Chapter Text
“Alright, I’m calling it a night here,” his roommate, Quackity, closes the thick pre-law textbook with a quiet thud from across the table.
George looks up momentarily from the ‘ Python Crash Course ’ paperback he’s been absorbed in for the last hour to check his phone. “It’s not even midnight,” he points out, looking up at his raven-haired companion momentarily before returning to the paragraphs in front of him.
“Dude, it’s 11:30, and I’m pretty sure we both have 8AM lectures tomorrow. Plus, didn’t you finish your notes a while ago? We could both just head back now,” comes the level suggestion.
“Mmm, I guess we could. I haven’t finished this book yet, though,” the brunette counters slowly, turning the page and beginning to read the next chapter.
“You’re only on the third chapter.”
“I know.”
Silence falls over the pair, punctuated only by the lone other student a distance away from them at another table; a pastel-haired, pretty girl typing on a sleek silver Macbook, coffee cup by her side.
“You’re sure you won’t get lost on your way home tonight?” Quackity eventually asks softly, rubbing at his eyes, the unspoken resignation of leaving George at the library to go back to the dorm floating through the air.
“Don’t worry about me, go to bed,” he shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”
“There’s always the safety escort system,” his roommate adds, zipping up his backpack before standing up.
“I’ll probably just stay here for another hour before heading back,” George says, decisiveness lingering in his tone. “You’re right, I do have an early lecture tomorrow too.”
“Okay. Call me if you need anything.” And Quackity’s gone, the space across from him so recently occupied by the other now empty again, as it had been three hours ago when they’d first turned up.
The Brit watches the library door close behind the beanie-clad man, glancing as the breeze from the shutting door lifts the flyers tacked to the nearby bulletin board labeled ‘Student Announcements’ briefly before looking back down at the open book in front of him.
He keeps reading, no goals in mind on when to stop. The words flow through the pages like water in a river, pictures and diagrams and instructions woven into the paragraphs like a spiderweb’s intersections. Unbeknownst to him, the campus falls asleep as he stays awake, the only gauge of time he has embodied in the slowly dying phone lying face-down on the desk, forgotten since much earlier in the night.
The girl that had been typing eventually packs up and leaves for the night as well. He nearly doesn’t notice as he finishes reading the last paragraph of the book, looking up and realizing that she’d vanished some time before as well. Shrugging to himself internally, he stands up and crosses the distance to the shelf that he’d originally gotten the paperback from, thumbing across the spines of the surrounding books before pushing it carefully back into the gap that he’d taken it from a few hours ago.
He looks around, deserted tables glancing back at him, glare of fluorescent lights a stark contrast against the pitch-black outside. It doesn’t deter him as he reads the sideways-facing title of a thinner, more battered book next to the one he’s just put back, pulling it out and flipping through the pages. Pen marks slash through the ivory paper, graffiti from stressed students of years past making their marks cleanly and sharply. One more book , he reasons with himself, purposely not looking over at the clock on the wall, loud ticks threatening to break his bubble of tranquility in the library. One more book, and then I’ll go back to the dorm .
If he had to estimate, he would’ve said it had taken him another hour to get through the book, but since he hadn’t checked the time since his roommate had left that night, there was no true way of knowing how long he’d spent reading.
Until he’s rubbing at his heavy eyelids, final words on the last page blurring as he finishes processing them. He shuts the book and walks slowly over to the shelf, replacing the book and returning to the table, beginning to put notebooks and pens back into his bookbag, zipping the pockets up until the space in front of him is clear, save for the communal box of mousepads and headphone sets towards the center of the desk.
He swings his backpack over one shoulder and begins to walk out of the library, not noticing how dark the world really is around him till he’s looking out the panes on the worn mahogany door, realizing that he won’t be able to see three feet in front of his own face if he tries to walk back to the dorm tonight, knowing already that the campus is too new for him to possibly understand this early in the semester. He pulls out his phone in a hopeful attempt at using the built-in flashlight feature, before his idea is quickly eliminated by the ‘2%’ next to the sliver of red in the battery icon at the top of his screen.
He turns around and his eye catches onto the bright sign cheerily labeled ‘Student Escort System! Just call: 1-800-WALK’ plastered onto the pillar next to the self-checkout kiosk. Screw it , he thinks, as he opens his phone, staring for a second at the ‘3:21AM’ displayed across his screen. It’s late enough already .
The number is dialled quickly in slightly increasing desperation as the battery percentage dwindles even further to a nerve-inducing ‘1%’. He taps his foot impatiently as the line rings on the other end, knowing that he doesn’t have much time left before his call could be cut short by his phone dying.
“Hi, you’ve reached the University of Maryland’s Safety Escort System hotline,” a higher, bored-sounding voice greets him on the other end, clearly rattling off a well-rehearsed introduction. “We run this service 24/7 and would love to assist you in getting to where you need to be safely tonight. Please state a beginning and end location.”
“Uh, hello,” George begins, clearing his throat quickly. “I’m at the campus library and I need to get back to my dorm.”
“Thank you. An employee is now on their way to meet you. You will begin to receive text updates. Have a good night.”
A click sounds on the other end, and silence greets the Brit again as he looks around and walks over to sit on a bench near the door. He knows he can’t use his phone in order to save power, so he resorts to counting the floor tiles that he can see. A quiet ‘ding’ sounds a few minutes later, forcing him to pause from counting what would’ve been the 257th cobblestone square as he checks his texts.
“ Hello :) My name is Dream and I’m your safety student tonight ,” from an unfamiliar number, followed quickly by “ I’m right outside the library waiting for you!”
George hopes dearly that ‘Dream’ isn’t a stalker waiting to ambush him, taking a deep breath before getting up and leaving the building.
The slightly chilly September air hits his face, sounds of the nearby city ambience and chirping cicadas meeting his ears next. The dim glow from the two outside lamps on either side of the library door don’t illuminate much, but he can make out a taller, lean figure with messy blonde hair and muddy green eyes, tied together by a small smile, a gray flannel, and a pair of dark sweatpants.
“Hey, are you George?” his voice comes out in a cheerful, American-accented tone as he waves.
“Hi, uh, yeah, Dream?” the brunette asks back, answered by a warm nod.
“Yeah, that’s me. Sorry if the name sounds a bit weird,” he laughs. “It’s just what everyone around here calls me.”
And God, George thinks, I’m desperate by this point because the mere sight of the other tilting his head back to chuckle makes something feel light and funny in his stomach, though he hasn’t had anything but the water from his water bottle in the last two hours. “Oh, no,” he scrambles to follow up in the conversation. “You’re fine, I didn’t find it strange.”
“Just making sure,” Dream’s smile doesn’t leave his face as he turns to look at the intersection of crosswalks in front of the library, lit up only by the amber of the streetlamps and the blue light of the ‘Emergency’ call pillar nearby. “Which hall am I taking you to tonight?”
“Um, Centreville Hall,” he answers tentatively. “Yeah, Centreville Hall.”
“Out of interest,” the blonde begins, looking over at him as they start walking. “Are you new around here?”
George giggles, feeling himself blush as he glances away from the other’s curious green stare. I really am desperate, huh . “I am, yeah. I moved here this past summer on an exchange program.”
“That’s cool! Did you come from London?”
The brunette laughs again at Dream’s words, feeling the funny lightness in his stomach again at being ‘cool’ in his eyes. Something in the other makes him silly without even trying, he realizes subtly, as he half-asses an American accent to answer the question. “Definitely not.”
The green-eyed student tilts his head back and laughs his laugh again, jawline glinting in the glow of the streetlight above the pair as they cross the road. A single car drives past them as they keep walking, George barely noticing as he catches himself staring at Dream’s features, forcing his glance down to his feet as he blushes again.
“Careful,” a large hand and strong arm catch him around the waist as he nearly walks straight into a fire hydrant in his futile attempt to stop himself from checking out the near-stranger that he’d only met a few minutes ago.
The added embarrassment of undeniably not watching where he was going does nothing to help the dark pink in his face as he looks up, hoping as hard as he can that the blush isn’t too visible this late at night. “Thanks,” he manages out, voice cracking slightly as he clears his throat and looks away.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s almost like it’s my job to make sure you don’t seriously injure yourself or otherwise put yourself in danger on your way home,” Dream jokes lightheartedly.
Despite his state of humiliation, George feels a chuckle bursting up in his throat before he’s laughing with the other boy for a few seconds. And if he snuck another glance at the blonde mid-grin, well, it was between himself and whatever alley cat had glared at the disturbance in the silence of the night as they walked past.
“So, what are you studying here?” Dream asks, once they’ve recovered from their outburst.
“Computer science,” he answers.
“This late already? Classes haven’t even been on for a full week yet,” the green-eyed boy questions.
“I lose track of time easily when I read stuff that I find interesting,” George explains through a shrug. “And I would’ve walked back by myself, but my phone’s nearly dead and I barely know the campus.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like- you’re not-” Dream begins, coughing a bit as he tries to get his sentence out. “I love working the night shift, I’m not bothered by walking you home,” he finishes, running a hand through his hair. “I mean- not that you’re-”
The brown-eyed boy cuts him off with a giggle. “I know what you meant, Dream,” he reassures lightly. “It is nearly four in the morning by this point, which I’d think is a strange time to be at the library for anyone on campus.”
“It’s better than trying to find a random frat house when the sun’s rising because you need to walk a wasted guy home,” the other student says nonchalantly, as if it’s a typical, everyday task to do such a thing. “I’m usually the only one who’ll do it, though. None of the other people who work for the escort system are trained in self defense.”
“Makes sense why that’d come in handy,” George replies in a pleasantly surprised tone. “How long have you been training for?”
“Well, I picked up martial arts after I stopped playing football back in high school,” he says, a thoughtful look crossing his face as they continue through the campus streets. “So, probably around three or four years.”
The Brit hums back in acknowledgement. “That’s really cool.”
“Do you do any sports?” Dream asks, looking around for a brief moment before beginning to lead both of them down a turn onto a different street.
“I played tennis and swam back at home,” George answers. “But I think I might just focus on my major this year.”
“I get that.”
A breeze blows through the trees and lifts the frontmost tufts of the Brit’s brown hair, causing him to shiver slightly. “Do you know if we’ll be there soon?” he asks, remembering that he’d left his sweatshirt back at the dorm before he’d left to study with Quackity that night.
“Maybe in a few minutes,” Dream answers, stopping at a red light to push on the ‘walk’ button. “Why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s just- I’ve left my jacket back at the dorm and it’s windy,” George laughs lightly. “I can wait, though.”
“Are you cold? Here,” the blonde slows down and tugs his flannel off, reaching out and handing it to him.
George realizes, in that moment, Dream’s curriculum with martial arts as he catches a glance of the subtly toned muscles lining his arms, now exposed by the absence of his long-sleeved top layer. And then he registers the fact that a taller, toned, blonde with a killer smile just gave him his shirt. “You didn’t have to-” he blurts out, internally revelling at the distinct scent of pine aftershave that meets his nose when he breathes in.
“It’s no problem,” the other reassures through a casual chuckle. “I have way too many more back at my place, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
George swallows and looks down as he feels the all-too-familiar flush beginning on his cheeks again as he pulls off his backpack to pull the clothing on. “Thanks,” he smiles.
“Of course. And this is your hall,” Dream stops walking, turning to glance at the other. “So I think this is where I leave you for the night.”
A strange sense of something close to loneliness washes over the brown-eyed boy as he turns to look at the building in front of him.
Sure enough, the blonde had taken him to the right place, the familiar brick exterior staring back at him, warm yellow glow inside the lobby greeting him like it had his first day there. “Do you want this back?” he asks abruptly to fill the silence, tugging at the sleeves of the flannel quickly.
“Keep it,” Dream shakes his head quickly. “Wear it when you get cold again,” he looks into George’s eyes, smile lighting up the gold-flecked green in his own irises.
Electric runs up and down the brunette’s spine as he sees the other’s face, so close to him in that moment. “Thanks for taking me home tonight,” he murmurs, bashful grin on his face as he breaks their mutual stare to train his eyes onto the pavement below them, knowing that his blush would be more visible in the now-closer glimmer of the lights from the dorm hall in front of them.
“I loved talking with you at four in the morning,” Dream grins back. “If you ever need me again, just text me.”
“Text- oh, yeah,” George remembers the first text he’d gotten from the other that night, telling him that he was outside of the library waiting for him. “I will.”
“See you around,” the blonde smiles at him one more time before melting away into the darkness.
And he was alone again, until his phone vibrates from his pocket. He takes it out and looks at the glow of the screen, a singular notification blinking across the middle.
“ Goodnight, George :) ”