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1
George had friends, a lot of friends actually, but he still felt somewhat lonely. Perhaps the reason he was lonely was because he did have friends, but it felt like they weren't there.
He had long accepted that he was that disposable friend who wasn't part of the group, the friend who didn't really belong. He'd be that one person who's always left behind walking at the back of the group as said group laugh and talk together—with him left completely ignored. He supposed there were times they decided to include him in their fun. Although it wasn't very 'fun' for him since it only happened when he was the one being made fun of.
As much as it hurt his feelings, and how his friends never hesitate to step on his pride, George would laugh it off, thinking about how he just can't afford losing the only friends he had, even if they weren't good friends. Sometimes they were mean to him, sometimes they'd laugh at his insecurities and the things he lacked, hell, they even treat his colorblindness as a disability despite George saying over and over that it doesn't really affect him much. Maybe he was a coward, but he can't bring himself to confront them, fearing that they'd stop being friends with him. It was better to be a coward than to lose the only friends you have, right? Or so he continues to convince himself.
Why did it matter though? They never even treated him nicely or made him feel he belonged, so why should he hesitate in cutting them off his life?
He actually had grown tired of being all alone, feeling lonely even when he was with his friends. So, in his treehouse, he sat, still alone of course. But at least he was truly alone—it hurts to be alone, but it hurts more when you're with people you call your friends only for you to be left with none of them even laying an eye on you.
This treehouse was the only place where George found peace. A treehouse in the backyard of his house that has been there ever since he was a toddler. It had always been the place where he found comfort whenever he felt overwhelmed by the expectations of his parents. They never seem to get tired of blabbing on how they expect George to be the best in everything.
Ever since highschool though, the treehouse also became his place to find comfort when he feels a pit of emptiness in his heart. Sure, it wasn't as comforting as a person, it is a treehouse, but George made it work, he had to make it work.
He had put a sign outside that says "Do not Enter" since he didn't want his friends to ruin the peace he found inside the treehouse. Irritatingly, there were times his friends ignore the sign and tried to enter the treehouse. Good thing George locked the door.
Now he just woke up on a Saturday and immediately decided to work on his assignments. The earlier I start working, the sooner I'll finish he thinks as he pours all of his focus in writing his English essay.
George had lost track of time, clearly too wrapped up in doing schoolwork. He'd only realize it was 1 PM when he finished and glanced at the wall clock.
“George! Your friends are outside!” He gasps as his mother shouts from the kitchen of their house. George tidies up and changes his clothes. Then he walks to the kitchen where his mom was at.
“I gotta go, mom. My friends are waiting for me.”
He says as he avoids her gaze, looking at everything but her. As expected, his mom's face immediately turned into a scowl hearing what he said.
“Going out with your friends, again? Shouldn't you be doing your homework instead of hanging out with those kids who have no future? Or do you plan on being like them?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. As much as George was used to her unnecessary scolding and insults, he still gritted his teeth as he felt offended.
He managed to reply calmly, “I already finished my homework. I worked on it the moment I woke up.” I haven't even eaten since I woke up, but it's not like you care.
“Go on then. Leave.” I gladly will, thank you very much.
George's brows furrowed the instant he turned on his heel, scowling as he headed to exit the house.
The sun hung high, shining bright, with no clouds in the sky to block its rays. It was truly a lovely, sunny day.
“George, my man! What took you so long? We were about to leave without you. Quit acting like an important person, dude!”
But then again, can't the sun give you cancer?
George rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly at the attempt at humor of his friend, Eric, as he laughs together with the group. He eyed the laughing group of people, there were about seven boys. In which he usually doesn't care, even if his friends brought other people it would be fine to George since they were still familiar faces he often sees in school.
Until his gaze lands at an unfamiliar blond boy. He stood out, being the only person with dirty blond hair in the group of brunets. Their eyes meet and George suddenly feels an unfamiliar yet not unwelcome feeling in his stomach. Green. His eyes are green.
One of his friends clasps a hand on his back. George winced at the force exerted in the action. “This is Dream,” he gestures to the blond boy. “He's now a part of our friend group. Dream, this is George.”
The 'Dream' guy walked towards them, refusing to break eye contact with George. He now stood in front of him, with Dream towering over George. He held out his hand and George hesitantly shook it, gulping at the intent gaze of the boy. George felt his cheeks grow hot. He's really tall, huh?
Dream grinned at him, though it didn't help, only causing George to blush harder, being the first to break eye contact as he tried to return a shy smile.
As they continue their way to the nearest park, George tried to talk to one of his friends. He wanted to ask how they got to know and became friends with Dream.
“So, Mike, h-how did you guys meet Dream?” he tried to sound cheery, something worth talking to, as he speedwalked from the back to walk alongside his friend. “I never saw him in school. Did you guys...” He trailed off as Mike turned to Eric and said something that resulted in Eric laughing, completely ignoring George.
His shoulders dropped in disappointment. He pressed his lips together, walks slowing until he had returned to his usual spot in the very back of his friend group. Dream was there at the back too, seeming like he was having a hard time interacting with their other friends. George felt him staring, but chose to look at the ground, feeling defeated.
It wasn't unexpected to find George at the very back of the group as they walked around the neighborhood. But it was rather surprising to find Dream walking beside him.
Oh, now it wasn't only I that was left out.
Eventually, Dream somehow came up with a conversation with him. Just a few things about what his hobbies were. George also made small talk, asking about the things Dream enjoyed. George was surprised to find himself interested in him. Well, it had been a while since someone actually paid attention to him. He doesn't even remember a time his friends asked about his hobbies or the things he liked.
He found out that Dream's favorite color was Green, the same color of his eyes. “Mine's blue, it's one of the colors I can actually see, and it's vibrant and pretty so...” He trailed off, noticing Dream slightly tilting his head to the side like a dog with a questioning look on his face.
That causes a laugh to bubble out George's throat. “I'm colorblind, duh.” He said, jokingly rolling his eyes. He could almost see the gears turning in Dream's head as his face lits up. Dream opened his mouth to speak but George beat him to it, “No, I can see colors, but not the same way you see it. I'm red and green colorblind, and I only really see Blue and Yellow.”
“That sucks, you can't see green, then?”
“I see green as yellow.”
“What? You see green, basically the best color there is, as piss yellow?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Your eyes are the color of piss through my eyes.”
“Please never remind me that ever again.”
As they hang out, with George and Dream having each other's company, talking and making light-hearted jokes, George lets himself believe for a moment that he had found a true friend.
2
There came more days where they'd go out. George actually looked forward to it, since he knew Dream was going too. And even if their friends completely ignored their existence, they had each other.
Dream was kind, at least for George he was. At the very least he didn't made fun of George for the littlest things, at least he actually showed interest when George talked about himself. George was overjoyed to have someone, someone who's as left out as he was.
He also found out that Dream also plays Minecraft, and now they plan on playing together on weekends. They had a lot in common that made George really glad.
“You're such an idiot.” Dream wheezed, basically dying of laughter because of a joke George said. He bit back a wide grin, which he failed, so he shot a toothy grin at Dream, who looked like he was going to run out of air any minute.
In times like this, when they were together laughing in their own world, right at the back of the group, it's more of something like them leaving out the rest of the group.
What? It's just fair, isn't it? They'd left them out so they made their own world and pulled out an uno reverse card on their friends as they're now the ones who are left out by the duo.
George wanted to laugh at their friends, he wanted to laugh in their faces now that he's with Dream, Dream and him in their own little bubble. It was as if when the world turned against him, it was completely fine because the world also turned against Dream, in which it became them against the world.
It's fine, right? It's fine to think that Dream's his real friend, right?
George supposes it's fine.
3
George wanted to bang his head on the wall.
He was on his lunch break, and his next class was History. Chewing on his sandwich, his eyes suddenly widens as he remembers his forgotten History textbook at home. It would've been fine, only if his history teacher weren't known for pop quizzes, and George was used to taking his classes and listening to the teacher while tracking the discussion based on his textbooks.
Welp, surely things will go his way, right? It can't possibly happen to be that the one time he forgets to bring his textbook was when they'd be given about five minutes to study before a quiz, right?
“Hey, have you heard? Apparently Mr. Jenkins plans to ruin our lives with a surprise quiz later.”
“It's on the topic we haven't even discussed yet, so we'll probably be told to study on our own for like five seconds before the quiz.”
Yeah, he was screwed.
George paled as he overhears a conversation between his classmates. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but surely, it'll be turned into one by his parents.
George groaned at the thought. He was way beyond done with his parents' expectations—they never even showed that they were proud when he got top scores. It was always You have to study harder to stay in the top of your class.
“Are you not gonna finish that?”
He almost jumped in his seat, turning to the blond. “Dream!” Dream was already sitting beside him, face dangerously close to his own. “Wha— DREAM NO!” He violently pulls away his sandwich from Dream, who bit it like a feral dog, his sharp canines digging into the soft bread.
George glared daggers at him, Dream looking like a kicked puppy that was told ‘bad boy!’ by his owner. He chews the part of the sandwich he had torn off, swallowing sadly.
“To be fair, you looked like you lost your appetite. And in my defense, I didn't eat breakfast and your sandwich looked really good.”
He glanced up at George, upon seeing him scowling, he immediately resumed ducking his head, almost pouting.
After a few moments of George glaring at a sad dog named Dream, George remembers his previous concern and an idea popped up in his head causing his face to lit up.
“Dream,” He looks up, still slightly pouting. He looks adorable. Such a baby.
“Do you have your history textbook?” He had transferred about a day before he and George met. Though, it was unfortunate that they didn't share any classes together, only bumping into each other here and there.
Dream slowly nods. “Let me borrow it and I'll give you my sandwich.” He stares at George for a moment, having a hard time figuring out if George was being serious.
George rolls his eyes, a fond smile forming on his lips as he offers his sandwich to Dream. He takes it, instantly beaming, and George wonders why there was still a sun when there was already a certain someone who shone brighter and lit up the area just by his smiles.
George thinks Dream is the sun.
George was more of a moon person, but when Dream's the literal embodiment of the sun, it makes it really hard not to fall in love with it.
“Come to my locker.”
Relief floods through George as Dream hands him his history textbook, smiling fondly as he ruffles George's hair. He was once again thankful for having a friend like him. Dream is his friend, right? They'd been inseparable and friends help and lend each other stuff, right?
George thinks they're friends.
4
George felt lonely again, he felt small in the walls of his room, suddenly overwhelmed by how big the universe was. He didn't want to deal with anyone so of course, he climbed and sat in his treehouse.
He just sat on the floor and did, well, nothing. Until he hears his friends call from outside, he huffs and ignores them. He wasn't exactly in the mood.
Why can't everyone just go away?
A few seconds passed. Then, minutes. He peeked through his treehouse's window to see if they had already left, which to his relief, they did. He really didn't want to go out just to be ignored by them. A sigh leaves his mouth as he slumps back down to sit on the floor.
He was surprised when he saw a figure in the doorway. Didn't his friends already leave? But then came Dream who gave him a soft smile as he entered.
“Is it alright for me to be here?”
George replied with a small voice, “Yes.”
Dream looked at him fondly before sitting beside him. George found himself with a small, content smile as he rested his head on Dream's shoulder, which Dream surprisingly let him.
Except you, you can stay.
There in that treehouse, George didn't bother masking his personality, he continued being loud as he rambled on and on, but as he usually was by himself, now he had Dream listening beside him.
If only he knew that the boy sitting with him wore a malicious smile on his lips before it was too late. But he didn't, so for now, George thinks they are really good friends.
5
It had been months since George met Dream. They were practically glued to the hip, usually hanging out after school, eating lunch together. Their personalities complement each other, and George couldn't help but grow feelings for the other.
He doesn't know how it started. Perhaps it was when Dream saw him shivering at the cold weather and handed him his hoodie, his favorite obnoxious green hoodie. Or maybe it was when Dream comforted him when his parents nearly disowned him just because he got a B on a test. He's not really sure, but one thing he is sure of is that he has fallen in love with Dream, his best friend.
George just found himself staring at him fondly, he was in his mind 24/7, and often times he wants nothing else but to make him happy.
In his defense, it was really hard not to fall in love with Dream when he was nearly perfect. Tall, blond, handsome, with addicting emerald eyes and an intoxicating voice, sure he had that wheezing laugh where he sounds like a tea kettle but George thinks it's cute and endearing. Well, yeah, he sure was down bad.
So when one time while they were chilling in George's treehouse, Dream proposed an idea that he didn't really think was necessary, George just had to approve. Ugh, when did I become such a simp? George internally groans.
“I really think it's a good idea, you know, the more the merrier!”
Dream convinced George they should start including their friends and actually hang out with them. He said how it would be nice to hang out with them in his so loved treehouse. George was confused at first, why would Dream suggest that, when they were happy with just the two of them? But he still gave his permission.
It wasn't so bad after all. George let his friends hang out in the treehouse with him. Although they stuck to their thing in which they barely pay attention to George, it was fine since Dream was still there beside him. Sure, sometimes his other friends would try to take him from George but most of the time, the duo are together in the corner—in their own world.
He wanted to be upset whenever his friends try to take Dream's attention from him, but when his feelings for his best friend pops up in his mind, he ultimately feels guilty. He settles for it being fine as long as he could love Dream from afar, as long as their friendship stays intact.
George was sure Dream was his one, true best friend, even if it hurt that he can't be anything more than that.
They've promised that dreams can come true— but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too.
George was having nearly the best day of his life, before going to school his mom told him 'good job' on a test he aced, he wasn't really expecting anything so it really surprised him. On his way to school, he saw Dream and so they walked together. Dream complimented his hat, saying it looked good on him and when George blushed, Dream laughed fondly as he said, ‘You look so cute when you're flustered.’ And if that wasn't enough to make his day, Dream dragged him to a nearby ice cream parlor after school and insisted on paying for his coffee flavoured ice cream. George thought there was no harm in thinking it was a date.
In fact, his day was going so perfectly and if he knew better he would've thought it was suspicious. But just for today, he wants to believe that it's just really the best day of his life with no catches.
Now, Dream and his other friends had already climbed down the treehouse to leave since it was already getting dark. George bid him goodbye from the window of the treehouse in which Dream waved at him, wearing a wide grin. When his gaze fell to the floor of the treehouse, he found a familiar phone with a yellow casing (which he assumes is actually green) lying on it. A fond smile crept up on his face as he shook his head. Silly Dream, forgetting his phone.
It was turned off, George remembered how Dream said earlier that he took it with him without checking if it was low on battery or not. Which just a while ago, Dream's phone had died.
He climbed down the treehouse with the phone in hand, a small smile on his face. He had come to accept his feelings for Dream, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't already miss the blond.
He was certain he could still catch up to Dream and his friends who all went the same direction going home. George's smile turns into a grin as he spots the familiar tall, blond boy walking with his friends just a little further away.
He approached them from behind, debating whether to become sneaky, give Dream a heart attack and surprise the hell out of him, or casually return his phone in a normal way. But right when he was about to call Dream's name, his grin was wiped off as he overhears them talking.
“Dude, Dream, you did really good in that bet, huh?” What bet? He couldn't help but listen, praying in his mind that what he was thinking was wrong.
“The one where we said you could only officially be part of the group if you could convince George to let us hang out in that treehouse of his.” That was Eric's voice. George was so, so confused, it was like the more he listened, the more his heart was ravished. Dream couldn't possibly—
“Of course I did,” That was Dream, with Dream's voice, right? Dream scoffed. “I had to endure being with that loser and listen to him rambling, but I still did it.” Please. Please stop talking.
“It was pretty hard to act like I actually cared though.” That confirms it. Though, George still couldn't believe it. He felt a pang in his already shattered heart.
“Yeah, that dude was good for nothing. The only good thing about him was he had that treehouse where it's nice to hang out. And he wouldn't even let us in there. What a complete trash of a friend.” Said another one of his friends and he almost covered his ears, desperately wanting to stop hearing when the others agreed. When even Dream agreed. They stomped on George's already shattered, broken heart. Haven't they done enough?
“Dream.” He called from behind them, usual fond, cheery tone when saying his best friend's name gone. Dream turned around, eyes widening in surprise to see George, eyes glassy and barely holding back tears.
“You left your phone.” He managed to say, hands shaking and voice almost cracking as he handed him his phone. Dream hesitantly took it.
“George.” Dream's voice was hinted with concern, eyes softening at the sight of the brunet. If George hadn't heard the conversation, he would've thought Dream was actually concerned for him. I was a fool for falling in love with you he wanted to say.
He was about to reach out for George but George knew better, so he took a step away. He immediately longed for the blond's touch, especially when he looks at him, once again looking like a kicked puppy, having that hurt look on his face. The audacity to look hurt, when you're the one who played with my feelings.
George just returned the hurt look with a betrayed look of his own, as if saying he was the one hurting like hell here, before turning away and walking back home without sparing his so-called friends a single glance. If only he had cut his friends off a long time ago, maybe then he wouldn't be hurting like this.
He climbs up the treehouse and there he bursts out into tears. He failed to attain his painfully needed comfort in the treehouse. It only reminded him of the moments he shared with Dream in that very place. There was no more place to find comfort, moreover someone to find comfort.
How could he be such a fool to think Dream was actually his friend, to think Dream actually cared for him? Now here he was, hurting so much because it turns out, nobody cared for him.
And there in that treehouse, a realization hits him: He had been alone all along.
He never should have let himself believe that it was truly his day. He never should have let himself fall. He never should have lowered his walls. He never should have believed that Dream was his friend.
Feeling his heart endlessly being pricked by needles as he drowns in the sorrow of betrayal, he hoped he never thought of Dream as the sun, ‘cause when you compare the sun to the person you love, blinded by oh, so sweet love, you end up forgetting that the sun can give you cancer.