Chapter Text
Present Day
“Thank you, Dream, for showing up for us today.”
Dream smiled at the lady sitting in front of him. Her platinum-blonde hair fell down her sides in stiff ringlets, wrung so tightly he wondered if they were still warm from the curling iron. The silver dress she wore hugged her figure shamelessly, and Dream would be a liar if he said he hadn’t let his eyes wander below her pearly teeth.
“It’s my pleasure, really.”
“The pleasure is all ours.” She clasped her hands together, grinning manufacturedly before turning towards her assistant behind the camera, “Now, for the last bit of our time, we’re going to pull in some questions from our viewers.”
Dream’s fake, pleasant expression faltered for a moment. Green eyes frantically met the confused ones of his manager, who only reciprocated with a shrug.
Whatever. He’d been in tough situations in front of an audience hundreds of times, this was no different. Except for the fact that this was his first in-person interview after face revealing two years ago, and it made it a make-or-break opportunity to revive his slowing career.
He shifted his attention back towards the teleprompter behind the camera holding his fate. A tweet emerged, one with a profile picture of his face. He skimmed over the words as it was read out to him.
What’s one thing you’ve been looking forward to in your career, and has it, or will it, come true?
Alright, easy question.
Dream cleared his throat, “Well, a lot of things have changed and thrown me off course during my time as a creator. The 2020 pandemic, for example,” he looked at his interviewer, who nodded understandingly. “Being faceless during the majority of the growing period of my career really added to that, and it kind of forced me to interact with my community in creative ways— Ways in which other anonymous creators weren’t already doing.”
“Creators such as Corpse Husband ?”
“Yeah,” Dream nodded. “Not that anything he was doing was bad, I just needed to find different ways to accomplish the same amount of success. During it all, however, the one thing I really was looking forward to was meeting the people I’d worked with all this time, including my fanbase. It was a dream, pun not intended, of mine since the beginning, and I’m happy to say that it has come true.”
“Who are some of these people you were excited to meet?”
“Well, many of my friends lived in England at the time. TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot, Tubbo,” Dream listed. “Even people in the U.S., like Karl Jacobs and Quackity, who lived pretty far from Florida were only able to see me in person after I showed my face.”
She smiled, looking back at the teleprompter, “Speaking of friends, let us answer the next fan-sent question.”
Any feeling of confidence he’d garnered from answering the previous inquiry was wiped by the next submission. An all too familiar sense of ache settled into his muscles again, velvet inside his veins freezing over.
Have you spoken with GeorgeNotFound at all after his infamous disappearance? If not, do you know of his whereabouts and/or what he’s been up to?
The petty white demon in front of him cocked her head innocently. Any attraction Dream felt for her was long gone, replaced by a deep hatred for everyone in the room.
“No, unfortunately, I have not spoken with George,” Dream squawked. He ran a hand through his hair, laughing awkwardly to stall the conversation. “I’m sure he’s still in London and living his life out, he’s twenty-eight now. His birthday was last week, you know. He’d always talked about wanting to spend ‘ just a little over halfway to fifty’ with Sapnap and me, but I guess that plan fell through. We’d actually had this whole thing set up, a trip to the Bahamas, drinks by the beach since Sapnap would be legal by then, partying with just the three of us—”
His manager grunted, “Hey, we need to wrap this up if that’s all right.”
Dream felt himself burn red with shame. He’d let himself ramble again, a habit he’d really needed to stop if he wanted to get anywhere in L.A.
“Sorry for the inconvenience.” His manager ushered him out of the chair, apologizing to a few more people before evacuating the media room.
Pushing past various workers and custodians, the two of them reached the parking garage. Their driver sat on the far end of the room. As they trekked over, Dream couldn’t help but tune in and out of his chastising.
The lights above them flickered as they walked, dodging in-and-out of rented vehicles and run-down vans. His BMW looked out of place between the rest of the cars, and he wasn’t able to hide his smile as he appreciated its newly cleaned shine.
“You know you can’t go spilling about George like that!” She paused to allow a car to pass through, “I’m sure it’s still a hard topic to grasp, but it’s weighing us all down.” She turned and looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed. Pity swam behind her blocky glasses, but a lingering sense of annoyance seemed to soak it all up. “We need to get over it— you need to get over it.”
“I can’t just ‘get over’ it,” Dream said. “He was my best friend, Kallyn.”
Kallyn sighed, “Exactly. He was your best friend.”
“He’s not dead.”
“He might as well be,” she pushed her glasses up her nose bridge. “When was the last time you talked to him?”
“Three years ago.”
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Three Years Ago
“One day you’re going to wake up, and it’ll be the last day you’ll ever speak to me.”
George’s words seemed to wash over Dream. In the midst of their prime, the nearing peaks of their careers, completely disappearing was impossible to even imagine. It was foolish to even think of such a scenario, to speak it into existence.
“Yeah right,” Dream scoffed. “Maybe in like fifty years, when we’re both old and unable to get our dicks up.”
George only hummed, and looking back on it, Dream realized the sound was eerie. “That day could be tomorrow, next week, or even in fifty years.” He paused for a moment, “When we’re both old and unable to get our dicks up.”
“Stop that.” Sapnap’s voice was thick, worn down from a day of recording and streaming. Their job looked easy from the outside, but the toll on their minds was enough to make up for their lack of ‘hard work.’ “No one is disappearing. We’re all living our lives together in a giant mansion.”
George only stayed silent. Dream let the silence of their call fall over him like syrup, sitting in his sweat-slicked chair and day-old clothes. He imaged Sapnap sitting the same way in the other room over, eyebrows creased in frustration while he tried to wrap his mind around their friend’s words.
“I’m going to head off, yeah?”
“Alright,” Dream said.
“Talk to you tomorrow, George.” Sapnap said, heavily emphasizing the word ‘ tomorrow .’
“Sure, whatever.”
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Present Day
Twitter hadn’t changed since Dream deleted the app from his phone. The same addicting layout, ever-changing atmosphere, and never-ending plethora of opinions continue to capture him in a chokehold. Even now, months after he swore himself off it, he found himself scrolling hungrily through his account which sat and collected dust.
“Saw your interview.”
Dream looked up from his phone. “Yeah. I figured.”
Sapnap looked much different than how he appeared at twenty. The patchiness in his beard was gone, thick black hair growing in steadily. His Greek genes were strong— green eyes, just a few shades off from his own, piercing into his soul as they talked. He’d gained a few muscles as a result of their beloved home gym. His voice was deeper now. Sometimes Dream missed the occasional lilts and cracks that came whenever the younger man raised his voice. It would give them something to talk about.
Despite everything, Sapnap still stood at 5’8.
“Did you know they were going to ask you about him?”
Dream didn’t miss the way Sapnap avoided ‘ his ’ name. It was a difficult topic for both of them, but sometimes he thinks Sapnap misses him more than Dream does.
“No,” he admitted. “Kallyn said they’d added it in last minute.”
His friend nodded in understanding, “Not surprised. This is what, the second time you’ve publicly spoken about him? On air, at least?”
“I guess so.” Dream stretched, walking over to join Sapnap in the kitchen. “They must’ve done it on purpose.”
“That’s shitty of them.”
“Should’ve seen it coming.”
Sapnap rolled his eyes, “You say that for everything. Are you even upset about it?”
“Of course I am,” he scoffed. “It’s in the past now. Just like everything else.” Dream grabbed a packet of chips from the counter, yawning as he made his way to his bedroom.
“You’re really not going to do anything about it?” Sapnap has his hands on his waist, reminding Dream strangely of his mother.
“I think we just need to move on, Sapnap.”
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Three Years Ago
“He’s not actually going to disappear, you know that right?”
Chinese food, now losing its pleasant warmth and fresh smell sat between him and his raven-haired friend. George’s words left a damper on the mood, one Dream did not feel, but Sapnap felt entire.
“No one says that and doesn’t disappear.”
Dream rolled his eyes, “You act like you’ve experienced this first hand.”
“This is George we’re talking about.”
“Exactly, this is George we’re talking about. He’s never serious.”
“Yeah,” Sapnap pushed his chair back, grabbing his plate of food. “He’s never serious. What he just said to us was pretty fucking serious if you ask me.” The younger man pushed his leftovers in the trash, washing his cutlery haphazardly before throwing them into the dishwasher.
“You’re overthinking this.”
“Whatever, dude,” Sapnap sighed and made his way down to his room, “Goodnight” .
“See you later.”
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Present Day
Los Angeles is nothing like Florida.
Talk of streets paved with gold and movie stars frolicking in the streets made L.A. the biggest catfish. Golden stars on the ground and expensive, shiny cities only existed in a minuscule part of America’s biggest film roll. The rest was nothing but a filler story and overhanging dread.
Hollywood was a nightmare, especially for Dream.
Everybody was out to get something— sex, drugs, money, and power. Four simple things to make you the richest man on Earth, or a measly bum on the street. He could feel the latter inch closer and closer each day.
Most of the time, Dream didn’t trust anyone but Sapnap. They were still both clueless YouTubers— dumb gamers who happen to be good at tricking the algorithm. They didn’t belong here, none of them do. They weren’t supposed to be grappling for attention, they were meant to sit behind a computer screen all day, collecting dust on a sweaty chair in a dark room.
They belonged back home, in a house with a third person.
Dream leaned out the window of his bedroom, watching the palm trees bob in the wind. Plants like these grew in Florida. Near the streets of Orlando and larger cities, leaves bigger than his head would wave at the cars passing by, welcoming the tourists and smiling at the locals. If he was really struggling, Dream would go outside and close his eyes, wishing that California’s dry heat would suddenly turn humid and sticky. He’d hope for a hurricane warning to pop up on his phone— to look on the news and see another crazy crime done by someone he went to middle school with.
He’d hope for a sense of familiarity. Dream would ask anyone who was listening to give him the ability to know what he was doing with his life.
His phone buzzed, not with a warning but with a text.
Quackity : I’m in town visiting some friends. Are you guys busy?
His fingers moved on their own, typing out a two-letter answer until Sapnap answered for him.
Sapnap : Yup, we’re both free. Dinner?
Quackity : I’ll be there by six :)
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“You guys have a beautiful house!” Quackity shimmied out of his uncreased shoes, big brown eyes studying the decor around their home.
Sapnap took their guest’s coat and tucked it into the closet near the entrance. “Thanks, man. Took me ages since someone ,” he looked pointedly at Dream, “Didn’t want to help.”
“Just take the compliment,” Dream rolled his eyes. “No need to throw me under the bus.”
An awkward silence fell over the three of them. His retort came out way meaner than intended it to, and now he’d successfully ruined the mood.
“I mean, he helped pick out the sofa in the living room,” Sapnap tried.
Quackity, bless him, took the cue to continue his pleasantries, “I’d love to sit on it— I’m fucking tired after the trip here.”
Lofi music pumped from their T.V.’s speakers. It was a habit Sapnap picked up after moving, he claimed it helped tension from getting worse than it already was.
The volume was louder than usual today.
Dream stared down at his uneaten slice of pizza, watching the grease shimmer as he moved his plate around. A faint smell of beer wafted from the other side of his room, where both of his friends sat. It took everything in him not to gag on the spot.
“How have things been?” Quackity’s voice was smoother now. Dream doubted it would ever reach the high-pitched squeals of his past. “It’s a big change to move across the country.”
The blond shrugged, leaning back against the couch, “We’ve gone through a few hurdles before. It wasn’t too hard for me, at least.”
Sapnap exhaled audibly, an arm behind his head as he nursed his drink, “It’s something to get used to. I don’t think I’ll be staying here for long, it’s just not for me.”
Quackity raised an eyebrow at the implication of separation, but he didn’t comment on it. “I get what you mean. I would tell you to give it a bit of time, but people’s opinions on L.A. rarely ever change. It’s a hit-or-miss thing, you know?” He stretched, running a hand through his neatly-clipped hair, “Mexico is my home, and I’m sure you all feel the same way about your respective backgrounds.”
“But you’re living in New York with Karl now,” Dream reasoned. “That’s a bit different from Mexico, don’t you think?”
“Mexico will always be part of me, but you can find comfort in other places. You don’t need to stay in Florida,” he looked at Sapnap, “Or Texas, in your case, for the rest of your lives. L.A. isn’t the end-all-be-all. There are one hundred and ninety-three countries in this world, find someplace that fits you.”
“You lost me when you said you genuinely find comfort in New York of all places,” Sapnap grinned wryly.
Quackity threw a discarded beer cap at Sapnap, who retaliated with a pillow. An all-out faux fight broke out between the two of them, resulting in a wrestling match on the floor. One of them kicked the coffee table between the couches, causing Dream to lurch forward and stop everything from falling. Quackity’s shrieks and Sapnap’s booming laughs gave Dream deja vu to a life behind a monitor, and a little part of him expected a British accent to ring in his ears.
We need to get over it— you need to get over it.
Dream’s stomach churned.
“I’m going to the bathroom guys, I’ll be back.” He thinks he heard someone say something, but his spinning mind made it hard to hear what.
He crumbled in front of the toilet, head in his arms as he clasped his eyes closed. Dry heaves burned his throat, and he begged his body to just let him throw up.
He’s not actually going to disappear, you know that right?
Sapnap said something in the living room. Quackity’s cackles followed him into the bathroom, drilling into his ears as he tried to shut them.
It’s something to get used to. I don’t think I’ll be staying here for long, it’s just not for me.
Dream’s phone rang in his pocket ten times louder in his dizzy state. He grappled to shut the ringer off, holding the device so tight his hand began his fingers began to hurt. On his other hand, crescent moon divots started to form on his palms from his fingernails, crimson leaking through the shredded skin.
Tears burned from each heave. He hadn’t even drunk a sip of alcohol and he was already in shambles.
One day you’re going to wake up, and it’ll be the last day you’ll ever speak to me.
He grabbed a spare toothbrush from his sink. Swallowing his pride, he shoved the end without bristles into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat so hard it started to hurt. Fortunately, the relief of vomit finally saved him from his torture, burning acid falling from his lips and into the bowl.
He gagged once or twice more before the heaving stopped, letting his head fall to the side as he stared down at one he’d done. Pinpricks started to crawl over his skin and he wanted nothing more than to die right then and there.
He pushed himself back a bit until his back met the surface of the wall. Dream closed his eyes, darkness taking over before he could even flush away his insanity.
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Three Years Ago, Six Months After “It”
“You’ve been really quiet.”
Sapnap’s eyes remained unmoving from where they sat on the T.V. The YouTube application was running, but no videos played. “What are you talking about?”
Dream cleared his throat, “We’ve barely talked. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”
“We spoke yesterday,” he said.
“You asked about groceries, and then got them. I didn’t even see you when you came back from the store.”
He shrugged, “We still talked, though?”
Dream sighed. The two of them had taken to playing this game with each other— overly monotone voices and frustrating clipped answers from Sapnap while Dream tried to mend a splitting friendship. It’d go on for ages before an argument broke out, or one of them got bored and gave up.
“It’s not the same and you know that.”
Sapnap stayed silent. The remote in his hands clicked as he scrolled through videos, a stone expression stuck to his face. Finally, after what felt like ages, he chose Karl’s recent upload. It was some stupid half-assed challenge with his friends from Mr. Beast— one Dream remembered doing on his own channel.
Their friend’s faked screeches and laughter played through their speakers as the two of them watched the seven-minute recording. It was quick-paced, with clean edits cutting out any human flaws, leaving behind robotic jokes and gameplay.
“I want to hire an editor,” Sapnap commented, studying the black screen after the video ended. “I’m tired of doing it myself all the time.”
Dream furrowed his eyebrows, “You never told me that. I thought you liked editing? You always talked about how you got it done so quickly.”
“I guess I’ve changed my mind.”
“Don’t hire an editor. I can do it for you,” he offered. “I’ve got nothing better to do, anyway.”
Sapnap wilted, “Maybe that’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the fact that you have ‘nothing better to do.’ You talk about me avoiding you all the time— how about the fact that I’ve been stuck in this stupid fucking house for the past year?”
“It’s not my fault—”
“Oh I’m sorry,” Sapnap clenched his fists, “I forgot that it’s never your fault. You’re always in the right, you always know everything. Sorry that I even, for once in your fucking life, tried to tell you that you’re a dumbass!”
He felt his face get hot, and he stood up from where he sat on the couch, “What are you saying, right now?”
Sapnap rolled his eyes and lifted from his spot, getting eye level with the taller man. “Nothing, Dream. I’m saying nothing.” He turned to leave but was tugged back by Dream’s hand on his wrist.
“No, Nick . Finish your fucking sentence.”
“Fine. You want me to finish my sentence? I’ll finish my sentence,” the Texan glared at him, hatred seething behind his eyelashes. “I blame you for George disappearing.”
Seeing nothing but red, the blond tugged Sapnap’s wrist harshly, obstructing his friend’s balance. Using the sudden vulnerability to his advantage, Dream channeled his anger and punched him in the face, sending him back onto the couch. He waited for retaliation, but Sapnap didn’t move from his slump.
For a second, Dream’s heart dropped. He bent over and shoved Sapnap’s shoulder, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Sapnap whacked his hand away, looking up at the Floridian with his swiftly bruising eye. With a disgusted look on his face, he stumbled away from Dream.
“I’m sorry,” Dream’s voice cracked. “We can fix this, please.”
“George really dodged a bullet, didn’t he?”
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Present Day
A selfie of Sapnap and Quackity smiled at Dream from his phone. He zoomed in on their faces, studying how perfect the two of them looked. A snapshot into a quick moment— preserved on the internet until the end of time.
Dream doesn’t remember the last time Sapnap smiled like this. He’d missed it. Such a simple gesture de-aged the younger man, sending him into the past. The only evidence of time passing was the missing beanie from Quackity’s head.
Despite everything within him warning him not to, the Floridian clicked on the picture and scrolled to the comments. He read nothing but praise, but every so often someone would mention a certain man’s name, and he’d experience another bout of sickness.
“I thought you deleted Twitter.” Sapnap leaned over Dream’s shoulder, standing behind the back of the couch. “I guess your no social-media streak is finally over.”
“It doesn’t count,” he countered. “I’m on the web version. Technically, I haven’t downloaded it on my phone.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
Dream groaned as he stretched his arms, “When did Quackity leave last night?”
“Around twelve,” Sapnap said. “About him leaving, why did you run off like that?”
“I felt sick,” Dream admitted. “Threw up in the bathroom and then fell asleep on the floor.”
His friend grimaced, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. I thought it was a fever at first, but I don’t have a temperature. It must’ve been from stress, that’s all.”
“Stress?”
“There’s just a lot going on, right now.”
“Dream, you literally sat in front of the T.V. and binge-watched New Girl for eight hours the other day. There is less than ‘nothing’ going on right now,” Sapnap called his bluff. “What’s actually going on?”
“You know me too well.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Dream looked down at his hands. An all-too-familiar feeling burned at the edges of his eyes. He exhaled shakily, “I miss him, Nick.”
A beat.
“And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
Sapnap offered a comforting hand, but it seemed to weigh Dream down. It was too warm, too sweet, too forgiving. That’s all Sapnap did— he forgave everyone that came into their lives.
“I miss him too, Dream.”
“But you don’t miss him like I do,” he cried, fat tears falling down his cheeks. “You moved on, like everybody else.”
Sapnap tensed, “No, I haven’t.”
“What?”
“I haven’t moved on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were pushing back a migraine, “Dream, there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think of him. Everything I do now has something to do with him.”
The blond stayed silent, listening to Sapnap fall apart.
“He was my— our— best friend. He was the third, all of us were a team. We spend hours on-call together, we went through break-ups, we fought, we cried, we laughed,” his friend’s voice broke, “And then he left. ”
“He was supposed to come here,” Dream sniffed. “He was supposed to come to Florida.”
“I know you moved here because of him,” Sapnap stated. “It wasn’t about the opportunities, was it?”
“You said it yourself, everything we do now has something to do with him.”
“The two of us shouldn’t be here.”
“There shouldn’t be two of us.”
The cushion on the couch sank from Sapnap sitting beside him. They sat next to each other in silence, and Dream longed for the days when it was a comfortable one. There were no more round edges to their quietness, only jagged points and sharp corners full of unsaid secrets.
“I can’t live here, Dream,” he finally said. “And I know you can’t either.”
“I can’t go back there,” Dream begged. “Not to where he was supposed to live, not to where it happened.”
Sapnap held his head in his hands, “We’re dying here! I’m dying here! I’m not happy, can’t you see that? I need to go back, to Florida or Texas, I don’t know. Just anywhere but here, it’s eating me up alive!”
Dream sobbed, thick and guttural. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Six lifetimes passed before the younger man said anything. “Before Quackity left yesterday, he talked about Karl.”
The blond gulped air pathetically, wiping his eyes stiffly with the sleeve of his hoodie. “What did he say?”
“They just moved to a bigger house, they have two extra rooms. They’re both big enough to fit a streaming set up.”
“Okay?”
“He offered us a room,” Sapnap sighed. “In New York, about a thirty-minute drive out of the city.”
Dream’s heart fell to his stomach. He could feel himself floating away from the grounded body stuck inside this turmoil, leaving behind an empty shell full of nothing and everything all at once.
“Please, Dream.”
“We’ve barely given L.A. a chance,” Dream tried weakly. “What if we like it here?”
“I’ve followed you through everything ,” Sapnap pleaded. “Since the beginning. Just this once, I want you to listen to me— follow me to New York. Let’s move in with them. We need to break out of this routine.”
Sapnap held Dream’s hand in his own. Warm and calloused, he wondered what he would do all alone in an empty house full of L.A.’s thick smoke.
“Dream, we need to move on.”
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Present Day: Brighton, England
Blue light illuminated an empty room. Shadows danced across beige walls and discarded clothes littered on the floor. A computer screen was left on a coffee table, two tabs open. On one, a half-watched interview video of an old friend. George sensed a call for help.
On the second tab, he picked up the phone and answered the call.
Plane tickets:
Two-Way flight, London to New York
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Two Years Ago: Brighton, England
“Why’d you do it?”
George stared at Elise, watching the smoke from their blunt waft over her dark skin. Her thick, coiled, hair fell to the tips of her shoulders, dyed-gold ringlets mixed in between the black ones. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed from the weed, and George assumed his were too.
He took another hit, breathing it in until his lungs burned before exhaling, “It became too much.”
“Too much?”
“It was easy, at first, to ignore everything,” George said. “They were just fans, we didn’t need to listen to what they were saying. They existed only online.”
“And as you lot grew?” she prompted.
George nodded, “As we grew, it went from a couple thousand to a couple million.”
“But they were still online, though,” she reasoned.
“That’s the thing: they weren’t . Not anymore, not after the lockdown lifted,” he passed the blunt to her. “They recognized me in public, they took pictures of me, saw me in person— I mean, give it a few years and the paparazzi would’ve been showing up outside our house once I moved to Florida.”
“So you… ran?”
He sighed, “Dream has more than thirty million subscribers. Sapnap makes bank off of Twitch . They don’t need me anymore, and as shitty as it sounds, I don’t really need them either.”
She leaned back against the wall. They were sitting in her flat in Brighton, in the middle of the living room. Empty bottles of champagne lay tipped over on the floor behind them. It was New Years, and the two of them hadn’t been invited to a party.
The blunt was past dead by now. Elise tapped it onto the ashtray and watched it burn out. “I don’t know what you want to hear, but that’s fucked up, George.”
George laughed, but there was no humor behind it, “I don’t know what I want to hear, either.”
“You should really go back before it’s too late.”
“I already said it, they make enough money to last without me. They’ll get over it, trust me.”
“It’s not all about money,” a frown crept over Elise’s gentle features. She pouted her lips as George shifted towards her. He laid down in between her legs, head on her abdomen. Elise rested a hand in his hair and started to massage him. “They were your friends before anything. Surely you didn’t have to disappear from them. ”
He closed his eyes, humming in consideration. His high was still going strong, and the prospect of sleep started to pull him in. “It would’ve been too tempting to return. I needed to cut myself off. I was getting too attached.”
“Are you going to run away from me? You seem to be getting more and more attached by the second.”
George smirked, opening his eyes to raise an eyebrow at her, “You better convince me to stay.”
Elise raised a delicate eyebrow, “And how would I do that?”
The brunet flipped over, ducking his head between her thighs, brown eyes dilating as he stared up at her. She smiled, tugging him closer using his hair. “Is this your idea of convincing, George?”
He laughed, slender fingers crawling up her short dress, hands hooking on the waistline of her thong. “Happy New Year, Elise.”
“Happy New Year.”
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Present Day: New York
Dream has said it countless times already, he’s only going to New York to test it out. He’s only going there to see his friends and give their fans another meetup. Dream will be going right back to L.A. after two weeks, and he will certainly not be looking for any apartments in the ‘Big Apple.’
Luggage in hand, he and Sapnap stepped out of the airport and into the bone-chilling city air. Their breath came out in cloudy puffs as the two of them navigated the throngs of tourists, businessmen, locals, and the ever-annoying screaming children. Dream couldn’t go two seconds without sniffling through his quickly-reddening nose, and his hands felt like they were going to fall right off.
“Don’t you just love it?”
Dream looked over at his friend, watching the man trace the buildings above them with his eyes. He shrugged, “We’ve been here before.”
The bright joy in Sapnap’s eyes didn’t dim at Dream’s words. His negativity was lost to the wind. “Karl and Quackity are waiting at the garage. C’mon, don’t be late!”
Walking past all the cars in the gray expanse of the garage gave Dream a flashback to just a few weeks ago when he’d received his chastising from Kallyn.
We need to get over it— you need to get over it.
He shivered, but it wasn’t just from the weather.
Lights on an expensive-looking car flashed in front of them. Peering closer to look inside, Dream could make out Karl’s rosy cheeks in the passenger side, Quackity’s round smile barely covered by the front mirror.
Sapnap made a run for them, screaming as he tackled Karl into a bear hug. He watched with a smile as the two of them jumped around, “I missed you’s” whispered into each other’s ears. If Dream heard a sly “I love you” tossed in between the yelling, he’d never tell a soul.
Quackity exited the car and met Dream where he stood, clapping their hands together in greeting. “I’m glad you’re here!”
“Happy to be here,” he smiled tightly, watching Sapnap and Karl embrace. A small part of him ached at the sight, wishing he felt passionate enough about someone to hug them like that. “These two weeks are going to be fun, I needed a break.”
“I’m sure it won’t just be two weeks.” Quackity led him to the car, one eyebrow raised knowingly. It pissed Dream off a bit. How was he so sure?
“Whatever you say, man.”
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Dream fell back onto the sheets of Karl and Quackity’s guest bed. He stretched his arms, trying to wring out the quiet pain that seemed to live in his muscles.
He peered out the blinds. It was darker outside now— when he and Sapnap first arrived, the sun was just starting to set. The four of them had ordered pizza for dinner and stayed up talking about nothing and everything. Even now, if Dream strained his ears, he could make out Sapnap and Karl’s hushed whispers from the living room.
“Do you think he’ll want to move in?”
Dream could hear Sapnap clear his throat. “I don’t know, Karl. He can’t handle change, as much as he loves to say he can.”
“Do you really have to stay with him forever? Dream never does anything for you, at least, in the same way you do things for him.”
“No, he does things for me,” Sapnap sounded unsure in his own words. “I’ve been living with him for three years and I’ve never paid a dime of rent. He’s always covered for me. Not to mention that he’s the reason behind my entire career.”
“That’s not what I mean, Nick,” Karl coaxed. “You’ve supported him through everything. When George disappeared, he never even tried to talk about how you were feeling. Every time we called, you always spoke about him. When was the last time someone cared about your side of the story?”
“Dream and I don’t really talk about feelings,” he tried. “It’s not his fault.”
Karl responded with something else, but with the tears welling up in Dream’s eyes and the burning sobs clogging his throat, the Floridian wasn’t able to hear what it was.
It was true. As much as it pained him to admit it. Sapnap was his best friend, Dream met him before everything. They were a package deal, and with a third, they were a team. Yet, that bond was growing weaker with every passing day. He felt he was stretched to the point of breaking. A part of him wondered if that’s what the ache in his arms was— if his limbs were getting tired of holding together the severed ropes of his and Sapnap’s friendship.
Dream and Sapnap were two parts to a whole, but they needed someone to keep them together.
George’s absence left a taint on Dream, but he’d barely spoken to Sapnap about it. It’d been three whole years, and the last time they’d ever said anything ended with a punch Dream could never take back. That memory made it worse for them both, and the topic left them tiptoeing around each other even more.
He can’t remember the last time Sapnap came for him for help. They’d even stopped talking about YouTube. Dream was the only one who still uploaded consistently. Sapnap had left the video-sharing platform, not leaving behind much, however. His livestreams on Twitch still garnered an impressive audience. Once in a while, he’d fly out to North Carolina and make an appearance for Mr. Beast with Karl. Sapnap produced his own merch now, too— Dream’s own merch team split after a few rough meetings, and he’d never bothered to start it up again.
Dream realized with a startle, that Sapnap didn’t need him anymore.
He turned under his covers. He felt like an anchor tying everyone down. It wasn’t fair of him to drag his friends into the deep sea of doubt, he shouldn’t be drowning Sapnap alongside him. His friend deserved to flourish, and if New York was the place to do that, then, by all means, he should live in New York.
He deserved that much, at least.
-
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Present Day: New York, 3:04 A.M.
George stepped out of the Airport into the brittle cold of New York. It wasn’t much different from London, but the bustling city felt bigger than back home. People were right when they called it the ‘City that Never Sleeps.’ People still strolled about as if it were rush hour, endless places to be and infinite opportunities to grasp.
He pulled the hood of his coat down past his eyes, making his way to a taxi waiting at the other end. Before he could even attempt to move, somebody knocked into him, sending his luggage flying out of his hand.
His ‘attacker’ had walked off already. Scoffing to himself, George made to pick his suitcase up, grimacing at the dirty snow that now stuck to the side of it.
“You good?”
George looked up to see a girl, no younger than sixteen, staring at him with big blue eyes. Frizzy red hair stuck to the side of her face, and something about the way she looked gave George an ‘icky’ feeling.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he coughed.
He started to turn, but she grabbed his wrist, an awe-struck look stuck to her face. “Are you…?”
“I’m fine, really. It was just a little shove,” He insisted.
“No not that,” she said. “Are you George? GeorgeNotFound?”
His heart stopped. George hadn’t been recognized in public for years , and of course, the one time he decided to leave London, somebody was bound to know who he was. This was a bad idea, and the universe was giving him a sign to give up and go home.
He swallowed, “Listen, I’ve really got to catch my ride.”
“Why are you here? Is it to see Dr—?”
“I’m here for a funeral,” he lied. “Anyways, it was nice seeing you. Thanks for the help, I guess.”
He walked— okay, maybe it was more of a panicked-jog— to his taxi, stuttering off the name to his hotel. George pulled his coat closer into himself. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d gotten off his flight, and something told him it wasn’t just from the cold.
He indeed and exhaled. He had a plan, and all he had to do was go through with it.
George will be fine.
-
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Present Day
Timid sunlight flitted through the kitchen windows, neat squares of warmth rubbing across Dream’s back. Karl and Sapnap chatted softly by the kitchen island, looks too kind and touches lingering a bit long for them to be normal. Quackity watched them with a pleasant smile, and Dream wondered if something more than a friendship was bubbling in front of his eyes.
Every time he looked at the two of them, Dream couldn’t help but feel the smalled tinge of betrayal. Karl’s words hurt Dream. It might’ve been his fault he eavesdropped in the first place, but the fact that his best friend couldn’t even muster up a proper defense for him stung more than it should’ve. He felt gross— he’d been invited into their home, only to be talked about behind his back.
“What do you guys want to do today?”
Dream looked up from his soggy waffles, catching Quackity’s welcoming eye. He felt bad for feeling angry at him yesterday. He seemed to be the only ally left for Dream.
“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Sapnap suggested. “We can plan a day out and end it with a nice restaurant.”
“There’s a cool thrift store in the city— the one I was telling you about, Alex,” Karl said. “Let’s go shopping, I need more clothes.”
“That seems fun,” Quackity finished the last bite of his eggs. “There’s a bookstore right across from there, I wanted to buy a few things to read.”
“Dream? Are you in?” Sapnap smiled at him from the island. It was the first time Dream had seen him so carefree in years, and it made him want to vomit.
“Yeah, I’ll come.”
-
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Dream looked up at the sign hanging above them. It was an old-looking thrift shop, definitely run as a family business. Aged walls and wooden furniture gave the whole place character, and Dream could appreciate the attention-to-detail and well kept aura of the store. As soon as he entered, the warm, dusty smell of mildew and long gone lives scratched at the inside of his nose and somehow it filled him with an odd sense of longing. He watched Karl gingerly pick through a few shirts, inspecting each one with care as Sapnap recklessly threw pairs of jeans into his basket. Quackity admired a few rings sitting on a corner table, however, upon deciding none were up to his standards, he waved at Dream to come over.
“Want to head out? I know you’ve been trying to get into reading again.”
Dream shrugged, following Quackity out of the shop.
The bookstore looked similar to the thrift shop. Dim lighting and vanilla-scented candles gave Dream a sleepy feeling, but the muffled excitement of new books kept him awake. Even though he hadn’t picked one up in ages, his childhood love of reading fantasy novels never fully left him.
“Is everything all right, Dream?”
He looked up to see Quackity filing through a few biographies, throwing a few into a swiftly-growing pile on a char.
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“You were off this morning.”
Dream raised an eyebrow, “Off?”
“Well,” Quackity sighed, looking back to make eye-contact, “You’ve been pretty ‘off’ for a while. Ever since…”
The unspoken “ Ever since George left” lingered in the air, and for a minute, Quackity got worried he’d overstepped a line. It’s hard to help someone get over a friendship that never really ended— help them grieve for someone who never died. Speaking about it was harder with Dream and Sapnap than it was with Karl.
“I’ve been told I’m not the best at,” Dream rolled his eyes, thinking back to Karl and Sapnap last night, “Dealing with change .”
He hummed in understanding, “It’s a lot. I didn’t know George for as long as you guys did.” Quackity threw another book into his collection, “But I was incredibly close with him. Sometimes I like to think we still are— or we still would be if he came back.”
“Do you think about him like that often?”
He quieted. When George first disappeared, Quackity was confused, as anyone else would’ve been. Slowly, but surely, that confusion turned into anger, and then hatred. It was selfish for George to leave like that, especially at such a peak in their careers. They were meant to be celebrating their success, but instead, they were all stuck in a limbo between feeling helpless and guilty for something none of them could control. Hoards of fans went from screaming all of their names to just one, and not in love but crazed disappointment,
And then he had realized that nobody in the world could’ve influenced George’s actions.
The hatred and anger he felt in the beginning, even though it was mostly directed at George, he discovered that a miniscule part of it was directed at himself . He’d asked himself countless times, why? Did he do something? Had their banter gone too far? Was he too mean? If a joke didn’t land properly? Should he have been more open?
He’d realized that those questions would forever be unanswered. To hover over such things was stupid. As much as he knew, George would never return. Instead of begging God for enlightenment over things that would forever remain a mystery, he asked for peace of mind.
That peace came with enlightenment not for Quackity, but for George. For someone to leave behind absolutely everything, they would need to be in the worst possible mindset ever. To just give up, throw everything he’d built, to cut ties with best friends— George must have been struggling the most out of anyone.
So maybe it was good, he’d finally thought. Maybe it was better for George. Because pressure and anxiety that bad could lead to other places— one way scarier than just disappearing.
Quackity studied Dream’s face. As of late, it seemed to have a permanent down-trodden look to it, like a kicked puppy just looking for someone to love him. Dream needed someone to appreciate him with no risks and no real expectation of anything in return, except for loyalty that knows no bounds. It made Quackity’s heart warm and break at the same time.
“Yes,” he finally said. “I thought about him, and I still do.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“As much as Karl, and I think everyone else, disagrees,” Quackity spoke slowly, “I think it was sort-of brave of him.”
“ What? ”
“He realized that what he was doing wasn’t working for him, so he just,” Quackity raised a fist and opened it slowly, as if to show something going ‘ poof ’, “He left.”
Dream frowned, “I think it was nothing but selfish and cowardly.”
“It was selfish, yes,” he nodded. “Cowardly? No.”
“How was it not cowardly?”
“Because he admitted to it,” Quackity said. “I mean he told me, and Sapnap and Karl both told me that you had similar discussions with him— technically, we all knew he was planning on leaving, except none of us believed him.”
“Oh come on ,” Dream threw his hands up in the air in annoyance, “ No one would have thought he was being serious! Surely you can’t count that as ‘admitting’ to it.”
“Some of us did,” he mumbled. Quackity could still remember Sapnap’s tear-ridden voice and his hushed whispers in the middle of the night, a few weeks after it happened. He’d never experienced anyone break down like that— he’d never seen someone so confident drown in a horrible mixture of absolute fear.
“Like who?”
“I think you know.” Quackity smiled tiredly. “Sapnap told us all about how he knew since the first day.”
Dream groaned, running a hand heavily through his hair. “I don’t know how to help him, Alex. All I hear is people telling me to move on, I have no idea how to deal with this myself.”
“I didn’t say you needed to do that.”
“But everyone in the damn world does!” Dream collapsed onto the book-chair, knocking a few over in the process. “Everyone says I’m some evil, horrible guy for barely talking to Sapnap after what happened— I don’t know how! I can’t do anything, Quackity. I haven’t healed, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”
“Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true . I’ve tried everything, therapy, a girlfriend, a boyfriend ,” Dream blushed at the thought. “Journaling, moving across the entire country— I just can’t seem to stop thinking about George.”
“Why do you think that? Why do you think you can’t seem to move on?”
“He was my best friend, isn’t that enough of a reason?”
Quackity thought back to the late-night calls between his friends. All five of them would be tired out of their minds, each person in the middle of some type of work. None of them were able to keep up the normal filters they talked through— they were all a raw, real piece of themselves.
He remembers the fond voices between Dream and George. The way Dream’s words would automatically soften at the sound of George’s. The way George would be unable to hit back with a truly mean joke, how he’d only let himself lose to Dream. The willingness to help each other out. Even in the exhaustion after a long day, they’d always be so ready to film one more video, to edit one more clip, to fix one more idea. Quackity used to make fun of it before, but now he looked back on it in awe.
How admiring of a person do you have to be to give yourself up like that? To offer your energy into the other’s passion? It was true companionship, and a little part of him envied that he still hasn’t lived through that before.
“I think you were in love with him,” Quackity deadpanned. “And I think you still are.”
Instead of another confused ‘what’ or disgusted “ you’re dumb ,” Quackity was met with a quiet epiphany. Following that, a waterfall of silent tears. Dream buried his face into his arms, hiccupping into himself in the middle of ragged books and judgmental shoppers.
Quackity wondered if he should say something else, but he decided that awkward backrubs and the occasional ‘ shhh ’ would be best for Dream at that moment.
After a few seconds of stillness, Dream exhaled shakily. He wiped the tears from his face, graciously accepting a tissue from Quackity to blow his nose. “Do you think that he ever—”
“Yes.”
“How?” Dream’s eyes filled with tears again, “How can you be so sure?”
“Dream, he gave up so much for us, for you . He was at your every beck and call, even more than he was with Sapnap or me. He canceled plans for you, joined streams for you, woke up whenever you called him— Dream, he changed his entire lifestyle for you. Could you imagine that? Could you ever imagine living on a different clock than everyone around you? To wake up once the moon rose? To barely see the sun?” Quackity sighed, “Dream, he loved you. That is pure love.”
“Maybe if I didn’t do all that, he’d still be here.”
“George left on his own accord, Dream. Don’t let yourself think he did it because of you.”
“Whatever,” Dream sniffed. He rose from his spot, gingerly taking a step towards him. He spread his arms, cocking his head in such a way that even Quackity wanted to cry. “Can I…?”
“Of course.”
Quackity tightened his arms around Dream in their embrace. The disappearance left everyone broken in one way or another, but for those closest to George, some wounds were left to scar over. Band-aids and simple wishes of a complete return will never heal what Dream and Sapnap went through. Quackity could only assist in one way or another.
But in the ways that he is able to help, Quackity will make sure he’ll do his best.
-
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“Did you find anything interesting?” Sapnap sat across from Quackity in their restaurant booth, Karl sitting to his right.
Dream shrugged, “I found a few things, but Alex bought the whole shop.”
“There was a lot of good stuff!” Quackity defended, “Sorry that I like to read.”
“Thanks for apologizing for being a nerd,” Karl snorted. “Don’t know if I accept it, though.”
Dream leaned back against the plastic leather of his seat. He still felt woozy from his scene at the bookstore. His eyes were red-rimmed and his eyelids heavy, along with a gaping hole churning at the pit of his stomach.
Part of him wanted to scoff at Quackity’s words. I think you were in love with him.
And I think you still are.
Everything in him wanted those words to be a joke, for them to be another part of the “DNF train” that everyone in the world seemed to be on. But deep in his soul, he knew. He knew they were true and frankly, he wasn’t strong enough to deny it anymore.
Dream was obsessed with George. He was addicted.
How could anyone not be? When you hold someone so close over a distance of four thousand miles, there will always be a little part of you that becomes infatuated with the idea of them. They were completely online, with not even a bridge to cross to each other. As much as Dream didn’t like it, he never truly knew George.
He never experienced his brown eyes in person, he never saw his hair messy in the morning. He never got to see him eat breakfast groggily in the kitchen. Dream never heard him breakdown, really breakdown over something.
Dream never watched George’s skin turn pink in person, he never got to see George’s bashful smile after an unprompted compliment. They never held hands, never hugged, never even breathed in the scent of each other.
But Dream knew that George’s favorite color was blue. He knew he’d graduated top of his class from uni, despite the fact he absolutely despised taking tests. Dream knew George liked coding because it was the one thing he was the best at. He knew he always stayed up to call his mom on Sundays, just to check in with her after church. Dream knew not to plan things on the second Thursday of every month, because George’s little sister had her dance recitals, and Goerge would never miss those for the world.
Dream knew George’s voice always cracks in the morning, despite the considerably lower tone it took on from the unuse. He knew George hated to give and receive compliments, that loving was hard for him because he never really knew how to use his words. He knew that in the middle of the night, whenever George would need to call Dream after a particularly bad nightmare, even though he tried to mask it, Dream could tell that his friend had been crying. Dream could hear the smile in George’s voice without a camera, and he could also hear the frown in it. Even now, three years later, he can still picture the exact way George’s eyebrows dipped in frustration, the way anger painted itself onto marble features and pale stone.
Some would say Dream knows too much, but he’d beg to differ and say he knew too little. Dream thirsts for more knowledge, he wants to know every inch of George. He wanted to dig inside his brain and know why .
“Dream? Are you going to get something?”
The blond looked up from the menu he’d been staring mindlessly at for the past five minutes, realizing everyone had been waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat pathetically, “Yeah, I’ll just get a salad. Thanks.”
“Everything good?”
Dream looked into Karl’s brown eyes sitting across from him. Even though their words weren’t in true ill intent, he still felt hurt by his friends’ words when they’d thought he wasn’t listening.
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
“So what are our plans after this?” Karl asked the group. “A stream, maybe?”
Dream hasn't gone live in over a month, and it’s been longer than three for any uploads on his YouTube. As much as anyone else knew, he had taken a ‘break’ from social media like Twitter and Instagram .
Needless to say, he’s been neglecting his fanbase.
“I’m down for a stream,” Dream said. “Just so everyone doesn’t think I’ve died, or something.”
Sapnap shrugged, “Sure. We don’t need to plan much, us being together will be more than enough.”
Quackity sipped his drink, “I’m in.” He gestured to his phone laying beside his glass, “Should one of us Tweet it out?”
“Dream should do it,” Sapnap suggested. “We can stream on your account, you haven’t gone live in a minute.”
Dream frowned, “Are you guys sure? I know I haven’t done anything in a while, but I really don’t need to.”
“It’s all good,” Karl reassured. “You do it. You’re both here for a long time anyway, we can do more.”
A long time , Dream scoffed to himself, but he still picked up his phone. He redownloaded Twitter, messily typing in his credentials. Blue light sprung to life, fingers thrumming with a familiar sense of curiosity. Before he could even stop himself, a sly grin began to climb onto his face.
He rushed out his message, moving to the trending tab to see what had been going on since he last checked his timeline.
Dream’s smile dropped from his face instantly, “What the fuck ?”
“What’s wrong?” Quackity asked.
With shaking hands, he threw his phone to the middle of the table, the topic open on the screen. An eerie silence fell over each man as they read the white blocky letters.
GeorgeNotFound In America:
Fans react in excitement as former YouTuber and Twitch Streamer GeorgeNotFound is spotted in New York City after a shocking disappearance from the internet three years prior.