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the air in the room is still. painfully so. with every breath george took, it felt as though there was less and less of it, despite the fact that he was perfectly aware of the fact that was entirely nonsensical, and that logically there wasn't going to stop being air at some point. he wasn't suffocating. it was fine.
despite that, the air was still and the room was silent besides the barely there music that whispered from george's phone speaker. he had refrained from playing anything for at least an hour and a half, of course, because he respected dream. however, at around the 1:45 am mark, the silence was deafening and the ringing in his ears was far too loud to bear.
so he’d hit shuffle on one of his spotify playlists, turned his phone down nearly completely, and let that fill the silence. it was nice background noise as he burned through the ebooks saved to his phone, something to preoccupy his mind as george burned precious sleeping hours.
the air in the room continued to be still, despite the music. it wasn’t what george was used to. the floridian heat was so different to what he was accustomed to in the uk- after all, george had checked the weather about 30 minutes prior, bemoaned to himself about the triple digit temperatures for the next week that he hadn’t bothered to check beforehand. which, admittedly, was really fucking stupid of him, seeing as he’d been planning this for months. of course, not to sapnap’s knowledge- it was his birthday tomorrow, and george had ensured his arrival after he had gone to bed.
unfortunately, due to the fact it was supposed to be a surprise, dream had put off making any official space for george, which left him on an air mattress that was steadily losing air as the night progressed, on the opposite side of dream’s room with him.
dream’s room, with still air and deafening silence. it wasn’t unpleasant, of course, but george missed his room, despite himself. it was colder there, in the uk, so george could sleep with his comforter comfortably even during the summer months. his fan was always going, providing not just a soothing, constant airflow that gently ruffled the strands of his hair while he drifted off, but also a steady white noise that lulled george to sleep even on the longest nights.
dream’s room had none of that. and while he was delighted to be there, george hadn’t adjusted to american time. hadn't adjusted to the reality of it all, of being here, after waiting for so long. he was exhausted from the plane trip, from the jet lag, yes, but even still george couldn’t sleep.
he had no one to blame for that, in the still silence of dream’s room, but himself. it was nearing three in the morning. they had to be up early. sapnap’s party was early.
george still couldn’t sleep. he was still so restless. he listened to the small air conditioner in the corner of dream’s room kick on again, the sound near thundering compared to the gentle lull of his music and the constant silence of the room. the thing came to life every 15 minutes exactly, george had been counting, and it stayed on for about one solid minute.
he was going insane. despite himself, george wanted nothing but to move, to be with his friends. they’d waited so long for this and they now had to wait even longer. which, in reality wasn't long, but they were asleep and the waiting felt like an eternity to george.
how had dream fallen asleep at nearly 12:15 on the dot? how was he not thrumming with that excitable, restless energy george knew him for? george couldn’t understand it in the slightest. he was exhausted, honest to god. george wanted to sleep.
but the air mattress was sinking, the room was silent, the air was warm, and everything felt so unfamiliar in his thoughts. george felt a sudden wave of homesickness wash over him, despite his joy, because he missed home. he didn’t have time to even think about it, caught up with the excitement of buying the ticket, making the arrangements, the plane ride distracting and exciting. caught up in the deep-reaching finality of being swept up into dream’s arms, suitcase forgotten at his feet.
and yet he missed it. missed his room, his apartment, his bed. he wouldn’t trade where he was for the world, shoddy air mattress be damned, but he missed it.
so caught up in his thoughts, though, george nearly missed the soft, sleep-thick croak of, “george?” from less than two meters away from him. he sat up, to be met with the sight of dream also partially upright, propped up with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other blearily.
george could feel shame creeping up his neck, choking his throat, as he grinned sheepishly.
“sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”
dream only laughed, the sound scratchy in a way that made george’s chest flutter, a way that was so specific to just everything dream. he laughed lightly in return, a light, breathy noise, just as wracked with jittery nerves as the rest of him.
“c’mere,” dream muttered, extending his arm towards george, illuminated gently by the soft moonlight peeking through curtains, all soft edges and deep shadows, the sight just feeling sleepy. domestic. he was so beautiful, george realized, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. “ george . c’mere.”
dream’s voice, while laced with roughness specific to someone who was still half-asleep, left no room for argument. not that george wanted to argue in the first place, or really planned to.
“okay,” george whispered, rising to his feet and leaving the air mattress behind. the small, pleased smile that pulled at the corner of dream’s lips was more than enough confirmation that this was alright, that this was okay, as george slipped under the covers beside dream.
and, like all things, it wasn’t perfect. the floridian heat was relentless, even in the still of the room, and their combined body heat even under the thin blanket was unnecessary, bordering on unbearable. but dream seemed pleased, and his smile almost made it worth it.
george could bear it for one night.
especially when dream extended his arm once again, curling around george and pulling him closer, engulfing him in dream, george smiled and let his eyes fall shut. this was good , he decided, tucked away in a safe little world all of his own wishes.
the air wasn’t as still with dream’s deep exhales brushing the top of his head, ruffling through his hair, and the room wasn’t as silent with the white noise of dream’s heart beating below the skin pressed against george’s ear. as george finally, finally drifted off into sleep, a final thought drifted lazily to his mind, curled happy and content as a cat.
yeah.
this was good.