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This must be what falling feels like. George let’s it consume his very being, because here, it feels safe.
There’s music playing from a small bluetooth speaker that’s sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. George isn’t entirely sure what song it is. It’s some playlist of low-fi beats that Dream had put on, saying that it helped him study, not that either of them are doing much studying right now. They’re simply cooped up in a tiny dorm in a college on the east coast, tucked away from everyone else, at least for now.
“Come lay with me,” Dream says, his voice soft and quiet, and all-consuming.
George takes one last look out the window. It’s the middle of fall. The leaves have already turned colors, and they’re starting to fall, to prepare for a new beginning. And the air outside is crips and biting; George only knows this because the window is open a crack. He had called Dream a psychopath because of it, but it gave him a reason to steal one of the blonds hoodies, so maybe things aren’t all that bad.
Dream is lying in the bed on the opposite side of the room, clad in a grey t-shirt and red checkered pajama pants, the “perfect studying clothes” as he called them. There’s a heap of blankets and pillows on the bed, creating almost what George would call a nest. He approaches the so-called nest, and Dream grins up at him. He looks perfect, George thinks, messy dark blond hair falling into his eyes in waves.
“Come’ere, I’m cold,” Dream mumbles, pushing his face into a plethora of blankets. George watches as he curls in on himself slightly, fingers twisting into the fabric of the top blanket.
If he's even a little bit hesitant to lie in the bed next to Dream, that’s no one’s business but his own. His bones ache at the thought, though, the thought of anything possibly going wrong. So instead, he sinks.
George starts smiling the second he lies down on the bed, a few giggles escaping, too. One of Dream’s arms wraps around his torso, pulling him close and then settling on the dip in his waist. The touch is soft, soft unlike anything he’s ever felt before.
Warm breath fans over George’s cheek, and then he feels Dream tuck his head into the crook of his neck.
George lets out a content sigh. His hands rest on his ribcage, not quite knowing where they should go. Dream has him caged in, in a way, but it’s a good way.
He looks up at the ceiling, then down at the arm Dream has draped across him, and then he closes his eyes.
There’s hair tickling the bottom of George’s chin, and which is about the only thing he can focus on right now. There’s that and the warmth spreading through his chest, and the knee pressed against the side of his shin, and then of course there’s Dream’s nose brushing against his neck every time the younger man shifts.
Okay, so maybe, there’s a lot of things George is focused on. His mind is extremely preoccupied, it seems, but all his thoughts are about the same thing, all about Dream, so George decides he doesn’t really mind all that much.
He tilts his head to the side, burying his nose in Dream’s hair. The smell of rainwater and apples instantly washing over him.
George breathes in deeply, then, and he thinks it smells like home.
“Did you just sniff me?” Dream asks, and George can hear the grin in his voice.
“No,” George scoffs. He moves his head the slightest bit and opens his eyes, and Dream pulls away from his neck.
George is met with sparkling green eyes and a warm smile. The way Dream is looking at him makes George feel like he’s melting, even with the cool autumn breeze.
“I think you did,” Dream says. He says it quietly, almost like an afterthought, like he’s talking just to talk .
George rolls his eyes, fingers flexing where they rest on his torso. He feels the grip Dream has on his waist tighten momentarily, then travel further up torso before moving back down. George sucks in a shaky breath at the movement, but Dream simply smiles at him like nothing is out of the ordinary.
Maybe nothing is .
“You are so tense right now,” Dream whispers, his breath tickling George’s neck.
It makes George shiver as he responds. “I’m not,” he denies. It’s a lie, but Dream doesn’t need to know that. Maybe he already does, and George thinks as much when the younger man squeezes his hip in what he assumes is in a reassuring manner. It feels that way, at least.
Something in George’s head tells him to turn onto his side, so he takes a leap of faith and does. There’s a few moments of shuffling, George getting comfortable and Dream readjusting the placement of his hand. Then, George is curled up directly in front of Dream’s chest. They’re touching in more ways than one. George wraps an arm around Dream’s torso, holding onto him like he’s a teddy bear. Dream places his hand on George’s cheek, thumb stroking the skin just below his left eye. The gesture causes George to blush.
The longer they lie there, the more George thinks Dream is going to kiss him, and that could either be the best or worst thing that could possibly happen. George’s gut says it would absolutely rock his world, make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
His brain says otherwise.
George tilts his jaw up, and maybe it's an offer. Dream seems to take it by leaning forward and pecking his chin. Somehow, it still takes George by surprise. He can feel the blush on his cheeks becoming more intense.
Dream’s hand moves slightly, brushing a few stray pieces of hair behind George’s ear. It sends a shiver down his spine and causes even more warmth to spread through his chest.
George can feel warm puffs of breath against his lips and cheeks. At this point, he’s just waiting . Maybe he should take initiative, but he can barely comprehend what’s even happening. Maybe his head is just conjuring up more fantasies that will never come true.
But then, the world stops. Dream leans forward slowly, and the space between them disappears. A warm mouth presses against George’s, and he kisses back instantly.
The kiss is simple, really, and it’s the definition of sweetness.
It’s incredibly slow and soft, the way their mouths move together in a perfect rhythm. Despite that fact, George holds onto Dream like he’s a lifeline. His nails dig into Dream’s back softly, and he puts his all into the kiss.
Any minute now, George expects things to go wrong. This is all too perfect; he’s never been this lucky. Dream is only going to end up wanting more . George should know better, but this feels too good.
They do eventually part, though, breath mingling together in a way that suggests they’re connected in more ways than just physical. Dream rests his forehead against George’s, grinning widely. The blond’s hand remains cradling George’s face
“You just… kissed me,” George says dumbly. He’s looking at Dream with what he’s sure are wide eyes and blown pupils.
“Was that okay?” Dream asks, pulling back slightly and putting space between them again. He looks genuinely worried now, maybe a little panicked. It doesn’t make sense to George, the fact that Dream is even asking this when he kissed back .
George is just waiting for the catch, the part where this turns into more than he’s ready for.
“Yes,” George says anyway, because he doesn’t want to ruin this moment, even if it means he gets hurt in the end.
“Are you sure?” And now Dream’s hand is in his hair, carding through the strands softly. George could almost fall asleep like this. “Do you want to talk?”
Talk.
“Talk?”
“Yeah,” Dream says. His voice remains soft and caring, his hand, too. George waits for that to change, for the hand in his hair to turn hungry. “You seem upset.”
“I’m not upset,” George says. It’s the truth. He isn’t upset; he’s scared. “Just… kiss me, okay?”
This is the part where George gives in despite his past experiences. In the end, it won’t be worth it, but he’ll make the person he cares the most happy, so that will be enough.
But that’s not what happens. Dream leans in again, but he doesn’t take. He kisses the corner of George’s mouth with tenderness. Then, he does the same to George’s cheek. The second kiss lingers, but it doesn’t sting.
“That’s all I want,” Dream says with a small smile.
And that’s all it takes for George to understand.
“To kiss me?” he asks, barely holding back a smile of his own.
“Yes, you idiot,” Dream says, amusement laced in his tone. He chuckles, the corner of his eyes crinkling in the way George has always adored.
Their foreheads touch again, and once Dream has stopped laughing, he kisses George’s lips again.
George smiles into the kiss this time, assurance flowing through his veins like the blood that keeps him alive. It’s like all the rot has been completely sucked out of his bloodstream.
The kiss is short lived, and when they part, Dream moves his hand down to George’s jaw, his thumb carefully stroking George’s bottom lip.
“And… what if I said you could never touch me?” George asks. It’s not a serious question, not really, but in the back his head it still feels important.
“Then I wouldn’t. I would tell you how lovely you look,” Dream says.
George has never felt so loved, never felt so appreciated or taken care of. It’s a new feeling, a good one, a really good one, and all he can do is smile like a lovesick fool.
“Tell me,” George says. He’s pushing it now, and he knows, but it’s okay because it’s Dream .
The blond rolls his eyes, but he tells George anyway. “You look lovely,” he says, and his smile doesn’t falter once. “Now that we got that out of the way, can we take a nap?”
“Ugh, fine,” George says, feigning annoyance. He only holds onto Dream tighter, snuggling into chest and closing his eyes. He smiles even wider, now, especially when he feels Dream kiss the top of his head.
This is what falling feels like. George lets it consume his very being, because here, it’s safe.