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Maybe he should’ve noticed before. Maybe George should’ve noticed how their grandfather didn’t quite accept them. Sure, he said he did. But there wasn’t even an attempt to steer away from she/ her pronouns, and the most he did for the name was a stupid nickname. “Toado”
So, maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise.
They were at his grandparents’ house on the lake, in the middle of summer and everyone had just gotten out of said lake. Finally, George was starting to feel a little comfortable down there again. Comfortable wearing things except sweatpants (maybe jeans, if they was feeling adventurous) and a large hoodie.
The swimming might have been a bit of a stretch on his comfort, but the way the water was dark enough to cover his insecurities and made him feel like he was floating countered that. Now the whole family, their grandparents, parents, aunt and uncle, cousin, were on the deck. Oh, and his… ‘friend.’ Dream. Everyone else knew Dream was his boyfriend, but he hadn’t told his grandparents in fear of misguided ideas on attraction equaling gender.
Not that that stopped Dream from being close to George at any point he could. The day was smooth, with their dad insisting Dream help with the burgers he was grilling. Man, it was the definition of a gathering full of cishets. But honestly, George didn’t mind because it made him feel a little more fit in.
Somehow, moments after both of them left to tend to whatever thing they were doing now, that was when it went off the rails.
“And one day, Toado, she was—“
“He, grandpa!” George reminded him lightly, giving a smile for extra passiveness. Their heart stung as the older man just shrugged his shoulders like it didn’t matter.
“Yea, yea, she—“
“He.” George corrected again, voice more forceful this time and evidently that was disrespectful. “Say he, not she.”
“Oh, whatever, it doesn’t matter! He, she, whatever!” Being called out on his mistakes was the worst thought for a narcissist, which was what his grandfather was.
“It does matter! It’s not ‘whatever’ it’s my pronouns. And you have to respect them.” They weren’t backing down like all those times before, they couldn’t deal with dreading coming here anymore. His voice was shaky, and he felt the dam close to breaking. Why couldn’t he be good at confrontations?
A calm before the storm. Not for long, though, because soon the guy was yelling. “Okay, well what if I think you’re a she? You were born a girl and you’re biologically a girl! And you’re my granddaughter!” He yelled, taking a few steps towards George.
George stared in shock, the moment years ago when they thought they’d been accepted replaying in their mind. And quite obviously, it was all bullshit. He felt the tears, hot in his eyes and he couldn’t let them see him cry. They couldn’t see him cry because that was weak and feminine and not manly and it meant he wasn’t a man.
So they turned on their heels and ignored the burn of materials against them, running down the steps and across the lawn to where they were staying.
It was terrifying as he felt the world caging in on him, the towel wrapped around his shoulders turned into a form-fitting dress that he shut his eyes to erase from his mind. It wasn’t real but it felt real. And the hair on his head seemed to grow back, his legs getting shorter and he was stuck. He was stuck in that pre-transition body as he ran.
They couldn’t even feel the sharp stones cutting into their feet while they climbed another hill and just stood outside the garage.
“George! George!” His mothers voice came, and he only realized he was sobbing as he collapsed into her embrace. They never had the best relationship, but right now they needed this. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry he said that to you.” Then they stayed like that, George dripping wet with a towel held tightly around himself, his mom’s arms wrapped around him and swaying them slightly.
“I wanna go home,” They pleaded quietly, wanting to claw out their own vocal chords because they sounded too high pitched, too emotional, too feminine, too bad, too terrible, and, fuck, where was Dream?
“I know, I know,” She comforted, rubbing his back. “Let’s go upstairs and change out of wet clothes, okay?” She suggested, and he nodded, still sobbing quietly as they went inside and upstairs. Normally they’d worry about getting their grandmother’s carpet wet, but they just went upstairs almost tripping without a care.
She left him in his room to change, and that made him want to sink right to hell. There was a stupid full length, mirror wall and as he took off his swim shorts, shirt, and binder his breath sped up. Closing their eyes and desperately searching for dry clothes, they found some of Dream’s, who’s suitcase was placed clumsily on the bed. He just pulled them on along with his extra binder. Sure, he wasn’t supposed to put a binder on when wet but he didn’t give a fuck he just needed to stop seeing his chest.
Once they were done changing his mom told him she was right outside, and let them sit on the bed alone. He had already texted Sapnap, requesting a call, because he just needed one of them right now. Before the other replied, they heard yelling in the direction of the porch, and footsteps running upstairs.
“—orge?” He genuinely cried in relief at hearing Dream’s voice, but waited till he came in.
“He’s in there,” George’s mother told the worried blond in a hushed tone. Not a moment later the door opened and George stumbled up only to fall back into Dream’s arms.
“Baby,” Dream sounded heartbroken at their state, and the sympathy in his tone only made George sob harder. He gripped into Dream like a lifeline, who just let him sob for a little while. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” He repeated, giving a kiss to his wet hair. “I left for just a second, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He murmured, guiding them to the bed.
“It’s okay,” George choked out, their voice already wrecked from sobbing. “Just stay, now— please.” He begged quietly, hands getting tighter still around the fabric of Dream’s shirt.
“Of course, angel, I’ll stay.”
After about ten minutes, the yelling ceased and his dad entered, soon followed by the rest of his not-asshole family.
“We’re leaving,” He announced, and George sagged in relief against Dream, who was already speaking softly into his ear.
“I’ll get your bags, okay? Wanna stay up here or go wait in the car?” George would’ve felt offended at how Dream was speaking to them like a child, but they were too tired.
“Stay,” was all he could manage out.
“Kay, I’m right here, just packing up.” Dream promised as he got up and started putting clothes in suitcases and other things in backpacks.
George closed their eyes, taking a shaky breath and trying to compose themself. Then his father was standing in front of him, a regretful and sad look in his eyes as he spoke as well. “I’m sorry, dude,” The name would’ve felt out of place if it wasn’t the name their dad had been calling them for comfort ever since their coming out. He knew his dad wasn’t good at words, so he just hugged him, and the man sighed in relief.
“We going to the cabin?” They asked shakily, and received a nod in response. They were about 6 hours away from their normal houses, and the cabin was something his dad and grandfather built years ago. They went up there every three months or so, and it was only 45 minutes away from this place.
“Clay’s got your stuff?” George nodded this time, and the hug was broken as his dad packed up.
Dream then tapped their shoulder, and gave a tentative smile, “Can you carry your own bags?” He requested, and George nodded, taking the bags and going downstairs.
The drive was quiet. But George’s emotions were anything but that. He went from angry at his grandfather, at himself, to plain sad, to regretful, to lost. But the whole time Dream was in the middle seat of the back row, holding them whenever they needed.
And when they got to the cabin, their dad started a fire, then started on getting the tv hooked up to his laptop. Having a nerd for a son, his dad had picked up a few things, and soon had youtube pulled up on the tv screen.
When prompted with a look, George smiled and they thought for a little bit. “Dream’s videos.” They requested, knowing it would genuinely lift their spirits, but also to mess with their boyfriend, who hated watching his own videos again.
He felt Dream cringe against him, and giggled a little, pulling the blanket the two had stolen closer to them. They were cuddled on the small couch, as Dream’s channel slowly loaded, and George chose the 2 versus 1 manhunt. “You’re so lucky you’re handsome,” Dream mumbled, kissing their head when George’s mom and dad got on the couch as well.
Though the pain of his grandfather's words still struck his heart deep, George could get through it. He had literally millions of people by his side. And most importantly, Dream.