Chapter Text
Greying grass crackles as Dream sets up his work station. He had been determined to revive the backyard since initially moving in but settling into the sturdy and old and somewhat isolating home among the pines and redwoods of Oregon was harder than he first thought.
But where it was lonesome it made up for in beauty. All his senses were alight in the elegant ways nature made its presence here. Warm and sharp air of the forest blended with salt from being so close to the coast, and it nipped at the tip of his tongue, filling his nose with the smell. Birds and other creatures created a musical ambience he much appreciated and the light here somehow washed the colors in a bronze tone that was pleasant on the eyes.
It should be the perfect place for an artist to dig his heels back into the root of his work and pull wondrous images onto a welcoming canvas. But as Dream sits in front of his easel, nothing comes to mind.
A fresh start to help the blank canvas. How cheesy, and very untrue. Dream has been here for a little over two months now and yet his hands remain frozen above his pots of paints, feeling too heavy with a brush in his grip.
Dream sighs, clicking his tongue before resting his forehead against the lip of the canvas mount. He feels his eyes droop — A side effect of the crisp air. He breathes in the smell of earth and listens to the only other sounds around him that stand out against the chirping birds and rustling trees.
It’s the neighboring house. The only person less than a twenty minute walk from him. Actually the only people . From what Dream can make of the sounds and slight conversations it sounds like a family of two. An excited, young babbling toddler who spends many afternoons screaming in joy and tramping around their backyard. And an airy, soft spoken man who Dream assumes is the father. The only thing dividing them is a rather tall but worn wooden fence.
Dream supposes he should’ve introduced himself but kept forgetting. He feels a bit embarrassed to say something now, two months later. So instead he gave up on knowing who existed on the other side of the fence and put all his attention on creating something on the off-white sheet in front of him.
Dream pretended there was nothing but him and this damned empty painting.
No dying grass or giggling child and dad. Just the smell of paint cracking into the air as Dream prys the lid off a yellow jar.
It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be something.
“Oh no!” a pitched voice cries, softly tickling Dream’s ear. He pauses, waiting to see if something is wrong when a little girl's voice continues much more chalantly. “Daddy, it’s over there now.”
Dream picks his head up to scan his yard as a familiar yet unacquainted voice speaks, “Yeah that’s what happens when you shove it through the fence, sweetheart.”
It’s jokingly chiding and gentle, and as Dream listens more intently then he ever had before, he can hear a slight British lilt to the voice. “Dad’s gonna grab it really quick, just stay here.”
Dream’s heart picks up and his eyes connect to the small pink ball sitting out of place in the confines of his own backyard. He only has a moment to stand, feeling self conscious about the state of the grass once more, before the fence begins to rock as someone begins to climb over .
Adrenaline moves Dream forward to meet the man from next door at the edge of his property. Dream forgets to even grab the ball as he rushes to stand right by the fence, just as a mop of dark hair accompanied by deep brown eyes pulls themselves over the top of the fence, freezing when they meet Dream’s own viridescent color.
“Fuck!” The pale man yelps, managing to clutch to the fence instead of launching off in a state of fear. Dream feels his face heat instantly, his gaze drawn to the pouty lips and the freckle below the left eye that’s darker than the rest, setting it apart.
He is quite pretty. Dream thinks, taking in the stranger above him, who is hanging onto the top of the fence picking the painter apart with his own scrutinizing look.
“Did you break into my neighbor's yard?” A quick glance behind Dream, “To paint?!”
Dream barely has time to answer, “Wha-?”
The man drops back behind the fence shouting, “I’m going to literally call the cops if you aren’t gone by the time I get back up there!”
“What the fuck - ” He splutters. Did this idiot really have no idea Dream had moved in? “This is my house! And you were the one trying to trespass just now!”
A pregnant pause on the other side of the fence, and then the pretty brunet reappears above the fence line.
“Really? This is your house?”
“Yes!”
“How long have you—”
“Two months-ish,” Dream shyly scratches the back of his neck, certain the strawberry on his cheeks were obnoxiously noticeable.
“Well — Nice to meet you then, I guess.” He pauses, “I’m George. Can I get my daughter’s ball back?”
Dream twists around for a moment to relocate the toy, picks it up,then leans up into George’s space as he tosses the ball back over the fence. Finally, a lopsided grin he says, “I’m Dream. Your new neighbor.”
A blush spans across George’s face as he takes in Dream’s smile. “Right then. We will try to be a bit more quiet for you.”
“Oh no — It’s fine, really! I don’t really pay attention anyways,” Dream stammers, feeling like he was the one who had got caught trying to cross onto someone else’ property. George laughs though, care-free and airy. The corner of his eyes crinkle beautifully and Dream watches the freckle rise as lips stretch into a large handsome smile.
It’s all so much that Dream steps back slightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He laughs a bit too before giving a curt nod to end the awkward conversation and resume grumbling at his blank canvas.
But George stops him.
“Wait!” George jumps down before coming back up for the third time, only now he is helping stabilize a grinning little girl. She smiles around small pudgy fingers, her hair like her fathers, dark and in two little messy pigtails. She looks about two, maybe older, and George looks up at her with deep admiration in those gentle eyes. “Ellis— say thank you to Dream for getting the ball.”
Instead of actually saying anything, the toddler, Ellis, pulls her fingers out of her mouth and waves frantically before looking back at George unsure of herself. George giggles and Dream’s heart melts further.
“You’re alright, good job sweetie,” George kisses the side of her head before looking back at Dream. “See ya around Dream.”
And with that the two disappear onto their side with a final wave from Dream. Dream walks numbly back over to his easel, his heart pittering a strange beat. He smiles to himself, feeling giddy as he sits in front of his work. Ellis was sweet and seemed like a fun little girl to have around, and George — he can feel his cheeks heat up again. George was really fucking pretty and he has no doubt that he already has a bit of a crush, but he’s just glad to maybe have made a friend.
He finds, now, the canvas before him is not so daunting. Dream knows exactly what to paint. He opens his jars of red blue and yellow, readying the paint for mixing.
It’s been a while since Dream has painted a portrait, but he finds himself blocking out the features of a face, picturing twinkling deep umber eyes and the freckle that has captured Dreams fascination.
Sadly, the inspiration won’t last.
Because unfortunately, getting off on a good start does not always mean getting along afterwards.
The following weeks after meeting George and Ellis went the exact opposite of what Dream had hoped to be a fresh new start to making friends. Instead it was full of contention.
In the short time between their first meeting, George quickly withdrew himself seeming utterly annoyed whenever Dream approached. When he tried being friendly and neighborly, George quickly shut him down, excusing himself immediately out of any conversation. Dream was unsure what he had done to upset him, but could never give an apology because George was avoiding him. It stung a bit and was completely random , but Dream respected George’s privacy enough to step back with a heavy deflated heart.
It still felt like whiplash though, when George had first snapped at Dream. Dream was giving Ellis a small candy through the gap of the fence, thinking it would be a lighthearted interaction between the two of them, when George snatches it from Ellis tossing the treat back at Dream. His soft and teasing nature from their first meeting went stern and bitter, as he chided Dream like he too was a small two year old who knew nothing. The offense was slightly off-putting but that was only the start.
The worst of it began when Dream accidentally made Ellis cry when he chucked another stray ball over the fence, not bothering to check if there was a small kid just waiting to be hit on the head.
It was an accident obviously but that didn’t stop George from sharing a few choice words with Dream again. And sure, George was pretty but being chewed out twice now made Dream hold a slight grudge.
And soon enough Dream found himself at a loss with the painting. And it went untouched for a week.
The next issue was the cat. A small brown stray tabby had made its way into Dream’s life, and he absolutely adored her. But George was not a fan. Patches had jumped into his neighbor's yard and had torn up some of George’s garden plants. Dream apologized profusely, which seemed to fix the argument momentarily. But when Ellis had been chasing Patches, she roughly grabbed at her tail getting scratched quickly on one of her rosy cheeks.
George must’ve had a bad day because he snapped harshly at Dream and it certainly didn’t help when Dream held his ground, explaining that Ellis has to learn to be careful with pets and animals.
“It’s normal for kids to have accidents dude — it’s a way for them to learn—”
“I would have much prefer you keep that dumb wild cat you have out my child’s reach, whether or not you think this is a ‘learning’ experience!”
“Patches is not dumb. And your child is — I don’t know — not my responsibility ? Maybe you should have told her not to roughhouse with animals!” Dream snaps, defending himself and Patches. “As a parent you should be prepared for this shit, and not take it out on others when you mess up!”
“Mess up? Ellis is a baby, she’s just barely starting to understand words! And you should’ve been more watchful when letting her play with your cat. The way I teach her to interact with her surroundings has nothing to do with you! I don’t need your opinion on what I should or shouldn’t warn her about.” George’s face was twists in annoyance, and he quickly clips out, “Just keep your fucking menance of a cat inside or take it to a pound!”
He didn't mean it to chide George’s parenting, but regrettably it came out that way. But he was pissed at George’s attitude, wondering how someone so kind-hearted at first could be such a stuck up asshole now. So Dream simply flipped him off and stormed inside, clutching Patches close to his chest.
The painting remains untouched for another week.
Later he came to understand that George was reasonably upset but it was too late to apologize. George was beyond bitter and has since been avoiding conversations longer than a quick greeting with Dream. Dream was disappointed to have already chased off his neighbor, but brushes it off. He figures if he just gave George some space and kept avoiding any arguments, the two could try getting along later.
Until then, Dream decided it was best to pause his work on the portrait. It sucked, having the first thing he was ready to actually paint be ruined for him, but it felt too awkward now and perhaps a little invasive.
With no one now to talk to or get to know, Dream decides to head into town and learn a little more about the area. It was a gorgeous spot in Oregon, close to the coast. But Dream never made it into town before finding something much more interesting.
A cozy little cafe just off the main part of Pistol — A ridiculous name for the town of 120-ish people — sat in the middle of a small parking lot right off the side of the fairly unused and empty road. It immediately piqued Dream’s curious mind and he pulls off the road and onto the gravel lot.
The large red neon sign simply read ‘Cafe’, though stepping inside Dream found it was much more like a small ‘grocery-gas station-coffee shop’ combined. It was woodsy in its aesthetic with a small forest mural peeling off on the south wall where a booth or two were stationed. Two men stood at the counter, not noticing the bell when Dream had entered, snapping back and forth at each other over the goofy fish mounts decorating the top of the walls.
“They are ridiculous! It looks absolutely stupid having so many, and I hate the way they look at me,” The taller of the two crossed his arms, huffing.
“Well take them down yourself then, princess—”
“Don't call me princess.”
“-cause I ain’t! They've been up there longer than my grandma’s been alive. I won't be defacing the Cafe over some self absorbed brat who can’t handle a couple o’ fishies staring at him.” The shorter one, who was wearing a classic red flannel and sporting a baseball cap, flips the other off before turning around to storm out. But he stops in his wake when he notices Dream shyly standing by a rack of chips and jerky.
The other guy hadn’t noticed him yet though, and continues to bark back at his partner. “I genuinely think that’s the most you have ever said to me since I got here! Can you stop being an asshat for two minutes and just—”
Now the other guy has noticed Dream too, and immediately snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide as he looks Dream up and down. He pushes past Mr. Flannel guy, shooting him a quick seething glance and comes over to him stretching out a hand.
“Hey! I’m Karl, anything I can help you with?” Karl’s eyes are bright and excited, shooting another glance back at the shorter guy again. But Dream doesn’t have time to answer when the bell dings at the door again and a flash of recognition dances across his face. “Uh, sorry! I have to go do something really quick but… Sapnap here can help you out!”
Karl grabs onto the arm of the man he was arguing with and pushes him toward Dream. Sapnap shoves off Karl’s arm and trudges up to him. “Hey.”
“Be nice Sappy,” Karl grins as Sapnap gives him a dark glare, before giving Dream a nod and dashing over to the entrance of the cafe.
Dream shuffles on his feet for an awkward moment, “Uh… Hi.”
“So… ya need anything?” Sapnap says distractedly, his gaze following wherever Karl wandered off to.
“Uh no, not really— sort of was just poking around at the area. I moved here like three months ago.”
“And you're only now heading into town?” Sapnap questions. Though it's a much nicer and even tone then when he was fighting with Karl. He’s teasing Dream, definitely, but it’s not disrespectful. “Are you some kind of lonesome hermit?”
Dream laughs, “No, ha, I’m not. Just hadn’t felt like getting out till now. I’m Dream by the way.”
He extends a hand and Sapnap takes it. “Sweet. I’m Sapnap, I help out around the shop a bit, but it’s mostly Karl’s now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, the previous owner up and left like a year ago, and Karl sorta just swooped in and now runs the whole shebang.” Sapnap pauses, thinking reverently for a moment, then looks up. “Anyways, since you're new here, let me hook you up on something.”
Dream wheezes, feeling lighter than he has in a while, “Sorry — what?!”
“Oh shut up, I just meant something we serve at the cafe, idiot.”
“Right, right.” Dream follows Sapnap to the counter of the quaint cafe, where several coffee machines and pots clutter the spaces behind and a decorated menu hangs above. “I’m not really a fan of coffee—”
“Good thing it’s not coffee.”
Dream scoffs lightly and leans against the smooth countertop, watching Sapnap begin heating things up. Sap turns around and faces Dream as he waits and asks, “Any particular flavors you like?”
“Depends on what it’s going into?”
“It’s hot chocolate. Used to be quite popular but people don’t really come around here as much.” Sapnap turns back around and starts working on the drink. “So? Any flavors? Hazelnut? Lavender..?”
Dream balks, “Lavender?!”
“Karl’s favorite is Lavender and vanilla, I personally can't stand it but to each their own I guess.”
“Um, I’ll just take it without any.” Sapnap only raises a perturbed brow at him, like he’s being offensive for wanting just a simple cup, before shaking his head and finishing the drink. He serves Dream his cup before pouring his own. “Go on, try it.”
Dream takes a sip, nervous since he's typically not a fan of hot drinks but he is taken aback when rich flavor meets his taste buds. It’s fucking fantastic. It’s creamy and holds a balance of ripe sweetness and simplicity. The chocolate smoothly glides down his throat warming him up just right, reaching the tips of his fingers and swirling in his chest. Dream takes another greedy sip as Sapnap laughs at him, “Pretty good right?”
Dream flips him off but shares a chuckle. “Yeah— it’s really fucking good.”
The door chimes out again and both boys glance over as Karl crosses over to them. Dream watches as Sapnap’s demeanor changes, a grumpy frown sets in on his face and he pushes up off the counter and quickly snips out something to Dream, “Drinks on me this time, but consider maybe getting some chips or something to help Karl out.”
Then he scurries off before Karl can join the conversation. Dream watches as Sapnap exits out the back door, probably meant for employees, before turning to look at a crestfallen Karl.
The cafe owner shakes it off though and faces Dream with a kind smile. “Hope he wasn’t too tough on you, Sap can be a bit of a pain.”
“He was pretty cool actually, though he does seem a little…”
“Distant?” Karl smirks half heartedly, “Yeah he’s not really a fan of mine so don’t blame yourself.”
Dream blinks, “If he doesn’t like you then why does he stick around the cafe?”
It’s Karl’s turn to stare confusedly. He blinks quickly, like Dream had just flicked water at his face, and Dream holds back his laughter at Karl’s bewilderedness. He blinks once more, slower, before glancing at the door Sap ran off to. “Huh. I’ve never really thought about that. He’s just kinda… stuck around.”
Shortly after that Dream and Karl share goodbyes, and he makes sure to pay for a bag of chips like Sapnap said, which makes Karl brighten up once more.
“Thanks! Have a nice day!”
Waving, Dream exits and crosses to his car, letting out a sigh as he settles into the seat. The plan was to head into town after this stop, but that simple interaction has drained him already. And something about that little shop gives him an idea for some sketchings.
But instead of driving straight home to get started he takes the back roads and wooded highways spending time just admiring the scenery that’s rich with shades of greens and oranges and browns. Making mental notes of every different picturesque scene that would be lovely to paint or even sketch.
He drives as the sun sets, windows down to feel the crisp air raise the hair on his arms. Crickets and insects fill the darkening world, loud enough for Dream to catch the sound as he cruises past the thick towering trees. He stops every once in a while to get out and snag a photo for references.
Eventually the air grows a bit colder and Dream checks the time. He hadn’t realized how late it had become and he decides to turn his car around to head home, promising himself to come back out this way and see some more sights.
Stars begin to peer down onto the road as he makes his way back. The moon, yellow and big, gleams through the branches of the pines, painting large silhouettes. The sky is still bright enough to hold a pale blue color, but deepens by the minute. Though he misses Florida often, Oregan is gorgeous and he won’t deny how much more he enjoyed the cooler weather. It’s like the world here is deeper, sleepier here and it's calming in a sentimental way, despite having only been here for a short time.
Dream pulls close to home and glances at the rich orange lights in George’s house, noticing a string of lights hanging, gently twinkling and stretching above the side yard. George stands on his porch watching Ellis scour the air for something. She giggles as she stumbles around- far too invested in what she’s looking for to watch her steps. George has a gentle smile as he watches, but it falters when he notices Dream driving past. But instead of glaring and turning away he steps off his porch and follows slightly behind as Dream pulls into his own driveway.
Stepping out of the car he waves to George, “Hey.”
“Where were you?” George questions stopping to stay on his side of the properties. “You’ve never been gone for so long, thought something might’ve happened.”
“Oh— um, I was just sort of exploring I guess. Checking out the area.” George quirks a dark brow, his skin a periwinkle hue in the darkening day, but his cheeks glow pink as he steps closer. A lovely contrast. Dream feels his own cheeks heat up.
“Why didn't you do that weeks ago when you first got here?” It’s light-hearted prodding, and Dream fights the instinct to defend himself. There was no need to cause a scene now. This could be a chance at making a peace with George.
“I didn’t really want to be here at first, but now I see it’s not too bad.” Dream says softly, reaching back into his car to grab his hoodie.
George hums in agreement, “Yeah— I get that.”
Curiosity blooms in the back of Dream’s head, it’s the first time George has mentioned or gleamed at anything pertaining to himself. Most conversations with the pretty boy was him nit-picking at Dream or something about Ellis.
“How long have you been living here?” Dream asks, hopeful for a friendly conversation.
“A short while after Ellis was born, so… Almost two years.” George sticks his hands in his pocket and turns to look back at Ellis who is still completely wrapped up in whatever she was doing. A small glass jar in her hand as she wanders randomly under the lights.
Dream laughs as she screams at something and jumps, free hand outstretched trying to snatch at something— a bug likely. “What is she doing?”
“Looking for lightning bugs,” George says shrugging, “There's not really any on this coast, but there's a few in Oregon, kinda rare to see them since the species here don't light up as adults but young ones do so—”
George stops and tugs at the front of his hair, “Sorry had a long day, guess I’m still in work mode.”
“Ah.” Dream wanted to ask about the job but didn’t want to push his luck. “Well— I’m probably gonna head inside and maybe get some sleep.”
Dream pauses, before trying his luck with a bit of teasing, “Thanks for checking in with me. Didn’t mean to worry you for being out so late.”
The jab makes George’s face heat up further, and he flubbers on words for a moment before he scoffs and says, “Have I ever told you how annoying you can be?”
He turns on his heel and walks back to Ellis. Dream wasn’t worried though, knowing if George was really upset he’d let him know exactly how he felt. Instead he chuckles and turns around himself to enter the dark confines of his home. He pauses in the foyer and looks up the stairs situated by the front door. He thinks of going straight to bed, but he finally feels a spark of motivation to pick up his sketchbook for the first time in months.
Thoughts of the Cafe and the conversation with George propels him forward and towards the office which he had made into his workstation. It’s been a while since Dream stayed up into the early hours of the morning putting life onto paper, he had forgotten how to love his art. Forgotten how to even begin. A massive case of art block.
Dream had fallen out of step with traditional art for the last year or so. Back home in Florida he had been struggling for a long while. When everything came to a climax he knew he needed to get out. That he needs to pursue his own happiness, to learn to grow again before he could create like he used too. He hasn’t painted in months, barely lifting a pencil to any of his sketchbooks. So when the opportunity to move across the country, away from the madness, arose— he took it.
He wondered if George had the same experience, if he understood Dream earlier because he had been there too, torn between staying in familiar misery or attempting to get away for a chance at a better start — even if it would prove to be just as hard and lonesome.
By the time Dream checks his clock it’s already one-forty AM. He had been buried in the textured pages of his sketchbook for hours, the crick in his neck as evidence. It felt good though. He’s proud of the very simple and messy drawings of the Cafe and of the scenery he had driven past. Sketches of old pines and long roads. The Cafe’s counter and the booths in front of the aging mural, of two young men standing in front of the greying wood walls.
And plenty of sketches of his cute neighbor.
He stares at a specific sketch of George that covers the entirety of a single page. He can feel the beats of his heart, sending colors of reds and oranges into the chasm of his chest. Red rising to bleed onto his cheeks and Dream leans into the palm of his hand to stare at the graphite image of George. His gaze was drawn to his favorite features, the crinkling of George’s eyes and the little freckle that haunts his mind.
He stands, lingering for a moment on the sketch before thinking, fuck it , and turning to grab a long discarded canvas from the corner of the room. He picks up his easel and the case of his paint pots and moves haphazardly to the living room where there was more room to set up.
It’s nearing two AM, but inspiration strikes when it does and he is determined not to let it go this time. Once the canvas is on the mount he opens the curtains of the glass sliding doors, letting moonlight shine in. It’s fitting for George that way.
He sits down at the easel, shooing off a nosy Patches, and grimacing when looking back at what he has on it already. Mostly just simple blocks and shapes of a face and shoulders, but he hates it. So he pulls out a plain color and begins anew.
He knows the likelihood of the shapes beneath peering through the new layers, but he’s not bothered by it. It serves as a humble reminder of where Dream started but it does not deny the quality and beauty of the finished piece. Dream thinks of it as an acknowledgement of growth and change.
So he paints over the old, finally feeling like life is actually starting again. The fresh start he has been desperately trying to find, coming to fruition as he begins to paint in red the outline of the shape of George.
In the early hours of the morning, shaded in blues and the yellows of the moon, fingers stained with primary colors, Dream feels a step closer to being himself again.