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The bell rings, signalling the end of class, and chairs are being scraped loudly against polished vinyl floor and books are being shoved into tatty old rucksacks that have endured all weathers. Ms. Owen, an old and withering teacher with a vile coffee breath and the fashion taste of an old set of curtains, desperately spews some boring shit about homework and chapters and textbooks that Dream has no real care for.
Most of the class ignores her. Poor woman.
Dream slings his rucksack onto his back and strolls towards the classroom door amidst the sea of tired, depressed teens, when a hand comes down onto his shoulder from behind. “Hey man, have you seen George today? I haven’t heard from him.”
Dream looks halfway over his shoulder, spotting Sapnap trailing along behind him, and continues towards the door— eager to get out of the cramped classroom. “No, I haven’t. Why?”
It was unusual that Sapnap would ask about George’s whereabouts, but Dream doesn’t think much of it besides Sapnap just being a caring friend. Yet, now that Sapnap had mentioned it, it was also unusual for George to be missing from school, especially so close to Mock Exam week, which was fast approaching in two weeks’ time. George had been worried about the mocks, despite them not really holding any real significance besides practice for the real GCSE exams in May, and his worry made Dream concerned for him.
Together, the two of them push into the bustling humanities corridor, kids emptying out of History, Geography, Economics and Psychology classes move like a tidal wave down the hall towards the canteen for breaktime. Waffles were being sold today. Everyone goes bonkers for the waffles.
Sapnap’s arm brushes against Dream’s side. “Okay,” he says simply, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets.
Dream glances at him, an eyebrow raised. “Bit odd for him to be away from school.”
“Maybe he’s just sick or something,” Sapnap offers hurriedly, looking both up and down the corridor before facing Dream to send him a tight smile. “Let’s go to the lockers, I need to grab something for ICT.”
“But,” Dream starts, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the school’s canteen. “They’re doing waffles today. Don’t you wanna go get one?”
Sapnap’s eyes follow the direction in which Dream points before shaking his head. “No. Saving my money for, uh—” Dream narrows his eyes, “—I need money for um, uh— new equipment. Yes! I’m saving my money for a protractor and ruler for the mocks,” he finishes with a quick breath, and sends Dream a wide grin. “So, let’s go to the lockers. Now.”
Sapnap takes off down the hall towards the lockers, leaving Dream still standing by the classroom door in wild confusion. Sapnap always nicks exam equipment from some poor unsuspecting soul five minutes before an exam starts— there is no way he is blowing off a waffle with syrup for some stationary. Still, Dream follows his best friend with a sigh and they make it to the lockers a few moments later.
Dream stands by, watching as Sapnap approaches his locker, raises a hand to unlock it, but then stops short. He lets out a laugh. “Are you not gonna get your ICT thing out?” He teases lightly, crossing his arms. “Or, can you not because it doesn’t exist?”
Honestly, Sapnap should get better at lying because Dream is literally in his ICT class, and he was well aware that there was no “thing” that Sapnap had to get for it. Furthermore, they didn’t even have ICT until fifth period, after lunch, so there was no point in getting the “thing” out of his locker at breaktime.
Sapnaps’ hand falls to his side again and he turns on his heel to face Dream. “Open your locker.”
“Why?”
“Just open it.”
Dream pulls a face, but takes a step closer to his locker despite himself. “I don’t need anything from inside, why do you want me to—”
“Open it, Dream,” Sapnap interrupts, stepping aside so that Dream could get to his locker. “Please?”
The corridor had quickly become deserted, with almost every kid desperately running towards the waffles in the canteen. Dream and Sapnap were the only people in the hallway, apart from a lone teacher scrambling down the hallway to get to their next class or staff meeting. It’s quiet now, and Dream stares at Sapnap’s hopeful gaze for a moment more before he steps forwards and unlocks his locker.
Dream faces Sapnap again. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope,” Sapnap replies, clicking his tongue.
Inside his locker was a white envelope propped up against his lunchbox. On it, was scrawled;
‘Top secret and highly-sensitive information. Property of Clay “Dream” Harris’ in splotchy black biro ink.
It was in George’s box-like handwriting, and there were smudges all over the envelope because he was left-handed, and the ink hadn’t dried quick enough as he wrote.
Cute.
“You’re a terrible wingman,” Dream chuckles lightly, reaching into his locker and plucking out the envelope before slamming his locker door shut. “What’s it for?”
Sapnap shrugs and leans against the lockers. “I dunno. Open it and find out.”
Dream looks down at the envelope and flips it over to undo the seal, but pauses when he spots a small heart drawn onto the back. Containing a flushed smile, he does his best to open the envelope without tearing through the heart, and pulls out a messily folded up letter. Stuffing the envelope into his blazer pocket, Dream flips the letter back over and traces his thumbs against the handwriting indents on the back.
“Dude, you’re so down bad it makes me feel ill,” Sapnap says, kicking himself off the lockers and turning away from Dream. “I’m going to get a waffle, see you in maths.”
Dream looks up from the letter to see Sapnap’s retreating figure. “Yeah, protractor my ass.”
He laughs when Sapnap throws a middle finger over his shoulder, and he gazes back down at the letter in his hands again.
Truth be told, he was nervous. The crush that he had on George had been harbouring in the back of his mind ever since he was fourteen and in that biology class with Mr Firth; he and George had been partners during a practical where they had to test different chemicals with potato chunks. It was a weird experiment, and they both laughed throughout its whole duration. Dream had laughed particularly loudly when George’s goggles kept slipping off his nose because they were far too big for him, and there were no spare small goggles.
Dream had thought the world of him— he still does.
So, if this letter is what Dream thinks it is, then… shit. Not that it would be a bad thing, of course, it would just be a big shock since Dream was fairly certain that his feelings aren't reciprocated.
Though since George had made a whole elaborate plan to be away from school and to rope Sapnap into his scheme, Dream could almost read the confession through the folded paper. But it still doesn’t make it any easier to open.
Honestly, the humanities corridor was the very last place Dream would want to open and read this kind of letter. Mostly because it’s private, but also because his facial expressions to what’s written will be seen by the scumbags meandering down the corridor. The last thing he wants is some stuck-up year seven to snatch the letter away from him and read it out loud to their equally stuck-up buddies.
Dream would probably end it all right there.
But despite his thoughts, he opens the letter, hands slightly shaking, and begins to read the splotchy mess scrawled across the page.
Dream,
I’m sorry that I had to write something instead of saying it to you in person. I don’t think I would have been able to stomach the interaction, I’m even shaking with nerves as I write this, so I gotta apologise for that too. Sorry.
You have been there for me through everything; my ups and downs, my weakest and my strongest moments, and the points where I thought everything had come crashing down on me. You’ve had my back through it all, listened to my problems, offered incredible advice whenever I needed it and, most of all, you’ve somehow managed to put up with me.
Being your best friend has been my greatest honour, and I had always thought that we’d just be that; best friends.
But when I lay awake at night, unable to sleep, you’re all that I think about.
You consume my thoughts and cloud my brain with your deep chuckles and teasing mumbles. You make my world glow. You illuminate my darkest nights and gloomy days and take me to a higher level I never thought existed. You make me feel loved, treasured, adored, admired.
I soon figured out that, as long as you’re happy, I am too. My days will continue to shine bright and my nights will continue to offer the soft hum of comfort.
My world will continue to spin, with you in it.
So, I need you. Do you understand?
I love you so much, and you didn’t even know it. Or, maybe you did. That would be embarrassing.
Either way, I love you so much that I get so scared about feeling it— showing it. You know I’ve never been great at showing my affections, so you better treasure this fucking letter for all time. It’s rare, and highly confidential. Hence the note on the envelope.
But I trust you. I trust you with my heart, and I know you’ll keep it safe, whether you feel the same way about me or not; I know that you will be gentle. I admire that a lot about you; you’re such a caring soul, no matter what.
Someday I wish to take some lessons from you, maybe it’ll help me become a better person. But I know that you already think I’m an incredible person, so perhaps I won’t even bother.
Anyway I’m getting off track. And I’m running out of things to say. I bet most of the things I’ve already said have been shit. I hope you don’t mind much, I tried my best.
So just know that I love you, and I always will, and that if you want it… My heart is yours for as long as you can care for it.
-George :]
By the end of the letter, Dream was a smiling, flushing, giggling mess with butterflies soaring through his chest and up his throat.
But then he remembered that he was in a British public school, and that the terrors of year sevens pose a threat to his pride and reputation, so he shoves his fist against his mouth to conceal his wobbling smile.
He hastily pockets the letter, but not after giving it another quick once over, and digs out his phone to swipe through to his contacts.
“George” stands bold on the screen, and he hesitated a moment before pressing his thumb on the call button. His phone immediately begins to ring through and he slots it up against his ear.
A moment later, the line connects.
“George! Where are you, are you home? I need to see you— what? No I don’t care about missing school, George I— shut up! Just tell me where you are. I need to see you, like, right now— What for? What the hell do you think for, huh? Tell me— a ha , don’t worry, dummy—” Dream looks up to see Sapnap strolling back towards him with a waffle drenched in sweet golden syrup, “—it’s good, we’re good. I promise.”
Once he approaches, Sapnap raises an eyebrow at Dream before munching back down on his waffle, the syrup spilling over the sides and drooling down his blazer. Dream rolls his eyes.
"You're at the park?" Dream asks to confirm, his smile steadily growing. "Yeah? I'll be there in five minutes— shut up, I can make it in five, I'll run."