Chapter Text
January 1st, 2010
Green and brown blend into one another as Dream stares out the car window. He watches as each tree quickly passes by, one after the other. He can’t keep track of how many he’s seen by now—it must be close to a hundred. Branches reaching out with sage covered arms, muted colors that swirl into each other.
It feels like he’s been in this car for hours. The dashboard clock taunts him. It's only been eleven minutes since they left the house.
Great.
He leans his head against the cool glass and lets out a sigh, his breath fogging the window. He draws a smile into it and watches as it slowly fades.
Even the stupid little face doesn’t want to be in this car.
His mother and father sit in front of him, his younger sister on his right. A Jack Johnson song plays quietly through the speakers of the car.
Tense whispers are thrown back and forth. Dream can tell his parents are trying to keep a happy front, pretend everything is okay, but he knows.
He can always tell: his mother’s knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel, a scowl wrinkling her face, and his father stares down dismissively at his phone.
It’s typical, really.
In his thirteen years of existence he learned to pick up on every passive aggressive look or what it meant when his mom breathed a certain way. And right now… well, right now she is very unhappy.
Dream closes his eyes as tight as he can and tries to focus on the steady rhythm of the music, the strumming of the guitar—honestly anything but his mother’s sharp jabs and father’s irritated rebuttals.
“We’ve had this planned for weeks…” His mother’s voice raises with her frustration.
The music fades back in. He begs for the bass line to carry him out of this car.
“The office… It’s not my fault they called… Meeting tomorrow…” His dad’s voice dances in and out of the music. “...just one phone call.”
Must I always be waiting, waiting on you? He tries to focus on the lyrics being sung. I can’t always be playing, playing your fool.
He stares out the window, wishing he could just get out of the car and run. Maybe if he stares long enough, if he thinks really hard, he could disappear from the car and teleport to the side of the road.
His parent’s quiet argument subsides by the time they pull into a dirt path leading up to a small gravel parking lot. A small building made of wood stands in front of them.
They’re at a farm.
“Alright.” His mom claps her hands together, punctuating her announcement. “We’re here.”
Next to him, his sister excitedly squeals, reaching her arms out for their dad to take her out of the carseat.
Dream stays silent as he climbs out of the car. The weather is cooler than usual, there’s a light winter chill in the Florida air. He should’ve listened to his mom’s advice to bring a jacket.
He slowly trails behind his family as they make their way into the farm. As they reach the gate, Dream sees acres of orange trees stretching in front of them. The air smells sweet, it’s crisp. The taste of citrus dances on his tongue. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in.
This would be ten times better if he was alone. If his little sister wasn’t screaming every five minutes. If his parents weren’t fighting right now. If he was alone.
He watches his mom greet one of the workers with a warm smile. He hands her two baskets for them to carry around the orchard.
“Clay.” A basket is shoved into his arms. “Take this.”
“I don’t want a basket.” He frowns.
His mother scowls, her perfect skin wrinkled by disdain. “Just take it.”
Her words are sharp and almost as cold as the wind.
“Fine.” Dream retreats.
Maybe if he stays quiet this will go by quicker. He could hide in the background, they won’t even remember he’s there.
A small hand pokes his arm. “Can I?” His sister looks at him and then down at the basket, holding her grabby hands out expectantly.
“Yeah,” He sighs. “Here, you can have it.”
She squeals excitedly, giggling with the basket in her hands. His mother gives him a disapproving look, he shrugs in reply.
Dried up leaves crunch under his feet as they follow the path into the orchard. He trails behind, trying not to make too much noise, watching as his sister attempts—and fails— to pull an orange off of the tree.
She turns to him, eyes round and big. “Too high.”
“Just stand on your toes.”
She tries again, reaching as high as she can before sighing in defeat. “Can’t reach.”
Dream stares at her in silence. She stares back, a pout etched onto her face. He knows what she’s asking him, he just doesn’t want to give in.
Dammit.
“Fine.” He walks over to the tree and picks two oranges off of it. “Is this good?”
“Yes.” She grabs at the oranges and throws them into her basket. “Mommy look!”
Dream stands back as he watches his sister run up to their parents. She excitedly shows them her basket with the two oranges inside.
Their mom smiles, a tight, thin-lipped smile, and gives her a small pat on the shoulder.
He watches as his sister runs to their dad who is deep in conversation on the phone. She pulls at his shirt trying to get his attention, he waves her off. He sees his mother roll her eyes. He can see words being spoken, but can’t hear what’s being said. His father turns to his mother, a frown on his face.
“Give me a fucking minute.” His father’s voice is loud, sharp. It cuts through the trees and reaches all the way to where he stands.
He watches his mother take a deep breath in. She grabs his sister’s hand pulling them further into the orchard. Further away from his dad. Further away from him.
Great.
Now he’s left alone.
It’s what he wanted, but a part of him isn’t as happy as he thought he’d be. His mom walked off without even calling for him to come. His dad is still on the phone, probably in some business meeting.
And they’ve completely forgotten about him, haven't they?
Dream’s throat feels tight, his eyes start to blur. A sick familiar feeling starts to bubble in the bottom of his stomach. His body moves before he has the chance to think.
He turns on his feet and runs.
He doesn’t know what direction he’s going in, but he doesn’t care. He needs to be alone—he has to be. Hot tears stream down his face, cold air burns his lungs.
When he is finally far enough away, when he can no longer see his dad or hear his sister, he sits down underneath an orange tree.
He pulls his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He buries his face deep into his arms and allows himself to cry. The tightness slowly slips away from his throat, the burning leaves his lungs.
He pulls his face out from his arms and takes a deep breath. His face feels hot and sticky from dried up tears.
A branch snaps behind him.
He twists his head around, half expecting to see his mom or dad.
What he doesn’t expect to see is a lanky, dark haired boy standing awkwardly behind him.
He stares at the boy.
The boy stares back.
“Are you crying?” The boy asks.
“No…” Dream looks away, ashamed. He doesn’t want anyone to know he is crying, let alone some random weird boy.
The boy moves in front of him. “You look like you were crying.”
Dreams arms cross, defensively. This kid is annoying. “Well I wasn’t”
“I think you were” The boy persists. Dream notices a slight accent to his voice.
“Are you British?” Dream asks. He doesn’t care, not really. He just wants to know.
The boy rolls his eyes. “No, the accent is just for fun.”
“Oh.”
“I’m from London.”
“Okay.” Dream picks at the grass beside him. “I'm from here.”
The boy shifts awkwardly on his feet before moving to sit down in front of him. “So why were you crying?”
“I wasn’t…” The boy gives him a knowing look. Dream takes a breath, picking another piece of grass out from the ground. “Uh, my mom and dad. They were fighting, my mom stormed away with my sister. They left me behind, uh, I guess.”
The boy looks at him, not a shift in his face. “So you decided to cry under a tree?”
“Yes.”
There is a moment of silence. “Cool.”
“These are clementines.” The boy points up at the oranges hanging from the branches above them.
Dream looks up. “I thought they were oranges.”
“Well…” The boy stands up, he walks until he is standing right in front of Dream. He reaches up and grabs a fruit before sitting back down. “Technically, they are. They are a type of orange, a mix of sweet oranges and mandarin oranges. They’re smaller than regular oranges, smoother skin too.”
The boy holds the clementine out to Dream. He lets the boy drop it into his hand.
Dream examines the fruit carefully. He was right. The clementine is smaller, the skin feels smooth too.
“You can eat it if you want.”
Dream looks at him skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“Give it to me.” The boy grabs the orange out of Dream’s hand.
Dream watches slender fingers gently peel the orange. He splits the peeled orange in half, handing one half to dream. Dream watches as he pops a wedge into his mouth.
“It’s good.” The boy says, still chewing the clementine. “Try it.”
The boy watches expectantly as Dream peels a small wedge off and eats it.
Sweetness explodes, overwhelming his senses. His eyes grow wide. “This is good.”
The boy laughs. “I told you it was, idiot.”
Dream doesn’t know why it’s funny, but he finds himself joining in with the boy's infectious laughter.
He clears his throat once the laughter dies down. “I’m Dream.”
“Dream?” The boy asks, a small smile on his face.
“Yeah.”
The boy scoffs. “That’s not a real name.”
“It is,” he argues, “It’s my name.”
“What kind of parents name their kid Dream?” The boy asks bluntly.
Fine. Maybe he has a point.
“They didn’t name me that.” Dream rips a blade of grass in half. “I named myself that, like, on my own. It’s cool.”
The boy immediately rebuttals. “It’s not cool.”
“It is.”
“George.” The boy states.
“What?”
“That’s my name.”
“Oh, okay.” Dream holds out his palm. “Hi George.”
“Hi Dream.” George takes it with his own.
They stay like that for a second, hand in hand.
“Clay?” He hears his mother’s voice call out.
Dream yanks his hand away instinctively, wiping it on his jeans. “That’s my mom.”
“Your name is Clay?” George asks.
Dream nods, getting up off the ground. He offers George a hand. George looks at it for a minute before taking Dream’s hand with his, allowing Dream to pull him up.
“Now I see why you go by Dream.” He jokes.
Dream smiles at that. “I told you Dream was cooler.”
“Clay?” His mom’s voice calls out again, this time louder than before. She was probably nearby.
“I really need to go.” He doesn’t know why, but he feels sad to say goodbye to the boy he just met. “It was nice meeting you, George.”
“Yeah.” George gives a soft smile. “You too, Dream.”
Dream gives a small wave before running back to his family.
January 11th, 2010
Dream hasn’t seen George since that day at the orchard.
The day after he rode his bike all around the neighborhood in hopes of maybe spotting the weird british boy, but he found nothing.
He did it again the day after and the day after that, until eventually he decided it was no use.
George had probably just been here on vacation anyway.
Dream wasn’t going to see him again and he decides maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he was just someone he met under a tree on New Year’s Day. Maybe it doesn’t need to be anything more than that. Maybe he doesn’t need a friend.
Dream hates the word maybe.
It’s the first day back from winter break and Dream wishes he was back at home.
He hates school more than anything. The classes are boring, the teachers are rude, and the kids are annoying.
He walks quickly to his math class, taking his usual spot in the back left corner.
A few kids have already taken their seats, excitedly talking about how they spent their break. Dream feels annoyance boiling inside of him. He puts his head down on his desk and stares out the window next to him.
It’s raining today. The sky is a muddy gray and the clouds cover any trace of the sun.
Dream watches as drops of water race down the window. He makes a bet on which one will reach the bottom of the window first.
The student's chatter dies down as the teacher walks into the room, making his way over to his desk.
Dream keeps his focus towards the window. His raindrop loses the race, he frowns.
Whispers are thrown back and forth. Dream hears people shuffle around, but he can’t be bothered to look at what the noise is about.
“I hope everyone had a good break.” His teacher’s voice is loud, annoying. It’s giving Dream a headache. “I would like to introduce you all to our new student. Everyone give a warm welcome to George.”
George?
George.
Dream looks up, adrenaline rushing over him.
There’s no way it’s his George. George is a common enough name, right? It has to be a coincidence.
His heart stops when his eyes lock with the boy standing at the front of the room.
George’s eyes meet his, his face is unreadable.
Students mumble hi’s and hello’s. Dream feels himself frozen in his seat, his mouth goes dry.
It’s him.
“We have a pretty full class, but it looks like we have a desk open next to Clay.” The teacher points towards where Dream is sitting. His ears burn red hot at the mention of his name.
George says a quiet ‘thank you’ before walking to the back of the room, sitting down next to Dream.
Dream stares at George in disbelief.
George looks back at him. “What are you staring at?”
“You’re here,” he breathes.
“I am.”
“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” Dream whispers. It’s honest, but he doesn’t see a reason to lie. He picks at the eraser on his pencil.
George opens a blank spiral notebook, the cover is blue. “Why?”
“I dunno.” Dream stares down at his own notebook, filled with random scribbles and doodles. “I thought you were on vacation or something.”
“I just moved here.” Dream watches as George writes down the date. His handwriting is nice, clean. “Now shut up before we get in trouble.”
Dream looks back down at his notebook. He finds himself struggling to focus the whole class. He keeps looking to his side, making sure George is really there and that he didn’t imagine it.
By the time the bell rings, Dream still has an empty page of notes. He watches as George puts his things into his backpack.
“What’s your next class?” Dream asks.
“Um, I think history.” George pulls a carefully folded piece of paper out from his pocket, his eyes searching the schedule. “In room 214.”
“That’s on the way to my class. I can show you where it is.” It’s not, really, but George doesn’t need to know that. Dream snatches the paper out of his hands. “We have art together, sixth period. We have the same lunch block too.”
George takes his schedule back from Dream. “Okay.”
Dream looks over at the paper, examining the rest of the schedule.“You have English with Mrs. Garter. I heard she’s a bitch.”
“That sucks,” George laughs, grabbing his bag.
Dream reads the rest of the classes off. “Are you in eighth grade? These are all higher level classes.”
George nods. “Yeah, I’m thirteen.”
“I’m thirteen too, but my birthday is in August.” Dream grabs his bag off of the floor. “I’m in seventh grade.”
“Oh.” George pulls at the straps of his backpack.
“Yeah, but we can have lunch together.” Dream states as he leads George out of the classroom and down the hall.
George scoffs, “What makes you think I’d want to have lunch with you?”
“You don’t have anyone else to eat with.” Dream weaves them through the mass of students congregating in the halls. “Plus, I eat in the computer room. It’s a lot cooler than the cafeteria.”
“That doesn’t sound cool.”
“It is.” Dream stops in front of the door to room 214. “Here we are.”
George looks at the door to the classroom then back at Dream. “Uh, thanks for walking me.”
“Yeah, of course.” Dream smiles. “I think I kinda owed you.”
George rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
Dream stays there as George disappears into his classroom. The sound of the five minute warning bell rings through the halls. He turns around quickly walking in the opposite direction towards his class.
He’s late to class, but he doesn’t mind. He smiles throughout all of Science and English.
The class periods go by quickly and soon Dream finds himself in his last class of the day—art class next to George.
The art teacher, Ms. Lennar, gives them the hour to draw something that represents them. Reflective of their personality she said.
Dream's paper is covered in different shades of green. He takes a black marker and starts to draw random faces all over the page.
“How are you getting home?” Dream asks, putting his marker down. He pushes his drawing off to the side on the table.
“Walking, probably.” George stares at his paper, random blue swirls drawn across the page.
“I rode my bike.” Dream grabs a colored pencil from a cup in front of them. “Where do you live?”
“Why do you want to know?” George lightly shades in random spots of his drawing.
Dream presses the tip of the colored pencil down on the table. “So we can walk together.”
“Oh.” George pauses his coloring. “I live on Barnes Street.”
“Me too!” Dream beams, he tosses the colored pencil to the side. George hums in response and goes back to finishing his drawing.
The final bell rings and students pour out of the classroom, rushing to leave the school.
Dream slings his backpack onto one shoulder. “Ready?”
George nods and follows him out into the hall, towards the bike rack. Dream unchains his bike and pushes it next to him as they walk home.
The rain has stopped and the sun slightly peaks through the clouds. There is a light breeze, Dream feels goosebumps run up and down his arms. He should’ve brought a jacket.
“So why did you move?” Dream asks, cutting through the silence. Wet leaves stick to the bottom of his shoes.
“My mum got a new job.” George picks at the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
Dream nods. “That’s cool.”
“I guess.” George shrugs, stepping over a puddle.
They make their way down the road until George stops in front of a house.
“This is me.”
“No way.” Dream kicks his bike brake down, letting it sit on its side. “I live four houses down.”
“Really?” George asks. He doesn’t smile, but Dream can tell he wants to.
“Yeah.” He lightly pokes George’s shoulder. “Do you know what this means, George?”
“What?”
Dream’s face breaks into a grin. “You’re never getting rid of me.”
March 10th, 2010
School is awful.
Dream thinks that if there was a hell created specifically for him, it would probably be seventh grade.
All the teachers are so boring. He hates everyone at his school—minus George, obviously. He doesn’t like taking notes and refuses to do his homework.
He told George it should be illegal so give students more work after the school day ends. George said if he keeps it up they might kick him out before he even gets to high school.
George is smart. Really smart. He gets all of his work done, takes the best notes. Dream has him explain everything they learn in Algebra to him. Sometimes he worries that he is annoying George, but surely he would say something if that was the case. Besides, they’re best friends—at least, he hopes they are.
George is not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the amount of hours they spend in each other's company makes him believe they are.
And George wants to go to high school, college too. He’s excited for it.
Dream doesn’t really understand.
Maybe he needs to do his homework more. Maybe George is right—he usually is.
Dream drags himself from his fifth period all the way to the art room. He spots George sitting at their usual table scribbling something down in his journal. He lets out a sigh of relief.
Maybe school isn’t all that bad.
He sets his bag down on the floor next to his chair. “Hey.”
George looks up, his hair falls into his eyes just a little bit. “Oh, hi.”
“How was English?”
George groans, pushing his hair out of his face. “Awful. She made us do this writing exercise. One essay in forty-five minutes… My hand feels dead.”
“That sucks.” Dream grabs George’s pen. He draws a smile in the corner of George’s planner. The notebook is pulled away from him before Dream could vandalize it any more, but a grin is on Dream’s face still.
“Alright class, settle down.” Ms. Lennar stands as the bell rings. “Today we are going to be working in pairs. You will have to paint a portrait of the person next to you and they will have to paint you.”
Dream and George immediately look at eachother, stupid smiles burned into their faces.
Ms. Lennar explains the rest of the assignment and tells students to grab their supplies. George looks at Dream, a silent plea asking him to get the supplies for them. He rolls his eyes before going up to grab them.
“So should we paint at the same time or one at a time?” Dream places two canvases, some brushes, and paint on their table.
“I can paint you first and then you can paint me?” George attempts to peel the plastic off of his canvas, but fails.
Dream breathes out a laugh, grabbing the canvas from him to rip off the plastic. “This is gonna go horribly.”
They silently get to work on Dream’s portrait. George studies his face, and Dream feels his heart beat a little harder. He looks down at his fingers, itching to move. He shifts slightly in his seat.
“Stop moving.” George dips his brush in the yellow paint.
“Okay, Mozart.” Dream tries to still his movements. “Whatever you say.”
“Mozart was a composer.” George moves his brush gently on the canvas. “You’re thinking of Monet.”
“The guy with the bridge?” Dream picks at the skin around his cuticles.
“Yeah, that one.” George sets his paintbrush into the water cup. Dream thinks he finishes his painting way too quick for it to be good, but neither of them are artists. They just took this elective because it was easy.
“Can I see?” Dream tries to lean over to look at the painting.
George quickly turns it away from him. “No.”
“Why not?” Dream frowns.
“Do yours first and then we will show each other at the same time.”
Dream looks at the canvas then at George who is awkwardly looking anywhere but at him.
This should be pretty easy. Dream sees George every day. When they aren’t at school, they're at each other's houses or bike riding to Publix for a pub-sub.
But Dream has never really looked closely at George’s face—not like how you are supposed to look when painting someone’s portrait.
His hair looks soft today, it’s grown out a lot since they first met. George keeps complaining about needing a haircut, but Dream convinced him to keep it long. It looks nicer that way, or at least Dream thinks so.
His skin is soft too. In the few months of being friends with George, Dream has never once seen a blemish or pimple on his skin.
His eye lashes compliment his dark brown eyes perfectly. His lips are pinker than anything Dream’s seen.
George is handsome. Dream realizes that, but something in his stomach churnes at the thought.
It must be jealousy, Dream thinks to himself. Yeah, it’s probably that.
It takes him exactly seven more minutes to finish his painting than it did for George. When he finishes George makes them count to three before turning the portraits around.
“One, two, three.” They count together, flipping the canvases towards each other.
“Oh my god…” Dream grabs George’s painting out of his hands. “This is so bad.”
They break out into laughter, disrupting the quietness of the class. They receive a glare from their teacher, who tells them to quiet down.
“Yours is even worse.” George whispers at him. “Why did you make me have girl eyelashes?”
“What does that mean?” Dream frowns, grabbing at his painting to examine it. He doesn’t think he made George look like a girl.
“They’re just long.”
“Well, so are yours!” Dream points out.
“Whatever.” George rolls his eyes and takes the painting back from him. “I’m keeping this.”
Dream smiles. “Okay, well I’m keeping the one you made too.”
When Dream gets home later that day, he brings the painting to his room and puts it on his desk.
July 4th, 2010
“I don’t understand why I have to do this.” George groans, pushing his bike next to Dream as they walk down the road. His brow is shining from beads of sweat dripping down it. “I’m not even American.”
“Because you’ve never experienced fireworks on the Fourth of July.” Dream adjusts the bag he has hanging off his shoulder. “It’s like the most American America experience you can have.”
“Who said I wanted to have an American America experience?” George groans again, pushing his bike forward dramatically.
“I did.” Dream smiles and bumps his shoulder against George’s.
The air is warm and the pavement is hot beneath their feets, but the sun is setting with a cool summer breeze dancing through the trees.
Dream loves summer.
“Plus,” Dream adds on, “my mom gave me cupcakes to bring. They’re red, white and blue with little plastic flags on top.”
George glances at the bag on Dream’s shoulder. “Please tell me they're from Publix.”
“Obviously.”
They make their way down the road until they finally see the gravel path leading up to the orchard.
“Are we even allowed to be here right now? Isn’t it closed?” George sets his bike against the wooden fence. Dream places his next to it.
“It’s a public farm. They don’t lock the gates or anything.” He grabs George’s arm, pulling him into the farm. “Come on, it’s fine.”
George shakes his arm out of Dream’s grip and starts to run ahead towards the trees. They chase each other into the orchard, laughter following in their trail. Once they're out of breath with wide smiles, they fall to the ground under a tree.
The sun has fully set by now, the sky has turned to a dark blue. The fireworks should start soon. Dream opens his bag and pulls out the cupcakes. His mom got him a pack of six vanilla cupcakes all in an assortment of colors. “Blue, red, or white?”
“Blue.” George grabs the container and rips the seal open. He pulls out two blue cupcakes, handing one to Dream. “Here this one’s for you.”
George carefully peels the wrapper off his cupcake and takes a bite. Dream follows his lead and does the same.
“These are so good.” George says, his mouth full.
Dream nods in agreement. They finish their cupcakes in a comfortable silence. They are sitting next to each other, feet stretched out in front of them. George’s legs are a little longer, but Dream would never admit that.
George tosses his cupcake wrapper onto the bag and wipes his hands on his pants.
“You finished that so quickly.” Dream’s foot knocks against George’s.
“Shut up, idiot.” George kicks his foot back with twice the force. He looks at Dream for a second, eyes dropping down to the bottom of his face. “You have frosting on your chin.”
Dream uses the back of his hand to try and wipe it off. “Did I get it?”
“No, it’s lower. Here let me just…” George reaches forward and gently wipes the frosting off of his chin.
Dream can feel his cheeks burn red. He thanks God that it’s dark out.
“Got it.” George whispers. His hand stays there for a moment.
Dream doesn’t know why his heart is beating so fast. He doesn’t know why the air feels ten times thicker than before. George’s hand burns where it touches his skin.
The boom of the first firework makes them jump apart.
They turn their heads towards the sky to see blues, reds, and golds racing through the sky. Dream shifts further away from George, trying to breathe in the cool air.
George is staring up at the sky. Dream turns to look at him. His face is painted with the light of the fireworks, his eyes glittering from the explosions in the sky.
“This is incredible.” George stares in awe.
“Yeah.” Dream looks up towards the sky, then back at George. “It is.”
August 12th, 2010
Green and white streamers hang from his kitchen cabinets. A big silver balloon that says “It’s your birthday!” is tied to the back of one of the kitchen chairs. There is a half eaten cake sitting out on the table, blown out candles discarded beside it.
Today, Dream is fourteen.
He doesn’t like making a big deal of his birthday, it was never something he really enjoyed. The big parties, lots of loud kids over he didn’t really know too well, but today is different.
Today it is just him, his family, and George. Dream couldn’t be happier.
Dream and George are sitting side by side on the couch in the living room. George has a small bag, tissue paper popping out from the top.
“I got you something.” The bag is pushed into his arms. “Open it.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Dream pulls white tissue paper out from the bag, at the bottom is a dvd case. He pulls it out, the cover reads ‘Super Mario Galaxy 2’. His face breaks out into a smile. “George! No way, this is so expensive you didn’t have to get me this.”
“It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special because…” George looks anywhere, but at Dream. “Because you’re my best friend.”
Dream does a dramatic gasp. “This is the best present in the whole wide world.”
“It’s just a game.” George says sheepishly.
“No, you idiot!” Dream pushes his shoulder. “You called me your best friend. You’ve never done that before.”
“Oh.” George thinks for a minute. “Well, I thought it was obvious.”
“Yeah, but still…” Dream smiles. “Thank you, George.”
“Shut up. Oh my god.” George pushes the present the bag was in and wrapping paper onto the coffee table. “You’re making this into a big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” Dream persists.
“Whatever.” George snatches the game from his hand. “Are we going to play this or not?”
Dream chases George upstairs to his room where his Wii is. They play for the rest of the night and Dream is sure that this is the best birthday he’s ever had.
September 17th, 2010
Eight grade is lonely.
That’s what Dream realizes a week into the first semester.
George is a freshman in high school now, so they don’t go to the same school. They still get to see each other after school and on weekends, but it’s not the same. Not for Dream, at least.
He finds himself dreading every morning, pulling himself through each class. He sits alone in art, quietly in the back of math. He hated school before, but without George it’s even worse.
It’s not all that bad though. On weekends he and George play video games, ride their bikes.
When they have the time to be together, they’re basically inseparable.
Maybe there is a bright side to it all.
Maybe.
Dream can’t wait for high school.
December 4th, 2010
Dream kicks off his converse by the front door, rushing up the stairs to George’s room. He doesn’t even knock before bursting through the door, interrupting whatever work George is doing at his desk.
He throws himself on George’s bed dramatically, “George.”
“Dream.” George doesn’t look up from his work.
Dream sighs, hitting his arms against the bed.
Nothing.
He lets out a groan, this time louder than before.
George remains at his desk, writing down his stupid notes for his stupid high school class.
Dream grabs a pillow and chucks it at George’s head.
“What the fuck?” George whips around, glaring. He picks the pillow up off of the floor and throws it back at Dream.
“Pay attention to me.” Dream sits up, crossing his legs. He hugs the pillow against his chest.
George rolls his eyes. “I have to get this done.”
“I haven’t seen you, like, all week.” Dream huffs, picking at a loose piece of thread on his sock.
“I came over on Friday.”
Dream tosses the pillow next to him, flopping onto his back. “It’s Sunday.”
He hears George shuffling around, the bed dips beside him. George pushes the pillow out of the way before laying down next to Dream.
“Fine, I’m here.” George shuffles around for a moment, getting comfortable. “Happy?”
“Do you think…” Dream stares at the ceiling fan, watching it spin. “Do you think we will be friends forever?”
George stays quiet for a moment. “I think so.”
“It’s just that,” Dream turns his head towards George. “We aren’t at the same school anymore. I feel like you’re busy with work all the time and I never see you. I just don’t want you to, like, forget about me.”
George turns his head, their eyes meet. Dream turns his head back towards the ceiling.
“Dream.” George speaks softly, quietly. Dream feels like the air is getting sucked out of the room. “I promise you there is no way I could forget you, even if I wanted to.”
Dream looks back at George, his heart pounding in his chest. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” George smiles, nudging his elbow against Dream’s. He leaves it there, elbows overlapping. “You’re an idiot.”
“Good.” Dream smiles, “Because I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
George turns his head back to the ceiling, he takes a breath. “Yeah, me too.”
January 1st, 2011
“We have to go.” Dream is pushing George by shoulders towards the door of his garage. “If we don’t go now it’s gonna get too crowded and then you won’t want to stay.”
George manages to grab his jacket before getting pushed out the door. “Okay, okay!”
The garage door is open and their bikes lay haphazardly on the driveway. A cold gust of wind is blown into the garage, chills run down Dream’s arms. He really needs to start remembering to bring a jacket more often.
They run towards their bikes, Dream gets on his first and starts speeding down the road.
“Wait for me, idiot.” George calls after him, getting on his bike.
Dream makes a circle while he waits for George to catch up. They bike side by side down the road towards the orchard.
The wind is crisp, it’s cold for Florida. The sun is shining through the trees and the sky is a shade of blue that Dream thought only existed in books or movies. Dream throws his head back and laughs, he feels so happy, free.
It takes them a little over fifteen minutes to get to the orchard. They lean their bikes against the wooden fence, chasing each other into the entrance of the farm.
“Do you want to grab a basket?” Dream looks at George whose cheeks are flushed pink from running in the cold. He runs his fingers through his hair and looks towards the trees, Dream's heart stutters.
“I don’t think we need one.” George grabs Dream’s wrist, leading him into the orchard. “Let’s just walk around.”
Dream lets himself get pulled down the path until eventually George drops his wrist. They walk in comfortable silence, side by side.
Dream grabs a clementine off of one of the trees. He’s taller than the first time he came here, he can reach the oranges without having to stand on his toes now. George was taller than him a year ago, but now they’re roughly around the same height—although George would never admit that.
They continue to walk along the trees until they find an area unoccupied by families. They sit down underneath it, shoulders touching. Dream stretches his legs out in front of him.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year.” He picks at the skin of the clementine trying to get it open.
George grabs it from him. “Feels like longer.”
“How so?” Dream watches as he carefully peels the fruit, discarding the skin beside him.
“I dunno.” He splits the clementine in half, passing the bigger one to Dream. “It feels like we’ve been friends for a lot longer.”
George pops a wedge into his mouth, humming at the sweetness.
“Don’t get all sappy on me, Georgie.” Dream kicks his foot against George’s.
“Shut up” George kicks his back, hard. “You’re so annoying.”
“You love me.” Dream takes a bite of his clementine. It’s sweeter than the one George gave him last year.
He scoffs. “No, I don’t.”
“You do.” Dream smiles.
They’ve never said it, not out loud, but Dream knows. He knows George loves him.
George crosses his arms. “I don’t.”
“You do.” He sings back, eating another clementine wedge.
George pauses. “Maybe.”
“I’ll take it.” Dream wipes his hands on his pants after finishing the fruit. He stands up and offers a hand out to George. “Ready to go?”
George looks at Dream’s hand before taking it. “Yeah, let’s go.”
October 14th, 2011
The lunch bell rings, cutting through the teacher’s announcement of whatever work she was assigning for the weekend. Dream is already shoving his books into his bag and rushing out the door.
He walks quickly down the hallway and out to the courtyard where he spots George sitting at their usual table, rifling through his bag for his lunch. Across from him sits one of their friends, Sapnap, who is passionately explaining something to George.
The seat next to him is empty, waiting for Dream to claim it.
Dream sits down beside him. “Hey.”
“Hi.” George grabs chips out of his bag, pulling them open.
Sapnap kicks his leg under the table. “Hello Sapnap, how are you today? Oh I’m good. Thanks for asking, Dream!”
“Hi Sapnap.” Dream rolls his eyes as he steals a chip from the bag, popping it into his mouth. “So I was thinking—”
“That’s never good.” George teases.
“Shut up.” Dream rolls his eyes. “I was thinking we should try to go to the movies and see that new Pirates of the Caribbean movie on Friday.”
“The stranger tides one?” Sapnap asks through a mouthful of whatever sandwich he has for lunch today.
Dream nods, pulling his peanut butter and jelly sandwich out from his bag. He silently hands George one half, who happily takes it from him.
Sapnap groans, “Kiera Knightly isn’t even in that one, dude.”
“So?” Dream shrugs, taking a bite of his sandwich.
“She’s the only reason anyone even watches those movies.” Sapnap explains like it should be obvious, like Dream should know this. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t.
“Orlando Bloom is a good actor.” George cuts through the silence before the awkwardness has a chance to settle down.
“You have to be kidding me.” Sapnap laughs, “Orlando Bloom is okay at best. I mean Kiera Knightly is just, well, she’s hot. You know?”
“I guess.” George’s face flushes, he looks down at his bag of chips. “Well, I think he’s good.”
“Dream, you get it right?” Sapnap looks at him, waiting for an answer, expecting something.
Dream doesn’t know.
He decides to take the easy way out.
“Yeah.” He swallows down the last bite of his sandwich. “She’s super hot.”
Sapnap laughs, making some joke about how the movie probably won’t be as good without her. Dream joins in with some half true joke about how he used to have a crush on her.
Maybe it’s not a complete lie.
George stays silent for the rest of lunch.
December 31st 2011
It is exactly 11:43pm when Dream steps outside the backyard door, trying to get away from the smell of sweat and cheap beer.
Dream decides as soon as he walks out into the fresh air, away from the crowd, that he hates parties.
He doesn’t like crowds, he doesn’t like how loud they are and he doesn’t like most people from his school. The music is awful, the lights give him a headache… He really is not having a good time.
But when Sapanap and Karl told him about how some random senior was having a New Years Eve party, they made it pretty hard for him to say no.
So now Dream is alone in a backyard with seventeen minutes until midnight.
Great.
He wishes George was with him right now. They got separated thirty minutes into the party and Dream hasn’t been able to find him since.
He scuffs his shoes against the patio tile.
This house is nice, a lot nicer than his own house. The backyard is huge, with a pool right in the center. The lights are on making it all look coated in a deep blue.
Walking towards the pool he sits on the edge near the water, crossing his legs. His hands touch the cold tile underneath him.
He looks up at the sky. It’s hard to see the stars in this part of town. He tries to focus really hard, but all he can make out are some faint silver dots flickering in and out of the darkness.
He takes a deep breath in, closing his eyes.
Maybe he should ask his mom to come pick him up. Or he could walk home. It’s only fifteen minutes, which isn’t really that bad.
The sound of teenagers screaming and trashy music interrupts his silence as the backyard door opens. He turns around to find a girl he vaguely recognizes from one of his classes walking outside.
“Oh,” She looks at him wide-eyed. “I didn’t think anyone would be out here. I can go if you want.”
Dream finds himself sitting up a little straighter. He doesn’t know why. “No, it’s alright. You can join me if you want. I just wanted to get away from the crowd for a minute.”
The girl silently accepts his invitation, walking over to where he is sitting by the edge of the pool. She slides her shoes off before sitting next to him, dipping her feet into the water.
“Fuck.” She takes a sharp inhale. “It’s cold as shit.”
He laughs, “It’s December.”
“Whatever.” She kicks her feet lightly in the water. “You’re Clay, right?”
Dream inwardly cringes at the use of his real name. He watches the water ripple in front of him. “Yeah.”
“We have U.S. history together with Mr. Barney.”
Dream tries to remember, but really he doesn’t know many people in his classes. History is boring, it’s the class he skips most. “Oh.”
“I mean you’re, like, almost never there, so I don’t expect you to know who I am.” She tucks her dark hair behind her ear, fiddling with the ends of it. She has long hair, Dream notes. It smells like vanilla. Dream isn’t a huge fan of vanilla, he prefers citrus more.
“No, no, I know who you are.” Dream tries to remember her name. He knows it starts with a M or maybe it was an N.
The girl looks at him, doubtful. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
“No, I do.” He argues, an awkward moment of silence passes. “Margot.”
Margot chuckles, “Wow, only took you a whole five minutes to remember.”
“Shut up.” Dream looks away. He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
“You should join me.” She nudges her shoulder with his, nodding towards the pool. “Like, in the water.”
“Okay.” He complies, he doesn’t know why. He carefully unlaces his white converse, peeling off his socks. He places them to the side before rolling up his jeans. Cold hits his senses as he dips his legs into the pool. “Wow, that is cold.”
Margot laughs, her face covered in the dark blue from the pool lights. “Told you so.”
Dream kicks his feet slowly in the water, he watches the ripples race to the edge of the pool. Margot swishes her feet next to him. He doesn’t know why the air feels thicker than it did before. His body feels hot despite the cool breeze and the freezing water from the pool.
Margot’s hand is next to his. Not close enough to be touching, but not far away enough for Dream not to notice. He feels his heart stuck in his throat, he tries to swallow it down.
They sit in silence until the boom of a firework makes Margot jump next to him, grabbing his hand.
“Holy fuck.” She looks towards the fireworks, still holding onto his hand. “That scared the shit out of me.”
Dream’s never met a girl who curses this much before. He thinks it’s cool, he thinks she is cool.
He softly laughs, trying to ignore the hand resting on top of his own. “Yeah, it really came out of nowhere.”
The sky slowly gets filled with golden bursts of light, glitter dances across the sky.
“Do you think that means it’s midnight?” She asks, looking towards Dream. Her face is lit by the blue from the pool and gold from the sky. She looks pretty.
He shrugs, “I suppose so.”
“Have you- Do, uh, do you…” She trails off looking down at the water. She uses her free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear again. It must be a nervous habit, Dream thinks. “Have you ever had a New Year’s kiss?”
“No.” He answers calmly, but his heart feels like it’s about to stop at any moment.
She looks at him, more confidently this time. Dark eyes sparkling from the fireworks exploding above them. “Would you want to?”
He looks down at her lips, then back at her eyes. His words feel stuck in his mouth. “With you?”
“No, with the other girl asking you to kiss her.” She rolls her eyes, but there is a smile on his face. “Yes, with me.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” The air becomes increasingly thick, he feels his face begin to burn. He can feel his heart racing, anticipation is coursing through his body.
Margot leans forward, closing her eyes before gently placing her lips on his. Her hand grabs his a little tighter. Dream takes it as a sign to close his eyes and kisses her back. After a moment, she pulls away, looking into his eyes.
“Was that, uh, okay?”
Dream doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like when you kiss someone. He’s read about it in books, the fireworks and static, but he doesn’t feel that here.
Maybe he’s just doing it wrong. Maybe he needs to try again.
He nods, before placing his hand on her face and pulling her into another kiss. He kisses her more confidently this time, trying to feel whatever it is he is supposed to be feeling.
There is nothing.
He doesn’t know why.
They pull away from one another, sharing a breath. Dream looks back towards the sky, up at the fireworks. He pulls his hand back into his lap, trying not to think too hard about it.
“Well, I should probably get back inside. My friends are probably looking for me.” Margot stands up, brushing her hands on his black skirt and sliding her shoes back onto her feet. “I’ll see you around?”
“Sure.” Dream nods, but he doubts they’ll have another conversation again. He stares at the sky as he hears her walk away.
Once he hears the backyard door close, he takes in a deep breath of cold air.
The air stills, silence washes over him as the fireworks slowly fade from the night sky.
Maybe kisses aren’t meant to be some grand, electrifying thing. Movies aren’t real, books over-exaggerate.
Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.
June 14th 2012
It is the hottest day of the whole year.
Dream swears the air outside could match the sixth layer of hell. He wonders if it'll make him melt away. It’s the kind of hot that makes the world look like it’s rippling from far away.
It takes him exactly seven minutes to walk from his house to George’s.
When he finally gets inside the beautifully air conditioned home, he immediately rushes up to George’s room.
George was away on vacation for the first two weeks of June so this is the first time Dream has seen him all summer. He forgets about the heat as he bursts through George’s bedroom door, excitedly pulling his friend into a tight hug.
“Dream, stop.” George laughs, his voice muffled by Dream’s shoulder. He pushes Dream away from him, a bright smile on his face. Dream can’t help but to smile back. “You’re covered in sweat. You’re disgusting.”
“You missed me.” Dream playfully pokes at his shoulder. A soft pink burns George’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Dream moves closer into George’s space to look. “You got a sunburn.”
George looks up at him wide-eyed, like he’s unsure of what to do. Dream can tell he wants to say something. He doesn’t notice how close they are until he feels George’s breath on his chin. A weird feeling bubbles in his stomach, but the moment only lasts for a second before George walks away and moves to sit on his bed.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you spend a whole two weeks on a beach, idiot,” his friend replies casually.
Dream goes to sit next to him. He kicks off his converse, before settling onto the bed. “How was your vacation?”
“Vacation.” George poorly mimics his American accent. “It was fine, good. I was glad to get away from you.”
“You’re so dumb.” Dream smiles, he’s really glad George is back. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
“Yes, please.” George gets up, rushing out of his room and into the living room. Dream follows him downstairs, sitting on the couch while George grabs the remote.
They settle on watching 10 Things I Hate About You. It’s a classic— according to Dream, at least.
A comfortable silence washes over them as the movie plays. When it finally comes to an end as the two main characters kiss, Dream notices George has a slight frown on his face.
“What’s up?” Dream asks, grabbing the remote to pause the movie.
George looks at him then looks back at the TV screen. “It’s nothing.”
“Come on, just tell me you idiot.” Dream scoots closer until he’s sitting right next to George. He pokes him with the remote. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…” George trails off, looking off at the TV. “What do you think it’s like?”
“Kissing a girl?”
George hesitates for a moment before looking back at Dream. “Yeah.”
“Oh, well, I kinda know.” Dream feels his cheeks start to burn. He never told George about his kiss with Margot, he didn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t know why, a part of him feels a little embarrassed to admit it.
George looks at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “You kissed a girl?”
“Uh, yeah.” Dream looks down at his hands. “At the New Year’s Eve party.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” George’s forehead wrinkles with frustration.
“No, I wanted to. It’s just…” Dream feels embarrassed, his heart bangs against his chest uncontrollably. He shouldn’t have brought it up. “I didn’t really like it, I don’t think. And I was embarrassed about it. I didn’t know how to bring it up and I haven’t even seen her since.”
“Oh.” George stays quiet, looking at Dream like he wants to say something, like he is holding himself back.
A moment passes.
“You didn’t like it?” He asks.
Shit.
Dream shouldn’t have said that.
“Well, it’s not that I didn’t like it.” He tries to backtrack. “It just wasn’t like… there were no fireworks.”
“No fireworks?”
Dream pauses, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “I mean like… You know, in movies when the guy and girl finally kiss. There’s all the music and special lighting or whatever. It feels like fireworks.”
“Um, I guess.” George pulls at a loose thread sticking out of the couch. “I don’t know.”
Dream shifts slightly closer to George. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think…” George takes a breath. “I just don’t think I’ve felt that way before… like about a guy and a girl.”
“Oh.” Dream is confused by what he’s saying.
“Uh, I think that…” George trails off, looking across the room. “I think I’m gay.”
Oh.
“Like… you like guys?” Dream asks. His hands start to sweat, he doesn’t know why.
George nods. “Yeah.”
Dream stays silent for a second before lunging forward, wrapping his arms around George. George doesn’t move for a second and then he’s hugging him back. He feels something deep in his chest, he doesn’t quite know what it is.
“Thank you for telling me.” He speaks quietly.
“I was so nervous, like, fuck.” George laughs, running his hands over his face. “I thought you were going to hate me or something.”
Dream’s heart lurches.
“George, I could never hate you.” He speaks softly.
It’s honest and raw and Dream doesn’t know why he feels like he’s about to cry. So instead, he pulls George into another hug.
“You don’t think it’s weird or something, right?” George pulls away from the hug. He is hesitant with his question.
“What? Of course not.” Dream doesn’t think it’s weird at all. He looks towards the TV, thinking about it for a second. “I mean I’d definitely kiss the guy who played Cameron if I had the chance.”
“You’re such an idiot.” George smiles, Dream feels his chest tighten. “Cameron isn’t even the hot one, it’s Patrick.”
“Cameron is way hotter than Patrick. He has that whole nerdy pretty boy thing going on.”
“Nerdy pretty boy thing? What does that even mean?” George is laughing now and Dream is smiling so wide his face hurts.
“Shut up, you’re so dumb.” Dream pushes his shoulder, joining in with George’s laughter.
After they catch their breath, George stops for a moment to look at Dream. “Do you want to finish the movie now?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Dream looks back at George and smiles.
September 29th 2012
“I have a problem.”
George throws his backpack down onto the lunch table. Dream and Sapnap give each other a worried look.
“What’s up?” Sapnap asks, unwrapping his sandwich. He has tuna today.
Great.
George’s cheeks are red, he looks flustered. Dream thinks it’s funny.
“I think I just got asked out on a date.”
Dream pauses, looking at George. “What?”
“Well, I stopped by Mrs. Grayson’s classroom after geometry because I had a question about a quiz we had. On my way out that guy… Do you know Mason? He’s the year above me.”
“No.” Dream shakes his head. Sapnap just shrugs taking a bite into his sandwich. Dream doesn’t know how he’s staying so calm for this.
“Well, we have geometry together.” George explains.
“Okay.” Annoyance scratches at Dream’s skin.
George fiddles with the string of his jacket. “He asked me if I wanted to go to see that new Spider-Man movie with him.”
“Well what did you say?” Dream asks, pushing his food towards the center of the table. He doesn’t feel hungry anymore.
“I told him I’d have to see if I was free.” George’s cheeks burn scarlet, Dream is getting more annoyed by the second. “I gave him my number.”
“Are you gonna go?” Sapnap asks through a mouth full of food.
“Uh, I don’t know.” George glances at Dream, “Should I?”
George is looking at Dream, looking for an answer. Dream doesn’t know why he’s asking him. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Do you want to?” He tries to sound as calm as he can, but he can feel his head is spinning.
George’s brow wrinkles. “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”
“I think you should do what you want to do, George.” Dream’s reply is sharper than he means it to be.
George wants to say something, Dream can tell.
“Okay.” He looks away. “I’ll go then.”
October 6th, 2012
Dream is not sulking.
He is not sulking, he is simply just sitting in his living room with all the lights off watching Love, Actually and eating a jar of cookie dough ice cream.
He is not sulking and he is not thinking about how George is out on a date with Mason right now.
Okay, fine. Maybe he is thinking about it.
It’s not his fault though, not really. George spent the whole day asking him and Sapnap stupid questions about what to wear, what they should do.
It was annoying.
To make things worse it’s the first friday of the month— a night usually reserved for Dream. They watch movies together every first friday, it’s tradition. But now George has gone and broken that tradition for some boy who has probably never even seen a movie other than Transformers.
Dream huffs, downing another spoonful of ice cream. The light patter of rain only pushes him deeper into his melancholic mood.
About ten minutes into his movie, he hears a loud knock on his door. His mom and sister went out for some school dinner so he’s home alone. He sighs dramatically before pausing the movie, trudging over to the door.
When he opens the door, George is standing in front of him. Rain soaks his clothes, making his hair stick to his forehead. There is a frown etched onto his face.
“George?” Dream asks. He doesn’t know why George is here. He is supposed to be on a date right now.
George pushes his wet hair out of his eyes. “Hey.”
His eyes are brimmed with red, like he has been crying. Dream knows George would never tell him if he actually was, but he knows him well enough to assume.
They stand there, staring at each other in silence for a moment. A crack of thunder makes Dream jump, realizing where they currently are standing. Him in the doorway, George in the rain.
“Come inside, you’re soaked.” He grabs George’s wrist, leading him to his room where he gives him a towel to dry off.
George pulls off his wet shirt and Dream finds himself looking away. Quickly, he tosses George a navy hoodie he has laying on the end of his bed. He doesn't know if it’s clean, but he doesn’t really think George cares.
“Do you want some sweatpants?” He asks.
George nods, “They’re gonna be so long on me.”
“It’ll match the hoodie.” Dream smiles, handing George a pair of gray sweat pants. He turns around until George is done changing. “I was about to watch Love, Actually.”
George hums lightly in response. Dream turns back around, George is drowning in fabric. Warmth flutters in his stomach looking at George like this, in his clothes. He tries not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“Do you want to join? I can make you tea or you can have a blanket if you want.” Dream rambles on.
George gives a small grin. “We can watch the movie. I’m not super thirsty or anything.”
Dream nods, leading them back out into the living room and onto the couch. George settles in next to him, pulling the discarded blanket over both their laps. George’s thigh presses against his own, his head rests inches from his shoulder. Dream grabs the remote about to start the movie again, but then he pauses.
“So the date…” He trails off, looking over at George to see if it’s okay to continue. George looks at him, waiting for him to go on. “Was it not good?”
“He wasn’t as nice as I thought he was.” George leans his head against the cushion behind him. “I think I just realized… I dunno, I’d rather be here, with you.”
“Oh.” Dream feels like he swallowed the sun. He tries to push down his smile. “You’re an idiot.”
Something inside him shifts, any frustration he was feeling dissipates at the sight of George next to him.
“Maybe.”
George looks at him, it’s different than how he usually does. Something is different, but Dream doesn’t know what it is.
George nudges his shoulder against Dream’s. He looks down at where they touch then back up at George’s eyes. He is suddenly a lot more aware of how close they are to one another, of how he can smell the rain still stuck on George’s skin, see the small patch of freckles under one of his eyes. He feels his heart stutter for a moment, he turns his head back to the TV.
“Should I start the movie?” He asks, finally able to breathe again.
George shifts slightly beside him, creating space between them. “Sure.”
January 1, 2013
The sky is clear for the first time all winter.
The sun is out, there is a cold breeze in the air and Dream feels like he is the happiest person alive as he walks into the orchard with George.
He doesn’t mind the crunching of leaves beneath them. He doesn’t mind the chills racing down his arms from the wind. He doesn’t mind it at all.
They make their way to the back of the farm, to their usual spot underneath a tree. Dream’s shoulder presses against George’s as they sit side by side. His legs stretch much longer than George’s do now, he almost laughs looking at them next to each other.
“Here.” George nudges his shoulder, handing him half of a clementine he must’ve picked as they walked over.
Dream takes it, his fingers brushing over George’s. He feels them burn from where they touch.
They finish eating their clementine in silence. Dream takes the leftover peels and discards them, tossing them off to the side. He places his hands on the ground and leans back against the tree, breathing in the winter air. George places his hand on the ground next to Dream’s, he stares.
Dream tries his hardest to leave his hand where it is, not daring to move any closer. He can feel the heat from George’s hand radiating onto his. Static runs through him, burning inside his body.
“Did you get that paper for English done yet?” George asks, he shifts slightly closer to Dream. Their hands brush for a moment, Dream freezes.
“Uh, the one on Macbeth?” Dream tries his best to keep his breathing leveled.
George nods, his pinky brushes against Dream’s.
“No I, uh, I haven’t started it yet.” He stays still, unsure if he is allowed to move. Everything inside him is screaming to hold George’s hand, interlace their fingers and never let go. He pushes the thought down.
“I have mine from last year I think if you want to look at it.” George moves his pinky further, it interlocks with Dream’s. “I think I did pretty good on that one.”
“Really?” Dream asks.
He breathes in, trying to steady himself. He gently pushes his hand into George’s. Their fingers weave together, George squeezes his hand. He lets out his breath.
“Yeah, Ms. Jansen loved me.” George replies, like everything is normal. Like they aren’t holding hands in the middle of a farm. Like Dream isn’t completely freaking out and questioning everything he’s ever known.
He feels on fire. There is an electric current racing through his body, shooting out of his fingertips. He doesn’t understand why it feels so different now. They’ve been best friends for nearly three years, he doesn’t know what’s changed.
George shifts their hands so they sit resting on top of his leg. Dream can’t help, but to stare. His hand is bigger than George’s, tanner too. Something about the sight makes his body flushed with warmth.
George looks down at their hands, then back at Dream. “Is this okay?”
His voice is quiet, like he is scared to ask.
Dream looks at George, his whole body burns. “Yeah.”
George smiles at him and Dream feels like he’s going to die right where he is sat.
They stay sitting there, holding hands, until finally they both decide it’s time to go home. They take the long way home, enjoying every view as the sun sets, but Dream catches himself looking at George more than he looks at the sky.
March 18th, 2013
They never brought it up, but something between them changed.
Little things send Dream over the edge, panicking about what they mean. Sometimes he feels he’s just imagining it all, that it’s always been like this.
But something is different.
It started with the day at the orchard, where George held his hand. Or maybe it started even before that… Dream doesn’t know.
All he knows is that for some reason he suddenly can’t think straight when George is around. He finds excuses to be near him, touch him, hold his hand again. George starts to do the same; A small touch on his shoulder, grabbing his wrist to bring him somewhere, leaning into his space when explaining homework. It all seems to drive Dream insane.
Dream shouldn’t be thinking about this now. Him and Sapnap are trying to study for their next Biology test, but he can’t focus. The only thing he can think about is George.
George’s hair and how it smells like oranges and summertime. The way he smiles, crinkling his eyes and making Dream’s heart skip a beat.
He lets out a groan, letting his head fall down on top of his text book.
Sapnap looks over at him, eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”
Dream lightly bangs his head against his book and groans again. He hears a textbook close from across the table and suddenly Sapnap is pulling his chair up next to his.
“Did something happen with George?” He asks.
Dream’s head shoots up, his heart beats a little quicker than before. “Uh, no. Why would you think that? Did he say something happened?”
“Just an educated guess.” His friend replies coolly. “Seriously though… What’s going on? You’ve been out of it all week.”
“Oh.” Dream feels his face start to burn. He doesn’t know how to tell Sapnap, he’s never told anyone. He’s never even said it out loud. “Um, okay…”
He knows what it is he's feeling. He knows why everything feels different suddenly. He knows why he can’t breathe when George is in the same room as him. But to say it outloud? That would be admitting to it. Dream doesn’t know if he’s ready for that.
“Take your time, it's okay.” Sapnap looks at him with soft eyes and a warm smile. “Just know, you’re one of my best friends and nothing you ever tell me could change that, okay?”
Dream nods.
“Unless you tell me you, like, killed my whole family or something.” He laughs and Dream finds himself lightly laughing with him.
The room feels colder than it did five seconds ago, Dream feels his palms start to get clammy. He takes a deep breath in.
“Okay.” He looks down at this textbook, fiddling with his pen. “Things have just been different lately… between me and George.”
Sapnap stays silent, allowing him to take whatever space he needs.
“I think that…” He puts the pen down and turns to his friend. “I think I like George.”
“Okay.” Sapnap replies, dragging out the ‘o’.
“No, I mean… I like George.”
“Oh.” Realization flashes through his eyes. “So are you, like, gay? Is that bad to ask?”
It’s a genuine question, there is nothing else behind the words. He is simply just asking. Dream feels the tightness in his chest start to dissipate.
“I don’t think I am.” Dream picks at the corner of his textbook page. “I mean, I’ve liked girls before I think. I definitely find girls attractive, but then there’s George… It just feels different with him.”
“So you’re not gay, you just like George?”
“No, I mean, I find guys attractive too.” He explains. “Girls and guys, both of them.”
“Oh… I’m really proud of you Dream.” Sapnap pulls him into a hug, patting his back. “Thank you for telling me.”
Dream feels his heart swell, a weight lifted off of his chest, he hugs Sapnap back.
After a moment, Sapnap pulls away. “Do you think he likes you back?”
“I don’t know.” Dream replies, frustratedly. “It just feels different and there are these moments we have where I think he might, but then he pulls away and I can’t tell.”
“Well if you need a wingman…” Sapnap gestures to himself, a stupid smile on his face. “I’m your man.”
“You would be a terrible wingman.” Dream laughs.
His friend gasps with fake hurt. “No, I'd be awesome.”
Dream rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide his smile.
He feels like he can finally breathe again.
June 2nd, 2013
“You have to take another one with me. Dream, come on.” Sapnap pulls him and George over to the kitchen, pouring cheap vodka into shot glasses.
A slight buzz is coursing through his body, warmth spreading to each of his limbs. He grabs the shot glass from Sapnap, downing it in one go. He grimaces at the taste numbing his lips, burning his throat.
Next to him, George is scrunching up his nose as he downs his shot. Dream doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol rushing to his head, but he can’t look away from George’s lips. They look redder than usual, he is going to die.
“Alright, boys.” Sapnap gives them both a pat on the back. “I’m gonna go find Karl, but you two have fun.”
Sapnap gives Dream a wink before walking off into the crowd of the party.
George looks up at him, a smile on his face. Dream feels his heart flip inside his chest. He wishes he could just lean down and kiss him right now. Put his lips against George’s perfect ones, if he just leaned down a little further and—
No.
He is definitely drunk.
“It’s so loud in here.” George leans closer to him, slurring his words a bit. Dream can feel his breath on his cheek, the smell of citrus overwhelms his senses.
George is going to kill him.
There are teenagers taking shots to their left. A dance party has started in the living room with a random pop song blasting through speakers. The bass vibrates through the floor and up Dream’s body.
“Yeah, a bit.” Dream nods.
He feels George’s hand slip into his own, heat rushes up his arm and burns his body. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Dream allows himself to get pulled out of the kitchen and through the crowd. George weaves them through the mass of drunk teenagers, sweaty hands intertwined. He follows his friend up the stairs, stumbling a little with his steps.
They find their way to an empty bedroom, George closes the door behind them. The noise of music and teenagers screaming fades as George lets go of his hand, moving to sit on the bed.
Dream stands by the door, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t know if George wants him to sit next to him. His heart is pounding so hard he can hear it in his ears. His hand still burns from where George held it.
“Are you gonna sit down or just stand there like a weirdo?” George looks at him, a smile on his face.
“Oh, yeah.” Dream tries not to trip over his feet as he makes his way to the bed, sitting down next to George. He makes sure to leave a little space in between them.
Silence washes over the room, the faint sound of music from downstairs can be heard.
George kicks his foot against Dream’s, hooking it behind his ankle. “I’m glad you decided to come.”
Dream looks down at their feet. “Really?”
“Yeah it would’ve been lame without you.” George sighs, flopping onto his back.
Dream cautiously moves to lay beside him, his legs hang off the end of the bed. He shifts slightly so their shoulders touch. “I don’t think I’ve been to a party since that New Year’s one Freshman year.”
“Oh, right. The one where you kissed- What was her name?” George pauses to think. “Megan?”
“Margot.”
George hums. “Margot, right.”
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence settles over the room. Dream doesn’t know why he feels so nervous. George’s hand picks at the comforter underneath them. Dream wants to take it with his own, he holds himself back.
“Have you done it again… since that night?” George turns to look at him, his cheeks are flushed red. Dream assumes it's from the alcohol.
“Done what?” He asks.
“Kissed someone.”
“Oh… No, I haven’t.” He pauses for a moment. “Have you?”
He doesn’t know if George has kissed anyone before. His friend never talked about kissing, let alone crushes.
George turns to look at the ceiling. “Um, do you remember that guy Mason?”
A sour taste fills Dream’s mouth. “The asshole who asked you on a date?”
“Yeah, well, he kissed me on our date.” George explains. “But turns out that’s really all he wanted to do. So that’s why I left.”
“Oh.”
There is a moment of silence again, like neither one of them is sure of what to say. Moving with caution to not cross any invisible lines drawn between them.
“Have you thought about it though?” George asks, his voice low.
“Kissing?” Dream feels his mouth go dry. A familiar feeling rises inside of him, electric like that day on the farm.
“Yeah.”
“I guess, yeah.” He tries to breathe normally, but static invades his lungs. George turns to look at him, brown eyes boring into green. “Have you?”
“Yeah.” George look’s down at his lips. Dream feels fire coursing through his body, burning, burning, burning. “I have.”
Dream doesn’t say anything in response. George’s eyes trail up from his lips, locking with his own. He thanks the alcohol for giving him the courage to slide his hand into George’s, interlacing their fingers.
George takes a sharp inhale. He leans in until their noses are brushing against each other. Everything inside of him is on fire, searing his bones until they are nothing but ash.
“Is this okay?” George whispers.
Dream wants to scream, yes, yes, please just kiss me already before I die, before I drop dead right here.
Instead, he nods, pushing his nose against George’s, breathing in the warm air shared between them.
He doesn’t dare move. Too scared that if he does, it’ll all fade away. He wants this to be real, needs it to be.
George moves forward, his eyes fluttering shut. Dream feels himself getting pulled in, he doesn’t even try to resist. It seems inevitable, really. Gravity pulls him towards George, and George falls into him.
And then George is kissing him, soft and sweet and Dream thinks if the world ended tomorrow he wouldn’t even care. He breathes into the kiss, letting go of George’s hand to cup his face.
Everything is on fire. It’s burning hot, scorching his skin, his lips, his brain, his heart. Kissing George feels like standing barefoot on the road in the middle of summer.
He tastes like citrus and vodka and Dream doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.
Then George is pulling away and Dream is chasing his lips, needing to kiss him again, as if his life depends on it.
“Wait.” George breathes heavily. He places his hand on Dream’s chest, lightly pushing him away.
George sits up, and Dream follows him. His head feels dizzy, his lips feel raw, his body melts.
Dream’s breathing stills. “Are you okay?”
Dream is staring at George.
George, who’s hair is disheveled and cheeks stained pink and lips swollen. George, who’s been his best friend for three years. George, who just kissed him.
George kissed him.
“I just need…” George looks at Dream and the world stops moving.
Slowly, carefully, Dream takes his hand. Their fingers intertwine perfectly, as if Dream’s hand was made with the sole purpose of holding George’s.
“Can I,” Dream finds himself leaning in, yearning to taste him again. “Can I kiss you again?”
George takes a breath, closing his eyes. He whispers, “Please.”
Gravity pulls and they fall back into one another. Dream holds George’s face tenderly, deepening the kiss.
The room is ablaze, his head is spinning and everything feels on fire. Flames rise around them, smoke burns his lungs, ashes fall onto his skin.
Lips part and then George is grabbing his shirt, pulling him closer and closer, but it’s not enough. Dream wants more. He needs more, more, more, more—
“Oh my god.” A voice makes them jump apart.
Dream tries to catch his breath. George stands up, creating as much space as he can between them.
Panic rises in his chest, he tries to meet George’s eyes. His friend keeps his head cast down. He’s panicking, Dream can tell because he is too.
“I have to go.” George quickly mumbles, before rushing out of the room.
Dream looks up, watching him run out the door. He meets Sapnap’s eyes, who is standing at the door with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
“I’m so sorry—” Sapnap begins, but Dream stands up, cutting him off.
“It’s okay. I need to get George.” He brushes past Sapnap and races down the stairs. He searches frantically for his friend, weaving through the crowd of drunk teens until he finds himself outside, standing alone on the driveway.
George is gone.