
Dream tastes blood on his lip. “Bye.”
The chime of the call disconnecting follows, and Dream shuts off his computer, leaning back into his chair. The air in his bedroom still feels tense, oddly enough, and he's promptly hit with the remembering of the past two hours.
God.
God. Dream’s an idiot. His head was completely empty. He doesn’t know why he does this to himself.
How is he going to explain this one? It isn’t as though he could blame it on pandering - he had talked through his entire thought process, explaining how technically it was a pretty stupid quiz and to be fair it wasn’t the most representative of their dynamic, because I’m not sure if the quiz is completely accurate.
He groans, leaning forward to place his face in his hands. He can already see the trending page. It would be best for him to stay off Twitter, until the consequences of his actions blow over.
Dream apparently hates himself, however, as he pulls out his phone and opens the app. Unsurprisingly, Dream and George sit, number three on the trending page, and he knows a reasonable person would simply close out of the app and maybe never think about the past two hours ever again.
Dream has never been a reasonable person in his life, though, and instead scrolls through Twitter like his life depends on it.
His timeline looks as much as he would expect it to; tweets of simply multiple question marks, small quotes that he had said out of context, an occasional clip of him stumbling over his words to explain himself, etc. Most had noticed how oddly quiet George had gone, contrasting with his overeagerness to keep the silence away earlier in the call. Dream doesn’t think about it any longer than he has to, for his own self-preservation.
There are more clips of moments earlier in the call than the actual quiz, with Dream’s voice sounding more fond than he would like, and both George and him giggling like little kids. He finds himself unintentionally grinning at the memory, and forces his face to go slack, lest he look more insane than he already does, smiling at his phone in the dark, all alone like a lunatic.
His own body seems paralyzed every time another clip shows up of him taking the test, unable to move on as he rewatches himself making somewhat a fool of himself in front of thousands. As he continues through Twitter, the more clips he finds of him answering the quiz, and he begins to frown in retrospect. Less than an hour ago, and Dream already disagrees with what his past self is saying.
“Do you know each other’s families,” Dream’s own voice echoes from his phone’s speakers, tinny and a little off than his actual voice when he answers, “no.”
Well, that wasn’t - completely true. George has said hello to Dream’s mother a few times, and Dream knows bits and pieces of George’s own family. George has spent a couple hours with Drista, as well, the two of them patronizing Sapnap and Bad while they attempted to beat Minecraft. Dream’s answer from less than twenty minutes ago was wrong.
The more he scrolls, the more he finds himself disagreeing with his own choices, embarrassed at the way he sounds so incredibly frantic to explain himself, and he can’t explain the odd atmosphere when he hears himself read, “Do you ever think about what it would be like to kiss your best friend? ”
The reluctant silence that follows makes Dream cringe.
“...No - no, okay, I’m just gonna put -”
“Why did that take you so long to answer,” George comments, and Dream holds back the urge to possibly set himself on fire.
He quickly moves on from the video, and sets his phone down. Sometimes he questions his own intelligence, because he has no idea what possessed him to take such a quiz. It wasn’t as though many in chat had been requesting for the quiz, anyway, and it wasn’t suggested alongside the other quizzes, he had to manually type in the words, am I in love with my best friend into the Google search bar, feeling something in him chip away when he did.
You're a little in love with your best friend, Dream had to confess in front of thousands of people. He winces at the memory.
He feels a little clogged, a bottle shaken and ready to burst, and he puts his phone away, standing up from his chair. He wants to - get out of his room, the air feeling full of static and tension that was not there a few hours ago. He can't stand to be alone right now, much less try to sleep.
It's half an hour past midnight when Dream ventures out of his room, bare feet padding against the cold hardwood floors as he walks over to Sapnap’s door. He’s probably playing Valorant at this hour, and would be open to some silent company from Dream.
He knocks.
There's muffled talking, and Dream almost wonders if he should leave, but the door swings open, revealing Sapnap in a hoodie and basketball shorts.
He raises his eyebrows, looking over the slight flush on Dream’s face and his hair, a little wild from being tugged on. "Dude, you good?"
"Fantastic, thanks," Dream answers glumly, heaving a sigh as he follows the other into his bedroom. "What're you playing?" Dream would bet it was Valorant.
"Valorant." He was a genius.
Sapnap sits back into his chair, turning away from Dream, who sits a little away on the floor. He has stopped mentioning the fact that they had many chairs that Dream could bring in, accepting the fact that Dream was weird and likes sitting on the floor. "You done talking with George?"
"Yeah, he said he was gonna sleep for a bit." Dream watches as Sapnap enters another game with a random group of people. He doesn't know much about Valorant, simply for the fact that he didn't play much besides Minecraft, which was something Sapnap has ridiculed him for many times. He forgets how much of a sweaty gamer Sapnap actually is. “How long have you been playing?”
“Like, ten minutes,” Sapnap responds, and yelps when he gets shot at. Some sort of music plays, sounding like the sort he would expect to hear in a yoga session, and it did not pair well with the sound of gunshots.
"What music is that?" Dream asks, raising an eyebrow when Sapnap gets shot by another player.
"Uh, some relaxing music playlist I found," Sapnap answers, readying up for another round. "To, like, relax me or something. I don't know."
Dream blinks as Sapnap loudly curses out a teammate. He does not look very relaxed.
They don't talk much while Sapnap plays and Dream watches, and the silence is nice, being accompanied by Sapnap’s toxicity in game play and the clicking of his keyboard. He doesn't mind the lack of conversation; he hadn't really come in here for talking, anyway, only seeking to get out of his room before he did something he regretted.
Like retake that stupid quiz.
He doesn't know why he's still thinking about it. It's just some online quiz, it knew nothing about him, so he doesn't know why it has such an impact on him.
A little in love, it had said. It had been wrong. Dream isn't in love with his best friend. He would know if he was. Probably. Assumedly.
Dream wasn’t an idiot, alright, he would know if he suddenly wanted to kiss his best friend senseless, until both of them were out of breath, and he would know if he wanted to go on dates with George and hold him close and maybe call him his boyfriend.
He would know.
“Yeah, crazy how I slept with your mom,” Sapnap’s voice cuts through Dream’s thoughts, completely out of context, and Dream heaves in a sigh, before he thinks.
Maybe he wouldn't know, though.
Dream is a little oblivious when it comes to himself; he isn't the most in-tune with his feelings, in all honesty, and was a little clueless with how he is with others. Dream hadn't even realized half of what he said to George could be seen as flirtatious until their viewers started pointing it out.
But something as major as love - that would be obvious, right? If the books he used to read as a kid and the movies he watches sometimes mean anything, then love should be something he would know he was feeling.
Dream would know if he was in love with George.
He would know.
Time passes by easily as Dream sits on Sapnap’s floor, watching him win and sometimes lose and get a little toxic all the while. It's entertaining, but it's nearing two a.m., and he really wants to be alone all of a sudden.
He knows why he wants to be alone. His phone is calling to him, and so is that stupid quiz. It wouldn’t be a good idea, but Dream is known as the idea man, not the good-idea man, because that would be a stupid name and also Dream is not known for exclusively good ideas.
His nerves are still on edge as he gets up.
"You're leaving?" Sapnap asks at the sound of his door creaking open, turning his chair. His eyes are wide awake. Too awake, for someone at two a.m., but no one in this household has a proper sleep schedule. Probably due to one-third of their trio being five hours ahead.
Dream nods. "Yeah, I'm getting a little tired," he lies.
"Alright, man." Sapnap turns back to his screen, not suspecting a thing. Dream was slick like that. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight." Dream shuts the door behind him, and hurries back to his bedroom.
It's a process as he slips back into the room, dark without the lights turned on or the glow of his computer screen, and he feels around for his phone on his desk, nearly dropping half his things before he finds it. His body feels weird, like he had energy bursting at the seams as he stretches, his spine cracking from the poor posture of being a Minecraft Youtuber for a living.
“Now we know,” Dream had said some time ago, the words bouncing around his head as he all but collapsed into bed, hair flopping onto his face. Now he knows what? Because as far as Dream was currently concerned, he had more questions about himself than he had started with.
He rolls over onto his back to stare up at his ceiling for a while. He’s never been the most existential, but tonight seemed like a great night to reevaluate his life. He should attempt to fall asleep, but he can already see it as a fruitless effort. His skin is buzzing, electricity running alongside the inner workings of his veins, and the amount of thoughts flying through his mind was incomprehensible.
It was often his thoughts became so muddled and quick to run across his head, when his conflicts were high and he didn’t know what to do, but it wasn't commonly a result of something like this. Before, he could simply blame the things he does as pandering, joking with his best friend about being in love with him, but taking a test, unprompted, ending up with a result he couldn’t joke about? He doesn’t know what to do.
Now we know.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach for his phone. Dream tries to resist.
His mind keeps running through the quiz all over again, retaking it mentally as he wonders what he would do differently without the looming presence of said best friend and thousands of people, listening to his desperate attempts to not sound incredibly smitten and failing.
Dream doesn’t know why he had overexplained like he did, unnaturally flustered as he had tried to walk through his thought process for every answer. Even to himself, he had sounded a little ridiculous, trying to analyze the true meaning of every question and shape it where he didn’t sound as in-love as he did when he says, yes, I probably go out of my way to help you, more than anybody else.
The oddly placed silences, hesitation in some answers, hurried responses to others, the quietness of George, who had occupied himself with doing something else while listening to Dream panic on the other end - it was too much to try and sleep.
A little in love, his results had told him.
It feels wrong, and he doesn’t know why.
It keeps bugging at him, a thorn on his side for what feels like an eternity, until he lets in and reaches for his phone again. The time tells him 2:33 A.M., a little more than two hours and a half since he had hung up on George, and he feels a little out of it when he pulls up Google.
am I in love with my best friend
The link for the same quiz is the first thing on the page, the words blue instead of purple, like he’d never taken it at all. His hands feel a little tingly, acid pricking underneath the skin of his palms. It feels like giving up when he clicks the link.
The words are the same, they hit with the same sort of force when they appear on the screen, and Dream kind of wants to throw his phone into the Grand Canyon.
Do you ever catch yourself staring at your BFF? the screen reads, and he has no idea why he feels so called out.
Because here was the thing.
With the jobs they did have, spending hours together in front of thousands, with George’s facecam on, it was a little difficult to not spend some time staring at him. Really, it was almost a given for Dream to get a little sidetracked - George was, obviously, attractive.
Obviously, so if he finds himself, more often than not, blinking back to the moment, having been distracted by the crinkling of George’s eyes, and being hit with the end of a question, it wasn’t that big of a deal. George was George, of course Dream would stare at him sometimes, even if he would rather not admit it so openly.
It was always embarrassing, having to ask for a repeat of whatever someone had said, and every time, Dream is a little terrified the chat knows what he had been sidetracked by - not because it really meant anything, but what it could mean, and, in the average of two hundred thousand people who occupied the count of people watching, a few of them had caught on. Nonetheless, it was always brushed off as some desperate shippers grasping for straws, and Dream would never give in the privilege of letting them know they were right.
He desperately tries to not think about what he was doing when he clicks, once in a while.
Immediately, Dream pauses, rethinking as it flickers to the next question, before he backtracks and restarts the quiz. He ignores the flush on his cheeks as he taps, all the time. There was no room for dignity anymore. He wonders if there ever was.
Are they the first person you call when something happens?
He presses sometimes without a second thought, because it’s true. It was a balance between Sapnap and George on who he often goes to whenever something major happens, and even though Sapnap and Dream quite literally live together, George was still the one he went to more often.
The second question is easier to overcome, and he moves on to the third.
Do you try and make him or her happy?
Dream turns over and groans into his pillow. Of course he does, why wouldn’t he? He likes seeing George smile.
It’s nice if I can.
He doesn’t know why these questions are so ridiculous.
Do you get jealous if he or she has a BF or GF?
Dream hates this stupid quiz.
He remembers the way George had giggled at the question, the obviousness of the answer glaring and clear. Still, Dream had bluffed his way to simply settling on maybe a little.
But that - really wasn’t the truth. It was often he found something red and warm and unpleasant coil its way into his stomach, every time George had accidentally left Dream in the dust for something else. It was something they were both aware of, Dream’s easy jealousy. It wasn’t something he could hold back or hide.
The alt stream they had done a while ago flutters to mind; how Dream had been complaining every time George kept getting sidetracked by donations and chat, how he had tried to shut down the idea of Sapnap joining, some sort of irritation following when George had chosen to stay on Sapnap’s team, when Callahan had eventually joined as well, when it was no longer just the two of them, minus the hundred thousand people.
There was also George’s Love or Host. He considers it self-care when he decides that he’d rather not think about that.
Dream feels like he lost some sort of battle within him when he resignedly clicks it’s the worst.
It’s nearly three a.m. now, and George is definitely asleep. Sapnap had probably gone to bed, if the lack of shouting from his room was any indicator. There was no one here to judge him besides himself, yet he feels his last strand of self-respect slowly die when he keeps going.
Do you try and look nice when you know you’re going to be together? the quiz asks, and Dream pauses, because their situation was odd. He has refused to FaceTime a multitude of times, mostly on the consensus that, if George was going to see Dream, it should be in real life.
Even so, there were many underlying excuses; he hadn’t shaved yet, the shirt he’s wearing isn’t the most flattering, his hair doesn’t look good, etc. The idea of George seeing him, not as his very best, whether it be for the first or one of many times, makes him feel a little nervous.
He wants to look good for George, but who wouldn’t? It isn’t unnatural to want to look good in front of one’s best friend, even if he has no problem being seen at his worst in front of Sapnap.
It depends on the occasion, he eventually answers, and it feels like a cop-out.
Do you get butterflies if you touch? That’s a dumb question.
You’re just in a dumb situation, George had said.
I don’t think so, Dream clicks, and doesn’t think about accidentally brushing hands with George, the spurge of static overtaking his brain when he thinks about linking fingers and arms, being chest to chest and hugging. Keeping up their unserious promises of cuddling, sharing hoodies, kisses that Dream had joked about too many times.
He doesn’t think about it.
Do you ever think about your future together?
Dream does think about it, but how could he not, with their futures being entirely entwined with each other, them as best friends, business partners, and everything else in between. It’d make sense, if, at the thought of his future, George always followed.
He doesn’t think about the fact that Sapnap always comes much later, and instead answers, all the time.
Do you have dreams about them?
He’s glad the quiz doesn’t ask what the dreams contain.
Sometimes.
How do you feel when you hug this person?
He hasn’t hugged George. Yet, at least. In a few months, he will have. His chest tightens at the thought, the ache of the concept bitter and unhinged.
Like I’m hugging my friend. He doesn’t know how true that is. Maybe he would, in a few months.
Do you go out of your way to help this person?
More than anyone else I know, he answers easily, because it’s true. He had doubted himself, a little, earlier, when he had clicked it, but now that he thinks about it, it’s true. Dream, more often than not, leaps at the chance of somehow helping George, at the chance of gaining something in George’s favor, to be seen as someone dependable and helpful.
Even if they were best friends, Dream still felt the need to impress. There was probably something to be said there, but it would be better if he simply moved on. He was not going to psychoanalyze that tonight.
What do you think when they laugh?
Dream replays George’s laughter over in his head, he thinks about what made him laugh, if Dream can do something similar to hear it again, and again, and again, even if he makes himself out to be an idiot in the process.
His dignity is grateful for the fact that this is not an answer, and he instead clicks it’s great!
Do you ever think about what it would be like to kiss your best friend?
This quiz was more than a little unfair, he decides. Lots of people think about kissing their best friend, right? And with who he is, being constantly shipped with George, it was a little bit of a given. He’s joked about it several times on-stream, off-stream; they’ve joked about kissing on sight when they finally meet up. Of course he’s thought about it.
Besides, George was attractive, a nicely shaped cupid’s bow and pink cheeks. It’d be a little idiotic of him to not think about it at least once, twice. Thrice. A few more than a handful of times. George was pretty, Dream would be an idiot for not thinking about kissing him - breathless, chaste, passionate - a few times, right?
Even if he had thought about it, though, the thought of his earlier reaction makes him cringe. He can already hear his past self, who had been a little too slow to answer that, no, he had not, and even he can hear the lie in his voice - mostly because he had, but even in his foolishness, he knew it wouldn’t be the best time to admit such a thing. He did hold some brain cells, contrary to popular belief.
At least a few times a day, he answers truthfully, and keeps going.
Does anyone ever ask if you’re dating?
That was obvious. They had both laughed at the time. Dream does not feel like laughing right now.
All the time.
Do you feel the best when they’re around?
Absolutely.
Do you feel like something is missing when they aren’t around?
The house feels empty, a lot of the time, even if it holds home to two people. It was simply because, oftentimes, it didn’t feel like they really lived together, in the sense that both Sapnap and Dream kept to themselves, and that wasn’t a bad thing, really. That’s just how it was, with two private people who liked their alone time, and if it sometimes had the house feeling a little lonely, so be it.
But with the idea of George finally living with them, the house would just feel fuller, he knows it. That’s partly why he grows so warm at the thought, with the concept of George being just a knock away, easy to call over and easy to be with.
That is, he convinces himself, the only reason he clicks I feel empty. Because the house does. Not him.
Can you finish each other’s sentences, the words read, and Dream hesitates, because they most certainly have, if he searches on YouTube there would probably be a compilation, but all of it had been without thinking.
Really, what did they mean by ‘without thinking’? Because Dream doesn’t try to finish George’s sentences, and vice-versa, so both the answers ‘we have’ and ‘without even thinking’ fit. The mention of ‘we have’ implies the idea of there being an effort, while ‘without even thinking’ says its effortless. The creator of this quiz was contradicting themself, because Dream and George did finish each other’s sentences without thinking, but -
This quiz was terrible.
He clicks on without even thinking.
Do you know each other’s families?
Some of them.
Are you constantly texting?
He groans. All day, every day.
It’s not as though they couldn’t - they have no other means of communication, considering they were still in the process of bringing George from there to here. Most of their job was on the internet as well, and texting is simply a necessity in their relationship.
Do you want to spend all of your time with your BFF?
In all honesty, he already did. Over ten-hour calls proved just that, and with their jobs being entangled with each other, both of them counting on living together, it was a little inevitable to not spend all of their time together, even if Dream lives with Sapnap, and spends less time with him than George.
It was just - different with George. Everything is different with George. He doesn’t know why.
Every waking minute.
Do you find a reason to touch them?
They’ve never been in the same room together, much less touch each other. That was subject to change, in a while.
No.
He’s on the twenty-first question when the quiz asks, Does the thought of this person give you butterflies?
Short answer, yes.
Long answer, also yes.
The question was unfair, though, because surely everyone get a little warm at the thought of their best friend. It wasn’t as if it was his fault, the moths and canaries that begin to take over his chest when he sees the color blue white clout goggles, the Nutella brand, and chess. It was simply something that was inevitable, being friends with someone like George.
When you need a date for an event, who do you take?
My BFF if I can’t find anyone else.
How often do you think about them?
Daily.
Do you compare this person to others you’ve dated?
Dream lets out a deep sigh, before tapping once in a while. He can feel the universe laughing at his misery. The universe was horrible. He hates the universe.
Would you drop your plans to hang out with your BFF?
He’s already done it several times, enough so that Sapnap has reprimanded him for it. He’s missed lore and dipped in planned streams because George had sent him a text asking if he was free.
And that’s because he was free, if George asks. Depends on what sounds more fun, the answer says. Anything sounds more fun with George. Once again, this quiz was definitely lacking. They had failed to consider his best friend being George.
In a heartbeat.
Can you feel what they are feeling?
That was something Dream prided himself on. George was a difficult person to read, because, no matter what many of their viewers might assume, George was a good actor. He had a well-placed, neutral face in times of conflict, and had carefully shown apathy whenever his opinion was asked for. When it comes to reading George, many were illiterate.
Dream, however. Dream knew what George was feeling, and often. It was simply something that was given, being friends with each other for so long, and really, doesn’t everyone kind of feel what their best friend is feeling?
Sometimes.
This quiz was definitely one of the worst ones he’s ever taken. The Buzzfeed ones he had taken with George a little while ago were better than this.
Can you tell them everything?
Absolutely.
Do you think your best friend is in love with you?
Not sure.
The air in his lungs dissipates when Dream reads, Do you think you’re in love with your best friend?
He had answered no, earlier, in the company of their viewers and George, but now, in the quiet darkness of him and no one else, his hands shook a little, with his phone clutched between his fingers.
He didn’t - think he was in love with George, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was, right? The quiz earlier had said he already was, just a little, so he was in love, at least some, right? If it did come out with him being more than a little in love, Dream would be prepared, and it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, with many people being just a little in love with their best friend, right? It was just some stupid quiz that didn’t mean much, and if he was in love, it wouldn’t be a big deal.
Right?
Do you think you’re in love with your best friend?
I really have no idea.
His result loads.
He hates this fucking quiz.
On your way to being in love with your best friend.
He hates himself for taking this stupid thing.
If you aren’t head-over-heels in love with your best friend right now, you’re on the fast track to being that way.
He hates his viewers for suggesting this dumb test.
Everything points in the direction that this is much more than a friendship, and it’s up to you to decide what you want to do about it.
And he hates George for being so easy to fall in love with.
Dream doesn’t know why he retook it. Did he think his results would suddenly change, instead say no, you aren’t in love, stop thinking about it? He doesn’t even know if a change in results would do anything for him, because it’s never done anything for him in the past, with Are you gay? quizzes from when he was twelve, to Are you in love with your best friend? quizzes at twenty-one.
Dream is on his way to being in love with George.
If he were to be entirely honest, he’s probably already there.
His heart seems to unravel at the thought, and his skin is tingly where he lays in the dark. He places his phone away, hands clumsy when he keeps missing the charging port. Twisting his body to face the ceiling, he lets himself actually think.
Is he in love with George? He might be. The quiz certainly seems to think so.
But that’s all it was - a quiz. Nothing more, nothing less, it couldn’t offer any ideas as to what he does now, with this new knowledge and a weird storm in his chest at the thought of talking to George tomorrow. What was there to really say? The quiz says he’s in love with George. His heart seems to say the same.
It feels too much, however, too heavy on his tongue to say the words properly, even if him falling in love seemed a little too inevitable this entire time, with jokes always going a little too far, the strange sense of tension between their silences, and he doesn’t even know what to imagine when he thinks about George moving in with them soon.
On your way to being in love with your best friend.
Dream might already be there.