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It’s July, and it’s a Friday night. Karl can’t sleep, so he sits in bed with the lights still on, watching the time tick away from late and into early.
It’s no longer a Friday night; it’s a Saturday morning. Karl pretends it’s still a Friday night.
His phone goes off in his hand. When it vibrates twice instead of once, he knows it’s his boyfriend without even having to look.
dream 3:37 am
| testing, testing
| 1, 2, 3, hello world
Karl smiles down at his phone. Only Dream would text him like this, he thinks, and that’s a good thing.
karl 3:41 am
| does that make me the world?
| or are there other people here that i can’t see :)
He watches a typing bubble, slow and finicky. He taps painted nails against the side of his phone.
dream 3:43 am
| actually
| you are my world <3
Karl can feel where his cheeks turn pink. He’s almost grateful that Dream isn’t here to see the way he gets so flustered. With feigned composure and clicking nails, he texts back, trying to ignore the fact that he’s nearly giggling.
karl 3:47 am
| aw
| how sweet of you
dream 3:49 am
| thanks for giving me the opportunity to say how i feel
Dream is stupid, Karl figures, and he thinks he’ll tell him that next time they see each other. It’ll sound better in his voice than it will over text.
karl 3:51 am
| it was an accident
| but you’re welcome
dream 3:52 am
| can i come over?
And Karl considers it for a moment.
On one hand, it’s very late. On one hand, his parents are sleeping down the hall. On one hand, there are a hundred reasons to say no, each one feeling more logical than the last.
On the other hand, he misses his boyfriend. A lot. Even if he just saw him three days ago.
And he only lives a block away.
karl 3:54 am
| if you want
| i’ll leave my window open
| just don’t make too much noise
Karl gets up to open his window, as promised. The one without the screen, the one his air conditioner is meant to go in, the one that Dream can climb into or Karl can climb out of.
dream 3:56 am
| okay
| see you in a bit :)
He waits. Standing by his window, Karl waits, patient but not.
He isn’t sure how long it takes Dream to get there, but he figures it isn’t very long at all. He’s still standing beside the window, letting a summer night’s breeze cover his skin, and Dream’s pretty face pops up beyond the sill, broad shoulders clad in his football letterman.
“Karl,” he whispers, and surprised, Karl jolts.
“Dream,” he mutters back, smiling wider than he thought he could. “Are you gonna come in?”
They keep their voices down because they have to. They keep their voices down because Karl’s parents are asleep down the hall.
“Actually,” Dream starts, considering. He purses his lips like he’s unsure. “I was thinking you should come outside.”
Karl raises an eyebrow. Dream only smiles, a light against the night sky, sticking an arm through the window with an offered hand.
“What are we gonna do?” Karl asks as though he’s wondering, considering, unsure of agreement, but he’s already sure of himself; just silently.
“I thought we should go to the high school,” Dream offers. “We can climb up on the roof and look at the stars.”
That might be illegal, Karl thinks, but that doesn’t mean he’s saying no.
“That sounds stupid,” is what he tells Dream, watching his smile slip into a way of persuasion. “Count me in.”
And he wraps his hands around the windowsill, silently convincing Dream to take a few steps back before he jumps out the window. His feet hit the ground harshly, ankles straining, and he turns around immediately to pull the window as shut as he can without making it impossible to get back in.
Before he can turn back around to face Dream, his boyfriend attacks him with a hug. Wrapping arms around Karl’s waist, tugging him close and into his chest with enough force to make him squeal, grabbing Dream around the wrists when he’s swept off his feet.
“Dream!” he hisses, accusatory and through grit teeth.
Lips find his neck through messy hair, kissing him obnoxiously. Karl’s fit of squeals turns to giggles, and he lets Dream hold him close, standing outside his screenless bedroom window past four in the morning.
“Let’s go,” Dream whispers in Karl's ear, so they do.
Karl lets Dream drag him by a hand, fingers interlocked tight and refusing to let go. He stumbles a bit to keep up, but he manages, following close behind with laughter on his smiling lips. He feeds off Dream’s radiant joy, off the laughs he gives, too, and the way his eyes are bright under the moon.
Karl knows he’s within walking distance to the school—he walked to and from school all of last year—so he lets Dream stumble down the street until they get there. The stream of passing cars on the main road is far thinner than they’re used to, but that can only make sense given the time of day. It’s probably for the better, too.
“Do you even know how to get up on the roof?” Karl whispers, squeezing Dream’s hand a little tighter.
The blond laughs. “There’s a ladder around the back.”
Karl isn’t sure he remembers that. “There is?”
“Just trust me.”
Karl does. It’s easy.
That was something he’d always loved about Dream. How easy it was to trust him, to love him, to see the way he sees good in people. He was a devastatingly likeable person, and Karl thinks he should be counting his blessings for the fact he gets to call him his.
He loves Dream. He wants to tell him that. They haven’t yet, but the words are bright on Karl’s tongue, pink and admitting.
He smiles. He loves Dream.
“See?” the blond says quickly, interrupting Karl’s thoughts as their hands slip out of tight grasp. “Told you.”
Karl looks to where he’s gesturing. Sure enough, there’s a ladder leading up to the roof. And Dream is already grabbing for it, hands wrapped around metal, looking over his shoulder at where Karl stands with an expectant look on his face.
“You did tell me,” Karl mutters, joyous, wandering a single step closer. “I trusted you.”
Dream smiles back. Then he looks up, toward the stars and the roof that await them, back down at Karl’s eyes with a glow. It’s not the moon, but it could be, bright and silver.
“You’ll follow me, right?”
Dream’s voice wavers, unsteady. Karl nods without hesitation.
“Everywhere you go.”
Freckled cheeks tint pink. “Okay.” And Dream heads up the ladder.
When he makes his way up the first few rungs, Karl follows, sure of himself. Their feet hit against the metal and their hands grip the rungs, one after another, the only sound besides insects in the quiet summer night. They don’t talk until they’re lying next to each other, backs against the roof and eyes toward the sky, close enough for their legs to press against each other while their ankles cross.
But they don’t talk immediately, either. They share the silence, quiet under the stars, and Karl watches them glimmer. The sky is turning from dark ink to pale purple, a sunrise in their near future seeing how early the night had gone.
Karl feels watched. When he turns to look at Dream, he finds that he’s already looking at him.
“You’re pretty,” Dream whispers, as if he can read the confusion on Karl’s face.
He tries not to blush. He knows it doesn’t work that way.
“Thank you,” he whispers back. “You’re pretty, too.”
Dream’s face splits into a grin, quiet laughter in his mouth. He reaches for Karl with a single hand, rolling over until he’s nearly on his side, fingers brushing the bare skin of Karl’s arm.
“C’mere,” he mutters. Karl lets Dream pull him in close.
They both lay on their sides, facing each other, and their lips can only stay apart for so long. Karl takes Dream’s kiss just as he always does: happily.
His lips are soft and warm and his tongue is quick and darting, and Karl thinks he wants to be swallowed by this boy on the roof on an early July morning. It’s perfect in the messy way, the same as the way they kiss, because they’re not supposed to be here and Karl’s supposed to be in bed but he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
He’s here. With Dream. Dream and his strong arms, and his wicked tongue, and his rough hands that are always so gentle. He likes it. He loves it.
He loves Dream. So, so much.
When they part, he feels that confession rising. Dream speaks first.
“Are you cold?” he asks, genuine, one hand rubbing at the bare skin of Karl’s arm. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Karl laughs, quiet. “I’m fine.” Just nervous.
“No, no,” Dream insists, sitting up quickly. Karl follows (because he’d follow Dream anywhere). “You can wear my jacket.”
He’s already taking it off, slipping the letterman off his shoulders before Karl can answer. Because it wasn’t a question, not do you want to wear my jacket?; Dream wasn’t asking.
“I’m fine, Dream,” Karl tries anyway, “really.”
Dream doesn't take it. He slips the jacket over Karl’s shoulders, draped across his back, and Karl reaches for Dream’s hands where they rest on the lapels.
“I insist,” he whispers. “And you look adorable in it, too.” Dream smiles, wide and genuine. Karl slips his arms through the jacket sleeves silently. “Like mine.”
Karl grins, gripping at the sleeves where they hang over his palms. “Yours.”
An arm drapes over Karl’s shoulders. He lets Dream pull him closer, dragging across the roof, head falling into the space between Dream’s shoulder and his jaw. He’s warm, and he’s alive, and Karl thinks he hears his heartbeat in his neck.
He’s Dream. Karl tells him the only thing he wants to say.
“I love you, Dream.”
The hand on his shoulder tenses, but it’s genuine. A kiss lands on the top of his head, pressed into a mess of light hair. Together, they breathe.
“I think I love you more, Jacobs.”
Karl wants to say that’s impossible. Dream kisses him before he can.