Work Text:
The sun sits low in the sky as Dream, Sapnap, and Karl hang around the skate park. Dream sits on top of a quarter pipe, a joint held loosely between his bony fingers. It's burning low, close enough to where Dream will need to put it out soon if he doesn't want to burn himself. Sapnap and Karl hover close to him, on their boards as they skate with their hands entwined. The blond watches them with hooded eyes, something close to jealousy boiling deep in his stomach.
His thoughts run back to George, like they always do.
He thinks back to how their friendship ended, that fateful night at the diner on Main Street, that left George storming out with tears falling down his cheeks. Dream and Sapnap watched him go in shock, Dream drenched in chocolate frappe. He thinks about how long they were friends for, meeting in first grade, and then ending the summer between their freshman and sophomore year of high school. Now, though, Dream really can't really remember the whole reason why.
Who was he kidding, though? Of course he could remember.
George's parents had seen the fleeting touches they would give each other before the other left, they saw how close they got over the years, took it in the wrong way, and forbid George from hanging out with the blond. That never stopped the brunette, though. He always found a way to sneak out, whether it be through his window or the front door when no one was looking, George always found a way.
Until he couldn't.
High school meant more responsibility, more homework, more sports, more college applications. High school meant George's parents cracking down on him more, not letting him leave until his homework was done, and most of the time, with all the AP classes he took, wasn't until the early hours of the morning.
So, unfortunately, Dream and George drifted. The waters around them were becoming too choppy and they weren't anchored down tight enough.
They drifted and Dream couldn't find it in himself to chase after George. He couldn't bare George's parents finding out and then doing something drastic in return.
Without George by his side, Dream found it a lot harder to do some of his everyday tasks. Sitting at lunch with just Sapnap was weird, walking from classes without the clingy brunette felt wrong, like the empty void next to him was chilling him to the core. Don't get him wrong, Dream loves Karl and Sapnap, more than anything, but nothing can top George's company.
His board sliding down the ramp drags Dream back into reality, catching sight of the concerned glances Karl sends him. He tosses the joint to the ground, hopping off the top of the pipe to stomp it out. Sapnap and Karl start heading in his direction as he goes to pick up his board. "You okay, dude?" Karl asks, grey eyes boring into Dream's green ones. He knows he must look like a mess, the contrast of the red tinge on the edges of his eyes to the forest green in the middle must suck. His loose khaki colored cargo pants hang low on his waist, being swamped by a baggy Led Zeppelin shirt. Dream runs a hand through his hair, no doubt tangled and mussed from the wind. "Yeah, Karl, I'm okay." Sapnap eyes him like he doesn't believe him, but doesn't get the chance to say anything because Dream has turned his back, staring at the soccer pitch at the bottom of the hill.
"Um, Dream--" Karl starts, but Dream's already turning around, feeling someone staring at him. Staring at him something fierce and full of hatred.
Karl's hand on his shoulder is an anchor as he sees George standing on the sidewalk. His hair is being blown in the breeze, eyes red, but not from drugs; Dream knows that George knows better. He's crying, a backpack slung over his shoulder as his hands wrap around his middle. The hoodie he's wearing is one of Dream's, an old one, maybe from freshman year, and Dream's been missing that for forever.
It hits him a little too late that George is walking over to them, face scrunched in pain and full of discomfort.
"Dream maybe we should--" Sapnap tries to get a word in too, but the blond isn't listening. He's solely focused on the way George is looking at him, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip bitten something raw. "No, Sap," he says airily, cocking his head to the side as George closes in on them.
"George...?" Dream wants to say something, anything, more than just his name, but he just can't.
The brunette stares at him, something like fire roaring behind his eyes. "How could you just let them lie to me? How could you lie to me?" He whispers, wiping a tear away hastily before it can fall. "George, what?" Dream's confused, what is he talking about? George laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head to himself. "For years, years, Dream! It was always about getting me away from you, they told me that you weren't pure. They told me, they always told me that you weren't getting into Heaven, that you'd be down with the devil because of who you were. I laughed and told them they were crazy, that you weren't like that, that you were their version of normal. I told them we were best friends, that we were clingy by nature. I thought I could get them off our backs, but they just kept pressing and pressing. They acted like you were some sort of, of disease!"
Something inside Dream twists painfully, like rose thorns piercing his heart. He feels sick, like the world has stopped spinning, like the trees have lost their leaves, and the butterflies have broken wings. His soft gaze turns into an even glare, eyes narrowing, shooting arrows at George. "What do you mean, I was like that?" Dream spits, vaguely aware of Karl's tightening hold on his shoulder. George's face falls, color draining from his face. "No, Clay, that's not what I, that's not what I meant, I swear." Dream doesn't let up, though, keeping his eyes trained on the shorter boy. "No, George, say it, what was I like? What were we like?" Dream pressures him, fists clenching tightly.
George flares, angry and defiant. His demeanor changes, like a switch has been flipped in his brain. "You know what we were like, Clay. I don't have to repeat it." He steps closer to the blond, and even though he's shorter, he carries himself like he's not. George pokes at his chest, nose scrunched up like being near Dream disgusts him. "What we did, what we were was wrong, and you know it. We shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have looked at each other like that. It was wrong," George says, his words digging themselves deep into Dream's heart.
And if George wasn't going to be proud of himself, Dream wasn't going to sit there and let his pride be stomped out.
"Yeah," he sneers, stepping away from Karl, brain running haywire on weed George high George weed weed George George George. His vision spins, his sweater on George's body splits contrast against the blue halfpipe behind him. "Keep running back to them, keep fueling their bullshit views about who can love who. We were in love, George. I don't care what you say. I loved you and you loved me, that was our thing; we loved each other. I'm sorry you care so much about what your parents think about you. I'm sorry that you go home to parents who would rather see you bruised and battered than see you happy with another boy!"
Letting that last part slip out was a mistake.
George moves so fast that Dream can't block himself or sidestep the brunette. Even with the weed in his system, the blow of George's punch hurts like a bitch. He hears the thud of George's backpack on the ground as his backside topples into the side of another quarter pipe.
Dream's right cheekbone aches, but he can't bring himself to fight George back. "Say it again," George seethes, getting right up in Dream's personal space. The blond looks down at him, eyes hooded without a care in the world. "What? That it shocked your mom and dad to see their precious little Georgie hanging around with a boy too much, too often? That their son was a dirty little queer?" Dream knows his words hurt, he knows they probably sting worse than whatever George's parents have ever said to him. He can see them inking George's soul with tar. He doesn't know where Karl and Sapnap are, but he doesn't want them to stop this.
In some twisted, fucked up way, Dream needs this to happen. He needs whatever will come out of this, closure or not.
George's next punch lands on his nose, and boy, does it open up like a faucet. He's glad he's wearing a black t-shirt, because there's no way his mother would let him hear the end of it if he was wearing any other color. He groans, hand coming up to tenderly touch the clearly broken cartilage. "So Georgie's gotta arm on him now, huh," Dream smiles, through the blood, he knows it's seeping in between his teeth. George is fuming below him, tears still cascading down, mixed between sweat.
"Why won't you fight back!?" George yells, almost like he's desperate. He shoves at Dream so his back slams against the wood behind him. Splinters dig into Dream's back, causing him to grit his teeth. George swings at him again, landing on the underside of his chin. The blow is enough to send Dream to the ground, surprisingly. George doesn't let up, though, he just follows the blond down.
In all honesty, Dream doesn't even want to fight back. He'd be content in just sitting there and letting George take all his frustrations out on him, if it meant that the brunette would touch him again.
"Fight back!" George screams, pulling Dream up by his shirt collar. Dream just smiles at him, the high crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. "I'm not gonna fight you, George." George swings, striking him across the cheek, sending his head to the right. Through a groan, Dream chokes out a laugh. He spits, saliva and blood mixed on the concrete. When Dream turns his head to look back up at George, he doesn't find the same angry and pleading look that was there before; like George was begging Dream to give him a reason to beat the shit out of him. Instead, he just finds sadness as deep as the ocean, pain that could go back a millennium.
With George's arm drawn back again, Dream expects another blow to the face, expects another bruise to blossom at the expense of George's hands. "Go on, George," Dream rasps, leaning his head back on the concrete, hair splayed around him like a halo. Nothing comes, though, just George's fist dropping down onto his chest limply. George's head drops towards his chest, fist shaking on top of Dream's t-shirt. "Fight back," he whispers, voice cracking as he lifts his hand to drop it back down on Dream's chest.
"George," Dream whispers, voice just as soft, regardless of the blood slowly filling his mouth. The brunette looks up, and Dream just shuts down.
The sight of George's flushed cheeks and wind-blown hair with the orange and pink sky behind him is too much. Dream's heart clenches at the sight, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and hold George, to console him and apologize for everything that happened.
So, he does.
"George, I'm sorry. Please, just," he tries to sit up, resulting in George toppling down in his lap. The brunette lets out a choked sound of shock, but makes no moves to get up and start pummeling Dream again. "I'm sorry," Dream says again, wrapping his arms around George's waist and leaning his head back against the wood so he doesn't get blood all over George. The wood hurts the back of Dream's head, staring up at the clouds above them.
Silence stretches between them, George's body rattling with tremors as he continues to cry, tucked away in Dream's shoulder. "I didn't know how to tell you," the blond says quietly, cringing at the metallic taste in his mouth. George just sniffles, wiping away tears with the underside of his palm. "I," George inhales, pushing himself up to look down at Dream. "I'm sorry too, for, um...everything, especially, that," he says, waving his hand in front of Dream's face. The blond bites back a laugh, smiling fondly up at the boy he hadn't seen in so long. "It's okay, I deserved it."
George seems to deflate at the last part of Dream's sentence. His shoulders sag, bottom lip quivering again. "No, Dream. You didn't deserve that. My head is all messed up, their words are clouding my thoughts and all I can find myself repeating is their hate. What we did wasn't wrong, you were right. We were in love," he chokes out, making Dream's attention snap back to him.
Karl comes over silently, holding a packet of tissues for Dream's nose. He smiles solemnly at the two of them, squatting down next to the blond. Sapnap comes and sits on his left, one knee propped up as he looks at George unimpressed. The brunette looks away from his scrutinizing gaze, cupping Dream's cheek to tilt his head up so that it's easier for Karl to clean up his nose. "Thanks," the bleach blond mumbles, carefully dabbing the tissues against Dream's nostril. The blond's head jerks back at the touch, and George's eyes widen before he reaches out to cup the back of his head before he hits it against the wood. With the new proximity, Dream can see all of George's freckles, scattered across the bridge of his nose, constellations on his cheekbones. "Um," he croaks, "hi." That makes George laugh, running a nimble thumb across one of the bruises on Dream's cheek.
The sight makes George's smile drop, he did that. He turned Dream's usual fair skin yellow and blue, by his hands, he hurt Dream.
"Hey," the taller sighs, setting his hand on top of George's. "I'm really sorry," George says, not able to find the right words. "It's fine, I forgive you." Dream can see Karl and Sapnap raise their eyebrows in his peripheral vision, but he pays them no mind. George's eyes widen in disbelief, mouth gaping slightly. "Alright," Karl says, leaning back, before George can say anything. "You're all patched up. The bleeding's pretty much stopped, your face is just gonna be twenty colors for a couple weeks." Karl shoots a glare at George before getting up to toss the bloody tissues away. Sapnap looks at Dream, silently asking if the blond needs him to stay. Dream shakes his head, pulling George back into a hug. The chestnut hair colored boy hovers, looking between his boyfriend and best friend before ultimately following after Karl.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Dream asks, causing George to go rigid on top of him. "What part?" He mumbles, resting his chin on Dream's collarbone. "Why'd you bring a backpack?" Dream blurts, mentally slapping himself on the forehead. The question causes George to still even more, leaving Dream scrambling to grasp the right words, to say anything that will keep George here with him. "Shit. Sorry, I worded that wrong--" but George cuts him off quickly. "'M not going back there," he says, dropping his gaze to a crack on the concrete next to them. "You're...not going back to your parents?" Dream's heart...soars? He's not sure. There's a feeling of relief being attacked with impending anxiety, and it's quite concerning. "Yeah, not sure where I'm gonna go...I kinda just packed my shit and walked out." At that, Dream has to stifle a laugh, because the way George is talking, is something else. Regardless of sneaking out through his window or out the front door when they were younger, this is real now.
George's parents had pushed him over the edge, and he wasn't going back.
Dream shifts, his bum getting a little sore from sitting on the concrete for so long. George clings to him, like any wrong movement will send him tumbling and their moment will be ruined. "George, I just want you to know," Dream murmurs, running a hand through George's hair, "that I'm proud of you, regardless of whatever they said to you while you were living under their roof. You're good, you see the best in people and know exactly what to say. You should always be able to love who you want, and not have to live under the bullshit rules of a book that was written so fucking long ago, that was mistranslated over and over. You're you, George, and if they have a problem with you, then fuck 'em! Family doesn't have to be just blood; me, Sapnap, and Karl can be your family. Just like the old times." George stares up at him, like he's hung the moon, eyes wide as saucers. "Y'mean it, Clay?" Dream just smiles, "yeah, G, I mean it. They might be a little upset with you, considering you just rocked my shit, but I think they'll be happy to have you back." George looks unsure, but nods nonetheless.
A little while later, when the sun sits behind the trees, when the sky has been shot pink and purple, George stands up. He holds a hand out to Dream, who takes it gratefully. They gather up their things, George's arm wrapped around Dream's waist to keep him steady as they walk to meet Karl and Sapnap at the entrance of the park. "Where to from here?" Karl asks, leaning against Sapnap sleepily. Dream and George glance at each other, slow smiles spreading across their faces. The sight makes Sapnap groan, rubbing a hand over his face. "Oh my, God. Y'all are doing that thing again," he grumbles, shooting pointed glares at Dream. Karl hums in agreement, "I certainly haven't missed it." There's a teasing smile on his face when the duo opposite him flip them the bird.
"I think we're gonna head back to mine, I need to take a long ass shower." Dream leans into George's touch, nimble fingers rubbing his side gently. Karl nods, letting out a quiet yawn. "Yeah, that's fine. I should probably get this punk home, anyways," Sapnap grins, ruffling Karl's hair. The taller boy swats at his boyfriend's hands, scowling through his giggles.
The four of them split off into their respective duos after they've said their see-you-laters, heading the opposite ways down the sidewalk.
"I can't wait to see the look on my mom's face when I tell her you're staying the night," Dream grins fondly, staring up at the sky like he's just won a million dollars. George's silence worries him, giving turn to look at the brunette. He's surprised to find George's face twisted into confusion. "...You're letting me stay the night?" George asks slowly, tilting his head to the side. Dream almost scoffs out of impulse. "Well duh, I'm not letting you go back to your parents. I wasn't going to jump to conclusions about you having money, so I figured you could just stay with me for now."
George stops on the sidewalk, lip quivering as Dream continues to walk. The blond shortstops, turning around to face George. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asks, stepping so that he's directly in front of the brunette. George silently steps forward to hug him, tucking his face away in Dream's shoulder. With wide eyes, Dream hesitantly hugs George back, resting his head on top of George's hair. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone," George whispers, causing Dream's heart to drop. "Hey, no, no, it wasn't your fault. You didn't have a choice. You're here now and that's all I care about." George nods slightly, but Dream isn't satisfied with that. He reaches up to gently pull George out of his hiding place, cupping his flushed cheeks. "Let's go home, George, okay?" And while the question covers George's heart in a protective balm, new tears spring in the corners of his eyes. Dream whisks them away quickly, holding his stare even with the brunette. "Okay," George breathes out, after Dream's lips ghost over his cheek. "Let's go home."
Dream smiles like he's won the lottery, stepping out of the hug to take George's hand in his.
It takes them fifteen minutes to get back to Dream's, his siblings scattered all over the house when they finally tumble in the front door, slipping their shoes off on the mud mat. Dream's mom is in the kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta while Logan, Dream's younger brother, sits with his back against a cabinet. "Uh oh," Dream grins, catching his mother's attention briefly. "What'd you get into trouble now for, mister?" Logan's face lights up scarlet, eyes traveling from his big brother to the shadow of a person behind him. When George steps out into the light, Logan lights up, springing off the ground and barrelling towards the brunette. "George!!" He yells, wrapping his arms around George's waist.
That catches Dream's mother's attention, turning around in a haste. Her eyes land on her son, bruised face and all, watching the two boys in the doorway of the kitchen with fond eyes. Dream turns to face his mother, receiving a look that screams what the hell did you do? He laughs nervously, motioning for Logan to scram so he can talk to his mom with George. Through her haze, Dream's mom finds it in her to compose herself to greet George. "George, sweetheart, how are you?" She asks, moving to hug him. He relaxes in her arms, the feeling of a loving mother's arms around him almost foreign. "Good," he whispers meekly, but she looks at him like she doesn't believe him. "Not good," he exhales, and she nods. "Well, dinner's almost done, why don't we talk about it over that?" George nods, moving out of Loraine's arms just to be pulled back into Dream's. The blond holds him by the waist, left hand clasped against his right wrist, dropping his head down into the junction of George's shoulder and neck. The brunette doesn't complain, just leans back into the boy, contently at peace.
At dinner, George and Dream are sitting next to each other so closely, that George might as well be sitting on Dream's lap. The two of them explain everything to Dream's mother, within the privacy of just the three of them; Dream's siblings had been put in front of the T.V. to watch a movie with their dinner. While she isn't happy with George and Dream having a brawl, Dream's mother says she understands, and George feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
Dream's mother lets them go after they finish eating and put their dishes in the dishwasher. The two stumble up to Dream's room, silently glancing at each other every once in a while. "I'm gonna..." Dream trails off, pointing to the door of his connected bathroom. George nods, walking over to Dream's bed to lay down. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Dream says as he watches George for a moment until he's comfortable under the comforter. George nods at him, blanket tucked up to his chin. Dream turns around, turning the knob on the door handle and walking into the bathroom.
Back in the bedroom, George lays on his side, staring at a framed picture of him, Sapnap, and Dream from when they were kids on the nightstand. His heart clenches, nostalgia crashing down on him in waves. The water running brings him back to Earth, breaking his gaze from the photograph to roll over onto his back. Music soon mixes in with the water falling; sounding a lot like Cage The Elephant, but George can't really tell. His hand twitches, aching to be back in Dream's. The mattress doesn't feel as comforting as the anchoring surface of Dream's front side, like how it felt in the kitchen.
George moves on autopilot, pushing the blankets off him so he can stand up. He glances over at the bathroom door, which is cracked open slightly. Surely, Dream meant to shut it. Surely, it wasn't an invitation for George.
He walks towards the door.
The room is hot, steam raising from the shower and dispersing onto the ceiling. George can hear Dream singing along softly to the songs spilling from his phone's speaker. The brunette moves silently, stripping himself out of his clothes and staring at the shower curtain; the only thing dividing him and Dream. From where he stands, George can see that Dream has his back towards him, probably standing with his head bowed, letting the water soak his hair dirty-blond. George's skin runs hot, sweat beading up on his forearms as he walks closer and closer to the curtain.
This could go two ways; horribly wrong or in George's favor.
And as he's swiping the curtain as quietly as he can, he prays that Dream doesn't freak out. This could be crossing a boundary, but with Dream in his sights, the planes of his back, his shoulder blades staring back at him; he can't move. The water is plastering Dream's hair to his head, flat and bland. Tentatively, George steps forward, not sure if Dream has sensed him yet. He could be so far in his thoughts that the outside world is merely just a figment of his imagination. Dream jumps as George's arms snake around his waist, but he doesn't scream. He doesn't shove George off him or sock him in the face. While he jumps, he stays where he is, the only movement being him leaning into George's touch. The brunette leans his chin on Dream's shoulder, catching sight of the blond's close eyes. "Hi," he whispers. Under the spray of the shower, Dream smiles. He turns his head towards George's voice, blearily opening his eyes to find brown eyes staring back at him. Water clings to his eyelashes, clumping them together like invisible mascara. "Whatcha doin'?" Dream asks, airily and sleepy, like the heat of the water is weighing him down. George doesn't say anything for a second, only tightening his hold on Dream's waist. "Just needed to be near you..." He trails off, listening to the way Dream hums, a low rumble.
Dream turns around to face George a moment later, a gasp escaping George's mouth when he catches sight of Dream's nose. It's bleeding again, not as bad like back at the skate park, but it's definitely visible. "Dream, your nose," he murmurs, one hand coming up to tilt Dream's head back. The blond flashes a smile at him, leaning his head all the way back so the water washes away the blood. "Y'idiot. That's not gonna do anything, it might make it worse." George scowls at him, but he's fighting back a smile. He wordlessly pinches the bridge of Dream's nose, shushing the boy when he whines. The sound makes George laugh, it's nasally, nothing like how Dream usually sounds.
It happens fast.
Dream is quick to knock George's hand off him, much less blood covering his mouth and nose. He leans forward, lips planting on George's softly. The brunette lets a squeak escape him, eyes fluttering shut and hands coming up to hold Dream by the sides of his face. Dream lets himself be pulled, content with the fact that George didn't push him away. The kiss isn't fleeting, it isn't like the last one they shared; panicked and full of pain. It's slow, soft, everything their relationship should've been. The blond is falling down a rabbit hole, running, chasing after George.
When they pull away, George has a bit of a blood stain on his upper lip. Their foreheads rest against each other, heavy breaths falling from red lips. "We just," Dream says, just as George blurts, "I just did that." Dream laughs, he can't help it, pulling George into a tight embrace.
"We're okay, right?" George asks, once the water's shut off and Dream wraps his lower half up in a fluffy towel. His question makes the blond stop momentarily, glancing up to find worried eyes. "Georgie," he murmurs, standing up straight so he towers over the brunette. The nickname makes George keen towards him, a rouge hand reaching out desperately to clutch Dream's. The blond presses a tender kiss to George's right temple, squeezing his hand tightly. "We are so very okay," he whispers, pressing another kiss to George's sharp cheekbone. George exhales shakily, letting Dream walk him out back to his bedroom.
George grabs a pair of basketball shorts and a white tank top from his backpack, darting back into the bathroom to change. Dream watches him with a light laugh, shaking his head as he goes to grab his clothes.
When George comes out of the bathroom a little while later, his hair is towel-dried, like a mop on his head; partially falling in front of his eyes. Dream smiles at him from where he stands next to his bed. "Can we watch a movie or something?" George asks through a yawn, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds good," Dream says softly, beckoning the brunette towards him. George stumbles over to him, falling into his arms with a shy excuse of an exhale.
Dream lays the two of them down on his bed, George somewhere between on top of him with his lower half on the bed. "What do you wanna watch?" Dream asks, plucking his Xbox controller off the pillow next to his. George makes a hum of consideration, nuzzling into Dream's neck. "How about The Winter Soldier?" That makes Dream smile, dropping his head onto George's damp hair. "Sounds good," he muses, navigating through Disney+ to get to the movie.
George moves out of the space he's practically suffocating himself with in Dream's scent to blearily watch the T.V. screen. Dream's hand runs through his hair, stopping every once in a while to rub at his scalp.
"Hey," Dream murmurs, removing his hand from George's hair to tilt his chin up so they hold eye contact. George looks at him, sleepy and soft. "Hm? 'M awake, promise," he slurs out, blinking, and it takes him a moment to open his eyes again. "It's alright if you fall asleep, sweetheart. Just wanted to tell you I love you." Dream's voice sounds like honey to George, like everything right in the world. He goes boneless in the blond's arms, exhaling softly across the broad expansion of his chest. "I love you, too," he whispers, like its just meant for Dream to hear.
They go quiet for a moment or two, the movie just background noise at this point.
Dream goes to say something, but is cut off by George yawning. He smiles fondly at the older boy, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "Go to sleep, G. I'll be right here when you wake up." George tries to fight it, but exhaustion crashes upon him like a tsunami.
"Don't go anywhere, please," he whispers with closed eyes. Dream's heart hurts, twisting painfully in his chest. "I won't, lovebug. Love you too much to do that to you." Dream noses at George's hair, slipping further into his bed. "I love you," George repeats, whispering it under his breath after that.
Dream can see the exhaustion all over George's face, his right hand coming up to trace the boy's jawline.
Eventually, George's breathing evens out and he turns deadweight in Dream's hold. The blond watches him for a moment before setting sleep timer on his T.V. and gets more comfortable in his bed. His eyelids grow heavy, like glue is slowly clumping them together.
With George's grip on his t-shirt and the warmth of another body against his, he falls into a dream filled sleep, where he and George get their happily ever after.