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Tuesday morning sunshine waves through the windows across the bedroom. Dream lays across his bed with a pillow over his face, blankets kicked halfway off the mattress, and a certain cat sitting on his chest as a special alarm clock.
Patches has slinked from her bed to her fountain to Dream’s chest, leaving Dream to be fully suffocated by his cat-friend that knows no boundaries of personal space. He shrugs the pillow away from his face to glare at his cat.
She paws at his nose and then rests it on his chin.
“Patches,” Dream whispers, “Go away. Go find Nick.”
Patches doesn’t like this idea. She would rather bother Dream in the early morning; they’ve always been inseparable with a special connection together.
They have their unspoken routines they’ve both fallen into. When Dream can’t sleep, or sleeps too much, and he finds himself passed out in the middle of the afternoon, he leaves his blinds open. The sun lines up perfectly, leaving a warm patch of light through the blinds and onto the bed. Patches comes in not long after and nestles near Dream’s legs with her back warmed through the window.
She sits at his feet whenever he eats at the dining table. Patches will follow him to the table and then sprawl out against the tile floor underneath him, showing her belly to the world. Then, whenever he’s done eating she knows she gets her dinner and follows him into the kitchen while he preps it. And before she eats, she gets a million pets and kisses from her dad.
And every morning, Patches follows the same pattern. She gets up from her bed, takes a pit stop at the water fountain for a drink, and then paws her way into Dream’s room. She lays on his chest in an attempt to wake him up. Sometimes it works, like this morning, Dream will eventually come to and take her downstairs to hang out. Sometimes, Dream is already awake and out of bed, leaving Patches to find him or give up and find Sapnap. Sometimes, Dream doesn’t wake up at all to her presence. She doesn’t mind though, just moves to lay down beside his hip and sleep in with him.
He smiles to himself. Dream scratches behind her ears and pets all the way down her back while she purrs.
There’s a lack of motion to the household, compared to the usual Saturday morning bustle when Dream would be preparing for his football games. Or, a Sunday mid-morning when Dream’s mom comes to visit and she brings brunch to eat together with Sapnap and his sister as well.
The morning is ripe, Dream’s phone reads that its only past 8 am. a full day ahead of him.
There’s quite a heavy load of stuff that needs to get done soon , but Dream’s already decided what items will be knocked off the agenda for today. There’s a few important emails to write up for the merch company, responding to some design options for the new Dream Team merch. As well as contacting manufacturing over some small issues brought to his attention.
He has a lot of laundry to fold. He’s never had an issue doing the actual washing and drying of his clothes, but folding and putting away the laundry is the hardest part of the cycle. This means sometimes clean laundry sits folded on a chair in his room until they’re worn or need to be washed again.
Then, he has George, who takes up a whole piece of his day all on his own. They promised each other today to do another discord podcast together. For a long time, this was a solo Dream thing that he would do every few months, sometimes with his friends joining as a special guest. It’s always been his favorite way to have a low pressure interaction with fans, while also getting to update them on things going on that wouldn’t work as well being tweeted.
And now, George has been wanting to do them more together. It’s the perfect mixture of fan time without having to give up any George time. Then, later into the night when they’re done, they switch the discord call over to their phones and stay on until they fall asleep. It’s the little things, but Dream really enjoys it being their thing right now , knowing for sure these types of traditions will translate well whenever George gets to the house.
He finds himself thinking a lot about change and the unavoidable idea of new all around him. But whenever he does he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement over anything else.
Dream sits up, the skirt of his blanket falling around his waist, and cradles Patches into his arms like a little baby, his little baby . “Come on girl, let’s go see if Nick’s up.”
And, he is.
Sapnap’s in the kitchen when Dream goes downstairs. He’s frying bacon on the stovetop, and the aroma is enough for his mouth to salivate. He sets down Patches at his feet.
Sapnap looks in his element, he looks like he perfectly belongs in this moment. His hair is messy, hatless like he just woke up and ran his fingers through it upon getting up. His t-shirt has a stretched out collar that causes it to fall lop-sided on his shoulders and his shorts ride up slightly on his thighs. It’s the epitome of early-morning Sapnap and Dream is glad he has this version of his best friend to himself, and soon to be shared with George. He thinks maybe the internet would explode at even a glimpse into their private moments together.
the little moments that come together like this
“Morning,” Dream mutters out, “Smells good in here.” He passes behind Sapnap to grab a banana off the countertop, peeling it and instantly taking a big bite.
“Woke up like a shit ton ago, I couldn’t sleep last night,” Sapnap greets back, “There’s enough for you too. It’s almost done.”
Dream hums back in response and leans against the kitchen island.
“Good morning Patchy,” Sapnap closes his fingertips to his palm to wave at her. She meows back, and Dream wonders if Sapnap really does know how to communicate with her. weird shit.
Breakfast is quiet, it’s usual for a Tuesday morning. The room is thick with familiarity in the silence. Small talk follows over a few topics of importance: Karl’s recent alt stream, Patches’ upcoming vet appointment, some basic housekeeping of the week. Nothing far too important or concrete, that would be more for a Wednesday morning chat.
They’re sitting across from each other at the dining table whenever Dream gets the text.
George
I can’t sleep.
I haven’t been sleeping at all lately
Dream blinks.
“I’m gonna run upstairs,” he says without a second thought, glancing up at Sapnap. Clueless, hair falling in front of his eyes, framing them, “See you later, Nick.”
Sapnap nods him off, used to Dream’s surprise entrances and quick exits.
George’s life in London follows a simple path of consciousness.
Not too long after finding his own place to stay, finding his new routines that would work and sticking to them, new plans were starting to come into fruition. George only had a few months experience of living on his own before it was decided they should try.
Sapnap living with Dream was already established as permanent and the conversation about doing the same with George was getting circled and underlined. “How about you just move here? Let's skip a first meetup. It’ll be easier just to apply for your visa and you could be here by Christmas.”
And he did, the visa process was started in the early stages of summer. The heat index had yet to meet its high and George was already ready to ditch his new flat to jump across the ocean.
Meeting Dream and Sapnap had always felt like one of those things that would realistically just happen. It would happen and then it would be over and maybe they would meet again in a few months and so it would keep happening. Actually living with them had never really crossed his mind. Maybe he had thought about it a few times as they had discord sleepovers.
“wouldn’t it be cool if we just- like- lived together?” george had mentioned. it had come out of nowhere except a hidden yearning in his chest from being the only one so far away. “then we could do everything together.”
dream had hummed back in agreement and george had to stop himself from feeling that warm spot in his chest.
it was grueling knowing the distance that fell sharply between each of them. the many times things that almost happened. george’s single trip to the states had been to florida and dream had found himself in london before and sapnap had his own handful of experiences being as close to dream as they could be without meeting. so many coincidences that were so close.
and george wondered then if maybe they had passed each other on the street or had walked through the same door frames.
“that would be epic-” sapnap lit the conversation into a flame, exploding into his excited prospects of living under the same roof. but all of it had still just felt like ideas at the time.
George had definitely thought about living with his best friends, but it had never felt as realistic as the day he started the process of his visa. It became real. And George texted The Boys group chat with shaky hands and he cried a few tears to himself that no one would ever need to know about.
And then this whole thing with Dream started that he can’t really explain. Maybe it started that summer or maybe it started in October or maybe it never really started until after their conversation in December when they realized he really wouldn’t be there by Christmas and things weren’t feeling so real anymore.
“it’s not your fault- no it’s not any of our faults, george,” dream repeated with concern looped around each syllable. george didn’t know if he was truly trying to convince george or himself. “don’t apologize, george.”
george held his arms around his knees, leaning his head back against the leather of his chair. his head spun. spun and spun. he’d been avoiding this conversation all day after his recent call. there just wasn’t anything they could do.
“they’ll be upset,” george muttered. he felt more concerned about the fans who were already counting the days down until christmas for what they thought would be a surprise announcement.
it would’ve been perfect. george would arrive just in time for christmas. they would’ve had a party on the first night, the second night would’ve been photoshoots and preparing posts to finally show the fans, the third night would’ve been a gift exchange between the three of them and leading up to christmas, and then christmas morning would be spent together in matching pajamas and cheesy things they would laugh at. and george would try to stop sapnap from taking pictures of him wearing them. but it would have been real and it would have been perfect.
together.
george had even already bought presents for his best friends that he planned on handing them in person. now, they sit to rot in the bottom of his closet or find their way to be shipped to the us if george could ever leave his flat after this.
“mhm,” dream agreed, “they will be, but there’s not much more we can do. we’ll tell them, they’ll be okay.” he paused and george could hear a clicking noise through his headphones, “are you okay, though?”
george took a deep breath and he thought. he shook his head and buried it into his arms. and george cried.
and dream cried with him.
Or maybe, nothing has started more than it’s just progressed in nature.
There were conversations they had and there were more conversations that were still to be had. And the decided factor was that most things couldn’t happen until George was there.
So then came the waiting. And George still finds himself falling into the category of just waiting. And he finds himself everyday settling comfortably into the idea of waiting.
George sits on his bed, criss cross, with his phone laid on the soft blanket in front of him. One of his hands digs the fabric of his pinstripe comforter while the other rests on his knee, waiting for any sort of response from Dream. He doesn’t really know why he texted him about his sleep problems. It’s not really like they can be fixed. He feels silly and regrets sending it over imessage and not on discord where he could’ve deleted it by now.
It started some days ago. There was a confirmation about the visa, meaning realistically George would be in Florida in a few weeks time. permanently.
Of course, not so permanent. The flat would still be here with some of his things, he could still travel back and his setup will still be here and the little dip at the end of his stairs will still be here. But, in many ways, this just won’t be home anymore. Home will follow the definition of proximity to his best friends. And everything will be different.
Every second passes closer and he can only think about every piece of change that will take place in the coming weeks. When he doesn’t sleep, George lays across his cool sheets that are too cold. He stares at the ceiling and intertwines his fingers across himself. He thinks about what change will mean.
George lives by his specific routines and the systems that work in his life.
He leaves the same amount of cups filled with water in the fridge and refills them at night time, so he has cold water to drink throughout the next day. There’s always one extra and he drinks that one first in the morning. He sleeps on the right side of the bed with a small fan on his bedside. He visits his mum once a month and they talk together at a coffee shop of her choice, or in his old kitchen at the dining table. His TV remote has its own basket on the coffee table, it’s always there and it always gets put back there. These are the constants in his life.
Things change, though: rapidly. And the constants will depreciate. So, at night, while George studies the invisible patterns above him, he thinks about these things. Will Dream even have room in the fridge for his stuff? Does he sleep on the left side of the bed? When would George actually be able to travel back to London to see his family again? Does Sapnap ever lose the remotes and have to dig through the couch cushions to find them again?
How is he supposed to sleep with these gnawing thoughts at the back of his brain that hold his chest to the mattress?
George sits on his bed, and there’s no one else here. there’s no one else here.
He doesn’t even process that Dream is calling him before he’s already slid his thumb across the bottom of his phone and turned on the speaker, “Hello?”
“Hey,” Dream speaks and George feels instant relief run through him. He can get so caught up in the metaphoricals, every thought being analyzed even if he realizes the lack of importance. Dream’s voice grounds him. Dream’s voice is soft, the tone reserved for him alone. The one piece of comfort that will always be there, a reassurance that holds him close.
“Dream,” George prompts. He likes this game.
Dream plays it all too well, “George.”
He knows how George loves his name being spoken, just as much as he likes saying it.
George hums an mhmm sound back to him. They haven’t even spoken real words to each other yet, but George feels better. He could end the call now and sleep for 12 hours, or even better he could just close his eyes right now and
“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” Dream asks as if it’s an appropriate response. And then, silence pours out thick. quiet.
George repositions, pulling his knees to his chest and holding around them, “I dunno.” he lies.
Dream, annoyingly, keeps silent to give George the space he needs to disclose his thoughts. He knows him too well; he’s gotten used to every little quirk in their lives over time and through distance.
maybe thats what makes them work so well.
“I’ve been thinking a lot, recently.”
“That’s new.”
“ Dream, ” George stops himself from grinning. Usually it’s himself quipping jokes to Dream in situations like this. He’s never been one to keep a serious conversation going too long. it’s hard. He can’t help himself from trying to lighten the mood, for his own sake and for the person speaking. He’s glad Dream would do the same for him.
another moment of perceptive listening in their togetherness. checks and balances.
Dream chuckles and cues George to continue, “What have you been thinking about?”
George clicks his tongue.
The color of his bedside dresser is dark. It’s not exactly black, but George wouldn’t call it gray either. He would call it charcoal, but he actually found out charcoal gray has an overload of blue in it, and this dresser isn’t overwhelmed with blue. It’s definitely achromatic with the shades of red and blue and yellow; it's just closer to an almost black shade than just gray.
On top of the dresser he has a photo of his family from when he was a kid. They’re all huddled in front of Cinderella's castle at DisneyWorld in Orlando. George has classic Mickey Mouse ears on and his sister dawns the matching ones for Minnie, as well as both of his parents behind them in similar ears. He smiles everytime he looks at it.
sapnap had cooed at it the first time he was in george’s bedroom.
george didn’t know why, but he had felt very protective of his space whenever everyone was in his flat. it felt like maybe he had to save them from leaving their signature on any of his items. because, rather, then the mark of their presence would be real and it would leave a bigger hole when they were gone. or maybe it was because george has never felt the need to expose so much of his personal things, so having 3 of his friends in his living space at once felt like he was jumping off a cliff. he couldn’t look back, jumping into the water in a desperate attempt to avoid the rocks at the bottom and to keep himself from drowning.
and suddenly sapnap was here and looking at his baby picture in his own bedroom. george scans the room for the umpteenth time to make sure there’s nothing incriminating sitting out in the open. like somehow a picture of him in the nude or a journal full of entries containing every embarrassing moment in his life will just appear on the bed.
“you were such a cute kid, what happened?” sapnap jokes and george elbows him because he can now. he can reach out and flick him between the eyebrows whenever he pleases. all because sapnap wanted to make sure george wasn’t just sitting in london alone to wallow in his sadness. his best friend.
“You know how I was feeling- like depressed because it’s been taking so long for the visa?” George starts. because maybe it’s best to just start. you’ll never get anywhere in silence.
“Yeah,” Dream’s tone is soft and reassuring, “Are you feeling more like that again?”
George purses his lips to the side, “Kind of.”
He takes a shaky breath. not sure when the tears started forming.
His throat feels tight as he continues, “It’s more like the opposite. Like I’m feeling more anxious about going to Florida than I am about staying here-” He corrects himself immediately, “I’m still coming, obviously. I’m not doubting that.”
“You can tell me anything, I know you want to be here. What’s got you so upset?” Despite saying words that could come off as condescending, they’re said in the most compassionate voice that breaks George even further.
of course he cares, idiot.
George feels warm everywhere. His throat closes tighter, wrapped in a feeling of barbed wire. He sniffs and holds a shaky hand to his mouth. don’t cry in front of him, don’t do that again. He’s brought back to Christmas.
so helpless. george had never felt more helpless than now.
dream team christmas was supposed to be this whole thing . in reality it would’ve been a bigger present to them than it could have ever been for the fans.
the conversation was tense from the start and george couldn’t help but swing the floodgates wide. george sobbed into his arms as he could only think about everything being pushed back indefinitely.
feeling so close, he could reach out towards his screen. his fingertips grasping around a version of dream that exists only in his head. it instantly falls into a pillar of salt and george turns his cheek from the burning cities. everything crashes around him and he falls into the flames.
and dream sobbed with him, into his headphones, and they never talked about the moment again.
George sniffs, “I don’t want things to change,” he bites his lip. the waves crash toward him. there’s nowhere to go. george holds up his arms, gasping. Tears blur his vision, “I’m scared.”
George leans his head forward. Forehead on knees, chin pressing toward chest. Everything feels tight, close and closed. “It’s so stupid,” George whispers and his voice cracks. His words flow from the back of his throat, coming up thickly. He can feel every inch of his own skin as it burns and itches. Hot tears fall down his cheeks as his throat closes.
“Hey- it’s okay George,” Dream fills in quickly with assurance, “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You know I would- you know me and Nick would do anything for you to make sure you feel comfortable in any process of the move,” Dream’s voice is rock solid to get his point across, yet rounded on the edges making every word full of love. “Listen, you’re okay. I promise it will be okay. We’ll make sure everything works out, this is a group effort. That’s what makes this work.”
George sniffles. He closes his eyes and still sees the bright splotch from where his window’s blinds are open. Dream’s voice brings a chill up his spine and soothes his racing mind. He takes a few deep, shaky breaths to calm himself down.
“Okay,” he whispers and exhales slowly, wiping bluntly at his eyes with no appeal to his blurred vision. “Nick,” he repeats back, “I don’t know if I can get used to that.” Dream giggles with him as he speaks.
As they sit on call together, George can hear Dream breathing along with him. It helps more than he wants to admit, finally calming himself and generally being able to even see the room around him. His hands shake, “Sorry.”
Dream scoffs, “Don’t apologize, George.” He takes a deep breath, “It’s okay to worry about change. But you know we’re gonna be here to help you with- like adjusting to everything. And some things will be hard but,” he pauses. The line drops for a moment and George doesn’t know if he’ll end up finishing his sentence until he does. “Some changes will be good. Some things will be really really good.”
His cheeks flush; George falls back into the plush of his bed right against his pillows. He presses his fingers over his eyes, feeling warm all in his tummy. He does a quick motion to grab his phone, move it to the pillow beside him, and get comfortable under the covers. “Yeah? Like what?”
Dream hums as if he’s thinking about it.
perfect petals of a flower, blossom all together at once.
“Patches having a new dad,” Dream says and George can hear his smile, “I know you’ve missed having a cat. She’s been so clingy recently too. It’s like she knows.”
“Yeah she’s gonna love me more than you,” George remarks and smirks when Dream snaps back with an utterance of you wish! He curls up further into his bed and stares at his phone. “Where are you right now?”
Talking to Dream has helped more than anything, his mind feels much calmer. There isn’t a pressing anxiety against his skull. He blinks and he’s still okay. The universe didn’t explode. Dream is still on the other end of the call, and they’re okay. And maybe things aren’t perfect but they’re okay . And that’s okay with George.
just don’t cry again.
“In my room,” Dream answers, simply, “I’m just sitting here on my bed. Chillaxin. Talking to you.” George can hear the slight rumple of his bedding as he speaks. Dream talks as if George could really be the only thing in the world.
“Have you seen Sapnap today? What’s he been doing?” George picks at a hangnail on his thumb.
“Yeah. He actually cooked today, we had breakfast together earlier,” Dream continues, “He’s good. Him and Patches were doing that weird communicating thing again.”
“Oh my god,” George laughs and rests the back of his hand against his forehead. dream and his conspiracies. “You’ve gotta get to the bottom of that. Maybe we’ll find out Sapnap was a cat in his past life, or Patches is secretly a human.” They giggle together. George clears his throat, “What are you wearing right now?”
“Why? You wanna see what I’m wearing?”
“ Dream ,” George raises an eyebrow, “Maybe I do.”
“Like- some shorts. And a shirt my mom got me. It says-” Dream laughs with his chest and the sound is beautiful, “It’s a Minecraft shirt. It has the logo and- like a creeper.” George smiles and presses a palm to his cheek. “What are you wearing?”
George presses a hand to his thigh to feel his pants, the material is soft but worn with age, “Pajama bottoms,” his thumb then flits to the bottom of his shirt and rubs across the seam, “And a black t-shirt.”
“You sound cozy,” Dream moves again and George thinks he can hear him getting under his own covers, “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now? I’ll stay on as long as it’ll help you.”
“Yeah you’re helping.”
“Ohhhhhh,” Dream responds. There’s a whirr of his laptop turning on in the background, “I’m helping you.”
George snorts and gets comfortable. He turns to lay on his stomach and hikes one of his knees up.
“Talk to me next time you’re feeling like this,” the tone turns serious again. George’s stomach rolls inside out, in both love and pure terror. “I love you, George.”
The words fall out like the confession George has been waiting for but they aren’t. They sound just like the confession that’s been sitting on the end of his tongue. The words that can never just come out. The confession he’s been having to wait for. George holds a confession in his heart that would cause the biggest change of them all, more than having to change how he drinks cold water in the morning.
the confession that i love you.
A chill runs down his spine. “ Mhm . I love you too,” he whispers.
George really means it. and dream knows that part of it.
And maybe the worst part of the confession he’s holding carefully in between his fingertips and at the bottom of his belly, is that they both already know it.
my person, dream is my person. the person i can trust with these things. he cares about me. he loves me. he wants me to tell him about these things. he likes hearing that i love him. i love you, dream.
my heart.
Dream’s laptop is hot on his thighs as he types up emails. His window is open and at some point Patches joined him in bed. She curls into his side, purring and sleeping. sleeping alongside the sleeping george on call.
George has been mostly quiet for some hours while sleeping. A few times, he whirs and mumbles to himself. And Dream can hear as his moves or repositions throughout the night.
His heart is still racing, George’s presence on the call is enough of a reminder that their conversation was real and really did just happen. It was so unexpected, being confronted quickly with a situation where he didn’t know if it would end with a panic attack. which would’ve been even more terrifying on its own.
It’s just rare to see George like that.
Dream shuts his computer and pulls the covers further up to his chest. His t-shirt sits long forgotten and discarded on the floor next to his bed. The cool of his sheets feels nice against his burning hot skin. Holding a pillow to his chest with his phone beside his head, he thinks about George.
George has so many emotions that he contains within himself. He doesn’t always like to get too deep in his feelings, but when he does it’s easy to see just how much he feels. Sometimes George sees a TikTok of a cat on stream and starts to tear up, or it happens when he finds himself really listening to the gentle nostalgic sounds of Minecraft music. Or, while its just the three of them in a voice call, George will laugh and get just sappy enough to let them know how much they mean to him. But despite the rarity of actually saying the words, Dream can see how much George loves and cares for him through actions and the words he doesn’t have to say.
But he can count on one hand the times he’s seen George really cry.
He was quickly overwhelmed with the need to hold him close, a desire that flamed down his chest and to his shaking hands. It was ironic, seeing his hands trembling with fear from how George spoke, terrified. Yet, not feeling it at all rushed with a flit of urgency to do anything in his power to fix it. he shouldn’t have to hurt like that.
He wished he knew George was struggling with his worries sooner, but it was definitely just an unfinished conversation to come back to. But it was more important to get George to sleep first. they can iron out each of the problems later.
Dream ends up falling asleep too. each of their hearts connected through sleep and a static phone line. lungs filled with gardens and butterflies and bugs.
New tweet from @dreamsecretclub:
it’s time 🥴 this is your warning
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Reply from @DreamStan89:
is george already there?
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Reply from @dreamsecretclub:
no he will be here this week 😼
Most of the apartment is gone. George took a trip earlier in the week to ship off some boxes with important things that wouldn’t fit in his luggage for the plane.
His room is empty. feels empty. Walls close in and expand, like it's breathing along with him.
tomorrow
13 hours
He had been just fine sleeping again. Him and Dream got into the habit of sleeping together most nights, but it stopped when Dream’s sleeping schedule got flipped on its head with work.
by a strange coincidence, the bad sleeping started up again at the same time.
Luckily, Sapnap had saved his insomnia. They sat on call together and played chess for hours. Sapnap told him all about the things waiting for him in Florida, including a gift basket from Dream’s mom, and told him stories about what Dream’s been doing recently.
“why do we need a basket there?” sapnap asked. he sat with his feet kicked up over the edge of the loveseat in their living room. his arms rested behind his head.
dream tore the price tag off of the basket and pushed it into position on the tv stand. he turned guiltily, like he had been caught. “i got it to keep our tv remotes in. it’ll make it easier to keep up with them,” dream waved his hands around, “you’re always losing them.”
“is this another one of those weird george things?”
“what?! what weird george things?”
“you’ve practically taped off a section of the fridge where i’m not allowed to put anything. are you waiting for like the world’s biggest cake to put in there?”
dream frowned, “it’s for his water.”
“we have water.”
“yeah-” dream sputtered, “whatever. you’ll see. the point is he needs room.”
sapnap grinned and shook his head, “you’re crazy bro. i’ll make him buy his own fridge.”
The knowledge had warmed George’s heart.
he’s trying.
And then Sapnap went to sleep and George was left alone again. Alone with the empty walls and the crickets outside his window. And another day passed. And another. And suddenly George was about to ship his life away in just a matter of hours.
The room pulses. The crickets are up with him again, along with the few scattered strangers who walk down the London streets below him. The blinds to the window stay open, but there’s no way for George to see anything through it from where he sits on his bed.
in, out
breathe
“Fuck,” George whispers and grabs for his phone.
george
Are you awake?
dream
why are you awake
george
You know why
dream
tell me anyway
george
I’m nervous about tomorrow
And you haven’t slept with me in three fays
Days
dream
slept with you?
george
I hate you. Call me.
His phone buzzes immediately in his hand.
“You’re an idiot,” George greets. He lays back flat against the bed, his chest feeling suddenly all too tight. in a new type of nervousness.
Dream clears his throat. He sounds distant to the mic despite just picking up the phone and he takes a few long moments to answer. “You’re the one who said you wanna sleep with me.”
George touches the collar of his shirt, “Dream.” keep going.
“ George. Maybe I want that,” his voice is nonchalant. It eats up George from the inside out. Dream’s tone alone pulls at the threads of his belly and brings warmth to his cheeks, “You’d sleep better if we were together.”
George grabs a pillow and holds it over his face. what ever happened to actual phone conversations? what happened to hello and yes and how was your day? The butterflies grow inside his chest, hiking up into his lungs to stop his breathing. “I think everything will be better when we’re together. It still feels hard even when I know I’m going to be there soon.”
soon
As much as the fans joke about it, soon may scar him more than it ever could them. Soon was the word used whenever nothing else seemed to fit. Surely, you would never hope for something to be far away or even try to speak that into the universe. So when people asked questions all that was said was soon . George hated saying it, but he grew accustomed to it.
Florida was soon.
Sapnap was soon.
Dream was soon.
The final breath of relief after years of anticipation was soon.
And there was nothing else they could say when nothing was concrete. When plans kept falling through and dates got pushed back and the reality of his future living situation wasn’t real.
“I know,” Dream’s voice is quiet, “It’s been really hard.”
They sit in silence. It eats at his insides and George fights the urge to just end the conversation here. too much. His breathing slows to the sound of his fan, his body sinking into the soft mattress. George hopes his bed will be as comfortable as the one here- or maybe Dream’s bed. his will already be worn in anyway, it won’t be so stiff like a fresh bed would be. it just makes sense.
George studies his sheets. His bedding was a moving present from his mum. She bought him quite a few necessities that she knew George wouldn’t think to get, but the most special of them was the pinstripe quilt. It’s soft and reminds George of one he had when he was younger.
“I wanna hug you now,” Dream’s voice breaks into the silence, carefully. George knows from his tone that’s what he’s been thinking about, he’s been thinking about hugging George in a few, long hours.
George snorts, “No,” he replies simply, “That’s not allowed.”
“Whatever, I’m gonna do it anyway. I know you wanna hug me,” Dream yawns, “And then I’ll kiss you on the cheek.”
He hums back in reply, his cheeks warming again and feeling the blossoming catch in his lungs, “That’s all?”
“I’ll kiss anywhere you want me to.”
He rolls over. The crickets get louder and fill his ears. stop.
“I think we’re tired, Dream.”
And George ends the conversation there and Dream understands.
it’s too much.
“Yeah, we should probably sleep.”
Every string of thought from the conversation are cut and George puts down the knife in regret. don’t turn around. The salt crushes between his fingertips and he cries. His heart aches to piece it back together, to finally finish the words that he can’t break out. All of the unfinished conversations and pretty words that never made their way out build up in his chest. They’re left in the same ebb and flow they’ve tried to escape for years. Dream pulls and George pulls back. Dream tugs harder and George stumbles but he eventually gets back up. They keep going until they’re tired and no one addresses anything.
and it happens again. and it happens again.
and no one says anything and george won’t say it, but neither will dream.
dream won’t just tell him
“I’m so in love with you,” George mutters. His breath falls shallow against his pillow case and the words are definitely loud enough for the phone speaker to pick them up clearly. And there’s not enough time to take it back because he’s already said the words, and he’s already turned around frozen toward his own Sodom and Gomorrah. But he doesn’t want to take the words back, his feet carry him as far as they can take him. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Dream giggles sleepily. George hears his breathing for a long time, but there’s no response. maybe he really won’t say anything at all. His chest tightens and he tries to will himself to sleep faster to cover his heart dropping to his stomach. But then he speaks again, “I know. I love you too, George.”
George opens his eyes and exhales slowly. The room feels bigger now, cooler. George places a hand on his belly to feel the warmth all the way up to his cheeks and he smiles. The gardens of his lungs expand, flowers and pretty things spilling out with every breath.
“Let’s talk about it more tomorrow?”
“Mhm,” George replies. He falls asleep with a grin.
New tweet from @GeorgeNotFound:
George is in Florida
[image: pictured is a photo of dream, george, and sapnap all standing in a line with their arms around each other. they’re all smiling.]
New tweet from @Sapnap:
gogy
[image: pictured is a photo of dream and sapnap holding george. dream is holding the upper half of his body and sapnap is holding his legs]
New tweet from @dreamsecretclub:
go check out everyone’s twitter and instagram posts! wooo face reveal + here is a extra of me and george’s first hug❤️
i love you guys!💙💚🧡
[image: pictured is a screenshot from a video. george and dream are hugging in their doorway with sapnap filming them from the side. dream’s arms are around george’s waist and it’s clearly shown where he’s kissing george on the cheek]
Dream wakes up with a sore back and a smile on his lips. His right arm is properly trapped under a warm body. He leans his chest off the bed, stretching with a groan. “Patches,” he mutters, “move.”
“M’not Patches.”
Dream opens his eyes and turns his head in a moment. George has hair in front of his eyes and a little frown and he looks beautiful with the sun laid out all over him. He’s tucked under the covers like he’s cold- but Dream is burning up. And he’s plopped down perfectly over Dream’s arm that’s slowly falling asleep.
“You’re doing what Patches does.”
“Does that annoy you?” George blinks and rolls over, closer. He brings a careful hand out of his cocoon and presses a thumb to Dream’s bottom lip.
the things that don’t quite make sense have been making a lot of sense these days.
Dream puckers his lips and kisses the thumb, “Just enough.”
just annoying enough to stay here forever.
George arrived on a Tuesday and disrupted the usual Tuesday morning calmness. George came home and he was loud and excited and he was so full of love. and he was so perfect. He fell into the motion and found his place rather quickly.
They first kissed that Thursday in the kitchen.
it was so early in the morning that it was still practically wednesday evening. neither of the boys had slept and george wanted to explore still.
george’s hands were cupped in front of him as he stood. he had already poked and prodded into every individual cabinet door. he took mental notes of every item of importance and everything that piqued his interest.
and he would do the same thing the next day as well.
dream leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of him as he watched his not-boyfriend-yet but love of his life snoop through all of his belongings. “you’re so dumb,” he repeated like a mantra.
words that have come to sound more like i love you.
“george.”
and george had nearly fainted. this game was a lot harder to play in person when dream’s voice was so nice and had such an effect on him.
“dream,” he replied with a slight lift of his voice, “what?”
dream stepped forward. his fingertips ghosted against george’s waist, attracted towards it like a magnet. he was so close, so close. his eyes flickered down and back up to george’s eyes. his innocent eyes, so dark and full of vast emotions. “george,” he whispered again, and this time it was a question; a plea.
george nodded slowly, bringing up his palms to dream’s burning hot cheeks. he would’ve winced if it hadn’t just melted him instead.
and dream kissed his cheek, once again. the boys had only spent the past two days kissing each other’s cheeks, playing gay chicken.
george frowned, “do you remember what you said during our call?”
dream hums and strokes pieces of george’s hair from his forehead, “remind me?”
“something about kissing me.”
“can i?”
“please.”
and their lips met. they kissed and it was easy. and it was so good.
everything else began to fall smoothly into place after that. slow gestures translated into words that could hardly be described. and slowly, less conversations needed to happen. it was like they already knew what should be said.
Dream flushes at the memory and it brings a rising warmth across his whole body. Past Dream didn’t realize how bad of a decision it was to kiss George the first time. Past Dream didn’t realize how it would become the only thing he wanted to do now. kissing george is easy and its so fucking addicting.
George retreats his hand back into his blanket cocoon; he shuffles closer to Dream, releasing his dead arm and allowing Dream to wrap it around his shoulders.
“How did you sleep?” Dream asks. the first time they slept together.
george had approached dream’s door with a blanket slung over his shoulders, wearing only a t-shirt, boxers, and long socks. dream had been waiting for him, every night since george arrived he’d been waiting for him.
the door was left cracked open as an invitation.
george pressed against the door and it revealed dream lying down on his phone still. the phone screen’s dim light lit his facial features and he felt weak in the knees.
the offer to sleep together had been brought up several times over discord while george was in london, before anything between them had even happened yet so surely it would be fine now too. not to mention the amount of times dream mentioned he would be in his room if george needed anything at all.
dream glanced up and tried to hide his smile. he knew before george even said anything, “come in,” he offered. and there were no other conversations needed to justify why george was there. dream just accepted him with open arms by patting the right side of his bed.
“Better,” he answers, and it’s honest. Last night was the best he’s slept, ever. There was nothing to contemplate when it's all here in front of him.
Everything he was worried about have been the easiest changes to navigate so far.
“I’m glad,” Dream replies and presses a quick kiss to his lips. wondering when in the world did george have time to wake up and put his chapstick on already. “Let’s get up and see what Nick is doing.”
“He’s probably still asleep like an idiot, let’s stay in bed.”
Dream had watched the two of them play chess last night.
the overhead light of the dining table was the only light on in the house, apart from the gentle moonlight breaking through the blinds. the light was dim and reflective of the faces below it. a chess board was set up, the pieces scattered mid game with no timer, nor end currently in sight.
sapnap sat on one side of the table, clothed in a pair of shorts and a hoodie with his hair tucked under the hood. he squinted his eyes as they ran over his options. his fingers just barely poked out of his sleeves as he grabbed a piece and moved it across the board. he knocked george’s piece over with a grin, “bitch.”
meeting sapnap in london was a lot different than living with him now. the pressure isn’t so high. sapnap is loud, annoying, crazy, and calls george by his loving pet name, bitch. but living with him allows george to also see how he is patient and careful and gentle when he needs to be. especially with george. he’s protective of george, and it makes him think about sapnap being an older brother. and how amazing these things will go over time.
living with sapnap is different because dream is here too. the dynamics of the trio was finally put into action.
dream sat next to george, his hand on george’s thigh and annoying him during every turn to distract him.
they’ve already had a share of special moments. sapnap woke up the house on friday morning with music on his speakers. george sat at the kitchen island and took sapnap’s phone to choose the music himself. and when dream emerged from his room they all danced in the kitchen. and later, sapnap stayed on call with his mom for thirty minutes to get a fried pickle recipe that he swore up and down george had to try. and everything was finally perfect.
“fuck you,” george replied, he was definitely not winning the game.
George leans forward, kissing him on the nose. Dream reciprocates the act by kissing both of George’s cheeks and then pressing his face into George’s collarbones to get comfortable. George brings his fingers down, tipping underneath the fabric of Dream’s shirt and letting them rest on the warmness of Dream’s bare hips.
“Let’s sleep a little longer.”