Chapter Text
Dream decided to tell George he was in love with him on a warm spring night when Sapnap was out with Punz. It was a plan of convenience more than anything, since there had rarely been a time in the months since George had moved to Florida that the two of them had been truly alone. Dream had wanted to confess to George in the moment, since he always made himself sick overthinking things when he planned them in advance, but Sapnap had complicated things.
He was just always there – on the other end of the couch or down the hall with his door ajar or lurking in the kitchen pantry. Dream had imagined that when George got to Florida they would have some time to themselves, but evidently Sapnap wanted to spend time with George just as much as he did. So, his confession had to be scheduled for when Sapnap was out of the house.
He ran it over and over in his head, pacing in the downstairs bathroom. I’m so in love with you. You are my safest place. You are the only air I can breathe. No, that was too much. He needed to slow down. He needed to find some deodorant fast because his underarms were starting to turn into slip-n-slides.
“Hey, Dream?” George’s voice echoed from the living room.
“Yeah?”
“Chinese or Indian food?”
Dream stared at his face in the mirror. Which was better for telling your best friend you were in love with him? “Uh, Chinese.”
“Okay.”
Dream ran a hand through his hair. You look fine. Not at all like you’re about to start hyperventilating. Just keep it together, Dream. He opened the bathroom door, bare feet going from tile to hardwood to carpet.
Wait until after you eat. You don’t need to freak out yet. You have time. He forced his breathing to slow, forced himself to leave his thoughts stuck to his footprints and focus on the present moment.
George raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Dream memorized the look of him, soft and unguarded, his shirt bunched up around his shoulders where his back slouched against the sofa. Dream wondered if he would ever see this side of George again. “Yeah. What movie do you wanna watch?”
George looked back at his phone. “I don’t care, you choose.”
“But I chose last time.” Dream walked over to the couch, to piles of crochet blankets and Patches curled in a tight little ball and George. As he came closer, he saw that George was mindlessly stroking Patches’ spine with his knuckles. Dream sat on the other side of her, the little trill she gave at his presence an excuse to sit closer to George than he normally would.
George didn’t respond, caught up in his food ordering.
“George.”
That got him to look up, rolling his head against the back of the couch. “Dream, you know I don’t like making choices.”
“I know, but I want to watch something that will make you happy. Put on your favorite movie.”
“My favorite movie.” The edges of George’s lips were starting to curl, his eyes so addicting when they focused on Dream like they could see his very soul.
“Yes. Anything. It could be a Barbie movie and I’d still watch it.”
George’s laugh was crackly in his throat. “You’re such an idiot.”
Dream grinned. I’m your idiot. “Here, I’ll finish ordering the food so you can pull it up.”
George handed Dream his phone. The app’s delivery cart was already filled with Dream’s sweet and sour chicken, George’s lo mein, and the spring rolls that they got to share. All that was missing from their usual order was Sapnap’s fried rice. Dream tapped in his address and his Paypal information.
“Okay, it’s on its way.” Dream passed the phone back to George.
“Thanks.” George was looking at the TV, his bottom lip between his teeth.
Dream followed his gaze. On the screen, Titanic was queued up to play.
“This is your favorite movie.” Dream tried not to sound incredulous. “You’re being serious?”
“Yes, Dream. This is my favorite movie.” George grinned. Dream couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. In the dim light, Dream could barely make out the freckles that dotted one side of his face.
“Okay, then. Play it.” He motioned to the TV.
George was still looking at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, George. I said any movie and I meant any movie.”
“Okay…” George’s stare dug into him for another moment, but then he turned and pressed a button on the remote and the movie began to play. “Have you seen it before?”
Dream watched the light from the screen paint colors on the side of George’s face. “I actually haven’t. I’ve just heard that there was room for both of them on the door, whatever that means.”
“That’s all you’ve heard?” George looked at him, eyes practically electric.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing.” George tucked his smile into his cheeks. “Just – this is gonna be entertaining.”
—
The Chinese food arrived just as Jack was being arrested.
“Those assholes,” Dream said, practically stalking back to the couch with their takeout. “The whole thing’s a power play! Jack’s whole life could be ruined by this and they don’t even give a shit!”
“It’s okay, Dream, it’s just a movie.” George watched his distress with an expression that verged on awe.
“I know, but how could Rose believe them? Doesn’t she know they’re all scumbags?”
“She’s only known Jack a couple days.”
“But– ugh. Here’s your lo mein.” Dream pulled the container out of clinging plastic and handed it to George, the sharp edges where the lid and the bowl met digging into the pads of his fingers.
George took his lo mein as Dream nestled the box of spring rolls between them. He had sat back down quite a bit closer to George on the couch, but neither of them acknowledged it. The lid of his sweet and sour chicken dripped condensation down his hand when he opened it, the heat of the food beginning to press into his thighs through his pants.
George played the movie again. His elbow brushed Dream’s arm when he reached for a spring roll. Dream wondered if now would be a good time to tell George – when he was distracted, unguarded, his eyes so glued to the screen that he didn’t notice a shard of pastry fall into his noodles. No, now wasn’t a good time. Dream wanted to find out what happened to Jack and he wasn’t sure they could continue the movie after his confession. He took a bite of chicken and let his mind leave the space between George’s thigh and his.
—
Despite his best intentions, Dream cried at the end of the movie. George’s laughter should have made him mad, but instead it filled his heart so intensely that he nearly burst into tears all over again. Jack was dead, but George was right here next to him. George was here with his fluffy hair and his breathtaking smile and his legs tucked up so his knees pressed warm against Dream’s thigh, and there wasn’t a sinking ship tearing them apart. It took all of Dream’s willpower in his teary state to not wrap George in his arms and never let go.
“So, did you like it?” George asked, glancing at Dream and then back down to his hands where they fidgeted in his lap.
“Yeah.” Dream sniffled as discreetly as he could. “It was a lot better than I was expecting. Is that actually your favorite movie? It’s more…romantic, than I thought you would like.”
“I did choose it as a joke,” George said, biting his lip. “But…I really do like the movie. More than I’d admit to anyone else.”
“You’d admit it to me?” Dream tried to ignore the hope that rushed in him, anticipating the inevitable crash.
“Well, yeah. I guess I just did.” George picked up his long-forgotten chopstick and whacked Dream on the nose with it.
Dream flinched, laughing before his brain understood what had happened. “Ow, what the hell?”
“Sorry, did that actually hurt?”
Dream tried to memorize the flush of pink on George’s cheeks. “No, not really. Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know.” George held the chopstick in loose hands on his lap. “I don’t know.”
The silence held for a long beat, but George didn’t offer any more explanation.
“Hey George, can I tell you something?” The words left Dream’s mouth before he had the chance to even think of them. One moment he had been watching the way George’s fingers caught the low light, and the next he had spoken.
“Okay.” George’s hands tightened on the chopstick. When Dream looked up, dark brown eyes were already on him.
This was the hard part, these fleeting moments where the only thing on Dream’s tongue was his pounding heart. He couldn’t think when he looked into George’s eyes, couldn’t remember any of the thousand rehearsals he had done that day. The words had escaped him. The thought had escaped him.
He had to look away, back to the tense lines of George’s hands. Only then did it come back – I love you so much it drowns me. I want to curl up inside your chest. I feel you everywhere, no matter how far apart we are; I can always tell the set of your shoulders. Dream swallowed the spit in his mouth and sent his heart along with it. Smaller, to start. Don’t scare him off.
“I just want to say,” Dream looked up, the words already set along the back of his throat, “that you’re my best friend in the whole world.”
George’s lips parted.
Dream continued. “But, for a long time, I’ve had the feeling that you could be more. That we could be more.” He took a breath, too focused on getting the words out to even notice the look on George’s face. “We don’t have to, of course. We can pretend I never said anything and I would be okay with that. I love having you as a best friend, and—“
“Dream,” George said, but it was the gentle hand on his arm that cut him off.
“Yeah?”
Dream blinked to clear his vision. He saw George in front of him, face bathed in something like wonder. Something like hope. Dream’s chest spasmed.
“I…I would like that.”
Dream swallowed. He had said too many things, there were too many paths branching off of each other and he didn’t know what George meant. Fear and hope twisted within him like the roots of trees planted too close together. “Like what?”
George was slow to respond, wetting his lips, dancing his eyes all over Dream’s face. “Something more.”
The hope came like falling, washing Dream’s body back into itself. He couldn’t hold the breath that blew out of him. “Okay. That’s – that’s great.”
It didn’t feel real. He had been expecting the hard ground to bite into his palms, but there was only air around him. He hadn’t thought of what he would say if George accepted. He wanted to be elated, but he couldn’t feel anything yet except the strange absence of pain.
Then George was laughing, a nervous joy, and the whole world came rushing back. “Is that all you have to say? ‘That’s great’?”
Dream shrugged, a laugh creeping up on him as well. “I honestly didn’t think I would make it this far.”
“Well, I’m disappointed. I’m expecting a sonnet on my desk by tomorrow morning.” George’s smile was small, holding back, in the same way that Dream felt like he was holding his breath. They were both treading carefully on this new ground, feeling for the grooves and the sharp spots.
“Yes, sir,” Dream said.
“Good.” George left his mouth open as if he wanted to say more, but nothing came out.
“I’m gonna go put away the leftovers,” Dream said, just to say something.
“Okay.”
Dream got up and brought their takeout containers to the kitchen. He needed to put space between them, somewhere to fit this new terrain. He wanted to run around his room, to text Sapnap in a frenzy, to breathe.
George seemed to share the same sentiment as he passed the kitchen on the way to the stairs, hovering in a flighty sort of way. “Goodnight, Dream,” he said, body already leaning into movement. “I had fun tonight.”
Dream watched, paused in his mission to find a space in their fridge for the leftovers. George was soft and hesitant in the doorway. His hair puffed to one side from leaning against the couch cushions, and Dream had never loved him more. “Me, too. Goodnight, George.”
George’s mouth quirked in a little smile, then he gave in to the momentum already carrying him towards his bedroom. Dream was alone again, cold air leaking into his clothes from the open fridge. They would talk more tomorrow. Tonight was for Dream to smile open-mouthed into the refrigerator’s cold breeze and try to sort through the thoughts that flooded his mind, all dipped in hope and shimmering.