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“Did you know I used to attend a music school for four years?” – George’s low voice broke down a comforting silence in the dark living room. The other body inhaled loudly and shuffled in their seat, turning around.
It was one of that nights in Florida when they would stay up in the living room, watching a movie or playing an Xbox. Or like this time, just talking. It seems like they have nothing left to discuss. It seems like every little moment has already been spilled on long Discord calls or Facetimes over long years of their friendship. It seems like they know each other completely, can understand each other’s emotions from the smallest movement on the other’s faces. And yet they still found something that would pull them into a three-hour conversation, going from one detail to another.
It was one of that chill nights, Sapnap peacefully asleep in his bedroom, and just two boys, reckless and young, their faces framed with moonlight, still keeping each other’s company.
Dream was sitting in a wide armchair with his legs thrown over the cushion, while George sprawled himself under the comforter on the couch.
— Yea? What instrument did you play? – the other voice was raspy and tired, but still filled with curiosity and affection.
— Flute. And guitar, — he replied lightly. — I actually dropped out because that stuff was exhausting me, — the Brit said with fake annoyance and they both chuckled at that.
— I have a guitar in my room, d'you wanna try and play something? — Dream’s voice was sleepy, low, and filled with sparkles that picked on George’s skin and ears.
Bump.
Bump.
Bump.
George could hear their heartbeat inside the brain, thoughts start to pick up the pace. He hasn’t played for so long, what if he’s gonna fail? Gonna look ridiculous and stupid in front of their best friend? The fingers would be shaky, they would miss the strings, pull the wrong ones, fuck up the music, stab their ears, ann-
— Earth to George? Are you here? — familiar voice pulled him away from the fast flow of thoughts. — If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m just saying, — younger shrugged and sat up straight.
— I… I don’t know, it was so long ago, and I probably forgot the placement, and the chords and my fin-
— Hey! Hey, it’s fine, — Dream said with affirmation. “Oh, so I started rambling again, shit…” — It doesn’t have to be perfect, I just want to hear you play. I’ll help if you forget something, alright?
— Y-yes, I guess. Yes, — hesitation shook his voice a little bit. It wasn’t a big deal, really. It’s just him and Dream, late at night. It’s not like the blonde would pay a lot of attention to George’s play, right? It doesn’t even matter, he shouldn’t be scared in front of him, they had been together through so much, it’s not like a stupid guitar would ru-
— Okay, I got it, let’s go sit on the front porch so we won’t wake Sap up, yea? — the other’s voice pulled George out of their head, again. A small nod of his head, blink of his eyes, and there they are, sitting on the wooden stairs to the front door, still warm from deadly hot dry weather. The wind is cool, though. It blows lightly, dangling in their hair, giving a very light feeling. The heavy guitar has been placed on George’s lap as he threw the supporting belt over his shoulder.
Bump.
Bump.
Bump.
He places his fingertips on the strings, pulling them one by one with another hand.
— What should I play? — he asks with a shaky voice. He hasn’t felt this in a long time, music pouring right underneath the fingertips, dancing around on the front porch.
— I don’t know, I really do- Oh, wait, play your favorite song at the moment, — younger grinned and turned his whole body, facing George. Brit was sitting slightly lower, with his side profile displayed to his best friend. “Okay, don’t make eye contact. Don’t get distracted. Focus. It’s gonna be alright. I think it starts with…”
Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant
They moved the placement of the chord, pulling all strings lightly at the same time. Beautiful and gentle major D poured into night’s quietness, lightning up Dream’s eyes. Brunet shakily moved their fingers again, picking up the pace, this time strumming faster. Again, again and again, till the air was filled with shining melody coating everything in light and joy. Fingertips dance over metal strings, missing and slipping away sometimes.
Dream’s quiet vocals joined the guitars solo, setting a warm feeling inside George’s chest. Younger tried his best to hit high notes, his raspy voice was sweet and low, almost scared to interrupt George’s guitar monologue.
“If you can find a reason, a reason to stay
Standin' in the pourin' rain”
He finally finished the song, with the dead quiet afterward.
“Did he liked it? Did I mess up too much? Were there even right chords? I really hope he liked it because his voice was so angelic I ca-“
— Wow, George… That was amazing, — what time it was that the calm voice full of affection and gentle care pulled him back to life? They aren’t even bothered to count now.
— Thank you, Clay. Your voice made it better, — Brit turned his face to look in greyish eyes, that looked almost grey under the milky light of the moon and the lamp right above them. Dream’s pupils were expanded, it’s like a whole universe fit itself right into. And George is an exploding star inside of it. Fuck it. — It’s your turn now.
— W-what? — younger rose his brows immediately.
— To play. Come on, I know you can play it. Sing me your favorite song, — the last sentence comes out way too soft than he intended. Dream smiled back lightly, lowering his gaze when taking a guitar into his lap. It landed with a quiet thump, random strings were pulled accidentally sounding painfully out of harmony. George wonders if they ever gonna be like them: not aligning with each other.
“sorry I didn’t kiss you,
but it's obvious I wanted to”
Dream’s voice was coated with sugar and sleep, strawberry jam, and lavender. It felt like a head pat and George tried to absorb every little noise that came from the younger boy’s angelic mouth. Oh how much he wanted to kiss it right now. No, not now. Enjoy the song and then kiss the life out of those lips, until Dream couldn’t breathe.
“bubble gum down my throat & its a curse
but my luck couldn't get any worse”
For George, it was nothing like this. They had the biggest luck in the world. Universe gave him the biggest gift and he couldn’t get more grateful. That blonde freckled gift right in front of him, with a soothing voice and long fingers that put minimum effort to get the chords right.
“cus i swallowed the bubble gum
oh & these 7 years will be pretty dumb
pink flowers grow from my skin
pepto bismal veins & i grin”
The rasp in Dreams voice actually tastes like summer berries and strawberry patterned shirts. It strokes George’s body, causing shivers on their spine. “Why does it feel, like he’s getting under my skin?”
“you look so nice in your shirt
it's sad because it just hurts”
And oh god, how cuddly Dream looked in his PJ shirt. It was revealing a part of the collarbone and George’s heart twitched at the thought of nuzzling into his neck. He wasn’t supposed to think about that. Not about Dream. Not when the moon is watching.
“i'd do anything for you
but would you do that for me too?”
Were those just lyrics or was Dream just reading George’s mind? Or maybe the younger boy put some sense into those words? George thinks he’ll never know
— Without a thought, yes, — brunet mumbles under his breath. Suddenly, the melody stops, leaving a ghost of a sound. Dream looks up to him, meeting the sleepy gaze of the boy in front of him. It’s filled with shock but still soft when he speaks more loud and clear this time. “You weren’t supposed to hear that”. He trembles upon his words, seeing Dream's expression changing to a wordless “why?”
George turns his face away, putting his head on Dreams thigh, right in front of the guitar. He stares at the ground. It’s quiet, Dreams thigh is tensed, a smaller boy can practically feel the others stare on the back of his head. George hopes it will feel like summer berries again when he speaks again:
— Clay, play one more song, please. For me. And for the moon, it’s watching us, — this time George isn’t afraid of how loving and ridiculously soft their voice sounds. As soon as a warm voice and calming melody fill the air again, all the troubles disappear.
It’s them, music, and the moon right now. Having their special conversation.
And the moon is still there when George is asleep on the front porch with their head on Dream’s lap. It still watches very carefully, when Dream puts away the guitar and plants soft kisses onto smaller’s shoulder, then hair. It’s still there when George wakes up from an unexpected kiss in the cheek, turns around, and pulls the younger boy closer, high on feelings and sleep deprivation, bold as fuck. The moon is still there when they kiss. So gentle and warm, hands all over each other’s face. And George could swear, that he felt a taste of strawberries for a moment. But he couldn’t care, honestly. He will talk about it with the moon later.