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George never thought that admitting he might be depressed would lead to having well- not his first, but definitely his favorite.
He remembers lying in bed, empty and cold and silent, only the slight ring of his air con unit and his breathing to keep him company.
He wants his friends.
He wants his friends, even though they all were in vc about two hours ago.
He wants a hug from Sapnap. He wants to see Dream’s face and his toothy smile. He wants to hear Quackity’s laugh and be able to finally stream with him in person, maybe even see what he looks like with his beanie off. He wants to see Karl in the flesh, rings and sweaters and cuddly self all there for him to have.
Lately, the world has been awfully rude to him.
It’s rubbing away the line that he follows so that he doesn’t get lost, eroding the footprints that guide him to his destination. The ocean between them seems to span wider and further, and it hurts.
It’s a slow burn, gradually losing hope that he’ll ever actually be able to meet his friends in real life.
It takes a lot of strength not to just buy a plane ticket and text Sapnap, ‘I’m here at the airport, pick me up.’
So he sits. Alone. In the dark. In bed.
And he really doesn’t like thinking.
He hates that his brain immediately resorts to worst-case scenarios, overthinking with the smallest of evidence. Having been out with his family all day, Dream could not respond to one of his texts, but George never hesitates grabbing onto the idea that he did something wrong, or that Dream doesn’t want to be friends anymore.
It’s overwhelming.
And he knows once they’re in person, it’ll be better.
He’ll feel more comfortable asking for a hug from Sapnap or Karl, and there won’t be any more texts for him to overthink- tone indicators only do so much. And besides- if one of them is having a bad day, he’ll be able to tell.
But he lets it slip in a call with Dream one night, sleep disabling his emotional filter he always had up.
“I think I’m depressed.”
Dream stops typing. “You do?”
“I don’t know, I mean– I feel so unmotivated and like- I always think everyone hates me, and all I really want to do is just lay in bed and drift in and out of sleep.”
“That sounds rough,” he says, with that soft gentle voice he only uses on George and Patches.
“I mean… I guess,” George replies uncomfortably, ignoring the nights he spent sobbing because he can’t get out of bed to do something as simple as eat.
They share a soft silence, not sure how to continue. George wishes he’d never mentioned anything about it, because now Dream’s gonna worry and do all these nice things which George really can’t handle right now-
“What if Sapnap were to fly out there?”
“What?” Don’t get your hopes up, he says to himself with a smile on his face.
Dream seems almost as excited as he is. “What if I got Sapnap out there, and hey, maybe even Quackity and Karl? Just so that you’re not alone? I can’t imagine how shitty it feels over there, especially seeing everyone meet up.”
“Yeah, like- I have Wilbur and Jack and Tommy and everyone and they’ve been so wonderful, but-“
“You want us?” The truth is there, laid flat and bare in front of him, but he still doesn't want to accept it.
He has everything he could ever want right here- friends, money, a supportive family- but he’s greedy enough to ask for more.
“Yeah…” He feels selfish, even though Dream would tell him not to worry.
“I’ll tell you what- I’ll tell Sapnap to speed up the whole passport process, and I can let Quackity and Karl know that they should make plans to see you soon. That work?”
George’s face falls when he doesn’t mention his own name. “You’re not coming?”
“No, I’m really sorry George but I can’t risk the whole face thing- I mean, I barely can avoid it here- and I don’t have the passport and all that shit, I just- it would take too much time, I think it’s just better off if I stay here. I’m really sorry, you know I would love to go.”
He tries not to be too hurt by it. He knows he’ll be able to see him someday, but that lack of a concrete day is killing him. He plays it off like it doesn’t matter (like everything else in his life). “‘S okay. But uh- yeah, that seems- really nice. Thank you so much.”
“Absolutely. ‘S the least I can do since i can’t be there in person,” he says, and George wants to run up and give him the biggest hug. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a friend like him.
“Mhm. I’m probably gonna head to bed now, I’ve stayed up way longer than I wanted.”
“Yeah, go to sleep, Georgie. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
He exits the call and closes out Discord, sleeping better that night than he had in a while.
Saying yes to Dream that night had been one of the best decisions he’s ever made, because now he’s sitting in the front room of his apartment, leg bouncing as he anxiously awaits the arrival of his best friend.
It doesn’t feel real- he feels like the door is never going to open, like he’s waiting there and Sapnap’s going to call him over discord because duh, he’s still in Florida.
He begs that it’s not any different in person, he begs that it quells the storm of overthinking that always plagues him, and he begs that it’s not all a dream.
But there’s a knock on the door and Sapnap is real and in person and hugging him so tight he’s pretty sure he might suffocate.
He doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy in his life, seeing Sapnap’s smile as he almost tackles him to the ground in a hug. There’s a part of him that was missing prior, and he’s closer to getting it back- he’s set back on his path, and the storm cloud above him parts to only reveal sunshine.
He wants to get out of bed in the morning. He regrets staying in his dark room all day, scrolling endlessly through TikTok. He wants to go outside, go to the city, and live.
And it just kept getting better.
Quackity joins and their duo makes a trio, one more person to share his joy with and one more person to heal the loneliness that seeped endlessly into his walls.
There’s an eternal joy that floods his system like a drug, putting him on a high that doesn’t end.
But one fateful night after a stream sets everything off course.
They’ve been drinking, a bubbly feeling clouds George’s head that makes him feel like he could do anything right now. He also notices his filter is most definitely gone, which George cares less about than he should.
Quackity and Sapnap had knocked out a couple hours ago- it’s just him and Karl now.
He’s not mad. He’s actually quite thrilled about their current situation, like a highschool girl who just got partnered up with her crush for a project. He doesn’t have favorites in their friend group, but Karl has an aura that he could get high off of.
“Do you think Dream’s gonna try to kiss you?”
It’s completely out of the blue and George has no clue where it comes from, but now they’re on the topic of kissing. Wonderful.
“ God no, I sure hope not,” he recovers cooly, as if there hadn’t been a million alarm bells going off in his head at the mere mention of kissing his boy best friend.
“Damn, I wasn’t expecting that intense of a reaction.”
“No, no, it’s not that I just- I’ve never thought of him as more than a friend, and that just- it feels so wrong.”
He’s thought about it before- trust him, way more than he’s wanted to.
When half of your entire online presence is being shipped with your best friend, the whole concept of ‘DNF’ is inescapable- anytime he opens twitter, anytime he streams, hell- anytime he’s not active on twitter, Dream and him are the answer.
And he’s not mad, per say- it’s fun to joke about and the fanart’s always so beautiful- but it’s almost laughable at how much he does not want to date Dream.
“Besides, that’s Sapnap’s job.” He throws in, because he feels this pressure on his chest- all eyes on him.
His head snaps up from where he lies on the floor, eyes wide in an animated expression. “ What?”
“Sapnap has a crush on Dream! Did he not tell you?”
“Oh!- oh wait, he did, I-'' he bursts into a fit of drunk giggles, and George has never been more in love. Karl continues by clarifying that Sapnap did tell him, it had simply slipped his memory.
But all George can focus on is how he’s splayed out on the floor like one of those chalk outlines, eyes mindlessly perusing the walls. He somehow looks like a fallen angel in the ugly warm light of his house, red flushing his body making him look so kissable.
“I’ve always been so bad at kissing people.” The words seem to fall out of his mouth, no control over why he thinks it’s a good idea to say unprompted. Maybe it’s for the best.
“What?”
“Just- never really been my thing, I was always too awkward about it.”
“Well- would you want to practice? That’s what I always did.” He’s blushing. Hopefully not just from the alcohol.
George isn’t too sure that asking your best friend to practice kissing is normal, but he seizes the opportunity. He knows it won’t happen again, and alcohol is fogging any sort of critical thinking.
“Um- okay.” he doesn’t know why he says it. But the words are out of his mouth, and the idea of kissing Karl Jacobs seems like quite a good choice right now.
“Okay.”
He gets up and scoots closer, sitting with crossed legs in front of him. Their knees are touching and George thinks he’ll explode. (As if they haven’t hugged before).
Up close like this, he can see Karl’s light dusting of freckles, his long auburn eyelashes that frame aquamarine irises. He’s so powerful that every anxious thought in his brain turns off- he’s the parachute on his back as he jumps off the cliff, and he lets himself fall .
“Okay so uh- first step is- I mean it’s really all about touch, so I like,” he trails off, only to place a hand gently on George’s cheek, and he hopes he doesn’t notice how red it is. His hand is careful and tentative, like he’ll shatter George if he does something wrong.
“I like to just lay my hand on whoever’s cheek it is- don’t make any effort to grab it, just kinda- let it sit there.” He seems to be getting lost in his own thoughts as he looks into George’s eyes, and he’s falling deep into the oasis that is Karl’s.
It’s about now when George realizes this is a little too much to be strictly platonic- not that he minds, of course.
“This okay?”
George nods, only staring at Karl’s lips.
He’s pretty sure his brain shuts off when they touch.
He might as well be floating because the warmth of Karl’s lips on his own is heavenly, and he makes a decision that this is probably the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life.
Unfortunately, Karl pulls away right as he processes it.
“Was that okay?”
“Oh- um- Yeah,” he rushes out a bit too quickly.
They’re both acting like high schoolers about the whole thing, giggling and blushing and not being able to look each other in the eye; they’re full grown adults, for god’s sake.
“Okay- number one rule of kissing- you don’t pucker your lips. It’s not a lemon. Just kinda-” He runs a finger across his bottom lip and catches the corner that’s held in between his teeth, pulling it out to a more relaxed position, mouth open just slightly.
There’s clear tension in the air- it’s suffocating, pressing down on his chest and blurring the lines between butterflies and moths clogging his stomach. Karl’s hand sitting on his lips definitely isn’t the problem.
He just wants something to happen- he doesn’t care if he runs out of the room crying, he doesn’t care if Karl bursts out laughing, and he definitely doesn’t care if Karl goes to kiss him again.
“I think I uh- get it now,” he breathes out, because the silence is sickening.
“Oh- yeah, yeah of course.” Karl rips his eyes and hand away like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t, and George’s heart sinks for an unknown reason.
“I’m gonna just go to… sleep now. You know where to find me if you need anything.”
“Yeah, uh- goodnight.” He has a huge blush on his face, but George doesn’t say anything. He’s one to talk.
So he goes back to his bedroom and does his nightly routine as normal, trying to get the thoughts of Karl’s lips on his out of his mind. He makes sure he has a glass of water by his bed for when he wakes up at an inconvenient time with a desperately dry throat, he washes his face and brushes his teeth, trying to get the taste of Karl’s chapstick out of his mouth, replacing it with a harsh mint.
He changes out of his clothes from the day into boxers and an oversized t-shirt, black and simple and soft.
He gets into his bed, under the covers he so specifically picked out and makes sure the blackout curtains by the window are closed; he knows sleep won’t come easily tonight.
George doesn’t like thinking about his sexuality too much.
It makes his heart twist, his hands shake, and his brain forget everything he’s ever known about himself.
He tends to push it away- if he sees someone he’s interested he’ll know, and then he’ll go from there.
Except that he just kissed one of his best friends , who’s in the room down the hall.
He kissed his best friend.
He kissed a boy.
Boys kissing other boys was a secret.
It was never talked about, ignored or dodged when asked about, and generally looked down upon by generations of his parents' families.
It made him nauseous to think about, the family’s golden child found to be one of those queers who likes kissing boys.
But the obvious answer is right in front of him, and he loves kissing boys.
He loves every idea, every scenario, and anything that could be associated with kissing boys.
Kissing boys on the forehead, cheeks, head, nose.
Kissing boys in the morning after waking up latched on to each other, kisses stolen in the kitchen when making dinner, slow makeout sessions in the orange of a sunset.
Especially Karl Jacobs. The fluffy-haired boy fits right there in his arms, in the sleep addled cuddles and coffee scented mornings.
He doesn’t like to think about his sexuality. So he pushes off the future along with the blanket that’s weighing him down as much as his own thoughts.
Did kissing strictly have to be romantic? It didn’t have to mean anything if he didn’t want it to, right?
Besides, it was just practice.
It was of practical use, something used for learning and education. Neither of them had said anything about it being more.
But he wanted it to be more.
He wanted to wake up in the sunlight next to Karl wrapped in the soft sheets, be able to cuddle while scrolling endlessly through Twitter, laughing at dumb tweets and freaking out the fan base with one simple interaction.
He wants to wake up to soft humming in the kitchen and walk out there, simple and natural and unscathed by the world, and wrap his arms around Karl’s waist and lay his cheek on his shoulder blades, silent touch and love in their home together.
There was no escaping it now. No one thinks that about their best friend except Sapnap- but he has a crush on Dream, and it’s practically unbearable. Not for the reason the fans would think, however.
He only wants to kiss Karl.
It makes him want to throw up.
He’s walking on a tightrope, on the verge of toppling any second, and he’s hanging on by a thread.
If he falls, he loses his best friend, the blissful joy of his new lack of loneliness, and everything he’s known about himself.
But love stops for nothing.
So the next day, he hopes that Karl will ask him. He’s like a high school girl, just hoping that one day, her crush will ask to go to the prom with her.
It doesn’t come for a while- there’s a part of George that hopes the whole thing had been forgotten about; that the night had been a one-time-only event, never to be lived out again.
But Karl asks. Karl always asks. He acts like kissing is completely normal to do between friends, like it’s something done on the daily around the world. “Do you want to try again today?”
“Uh- yeah, if that’s okay.” What the fuck are you doing. You’ve already kissed him once, you don’t need to fall further.
He’s already kissed him once, so another time can’t hurt, right?
It’s just a kiss.
“It always is.”
So Karl kisses him again, holding his jaw gently with both hands and kissing deeper than normal.
And George drinks in every second of it.
He lets himself become pliant under his touch, every other stimuli blocked as he lets Karl’s touch fog his brain.
He can barely believe that someone can make him feel like this, so loved, so wonderful, so blissful.
“You’re really good at this, I don’t know why you needed practice,” he breathes, and George can’t seem to get enough.
“Am I now?”
Karl gives a nod and goes back in for more, to which George gladly complies. He lets his own hands reach up to graze Karl’s jaw slowly, reaching back to tangle his fingers in his soft curls and never wants it to end.
He thinks it’s most definitely a dream, one of those that you wake up embarrassed about because you just kissed your best friend- but George wishes those dreams were more common.
Karl calms down after a bit, kissing him slower but no less amount of love in it. Every touch he gives, every word he says and especially every kiss overflows with love and adoration, and all George wants to do is drown in it.
He lets himself live in this blissful fantasy before Karl pulls away slowly. He hopes there’s some reluctance to it, he hopes Karl likes it as much as he does.
“We’re drunk, we should probably, uh- stop, before it gets too heated,” he breathes out. George still can’t stop staring at his lips that are now puffy and red from the kiss. It’s enticing, and they only make him want to kiss him more.
“Yeah…” he mumbles. He knows it’s a lie.
But I like kissing you. I like you.
“Sleep well George.”
“You too.”
They go their separate ways to their rooms once again, and George starts to overthink as usual.
He gets his glass of water and takes a cold shower to get Karl’s kiss out of his head, knowing that it’s wrong and he shouldn’t like it and Karl looks like he didn’t enjoy it and fuck, he just ruined everything with his best friend and oh shit Sapnap and Quackity are still here-
The hands that are washing his hair come to a stop and pull, because he’s so fucking tired of thinking.
So he lets a few tears fall, lets his emotions roll out the door.
A few loose tears become a rainstorm, getting lost in the spray of the shower. He likes it that way, because then he can’t tell how much he’s crying.
He doesn’t like to cry.
He doesn’t like to think about all the things he’s done wrong- it’s like he’s possessed in the moment, only later to realize his crimes.
The world feels like it’s crumbling beneath his feet. That dumb song that Sapnap loves comes back to him- ‘ it was only a kiss, how did it end up like this?’ and he hates everything.
He needs to talk to Karl.
He doesn’t think he’ll be able to go on without saying something, let alone even sleep tonight.
Every thought in his mind is fighting with each other- he wants to apologize for playing with his feelings, but he does have feelings for him, so why is this all so hard? What if Karl doesn’t feel the same, but then why would he ask to kiss him?
He turns off the shower and quickly dries himself off, putting on some quick sleep clothes and going straight to Karl’s room.
It was better to just get it over with.
He opens the door slowly so as not to wake him- he’s already preparing to be on his bad side from now on, it is best to soften the blow as much as possible.
Walking over to him, his heart starts to speed up, impending doom becoming more imminent as he shakes his arm lightly, whispering his name.
No answer.
“Karl, ” he whispers, even harsher, pushing his arm harder.
“Hm?”
“Can I talk to you?”
“Mm. C’mere.” Karl moves to the other side of the bed, covers pushed back with a sleepy gaze. He has his arms stretched towards him, and George is pretty sure he doesn’t understand what he just asked.
But George complies, laying down next to him, keeping their faces distance.
“Karl, I- I’m really sorry for the whole kiss thing, I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and-”
Karl’s hand falls sloppily on his face, a gentle slap accompanied with a mumble. “Shu’p”
“No- Karl, you don’t need to forgive me, but I need you to just listen for a second because I’m- I need you to know that I’m so sorry -”
“Shhh, baby-”
“Karl- wake up, I know it’s a bad time but please-” he shakes him even harder, words breaking off with a sob.
It’s then when he really wakes up and George is relieved. “Woah- wait hey, why’re you crying?” he moves to sit up, going to turn on the lamp next to him.
George moves to sit up too, not facing him but continuing on his tearful ramble. “Because I kissed you and- I really like you and I’m so sorry because I don’t want it to ruin anything-”
“C’mere, hon, you didn’t ruin anything, you never do,” he says softly, reaching a timid hand across his shoulders and scooting closer
Only then does he look at Karl. He’s sure he heard him wrong. “What?”
“You remember that I was the one who suggested we kiss as practice? How the hell would that make me uncomfortable?” He has that cute smile on his face, the one that lets George know that everything is okay.
“Um- well I thought I went in too strong, and I did everything wrong,” he says, heat rising to his face. Karl’s really close to him and he can’t shut his mouth.
“No- no, never I- George, I went to bed that first night like a little girl who’s crush winked at her from across the playground, I was down bad, and- I still am!”
Now he’s embarrassed.
There was no worse feeling than getting in your head about everything, only to realize how stupid it all was after you went through the trouble of feeling everything.
“Oh…”
“Oh.” he’s smiling.
George never feels pressure with Karl. With Karl, he feels calm, he feels safe, he feels loved. There’s no need to worry about it, because Karl loves him and he loves Karl.
“I’m such a dumbass,” he laughs, hiding his blushing face in his hands.
“Some would say that. I think it’s quite endearing,” Karl quips, bringing his face back to his with a smirk.
“Can I kiss you again?” Karl whispers, and George’s answer is ready before he even finishes.
“Please.”
Karl takes his gentle hands and presses them against George’s cheeks, letting them rest there for a minute before kissing him so tenderly that it almost makes him cry again.
It’s tender, lazily, and so authentically them in the dark of George’s guest bedroom that he suddenly wishes he’d spent more time decorating.
Neither of them want to stop, and it gives George the biggest smile on his face.
It’s barely even a kiss anymore- just the two of them, bodies and faces fitting with each other like a puzzle, as close as possible sharing their unimaginable bliss. And George is floating.
“I really like kissing you,” Karl mumbles, eyes fluttering shut as he goes back to kiss the corner of George’s lips.
He recovers cooly, as if he’s not trying to suppress the urge to gush about all the wonderful feelings he has for him. “How perfect, I do too.”
“Stay please?”
“Always,” he says gently, tucking one of Karl’s curls behind his ear. He never thought he’d see himself being this in love with someone, this willing to put so much care into every single word and action.
So he turns off the lamp and they lie down together, Karl resting his head on George’s collarbone and letting his nose graze his jaw. Their legs are crossed over each other, arms are huggin and holding- two boys, soaking in the fantastical experience of being this knitted into your lover, so intimate without ever being sexual.
The oceans are calm, the streets are quiet, he’s cuddling with his best friend whom he just kissed minutes earlier, and he hopes Karl will overstay his welcome.