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“You’re such an idiot, George.”
Ah. There it was again, the flutter of a heart with whispers of buried feelings.
Dream let the words out through small chuckles. His body vibrated with laughter, just as George had expected him to, given the absolute chaos that Dream’s laugh held in every syllable— the bed they laid on shook, and George couldn’t help but laugh along with him. If it were anyone else, the shaking would’ve annoyed him, but it was okay since it was Dream.
It was usually pretty okay as long as it was Dream.
“Stop—” George breathed out through his smile. “I’m not the one who pissed his bed as an adult—”
“Aw, c’mon, that’s not fair!” Dream’s laugh was escalating towards an ever-so-familiar wheeze. “You can’t just keep bringing that up whenever you’re losing against me, George.”
As much as George wanted to rebut that he was not, in fact, losing since there was no real competition going on in the first place, he smiled instead. It was in moments like this that everything still felt so unreal. He turned around slightly to nuzzle himself closer to Dream, his face right next to the other’s chest. One deep inhale and the feeling of a large hand pulling him closer reminded him that he wasn’t dreaming.
They’d already been living together for a bit over a year, now. While George never truly got used to actually being in the same house— the same room as Dream constantly, they both found their ways around each other soon enough.
Despite spending the first years of their friendship apart, being together felt natural; it felt right. While George still occasionally got disoriented whenever he sees Dream’s face during lunch or whatever, it didn’t feel weird— never did, really. From the beginning, it felt… right.
Dream would cook their food, and George would whine his way out of doing the dishes. Dream did the laundry while George smiled and charmed his way out of folding the dried clothes or putting them on hangers. It didn’t work all the time, of course, but they nonetheless fell into a comfortable routine together. One that made it easy– fun , even– to live together.
The chatting didn’t really change— they had more time now though since their fanbase had long since calmed down from the meetup, living arrangements, and the content creation as a whole. The old group of friends still streamed and made videos together (of course, it was their dream, after all,) but things were just… calmer.
Because of that, they had more time to enjoy being with each other. They spent the first part of their first year together as the whole Dream Team with Sapnap, but the guy had then moved in with Karl in North Carolina as a “test run.” They all knew that he was probably staying for a lot longer than two months, though.
Watching his best friend move in with the guy he’d (not-so) secretly fallen in love with over the past few years made George think. Like, really think.
It was a long time ago, of course. Like everything else, feelings and emotions had faded over time. Still, George’s heart swelled when he looked up at Dream (who had his eyes closed, seemingly very comfortable with how they were lying on top of each other,) and he smiled.
Technically, he had also moved in with the guy he…
He…
Well , he’d moved in with Dream, who he quite clearly loved. He wasn’t as vocal about it as Dream himself, but it was obvious, nonetheless.
It was obvious in the way he visibly cringed whenever anyone but Dream flirted with him. It was obvious in the way he only ever laughed softly when forced to go face to face with anything DreamNotFound-related. It was obvious in the way happiness radiated from his existence at the mere mention of Dream.
It was obvious, really.
That was part of why he never decided to confess or anything. God, the word sounded so juvenile to him, now. He would laugh at himself if it wouldn’t make Dream raise his eyebrows and poke him in questioning.
Now, he’d tell himself that he didn’t confess because, well, he never found any reason to. It was obvious enough to anyone looking that they loved each other, right? They loved each other— were in love with each other— George tried not to think about the difference that a few words made, if only to save his sanity.
But in all honesty, he didn’t really know why he never did. It kind of felt like he didn’t need to? But he also… did, at the same time?
Regardless, it was a pretty long time ago. Sure enough, his stupid feelings faded away as he spent more time with Dream. It was like a joke that only he knew— he found it kinda funny to have stopped having feelings for Dream after being around him almost 24/7, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone about that. It was enough for him to be able to look at Dream in the face without wanting to drop to the floor, cover his face, and take deep breaths.
Sure, his heart still fluttered whenever Dream looked at him a certain way— and by a “certain way,” that usually meant Dream’s annoyingly charming little smile with a raised eyebrow whenever he challenged George. The Brit also still blushed quite a lot when he was around Dream, but he was adamant about blaming that on the teasing and the poking— Dream was way way too fond of poking people, in George’s opinion— but despite all that, he assured himself that he was fine.
Because either way, George reminded himself that it was in the past. Any of his reactions now were simply due to Dream being Dream— surely, anyone else would react the way he did whenever Dream did all those godforsaken things that almost never failed to make George go red, right?
But then again, who was George to assume that Dream did those things to anyone else?
He shook his head. This was not a rabbit hole he wanted to jump down— revisiting old feelings never did anyone any good, he believed.
But... it wouldn’t do them any harm either, right?
George turned to look at Dream, just for a bit, with his eyes landing on the peacefulness that graced Dream’s face.
They were in the midst of a good moment— a warm moment; the kind that you would pluck from the air and keep on glowing shelves in your mind. A practice that was perfect for revisiting when the nights were dark, just right for comfort when cold rain pelted on your windows.
...For the first time in a long time, George felt the urge to tell Dream; to tell him the words he wanted to tell him all those months ago but just didn’t
...
...
...If Dream started fidgeting with George’s hoodie in the next thirty seconds, he’d tell him. It was up to the universe, now— George wanted to just tell the damn man already, but part of him was still afraid of something , he just didn’t know what. Now, what better way to figure it out than to leave it to fate? (Or, Dream’s predictable mannerisms)
George waited.
And he waited.
He didn’t have nearly enough patience to actually count the whole thirty seconds, and he was ready to just sigh and bury the words back into the depths of his mind to collect dust as they have been for the past months.
Until, Dream mindlessly reached over for George’s hand.
His jaw dropped. George didn’t move it away, of course. So he let Dream’s larger hands quietly intertwine with his while some whispers of anxiety echoed through his thoughts. The juxtaposition of his racing heart mixed with the warmth that bloomed in his chest did not help him at all in making his decision.
Well… Dream wasn’t fidgeting with his clothes , but somehow George felt like this was worse.
He would have preferred to overthink— truly, he would much rather have lied down next to his best friend in comfortable silence, left to think about the decision he so narrowly avoided (if you could call it that when you’re looking for any loopholes to do it and not do it at the same time.)
But for once in his life, George chose not to overthink— to not think at all, actually.
“I love you, Dream” the words fell out.
There it was: raw and completely exposed. No more hiding behind soft laughter or weird donos, and no more saying “what is wrong with you?” to hide his blush caused by Dream’s teasing.
Just a clear, plain, old confession of love.
George couldn’t help but wince, but he didn’t do much besides that. His eyes were vulnerable, and— dare he say that he felt just a little bit hopeful.
He held his breath as he felt both Dream’s chest and hands freeze in what he hoped was just surprise. George waited a few seconds, not daring to move at all— as if moving would shatter the fragile moment of peace they had between them, and everything forward would be the disaster George had wanted to avoid— the very same consequences he so desperately wanted to avoid to the point of hiding his feelings for over two years.
“I—” he tried again.
“I heard you,” Dream’s voice interrupted him. His voice was tight, and George was left to shut his mouth again, looking at anything and everything beside Dream's face; their hands were still connected, but neither was moving at all. Some part of George wanted to pull his arm away and shrink away from the whole situation, but the larger part of him just didn’t want to lose contact with Dream.
This reaction scared George— he didn’t know why the air felt so thick. It wasn’t as if they’d never said these words before, so why did it feel so heavy now?
Maybe it was because he was pushing them both out of the comfort zone of their “jokes” over the years. Maybe.
A few moments pass again, and George is right about to just take it back, or say it was a joke, or tell Dream to forget it, or walk out the door, or everything in that order. Anything to run back into the closet of comfort. Until—
“I love you too, George.”
Dream's hands tightened around George's as if he were afraid that the other would let go in the presence of his confession.
I love you too.
They were the very same words Dream had told George repeatedly over the past years of their friendship. Somewhat, somehow, George had gotten used to hearing them. But this time, it felt different. There was a weight to it— the weight of truth— of a hidden truth; a truth that could’ve stayed buried but has been exposed to the air and can’t be shoved back down where it won’t be seen.
It felt off.
George didn’t like it.
“No, I’m—” he tried again. “I was —” he corrected himself. Deep breaths. He needed to take a deep breath. “I… I was in love with you. Like. In—” Deep breath again. “I used to be like— crazy in love with you, Dream.” His voice fell into a light awkward laugh by the end of his sentence. Desperately trying to grasp at any semblance of normalcy,
Some silence again.
George wanted to fumble with the edge of his hoodie (he refused to admit that it was something he and Dream could’ve picked up from each other) but Dream’s hand was still holding his. Not holding holding, but… it was there.
Maybe Dream was aware of it, maybe he wasn’t, but his hand started fidgeting with George’s all over again. It was ironic, honestly, how even now, Dream sought comfort in George.
It was one of the things George had thought of when he used to list down all the reasons he and Dream would’ve worked out— then he’d crumple up the paper he wrote the list on and throw it in the trash, but that wasn’t the point right now.
“I…” Dream began, and George resisted the urge to tense up. “I loved you too— I mean— Like you said, I- I was in love with you too.” Both of them began to relax little by little. Dream began stroking George’s hand with his thumb as he usually did.
“Do you uh…” He cleared his throat. “Do you remember when I took that dumb ‘are you in love with your best friend’ test? In the merch Discord?” He laughed fondly at the memory.
Meanwhile, George’s hand tightened around Dream’s, mimicking what his chest was feeling. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but it was there. Something. Was it hope or anxiety? Either way, it was stressing him out. He licked his lips and quickly realized his mistake. Now, all he wanted to do— all he could think of was to either pull Dream down closer to his face and decide “fuck it all,” or straight-up just walk out the room and move away to some other state and— escape.
Dream continued.
“I lied, you know— on the test,” he began. “I thought it would just be a stupid funny thing, I didn’t realize how… real it would feel. The questions and answers were still stupid, and I remember that we kinda laughed it off afterwards since that’s how we always were— are — but,” Dream pursed his lips. George didn’t push him.
“I was … like, crazy in love with you too,” he laughed. He chuckled as if this wasn’t the confession of a lifetime— just at the wrong time. “I guess we both had those feelings and just… never talked about it, huh?”
Oh.
Dream looked down at George (who was still on his chest) but his face was obscured by the fluff of his hair. He couldn’t see the way George’s eyes were frozen open. He couldn’t see the paleness that had painted him white. He couldn’t feel the way George’s heart sank.
And so, Dream kept going.
He spoke of their soft smiles. He spoke of gentle memories and not-so-gentle yearning. He also spoke of the jokes that didn’t feel like jokes after a while, yet they kept going. He spoke of all the stupid dick-sucking Jackbox jokes to the sweet sleep calls they’d have with each other.
He talked about loving George as if it were so normal— as if it were such an inherent part of their lives that Dream simply loved George and George simply loved Dream, and not much else mattered.
But that wasn’t how things worked. Even if they loved each other in that same way at the same time, it wouldn’t have been enough. You couldn’t say that they loved each other and nothing else mattered, because that would be a lie— and neither Dream nor George lied. They may have hidden their feelings (albeit not well at all) but they didn’t lie.
Even when they had those conversations— those god awful conversations— when they’d discuss “whether or not it could ever work out between them” because they were both too scared to talk about feelings.
Those conversations when it was never about how they felt, and always about the fact they wouldn’t be able to work out, regardless.
There were too many eyes on us, he said. It was too much pressure on us, he said. We just wouldn’t have been able to handle it, he said.
And it was true— sort of, at least. George could see where he was coming from. It made sense. It did.
That didn’t make it hurt any less.
It was stupid. It was. It was idiotic, annoying, moronic, and other adjectives that George also tended to use on Sapnap. But the subject of his frustration wasn’t his best friend, and it wasn’t lighthearted, either.
It was... disappointing.
Because when Dream was in love with George, George was in love with Dream.
The only difference was that George was ready to risk it all.
One sentence— one word , and he would’ve been ready to drop it all, risk it all, give it all up if it meant they could be happy together.
But Dream wasn’t. He wasn’t ready.
He didn’t believe that they would’ve worked it out. He didn’t think that they were good for each other— not in the way George thought they were, and George couldn’t blame him for that. He truly couldn’t because he knew Dream was right. He knew that them coming out together would’ve broken the internet somehow. And… not necessarily in a good way.
But George is human, and humans can be selfish.
And as they were, George was selfish enough to want to hug Dream tightly and wish they could turn back time because maybe, just maybe, if George had told Dream earlier, he would’ve been more ready to take the risk; maybe it would’ve been enough.
Maybe they could’ve been enough.
He was selfish enough to want to pretend like they were in the past, and that they’d just confessed their undying love to each other. He was selfish in the way he wanted to act like the past year didn’t happen, and now they were magically together and in love like he used to think— hope they’d end up.
He was selfish enough to still want to hold hands with Dream, and hold him close, and just kiss him on the fucking mouth like all those damn times he’d imagined these same things so far in the past— only now, he learned that the boy he was in love with loved him too, just not enough— and not anymore.
Part of him wanted to laugh.
It was a pain in the ass, how much timing came into play.
He wondered if he had fallen for his best friend faster or slower, or confessed quicker or later… How much could it have changed?
George wasn’t blind. He’s seen the soulmate posts about him and Dream. He saw them and agreed with them. It didn’t take a genius to see they were meant for each other, one way or another. Like Dream had once said: they “fit together like puzzle pieces.”
But if that was so, why couldn’t they have worked out? If they were so meant to be for each other, so right for each other, so destined to be with one another, then why?
If Dream was a little in love with George…
Why couldn’t he love Dream into loving him back?
“George?”
Fuck.
“Oh— yeah?” George was able to respond, but he still didn’t have the heart to look at Dream. Their hands were intertwined again, and Dream was brushing his thumb over the back of George’s hand as he usually did— usually, because they were best friends who held hands a lot; best friends who regularly cuddled, and occasionally slept in the bed together, and constantly hung around each other even when they were working. Best friends. Just a normal and completely ordinary pair of best friends.
George’s hand tightened around Dream.
He wanted more than to hold his hand.
“George??” Dream repeated again. George gave his half-assed response again with a nod of his head that Dream surely felt against his chest.
“Are you okay? You’ve been zoning out. I…” Hesitation. “I’ve– I’ve uh, asked you a bunch of questions, and you haven’t been answering,” he explained. “You okay?” Fondness slipped into Dream’s voice as it always did, and George’s heart just clenched tighter. He could practically feel the concern in Dream’s eyes.
“Oh, um—” George shuffled. He couldn’t take lying down against Dream anymore, so he sat up. He made sure not to move their hands at all so they’d stay linked but to be fair, George would rather bleach his hair than be the one to let go, right now.
“Sorry— I don’t know why that happened. Guess I’m getting a bit sleepy, why?”
“Oh, it’s fine—” Dream quickly assured him. “We can go to sleep already if you want?”
We.
We can go to sleep.
Because best friends with no romantic feelings for each other can totally sleep and cuddle in the same bed together so often, to the point it was their norm.
Right.
“Yeah, I think I should sleep soon,” George answered. Dream sat up and accidentally let go of George’s hand in the process, and George resisted reaching his hand to take Dream’s in his again. If Dream let go, he let go.
The blond got up and drew the curtains, closed the door, and turned off the lights. He tapped the small minecraft block nightlight George had brought with him, and he settled into the bed. He repositioned their pillows to be where they usually were. He took his spot on the right side because George slept on the left.
Because best friends who had just confessed to having deep romantic feelings a while back could still sleep together like normal, right?
George bit his tongue, physically repressing himself from talking about the way they’re trying to “go back to normal” when this situation was anything but. And it hurts more because their normal is everything George has ever wanted with Dream, somehow just without the feelings and the romantic context he once convinced himself he didn’t need anymore.
But at that moment, George knew the truth.
He needed it. He didn’t know how he could possibly go one like normal , pretending as though the life he wanted wasn’t just out of his reach.
But that was exactly the problem. Even then, it was out of his reach .
George could sense the warmth of Dream’s presence next to him. It taunted him. Challenged him. Dared him to let himself fall apart just to let Dream put him back together.
The thought continued to weigh on George, even now, with Dream beside him. There’s that itchy feeling in his soul that he knew would never go away for as long as he doesn’t ask Dream again. But still, he found it impossible to find the right time.
Fuck time. George hated time.
It only got worse because they had already gone over this. It was supposed to be over. Done. Never to be talked about again.
Bringing it up again would ruin things— make it all awkward. It hurt George to even consider ruining things even further than he already has.
Dream patted the space next to him, saying “lie down, George?”
All the while, George was left staring at his best friend showing him exactly what they could have had— they kind of had it now, but— god, it was complicated.
Dream patted the bed again, looking up at George with gentle expectant eyes, happy to go to sleep the moment George said he was sleepy. But there was a hint of concern in his eyes that George could not ignore.
“You okay?” Dream asked when George didn’t move an inch. Something in his voice told George that Dream knew exactly what George had been pondering over the last few minutes. It was honestly obvious to anyone with a minimum of 3 functioning brain cells.
George nodded, finally giving Dream a small reassuring smile. At least, he tried to make it reassuring. He was trying his best to keep himself together as it was.
Against his will, his thoughts wandered back to his former ponderings. Even with Dream by his side, just as it feels he should be, George simply couldn’t pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen. Because they did. And he needs to figure out how to process that.
Because at first, it made sense.
It made sense that they didn’t tell each other and never officially became anything more than friends, given the reasons Dream had given them before. More than that, it was clear they never needed strict labels to exist, much less care for each other. It was all the same to them, anyway. Best friends or boyfriends— what mattered more to them was treasuring one another after spending so long apart. Something about making up for lost time, or whatnot.
But the more George thought about it, the less sense it all made. They loved each other, clearly. They live, sleep, eat, and work together. They cook for each other. They cuddle and share blankets with one another. They play footsies because it’s dumb, they ruffle each other’s hair because it’s cute, hell— they’ve kissed each other on the cheek because “it’s funny.”
George wondered how, when all the stars and planets and fucking clouds and comets aligned… how could they not have seen it earlier? How could they not have worked out?
But as George silently slipped under their comforter facing Dream, and Dream naturally put his arms around George because he’d shared that it made him feel nice and warm and safe, and George gladly wrapped his arms around Dream’s waist and nuzzled his face into his chest, calmed down by the softness that was so distinctly Dream …
He decided that maybe, just maybe this was enough for him.
Maybe they didn’t need labels. Maybe it didn’t need to be romant— okay now that one was a lie, because normal people don’t dream about platonically making out with their best friend constantly, but George was grasping at every reason, every idea or sliver of a notion that could help him convince himself that he was happy with how they were.
Sometimes, you just have to settle for what you can have— especially when what you can have is his hands intertwined with yours as he holds you close in the bed that you share.
But then, Dream spoke up again.
“So um…” He began. His hands started fidgeting with George again but this time, George took initiative and intertwined their fingers. He immediately threw all of his thoughts into some corner and gave his full attention to his best friend. Dream knew that his hugs comforted George, and George knew that Dream liked it when he did the hand thing, so he did. They knew each other well like that.
The twirling of their fingers seemed to calm Dream down well enough. They shuffled around just a bit to give them enough space so they could look at each other. It was sweet, how they looked at each other with those eyes that told so much yet not enough at the same time. Yet matched with those eyes with so much to say, are those gentle little meep smiles they’d wear for assurance.
They stayed that way for a while. At this point, George had given up on turning his mess of a mind into a cohesive sentence. This time, it was Dream who clearly had something he wanted to say. Though curious, George was in no position to rush him.
“About what you said…” he finally began. “I mean, I asked you earlier, but you were zoned out, and I didn’t want to ask again, but I wanted to know, and I shouldn’t assume, and that’s why I’m asking, but—” Dream began rambling, but then George gave him a look with that raised eyebrow and deadpan face that reminded Dream to get to the point.
George wouldn’t mind listening to Dream talk for hours, but it kinda wasn’t the time.
Dream took a deep breath. “You… You don’t feel that way anymore… right?”
Now, George understood Dream’s hesitance. He kinda regretted being the one to give him the push to ask that. His chest was tightening all over again.
“Do you still feel that way?” He asked instead. His expression was one of teasing and jokingly daring Dream to say yes. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes were wide open in barely concealed anxiety.
“C’mon, George,” Dream laughed that charming little laugh he always did whenever George brushed off his flirting in the past. Only this time, his voice was ever so slightly shaky. Both these idiots were full of anxiety and love, and they just had no idea what to do with it all.
They avoided eye contact.
“I asked first, idiot, so you need to answer.” Dream insisted, moving around their joined hands. It was easier to focus on them, right now.
George went quiet, thinking about his answer. “It um— It was hard, honestly, to not fall in love with you,” he laughed. “I guess all the times we—”
“That’s not what I asked, George.”
“Aha, um,” he cleared his throat. To be fair, he didn’t think he’d get away with that one, either.
“George…” Dream softened. His hands were inches away from reaching around George’s head and settling on his hair. He craved the feeling, but the line was blurred as it always was; Dream wasn’t sure if acting like they always did would be okay right now.
“What if…” George took a deep breath.
This was wrong, his mind was shouting at him. You’re going to ruin everything. Keep quiet. You’ve stayed silent this long, why let go now? Why throw away something perfectly fine?
“What if I say yes, Dream? What then? If I tell you that I’m still in love with you— madly , by the way— what would that mean? What would you do?” George asked anyway.
His eyes, though he was still trying to avoid looking at Dream, were sad. Not the passionate kind of sadness, where you’d cry in the rain and shout to the heavens about your pain. It was the kind of sadness that made you just want to curl up into a ball on a comfortable bed; George would consider being cuddled by your best friend as a bonus if it weren’t the subject of his frustration at the moment.
It was the kind of sadness that came along with the acceptance that he could have just ruined one of the best things he’s ever been lucky enough to experience in this lifetime.
George was closer to crying than he’d like, but it was hard. It was hard to tell your best friend that you are, in fact, still fucking in love with them after years upon years of being apart. It was hard to tell a man you love him when you know for sure that he—
“Then I can tell you that I feel the same way, too.” Dream sat up. He reached over for George and, for just a moment, he held George’s hand with a touch so much softer and gentler than it has ever been and nothing, nothing, has ever felt more right.
But it was an accident, so he let go.
Viridian met honey, and both pairs of eyes held sadness mixed with just a dash of hope. They were able to come this far. If they were able to do it now, then maybe—
“I don—” George shook his head. Tears threatened to pool in his eyes. One wrong move, and they’d cascade upon his cheek that Dream just wanted to hold closer to him. “There are so many reasons we shouldn’t, Dream— there are all the reasons we even waited this long to—”
He began to panic, grasping for any of the logic he's held onto for the last year. All that time he spent reminding himself they wouldn't work out was meant to come to fruition at this moment. It was meant to keep them together— keep them safe .
“Shut up, George!” Dream cut him off, leaving George with an open mouth and wide eyes. To make the impact of his words less harsh, Dream let out a soft laugh filled to the brim with anxiety, nudging George. “Believe in us a bit, won’t you?”
But George tried. He’d already tried, a year ago, when Dream didn’t believe in them.
With a voice so weak, George responded:
“I’ve already tried believing in us, Dream,” he reminded the other. “And that time, you were the one who didn’t believe in us. Why should I trust you know? Why should I trust that you want this as much as I do?”
And throughout George’s statement, recognition shone in Dream’s eyes.
Their conversation.
All of a sudden, that memory flooded into Dream’s eyes, and George wondered how Dream could have possibly forgotten about it when he couldn’t seem to forget.
“I’m sorry, George, I—” the apology fell out of Dream’s lips before he could control it, and he stumbled over them in his rush to defend himself; defend the idea of them . “I was just scared ,” he said.
A pause.
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.” For the first time since that god-awful visa application period, George saw the desperation in Dream’s eyes. To be forgiven. To be loved back.
And the thing is, George was right. Even then, in the same bed, Dream was afraid of losing George. That all their efforts for the last years had all come to this moment that could make or break everything .
Because if this didn’t end well, they both knew that nothing could ever go back to how they used to be. Nothing. And neither wants that— they just couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.
Somehow, some way, Dream’s eyes pierce George.
And they make it all the way to his heart.
At that moment, George wanted nothing else than to kiss Dream.
To kiss the tears away, to kiss the desperation away, to kiss all the lost time away and forget how they stayed apart for so damn long.
But first:
“What do you mean, Dream?” George asked, sitting up as well. He asked this because Dream couldn’t just drop the bomb of formerly being in love with George and being currently in love with George without explaining what the fuck that would mean for the both of them. Because quite possibly, it could mean that they had been skating around each other for literal years and that aeon of bitter and distant yearning wasn’t about to suddenly make sense because of a few words on a cold night of them cuddled up next to each other.
“I mean that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything, George, and I’m sorry that I didn’t make that clear to you all those months— or years— ago.” Dream’s voice was shaky, but he kept going. “You’ve always been worth it— I’m sorry I was scared. I’m sorry that I kept quiet for so long, I’m sorry I was too afraid to tell you, but— god George, please tell me you want this to happen just as much as I do. Because I want this to happen. I want us to happen.”
Well… that definitely wasn’t what he expected.
It was a staring match. George’s face was unreadable to Dream, whose mind was too busy thinking about all the ways he just fucked up a perfectly amazing friendship.
George blinked.
A beat.
“Are you serious right now?” is the question he decides to ask, with it being in the forefront of his mind. His voice was as deadpan as it has ever been. There were other things swirling in his brain, but disbelief and shock rose above everything else. He’d daresay there was a hint of hope somewhere in there.
“George, c’mon— I kinda just poured my heart out to you, and you’re gonna ask me if I’m serious?” Dream wanted to groan. Anxiety was already settling in— what if George wasn’t serious? What if it was a joke, just like all their old jokes? What if—
“Because if you’re really serious, then that means we just wasted a whole year avoiding a confession when we could have been fucking dating !” There was a smile on his face. There were still the hints of doubt from earlier, but the hope was winning— the hope that maybe they didn’t ruin what they had; hope that they just got the best thing they could’ve dreamed of.
Okay, well that was not what Dream was expecting.
It was beginning to look like there were a lot of unexpected things in their relationship, but they didn’t have it in themselves to complain..
“...What?” Dream had to ask again.
George hesitated just a bit. “Y- yeah— I mean, assuming that you’d… want to date me?”
Before George could get all in his own head, Dream let go of his hand and hugged the small boy tightly. Blond hair was tickling the sides of George’s face as Dream nuzzled into his neck.
“I thought you’d never ask.” His words were faint. George felt them more than he heard them, but the message got across. At this point, that was all that truly mattered to him.
George softened. He wanted to cry again, but this time it was out of pure joy and warmth. He hugged Dream back just as tightly, painfully happy to finally be able to do this.
“ You could’ve been the one to ask, you know,” he mumbled back.
“You didn’t exactly give me the right hints and signals, George.” Dream smiled into his neck. He was complaining just to annoy George, but this… this was all he ever wanted.
“You really love me?” He asked. George just rolled his eyes and loosened his hold on the taller boy. With pats on the back and a deadpan face, George responded.
“Yes, Dream. I do.”
Dream hummed, still smiling. “That’s nice.”
And then he started laughing.
Then George laughed.
And they laughed a lot .
They laughed as though a weight had finally been lifted off of their shoulders— like two best friends who finally confessed their undying love for each other after years of pandering, and “joking,” and a good amount of long-term friends who thought they were dating.
It was finally coming true.
“That’s nice ?! That’s all you have to say to me??” There were tears of laughter in their eyes. They continued giggling, smacking each other in their joyful high, barely not leaning onto each other. Every part of them was touching— it was the culmination of years of touch-starvation, and they can finally fall into each other while laughing, ruffling each other’s hair, smacking each other’s shoulders, and just smiling at each other without having a screen in between them.
Eventually, they fall back over on their sides, lying down on the bed. The laughter was calming down. They were still holding hands, playing around with their fingers and comparing hand sizes. Despite this, though... they honestly didn’t really know what to do next.
“...What now, Dream?” George asked.
They were still smiling, but there was a hint of hesitation— uncertainty.
It was a valid question, after all, and it was very clearly their next thing to figure out. Do they stay private? Probably. Who would they tell? When will they go public? Will they go public at all? And more than the career-based worries…
Well, despite Dream confessing that it had always been real to him despite his conflicting words, George wanted to bring up the various reasons they kept “quiet” for so long. Their old worry of having to be long-distance (as relationships were still fairly different from friendships) was definitely nothing now. Despite that, George couldn’t help the small bubble of insecurity in the fact that Dream had decided he... wasn’t worth it, all that time ago. He knew that Dream apologized, but… what if he changed his mind, one day?
He had other concerns, too. Stuff like the future and general anxiety about how they’d work out, but George just really tried to shove it all down. They were here now, right?
Plus, they’d been acting like they were dating for the longest time, already. Talking about their feelings, as cheesy as it sounded, eased the turmoil that tended to occur in George’s chest whenever they crossed the extremely blurred and sometimes-dancing line between their friendship and more .
And so, George dared to keep his hopes up as his eyes landed on Dream’s.
“Well now, I’ve finally gotten my pretty boyfriend,” Dream replied with a smile that very obviously asked: can I call you my boyfriend? Is that cool? I think it’s cute.
George’s response was the classic and iconic mix between a scoff and a snort. He always seemed to do that, and it didn’t look like he was gonna drop the habit of pretending to not love every flirty line that Dream threw at him, anytime soon.
“Then that means that I got my hot Leo boyfriend, then?” George laughed.
And this time, Dream was the one blushing.
Now, there were no more heavy crashes of waves of worries. Instead, they happily crossed the line. They stood hand in hand as they stepped over it, and it was all George had yearned for in the past year (though he’d still refuse to admit it.) Now, they were gladly on the other side of the line, happy to dance in the rain and hold each other in ways that normal best friends didn't— because they weren’t normal best friends, after all.
They were boyfriends, now.
And to George, that meant—
“What was that you said before, about eating my ass?”
“GEORGE!!” Dream choked on nothing, and he would have collapsed on the floor if they weren’t in bed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Yeah, he was losing it.
“I’M JOKING!!!” George just laughed hysterically, falling over onto his side.
“Shut up , George.“ Dream buried his face in his hands. Unlike usual, he was the blushing mess, this time. “Oh my god .”
“Mmm. Okay, boyfriend .”
Dream curled up into a ball, unable to take it any longer. “Jesus Christ , George,” he said, still covering his face.
George let out a breath, shaking his head, but smiling in relief nonetheless. It was so relieving to finally talk about their feelings and stop tiptoeing around each other. He wasn’t the type to do this kind of thing, but he quickly decided that it was worth it, when it was for Dream.
“You’re so dumb,” he laughed. Dream, on the other hand, wrapped his arms around George. "You are so dumb," he repeated. Their hearts were warm again, and their cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling.
“You’re an idiot, George.”
“Ah, but I’m your idiot, right?
Dream went quiet at that, only letting out a small snort at the stupidly cliche answer that didn’t surprise him either way, George would have loved to see the inevitable pink tint on his cheeks if he weren’t so damn comfortable cuddling Dream like this.
“Oh, fuck you, George. Fuck you— that’s cheesy, dumb, and unfair!” Dream exclaimed with his smile buried in George’s hair.
“You’d like that,” George hummed.
“Stop!! Please, George. I don’t think my heart can take any more of this.” Dream dramatically clutched his chest before rolling over on top of George.
“But am I wrong , though?”
“Yes. Yes, you are, you dick.”
Blatant lie.
“I love you, George.”
Ah. There it was again, the flutter of a heart with whispers “I love you. So fucking much.”
“I know.”
Obvious truth.
Green eyes met brown, and the two idiots smiled at each other.
Dream leaned down.
George closed his eyes.
I love you.
And so, these two idiots— best friends— were a little in love.
…Or perhaps very, very in love.
[end.]