Archive of Our Own

Hell, what was George doing out here in the dead of night?

Being out in the daunting wilderness at this hour was not the best idea.

Not only that, but his arms had been rowing consistently for the last two hours or so and were experiencing the scalding burn of soreness. Sapnap beside him is having the time of his life and peeking out from the boat and into the depths of the pond.

Unruly, slick kelp tangles the wooden paddles George desperately grips onto, and the currently muggy Texas climate makes his skin feel grossly sticky. Sapnap had also been given a pair of paddles by the old man that inhabited a shack by the pond. Neither he nor Sapnap owned a boat, so renting a boat had been their only option for what they had planned.

Sapnap had been using the wooden paddles to poke underneath the murky water of the pond in hopes something would pull on it.

In fact, the only reason they were out here was because of some silly rumour the neighbourhood kids had written up. The parents had just nodded along to whatever wild stories the rambunctious kids these days made up. Like a swamp monster. So, why hadn’t George and Sapnap ignored them too?? They’d been too busy unpacking their bags and getting cozy in their parents’ homes once again.

Their first college semester has finished, setting them free mid July, letting George believe that he could finally coax himself into a state of relaxation. Yet he was out here in a boat that creaked with every movement they made. Their flimsy little lantern flicked far too often for comfort.

Sapnap wasn’t in the least bit disappointed by their situation. He appeared mystified at the prospect of catching a glimpse of the elusive ‘pond man’.

Rumor has it that there was a man with a fishtail residing within the waters of the town’s local pond. The kids had reported seeing it live in front of their eyes, but George had his suspicions to doubt such claims. The kids had bedtimes, so what on earth were they doing up around one in the morning?

Regardless, Sapnap and he had spent the first days back from college talking with the kids at the local playground. They’d asked a girl with red hair and pigtails what hours she’d seen such events take place.

She’d rocked upon her rocking horse before answering clearly;“1 am.” She’d shrugged, “my dad’s seen it too.”

The last time a fantastical rumour had run rampant had involved the sightings of a unicorn down by the farm out of town. In reality, it had ended up being a horse with a traffic cone crudely tied on its head with lace and a bow at the bottom of its chin. Some nasty high school students had been responsible for the incident. Thankfully the farmer had caught them the other night when they’d tried to shear a profanity onto their prized lamb. It had resulted in them being banned from his annual petting zoo.

He’s rattled out of recalling his memories by Sapnap shouting: “George!”

He almost lets the paddles slip from his grip when a loud thump lands between them. There, at the bottom of their boat, is a fish. It’s muddy and wiggling wildly inside their boat.

George resists the urge to shove it away from him when it beats against his foot. Out of precaution he swipes the lamp away from the floor and onto the wooden stool where he sits. He’d rather not spend his last minutes ablaze due to a fish. He glances back at Sapnap when the initial shock fades.

He notices how Sapnap keeps his gaze glued onto the water next to them, scrunching his eyes as if in thought.

“What a stupid fish, right?” George jokes, it’s still flopping around. He’s beginning to feel guilty watching it writhe. He reaches down to pick it up with a grunt. It’s heavier than he expected to be and he nearly topples forwards.

He shudders at how slippery it is before chucking it back out into the water.

“Didn't you see that?” Sapnap asks, incredulous eyes wide as he waits for George to answer.

“See what?”

“The fish was literally lugged onto the boat!”

Inappropriately, George bursts into laughter at Sapnap’s idiocy. Breathy giggles quiet the choir of crickets.

He wipes the fish mucus onto the bottom of the wooden boat, careful to avoid splinters from the old thing. He sure as hell isn’t going to wipe it onto his trousers. He’s led to reconsider when he’s spooked by a group of spiders huddled up under Sapnap’s bench.

“I doubt that, it probably just hopped onto the boat. Maybe even a bird of prey dropped it by accident.” He shrugs.

“Ugh, George, you weren’t even looking over here! I know what I saw!”

“Sapnap, it’s alright. It’s late, probably almost three. We should just head back.” He suggests, although he sincerely doubts Sapnap would take his advice. This afternoon, Sapnap had offered him three Monster energy drinks, and who knows how many he's had.

“Three for two dollars.” He had said, as if that would explain things.

While it may have been a steal, it certainly couldn’t have been worth pulling an all nighter. Sapnap hadn’t even liked Monster. That was, until he’d met his boyfriend. Karl (assuming that’s Sapnap’s boyfriend lol? idk) would advertise every flavour under the sun when asked about Monster.

With all that caffeine, it was amazing that they slept this evening.

“It might be late for you, but not for me. I’m wide awake. You’re the one over here pretending I’m having some daydream fiasco or something.” Sapnap said, half arguing, half joking.

George rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because what you said doesn’t make sense—“.

They both flinch this time when three, heavier thumps! rock their boat. Christ, it was more fish.. Two large, brown fish with whiskers along with a darkly green one are now swishing around their legs. George considers retracting his statement.

“See, look! Would a bird do that?” Sapnap huffs, pointing at the fish that are now beginning to flail against the insides of their boat.

“Well, no," George admits, "but my dreams would certainly manage to come up with something like this. Now, help me get them in the water before they dry up and die.”

“Oh my fucking—,” Sapnap trails off when a batch of cattails come flying at George.

They’re tied into a bundle by kelp with a bow placed in the centre. Somehow, they don’t actually end up smacking him in the face.

“What the fuck.” George exhales. He picks up the bundle of cattails, inspecting them before ultimately setting them off to the side. He’ll take them home. They seem harmless enough, plus his mom might enjoy some organic decor around the house.

“Nice dream you’re having, George.” Sapnap says, eyeing the cattails beside George, “perhaps the fish man likes you.”

He merely raises a brow at him, laughing dryly before retrieving his paddles that lay on the floor of the boat. He hadn’t even noticed he’d set them down. “Haha, funny, Sapnap, but there’s nothing. We’re just drunk off the night by now.”

He doesn’t appreciate how his hands stick to the paddles. It must have been because of the sticky fish he’d grabbed without gloves. Hell, his face itself feels sticky. Although barely there, the pond’s humidity makes him uncomfortable.

“Who knows George, maybe you're not actually dreaming.” Sapnap continues. He finally picks up his own paddles, ready to row back onto land.

“We’ll just have to see, then.”

The inside of the boat is a bit of a mess, George hopes the twenty dollar fee will cover the price of cleaning it.

Perhaps the old man would have some mercy to let them off the hook. After all, they were still college kids. It was to be expected that they’d get into trouble. Even the old boathand had eyed them suspiciously, as if he expected them to be sneaking booze aboard.

Either way, the man had taken their explanation of finding out if a rumour was true lightheartedly. The boathand had recalled the many children that had come by the pond recently with their parents in tow.

One could only imagine that his business was booming, if the way he’d offered Sapnap and George his most recent import of sleek wooden paddles with a prideful nod meant anything.

It’s too dark out for either of them to see a head rise from depths of the water, hair soaking wet, lily pad covering the top of its head. They’re smiling as they watch George and Sapnap row off to the shore. They’re intent on watching how George fixes the bouquet of cattails beside him.

Meanwhile, Sapnap and George manage to check out at the old shack. The old man says nothing when they hand over their paddles to him.

Sapnap’s house is the closest to them, and George honestly just wants to leave this dream behind him. Unfortunately for him, however, he’s unable to sleep that night. The warm blankets that he’s offered by Sapnap’s mom do nothing to help. It’s not even Sapnap’s snores that are keeping him up this time around. Although Sapnap had been the one to drink three cans of Monster, he had no trouble falling asleep.

-

It’s about a week later when they’re out by the pond again. George is wondering why they don’t just call it a lake. It’s fucking enormous.

It’s a bit eerie being in the woods. It may not be night, but the shadows cast by the spruce and oaks could confuse anybody into thinking that it is twilight.

As of now, they’re in a manmade clearing.The stumps left behind by the previous trees aren't a lovely sight. Beetles of all sorts crawl over the stumps, chewing holes into them and turning them into replicas of Swiss cheese to live in. He tries to ignore the batch of poisonous mushrooms that wedge themselves between the earth and log. They’re much further off from them, anyway.

Sapnap and him are only here for the barbecue pit with a permanently blackened grill. Subsequent use surprisingly hasn’t worn it down a bit.

There’s still some charcoal beneath it that glows with a warm orange. Someone else had been here recently. Together they walk to a wooden bench in the area. George sits at the bench while Sapnap takes out a cutting board and an onion.

Spiders and cobwebs invade the area under the flat top of the table. George pretends he doesn’t see them. He observes as Sapnap places a cutting board onto the table. Sapnap chops an onion in half before poking it with the grilling fork. George grins when he hears Sapnap sniffle from the stench of onion.

“Aw, don’t be too sad Sapnap. We can get another onion soon.” He teases, and Sapnap scoffs at him.

He walks over to the grill once again, and starts to rub the onion against the grill whilst whistling.

“Shut up George. How about you go get some firewood and dry grass so I can actually light this shit up.” Sapnap orders not even bothering to turn to him.

Breathing out a light laugh, George affirms Sapnap's request and stands. He makes his way over to the trail once again. The only reason they’re out here is so Sapnap could impress him with his so-called ‘Texan Barbecue’.

George hadn’t even meant to burn the steak back at home. The lack of seasoning had made him feel as concerned as Sapnap had been for himself. The meat had just been too distasteful to feel under his fingertips, especially after having had the feeling of wet fish in his grip the other night.

Which, yeah, was a terrible excuse to not season his food.

At least what happened at the pond last week hadn’t all been in their imagination. Upon waking up at Sapnap’s house George had still found the cattails resting against the wall.

Speaking of the pond, he ends up right by it when he finishes his walk. He’s now face to face with tall cattails that dance with the wind. Without much thought he jumps to grab at one. After hearing it snap from its straw like stem, he decides that they’re dry enough.

So far he hadn’t seen any dry leaves or grass by the area. Then again, he’d probably missed a majority of them from being lost in thought.

Humming, he squishes the cattail between his fingers. He eyes the other cattails that are near him, and does the same thing he had done with the first one. The rest are a hassle to pluck off their twig-like stems, but he persists in his twisting and tugging.His palms turn red and hot from the constant friction against them. Still, he manages to have three cattails in his hold by the end of it. They’re dried up and threatening to burst into puffs of seeds. Some of the seeds have already settled onto his shirt.

In spite of his small achievement he knows he can’t just bring back some dry cattails. He should at least try and scavenge for a couple of twigs or branches to bring back, that way he may just be spared from Sapnap calling him lazy or some other dumb shit like that.

A reflective glint from within the water disrupts his attention.

The glint turns out to be multiple specks of glittering objects. The sun isn’t peeking through the thick foliage, so it’s an odd enough sight that warrants him to gently set aside his cattails.

“Now what am I getting myself into?” He scolds himself as he crouches down. He peers at the glittering objects in the water. They appear to form a trail. He follows the trail with his eyes until they land on a large lotus, at least as large as his hand.

What piques his interest isn’t the lotus, though. Instead, it’s what appears to be a pouch in the center of the lotus.

Not bothering to stand, he makes a poor attempt at waddling over to it. He can practically hear Sapnap’s teasing laughter at his antics. Either way, he gets there and that’s all that matters to him. Delicately, he places one hand on either side of the flower before lightly tugging it towards himself. He feels relieved when he doesn’t hear any roots tear.

Inside the rows of petals there is a makeshift pouch crafted from a fishing line. There’s a peculiar little blue fishing lure sealing the pouch.

The trees around him are the sole witnesses when he picks up the pouch. The pouch releases a faint clamor from the shaky grip he has on it.

George admires the various threads of fishing wire that make up the small pouch. The contents inside the pouch fascinate him. Ctenoid scales are piled up within it, winking back at him in a rich shade of green. Curious, he weakly shakes the pouch. He smiles at the soft jingles it makes.

Sapnap’s voice calling for him through the trees causes him to recoil. He stumbles to stand, frantically shoving the pouch within one of his pockets.

Frenzied, he collects the cattails he had left on the grass, then scurries over to the closest oak. He plucks any astray branches or twigs he can find. He collects as many as his hands and arms allow him.

“I’m coming!” He shouts back, adjusting the branches in his hold.

He sprints off in the direction he heard Sapnap from. By the time he gets back to the camping grounds he’s exhausted. However, he’s not exhausted enough to miss out on what Sapnap is wearing.

“Sapnap, what the fuck are you wearing?” He huffs out, in awe.

“My cooking attire.” Sapnap responds. He flattens out his rosy apron that’s inscripted with, ‘The Best Cook’ in bright yellow letters.

George gags at the apron.

“Alright then Gogy, what did you get?” Sapnap asks, rubbing his hands in anticipation. When he sees what George is holding the expression on his face plummets.

“What?” George raises his brow. He’d gotten stuff to burn, so what was the issue?

“George, when I said get firewood and dry grass… I meant to get wood and dry grass.”

“Well, I did get wood, see?” He jostles the twigs in his arms. “So, I don’t see the issue.”

“Okay, never mind. This could probably work.” Sapnap eyes the cattails and twigs. “Yeah, okay. Maybe the cattails could start a fire. If they’re dry enough, that is.”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Can I put this stuff down now?”

“Lazy ass.”

George rolls his eyes. “Shut up, all you did was probably just stand there like a moron.”

“Actually, I’ve already seasoned the meat. It’s over there. Now, go keep an eye on them before some greedy little flies come and rub their hands on them.” As Sapnap finishes he grabs everything George is carrying and saunters back over to the grill.

George does watch over the meat, aggressively swatting at flies whenever they even dare approach. His efforts for gathering flammable material are rewarding after all. At least he gets food to eat. On the downside, now he has to concede defeat to Sapnap.

“You’re a better cook.” He grounds out.

“Oh, really? Why, thank you, that means so much coming from you!” Sapnap grins. His smile is smug as he serves himself another seared sausage.

The day goes on after that. Sapnap and George feed the leftovers of their cook-out to some stray dogs by a corner store. They chow down ravenously.

Even after George tucks aside the pouch into his bedside drawer, he thinks of the peculiar scales for the rest of the day.

It’s dusk and the sun inches closer and closer to the other side of the Earth. George should be home by now, or at least at Sapnap’s, joking around at the expense of one another as they prepare to spend the night together.

Instead, George is at the pond. He has to have gone crazy. He isn’t even carrying his phone with him, a sure sign he was looking to get dragged into the woods. He wasn’t trying to get abducted. There wouldn’t even be a point if he did have his cellphone; the signal was absolute shit due to the trees’ thick foliage.

It was the perfect situation for a crime to occur. George’s only hope was that nobody else would be out.

Truthfully, he probably should have gotten Sapnap to accompany him. Alas, he had not. Regardless, Sapnap had his family’s movie night tonight, something that George had only found out when Sapnap had offered him an invitation to come over and watch classic films.

Instead he’d declined by saying he had to help his own family prepare dinner for tonight.

Sapnap had either shrugged off the fact that he couldn’t cook or had genuinely just forgotten. Whichever it was, it had worked, leaving George to feel guilty about his lie.

Now, George is out being irrational, his curiosity about the pouch getting the best of him. He'd searched the web for any events concerning the pond’s history, but had been unable to find anything about the pond or his small town. Unwilling to admit defeat, he had dragged Sapnap to their local, ancient library. A deep dive into their town’s history had shown that it wasn’t the most popular of locations. One author in particular had written a biography of their town history, including a variety of ridiculous myths. Myths including a tree that supposedly was home to the devil, which had turned out to be an owl, or one that claims the pond almost ran dry due to a lack of seasonal rain had been the work of a curse. George thought that the author must’ve been absolutely batshit insane. It had gotten to the point where George had made the joke to Sapnap that their town name, Bullmar, must’ve originated from the bullshit that the founders came up with.

The only actual good result that had popped up in his research had been a book titled Bullmar’s Tales. As uncreative as it was, the table of contents had given him hope in finding what he was looking for.

George had boredly thumbed through chapter after chapter, only stopping once he had found a chapter about town-wide fishing competitions. The book claimed that the competition was a catching competition across the span of five hours. The winner would be determined by whoever caught the most fish. Simple enough. George didn’t think the number could surpass three, even with his limited fishing knowledge.

However, reading further proved him wrong. Competitors that day had caught fish after fish in twenty minute intervals. The judges had apparently deemed it a little too fishy. George had rolled his eyes at the pun. Allegedly by the third hour, fish were spilling out of the competitors’ buckets. When the overseers had examined each competitor’s rods, baits, and tackles, however, they had found nothing out of the ordinary.

Their second theory was about the pond itself. They came to the hypothesis that the pond was responsible for the unnatural amount of fish. The judges decided to cast their own net into the waters beneath the dock. When they pulled their net back, they realized they caught much more than fish.

They had pulled out a person. A person with fins instead of legs.

Admittedly, George skimmed the rest of the chapter. It had him shaking his head thoroughly in disbelief. Apparently it wasn’t the first time there were rumors about the pond.

The stench of stagnant pond water brings George back in the moment. He stands at the current site of the fishing competition, dock having long since rotted away. The only indication that there had been a dock were tall, wooden poles.

The lotus growing along the shoreline provided a thick covering over the water. George almost didn’t believe there was actually water beneath the thicket. Walls of cattails border the pond, itching at his shins when he passes by.

Right, he's not here for the scenery. Even if it is pretty during the daytime.

Now that he’s actually standing here, though… He doesn’t know what to do.

He had been looking for answers to explain the fish incident and the sack of scales that he’d found, but now he’s starting to realize he didn’t actually know how coming here would help him in any way at all.

He sighs in resignation. “Yeah. This was stupid.”

He jumps when a lotus is abruptly pulled underwater, then another and another. With belated horror he realises it’s creating a trail leading directly to him. Terrified, he tries to run.

“Fuck!” He turns, and that’s about the only thing he’s able to do before the smooth mud under him causes him to slip backwards. George wouldn’t have minded getting soaked if it weren’t for the fact that there was something in the water. Frantically, he flails his arms around in a hope to grasp at anything to possibly help him avoid getting dunked into the water.

His hand grips onto something. As it slides through his fingers it burns; he’d caught onto the slender edged leaves of a cattail, there’s not much he can do now.

Despite his alarm, he hears the water splash behind him in sharp waves. Arms wrap around his waist firmly but they only serve to pull him down faster.

He chokes out a cough from the brute force of landing flat against something hard. The arms around him are tightening around his waist. There’s someone, or rather something, behind him.

A warm breath falls against the shell of his ear. Their voice sounds panicked when they speak:

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

George refrains from answering. Struggling, he attempts to turn his head to see who the voice belongs to. He tenses when the arms around his stomach pull him closer.

“Um, yeah.” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

He dares peek down at the arms around him.

The arms are definitely human, but at the joints there’s a noticeable shift in the blushed pink color of their skin. Scales, green and glimmering, ornate the back of his hands as well as wrists. Where human nails are expected to be are covered by sharpened, dark nails.

Just the perfect length to gut him.

George jerks at the unexpected touch of skin against his own. Another warm puff of air tickles his skin. The man’s face feels simultaneously soft and rough. He radiates a comforting heat.

“Fuck, that’s good to hear. You could’ve hurt yourself with the sharp sticks underwater.”

His voice is carefree now, warm and sunny despite the way he’s most definitely scolding him.

“What are you?” George asks, stomach churning as he continues to eye those nails.

Instead of getting an answer he’s released. He takes this chance to messily paddle his way over to the edge of the pond. He’s desperately hoping that the man behind him won’t unexpectedly lunge at him. With shaky hands, he crawls his way out of the pond, his waterlogged clothes making the task increasingly difficult. He breathes out heavily when he’s finally able to sit on the ground again. He decides on scooting back. He’d rather not get clawed at or chewed up by the “man”.

Now that George is looking at him clearly, the man in front of him doesn’t appear threatening. However, he had literally been holding him, feeling him as a way to see whether he’d be enough to fill him for the night. Much like a snake sizes up its prey.

The mere thought of it causes George to feel squeamish. His body stiffens as the man swims towards him. His webbed hands allow him to swipe against the water with ease. He stops when he’s near the edge of the pond. George shrinks back as the man ogles him unblinkingly.

He’s examining him up and down, eyeing his food. George anticipates the moment he’ll dart his forked tongue out to swab at his lips.

“I am a man.” The man says.

“No shit, what type of man? Because you sure as hell aren’t human!”

The man’s hairline is speckled in tiny green scales, and his ears are webbed! He has freckles that are also smattered on the bridge of his nose along with soaked, sandy long hair that reaches just barely below his shoulders.

“I know. I’m not a human.” He answers.

George hears the water shift. He makes sure his jaw is closed when he witnesses a fishtail arise from behind the man. Green scales cover the entirety of the man’s tail. Abruptly, the man flicks his tail at George. He sputters when drops of water land hit his face.

“What the fuck.”

The man in the water lets out a hard wheeze at George’s reaction. George’s attention is completely absorbed by this man, from the way his eyes are scrunching up to smile to how he tries his best to ignore the pointed canines that peek out from the man’s smile. Right, he’s a man with a fish tail. A merman?

“So, are you a merman?”

“Is that what you would call me?” He asks instead of answering.

“Are you going to drown me and then eat me?” George blurts out.

The man grimances at his words, his eyes cast downward; “Why would I do that?”

He’s staring back at George, his eyes look teary and shimmering. Puppy eyes… he’s got a creature of the pond giving him puppy eyes.

“I mean isn’t that what you eat? Other than fish, of course.”

The man in front of him doesn’t do anything for what feels like a while. Then, abruptly, he eyes the nearest lotus. He extends his arm out and grips the flower, tugging at it. Mud from where the stem is torn clouds the area around the man, and George watches as he stuffs the pastel bud into his mouth.

It’s as good an answer as any.

He sighs as he waits for the merman to finish eating. Involuntarily, George shivers at the crunching sounds. They make him think about how his bones would sound being crunched under the merman’s jaw.

He doesn’t eat people; you know that now! He scolds himself mentally.

He even goes out of his way to tear out another flower for George but he declines the offer. He’s not up to the task of eating a flower that’s probably tainted in who knows what bacteria and insects.

“So, you’re an omnivore?” Seriously George? What is this? Your middle school biology class report or some shit?

The man swallows whatever is left of the plant in his mouth and cocks his head to the side, “Omnivore?”

“Okay, yeah, never mind. Um, do you have a name?” He tries instead.

The man in front of him perks up at the question, almost like he had been waiting for George to ask.

Confidently he answers: “Dream! My name is Dream.”

“Well then, Dream. I shall be heading off.” George announces. He makes an effort to stand but almost trips from the wobble in his legs.

“Wait, please don’t go!” Dream calls out with a shaky voice. “What’s your name? I told you mine, but I don’t know yours!”

George exhales. He turns back around, contemplating Dream. He eyes the stray petal that sticks onto Dream’s cheek and how he’d gotten closer to the edge of the pond.

“My name’s George.”

The sound of his name seems to brighten Dream’s mood, his cheeks turning a rosy colour as he repeats George’s name under his breath. “George, George… Then, will you come again tomorrow, George?”

George is subconsciously nodding his head before he even thinks about what he’s just been asked.

“Really? Thank you, George!” Dream beams. He jubilantly dives underwater and comes out sopping wet once more. There’s a big, toothy grin on his face. George tries not to shiver at his sharp teeth, especially at the long canines.

Despite his sharp smile, George returns it with a small, hesitant smile of his own. If Dream notices, then he doesn’t react.

He steps back when Dream encroaches closer to the edge of the pond. He watches as Dream tactfully approaches one of the many lotuses in the pond. He snags a lotus, sharp and fast, like he’d done before. Instead of munching on it he offers it to George. George, who still doesn’t want to eat raw plants from the town’s old pond of pollution.

“Dream, I said I don’t—“

“No, it’s just so you can have it. Right? You humans like to carry dead flowers, I’ve seen you all do it. Surely you know your own tradition.” Dream explains. He’s not too stunned that Dream knows about bouquets. He’d seen people go on dates near this funky pond, arms full of dazzling flowers and mouths salivating with food.

George is aghast at his lack of hesitation when he takes the flower from Dream. The lotus drips muddy, brown water onto his hands in fat trickles. He’s still soaked, so he supposes a little more water wouldn’t hurt.

He’d accepted a flower from a possible mutation of the town’s local fish.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

He knows Dream hears him, because soon after he hears a splash. Just like that, Dream’s gone.

George refrains from mentioning his encounter with the merman to Sapnap.

The large lotus that Dream had gifted him was now his room, sat by the dried up cattails in a tin bucket filled with water. He has a little gardening area in the corner of his room now. Great.

It was great, really — it made his room a bit more vibrant. But, he was lying to himself. The truth is that George hadn’t doted on the added vegetation to his room. He especially hadn’t been able to dwell on it after Sapnap had invited him to spend his early afternoon at a niche little coffee shop — The Honeycomb.

The Honeycomb was squeezed between a tailor and barber shop. The drinks had been savory, much to George’s delight. What he hadn’t indulged himself in was the bitter aftertaste of caffeine that coated his tongue.

While there, Sapnap had taken the opportunity to announce the arrival of his boyfriend Karl, who would be joining Sapnap in his abode from the weekend until college restarted. He still recalls Sapnap meeting Karl during their philosophy class. Why they had even taken philosophy was something unbeknownst to George, honestly.

The best part about Sapnap having a boyfriend is that George can tease him relentlessly about Karl’s name being enough to fluster Sapnap. George spent the latter half of their time together listening to Sapnap endlessly dote on his boyfriend.

It sounds terrible in retrospect, but that just means that he’s able to tease him more when Karl does arrive.

After their lovely cafe date, George finds himself back at the rotting dock. Cautiously, he checks for any nosey passerbys.

Once he’s assured the area is empty he approaches the edge of the pond and looks out over the water. His little incident from the night prior had caused the tight cluster of lotus to scatter above the pond like sprinkles. The minor scratch from the cattail upon his thumb had begun to weave itself anew.

Taking a deep breath in helps him process how utterly ludicrous this is. He’s about to yell a noun over a pond. He squeezes his hands into fists, shuts his eyes and opens his mouth to yell:

“Dream!”

George stands still for a few seconds.

No response.

Even the birds have fallen silent.

Clearing his throat, he inspects the area once again and repeats Dream’s name much quieter.

Shit, he feels like an idiot. What if he had imagined the whole thing in his head?

Splash!

Just like that, there’s Dream emerging from the water. A lilypad sits on his head like a silly hat. It covers the top half of his face along with that messy mane of his.

Breathlessly, George laughs at the sight.

Dream looks confused, until he grasps at the lily pad.

“George!” Dream swipes the lily pad off his head before scampering over to George.

“Dream!”

“You actually came back!” Dream grins. He’s as close as he can be to the edge of the pond.

“Well, yeah, I had nothing else to do.” George shrugs.

Carelessly, he flops his ass down onto the ground. He huffs in annoyance when he feels a stone poke him. Discomforted, he takes the risk of scooting closer to the edge of the pond. Closer to Dream. George grimaces when the moist ground wets the bottom of his pants. He’s about to grumble a complaint about it to Dream, but quiets down when he hears a soft rumble.

He spares a glance up at Dream. Dream struggles to slap a hand over his mouth. George doesn’t ask. The sound sounds content rather than warning. Like a purr rather than a growl.

The noise stops as quickly as it came.

Then, Dream is diving under the water. A fountain of water comes up with him, splashing George. Dramatically, he spits the imaginary pond water out of his mouth and dabs at his face with his shirt, drying off whatever water he can. His efforts are fruitless when Dream reappears, splashing him with more pond water.

“What the fuck!”

“Look, I got you this!”

They say at the same time.

George isn’t able to continue. Something lands on George’s lap with a wet squelch. He jolts. Horrified, he looks down. He’s met with a lapful of muddy crawfish.

Because of course Dream had gone and dropped a heaping pile of crawfish on him! When the crawfish begin to wiggle and crawl around George’s lap, he thinks that his day couldn’t possibly get any better.

Why does this happen to him?

“Dream, what is this?”

“Pinchers.” Dream supplies with a broad smile. He approaches George and plucks one out of his lap, “You eat them!”

George turns his gaze away when he hears the cracks and snaps of Dream biting into one, raw and with the shell still on. As if he’s demonstrating how to eat them.

“Thank you.” George responds, unsure what else to say. He’s courteous enough to not slap the crustaceans off his lap and back into the water. “I’ll make sure to cook them tonight, then.” He adds on. In reality he’s going to go dump them on the other side of the pond when Dream isn’t looking.

“Cook? So, you’re not eating them now?”

“Yes, Dream. Humans can’t eat raw food. Unless they’re looking for a trip to the hospital.”

“Humans are weird.”

“Dream, you’ve literally given me a pile of crawfish.”

“Crawfish? Is that what they’re called?”

“Yes. It’s not ‘pinchers’ you nimrod.”

“All that matters is that you liked the ‘crawfish’, then.” Dream says, proud. He’s making sure to use his newfound vocabulary word, much like a small child would. “After all, last time I had given you food you’d gone and tossed it back into the water.”

“Last time?” George asks, “this is the first time you’re giving me food.”

“No it’s not. Don’t you remember when I gave you fish?”

George sits there in stunned silence, trying to connect the dots. Sure enough, his brain puts together the pieces. His and Sapnap’s boat ride. Two college kids in the middle of a pond, trying to work off college stress by looking for a mythical being. Stupidly sitting there based off a tip from a random girl they had met at the park.

Of course, the rain of fish upon their boat had been a bonus.

“You tossed the fish into Sapnap’s and my boat?”

“What’s a Sapnap?”

Sighing, George asks again; “Dream, did you toss fish inside my boat?”

“Yes! And you rejected it!” Dream says accusingly, all pouts and crossed arms.

Dream is acting weird. Or, at least, weirder than usual. While normally he stares at George for an uncomfortably long period of time, today he’s actively avoiding eye contact. Dream’s eyes wander and he fiddles with his hands, thumbing at his claws.

“Dream?” George calls out to him.

“Huh?” Dream blurts with a light jerk of his head.

“You seem off today. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Dream assures, “I’ve just missed you all day.”

George supposes he had come a bit later than the usual time. He hadn’t meant there to be a routinely time but it developed on its own. Around noon every day George would find himself out by the pond to spend time with Dream. He had tried not to be too consistent about it. If he was at the pond too often it’d raise suspicions about his whereabouts with Sapnap and Karl, who is now in the picture.

George and Sapnap had waited for Karl's arrival on Sapnap’s front porch, accompanied by a buzzing overhead light. Sapnap had been tapping his foot so aggressively against the floorboards that George was surprised he didn’t punch a hole in them. Not to mention the constant check-ins where Sapnap demanded George to approve of his outfit and hair. At the sight of Karl’s car pulling into the driveway they had scampered out of their chairs in a frenzy, eager to meet up with their friend.

With a start, he notices he has yet to reply to Dream. Dream stares at him, a habit George has begun to notice more and more. At first it was confusing. Initially, George thought Dream was imagining how he’d taste. But then he came to the conclusion that it was just something for him to look at. Dream would watch in amazement, stars in his eyes, at the most mundane of things. It could be something as simple as swatting at a fly that eluded Dream’s webbed fingers or George tying his shoelaces.

“Human feet don’t exactly look marvelous,” George had argued.

“Are they really that ugly?”

“Dream, that’s weird. I’m not showing you my toes. What the fuck.”

“Sorry.” Dream had mumbled, embarrassed, “is that offensive?”

“I literally just said it’s weird. Not to mention gross.”)

George exhales a laugh at the memory.

Dream, alerted by the noise, perks up. It’s the most he’s done since George had arrived. Which was only contributing to George’s observation of Dream’s odd behaviour. He hadn't dived under the water since George arrived, something that he had made a habit of. For once, George was seeing Dream’s hair dry. It wasn’t a sight to behold, that’s for sure. It was tangled and George could see evident knotting by the ends of it.

“What’s so funny?” Dream wonders aloud. He cocks his head to the side, expecting an answer from George.

“Nothing. I was just remembering when you were asking to see my feet. Which is still gross, by the way.” He reminds him.

“I was just curious, I didn’t know it was gross.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” George hums. Dream’s eyes widen at the statement as he stutters to respond. George clarifies; “it’s a joke. I know you didn’t know.”

“O—okay. I just don’t want you to think I’m some creep.”

“Who says I don’t think you are one?”

Dream whines at George’s words, panicked; “Am I really?! I’m sorry.”

George cackles at Dream’s reaction, “I’m still joking Dream. Do you know what a joke is?”

“Yes, but I just want to be sure.” Dream’s cheeks are pink as he looks down at the water.

George inspects him. “Come here,” he gestures with his hand.

He swims over to George. George analyzes the webbed green fins on the sides of Dream’s head. They perk up a bit before drooping once again. Dream’s fins would do that often, conveying how he felt. George had never bothered to mention it to Dream. He knew that Dream understood his own mer anatomy better than himself.

At least George thought he did. But then again, Dream had referred to his nails as ‘scratchers’ before.

“Yes?”

Leaning forward, George is face to face with Dream. He’s as close as he can be without falling into the water this time. The freckles spritzed on Dream’s face are clearer to him up close.

“What’s wrong, Dream?” He asks again. George gives Dream what he hopes is a stern look.

It must work because Dream immediately darts his eyes away before answering. “Nothing! I told you, I just missed you.”

“But I’m here now? So, what is it?”

Audacious, George slides his hand forward. Dream follows the movement with his eyes, twitching when it settles on the side of his left temple.

He hums as nonchalantly as possible, trying to be inconspicuous when he brushes back a few strands of Dream’s hair. He can feel Dream’s eyes boring into him, but he ignores it. He continues to brush away a few more loose strands. His hair, despite George’s assumptions, is soft despite its tangled, messy state.

The little scales that Dream has speckled along the borders of his face shine underneath the sunlight. They’re a constant reminder that Dream isn’t human. Not that George is bothered by it. It would only be an issue if Dream decided to eat him for dessert.

“So?” George pesters.

Dream’s face is ruddy. “It’s nothing.”

Slumping, George retracts his hand and huffs. He had overestimated how easygetting the truth would be. Dream obviously was stubborn.

He should’ve known that by now considering how Dream would persistently give him gifts every time he came. Dream not giving him one this visit was already odd. He’d always scurry under the water and come back out with something in his hands, giving it to George with a grin of jubilation.

It wasn’t that George was being materialistic, no. He would’ve been just fine without receiving Dream’s questionable gifts of open scallops and glossy stones. Not that he didn’t enjoy them. He dedicated a small chest in his room specifically for the gifts that Dream gave him.

Casually, George shrugs. “Alright then. I’ll be leaving then. It was fun, Dream.”

Dream clearly didn’t expect him to say that.

“What?” Dream asks, his body stiff.

“I said I’m going home.” George repeats, tone cool and cheerful as he stands to leave. “Bye Dream, I’ll see you soon.” He sings songs.

“George, wait!” Dream exclaims from behind him.

George smiles, preparing to turn back around.

“Dream I’ll be back—“ he’s cut off by the sight of Dream wiggling himself out of the water and onto the ground.

Dream’s already halfway out and he’s begun to claw at the ground in front of him. Evidently, he struggles to move forward with that tail of his.

Well, that had certainly escalated.

“Dream!” George sprints over to where Dream is and crouches down.

Panicked, he pushes Dream's front in an effort to dunk him back into the water, but holy shit is Dream heavy. At the bare minimum it slows Dream’s advances onto land.

“Dream, get back in the water!”

“But George—”

“Dream, go back in the water before I actually leave you here!” George wouldn’t have actually left him earlier, he had just been messing around with him. He especially couldn't leave him now. There was a likelihood he would suffocate out of the water.

“I just want to go with you, I hate having to wait everyday for you. I want to be there.” Dream complains.

So that’s what had been the issue earlier. What an idiot.

“I know, Dream, but please just get your ass back in the water.” George scolds with a weak smile.

Miraculously, Dream listens. He allows George to help him back into the water. Dream’s routine ogling of George isn’t cut short, even as he’s being slid back into the water.

“You sure do love staring at me, don’t you?” George teases.

Dream is quick to turn his gaze away. Despite his muddied face George can see the way he turns a shade darker.

“Cute.” George slips out, squeezing his lips shut when he realizes what he’s said.

Dream on the other hand turns redder

George doesn't ponder on it much. His mind is still buzzing from Dream trying to beach himself. At least he’s back in the water.

“Thank you, George.” Dream murmurs. “That was dumb as hell. I really should’ve just waited, I don’t know why I’m so reckless.”

“You’re right,” George begins. Dream looks up at him attentively. “That was dumb as hell, you idiot.”

Dream’s deflates, his ears drooping.

“George…” Dream whines.

“Dream…” George mimics.

“Will you take me with you someday?” Dream asks again.

Groaning, George nods. “Yes, Dream. I’ll take you with me.”

“George—”

“But, not today. I have to figure something out first.” George interrupts. Dream nods along to his words. “I don’t want to carry seafood by the time I get home.”

“But I’m not food. Or from the sea.”

“Dream!” George playfully flicks him on the forehead, “Just wait for me, okay?”

Huffing, Dream rubs his forehead. “Ow. That hurt.”

“Good, it’ll teach you how to stop being a dumbass.”

“Dream, Dream, come out, come out wherever you are!” George yells, cringing at his wording.

It’s a wonderful time to be out and about. It's pitch black and his phone’s dim flashlight struggles to lead the way.

Behind him, George pulls a battered wagon with water spilling out occasionally. The contraption was simple, but effective and functional. All he had had to do was place a plastic covering on the inside of the wagon to prevent the water from leaking out. His plan had been going smoothly up until he reached this particular trail. The jagged rocks would make the wagon lurch in a worrisome manner.

The trail wasn’t a proper trail, after all. George’s constant visits to the pond had worn down the tall grass, tamping it into a makeshift path. George only noticed it recently, having ran to the pond after a run in with his mother.

“I’m here!” Dream erupts, jumping out of the water with a splash.

“You’re mighty excited for it being this late.” George hums. He releases his hold on the wagon to approach Dream.

“Well it can’t be that late if you’re here, right?” Dream says, puzzled.

“Maybe you’re right.” George says. But it was the only time George was able to transport Dream in Sapnap’s wagon. The wagon’s original purpose of carrying plants had been lost the second he had lent him his wagon.

“Alright then, are you ready?” George asks.

“Ready?” Dream asks back.

Grinning, George teases him. “Yeah. To get out of here. Or, have you changed your mind?”

“But how are you going to get me out?”

“Easy. I’ll just slip you into this wagon and take you.” He moves aside to reveal the wagon, his shitty phone light presenting it like it was an invention being showcased.

Dream’s eyes practically sparkled at the messed up wagon.

“Really?” Dream squeaked, already navigating himself to the edge of the pond.

“Yes. I just have to get you in there, so get ready.” George says.

Nodding zealously, Dream sets his hands out onto the ground in front of him. He starts to drag himself forward, his face scrunched up with vigor. It’s an amusing sight to George, who has to remember to tug the wagon closer to Dream.

He doesn’t know how long Dream can be out the water before he shrivels up into canned fish.

Pressured, he runs behind Dream, gently warning him; “I’m going to lift you up from behind, okay? Try to get in.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dream grunts.

Most of Dream’s body is out of the water by now. Dream’s tail is longer than he had anticipated and it has yet to come out of the pond. Regardless, he firmly believes that everything will work out. George sets himself behind Dream, straddling him before wrapping his arms around his waist. His face heats up at Dream’s firm stomach, but he needs to do something right now.

Huffing he heaves Dream up with his legs.

“Dream, quick get in.” He squeezes out.

Dream squirms in his grip as he grabs the edge of the wagon. In one smooth movement he dives in head first. He wants to laugh when he hears a thump and Dream yelp, but tenses when he hears water splatter out onto the ground.

Skittish, he peeks inside the wagon.

Nearly half the water is gone. Half of Dream’s tail is out the wagon. Still, Dream made it into the wagon. He’s fumbling to settle into a comfortable position.

“Don’t worry, this is only temporary. At least until we get back home.” George assures.

Dream quits his fumbling to glance at George. He delivers him a toothy smile, “Thank you, George.”

George thinks Dream hit himself again when he hears a thumping noise. It turns out to be Dream’s tail, wildly smacking against the wagon.

“You’re so dumb.” George huffs.

With Dream in the wagon George readily returns to gripping the handle of the wagon.

The trip back home is filled with whispers along the neighbourhood road, George periodically checking his neighbours windows. The walk by Sapnap’s house is dreadful as a warm glow tresspases through the window’s curtains.

Dream notices his overly wary behaviour.

“George?” Dream murmurs, “is everything okay?”

“Yes.” George hums. He turns his gaze to Dream and smiles at him. “Just making sure no one is watching.”

“Oh, okay. Are you sure?” Dream prods.

George stops..

“George?”

“We’re here.” George says.

His house is just like the others in the neighborhood, wooden with blue paint and a garage door agape for him to enter.

“Oh!” Dream jumps up, alert. His eyes rake over the house, exuberant. “This is where you sleep?”

Rolling his eyes, George corrects him; “It’s where I live. It’s what humans call home.”

“Right.” Dream chirps.

George pulls the wagon into the garage and through the house without causing a ruckus. His parents are slumbering a few halls away. The bathroom door isn’t so cooperative though, squeaking horrifically when he opens it. Entering the bathroom itself is another struggle. It’s not like he was always sneaking mermen into his bathtub. It’s a tight fit when they’re both inside with barely any room to move around.

“Okay bathtub time.” George announces. Out of caution he dips his hand inside the water to check the temperature. He’d rather avoid cooking seafood tonight.

George turns to look at Dream, who is peering over the wagon with a strained neck and into the tub. “Oh. You have, like, your own little pond here.”

“It’s more like a temporary pond where we clean ourselves.” He replies.

He maneuvers himself around the cramped space to reach Dream, who’s holding out his hands. Clearing his throat he prepares himself for the task of hauling Dream out the wagon. He’s about to tell Dream what to do, but Dream beats him to it by pouncing on him enthusiastically. It almost sends them both onto the floor.

Miraculously, George manages to get his grip on Dream’s waist, his knees bent from the sudden weight. Dream, who’s obviously worried, has his arms wrapped around George’s neck in a vice grip. He can see the news headlines by now: Human gets choked by a man with a fish tail.

“Dream, you dumbass, calm down. We won’t fall.” George says, he squeezes his arms around Dream’s waist, “As usual, you can’t wait.”

“Sorry.” Dream mumbles. He nuzzles his face into George’s neck.

“Are you sure you’re a merman?” George ponders.

He moves around the bathroom to get to the tub. Gracefully, he misses the tripwire that is the wagon’s handle.

“Yes. I have all the characteristics of a fish.” Dream answers.

“Well, you sure don’t act like one.” George confesses. Sluggishly, he leans over the bathtub. To avoid dumping half the water in the tub George releases his grip on Dream carefully.

Dream falls into the tub with a soft ploop.

The water in the tub grows cloudy from the lingering mud on Dream’s body. He’ll have to change it later if possible. Besides, he thinks Dream doesn’t mind it that much. He’d been living in a pond where much more pressing things resided.

“Is there a certain way I should act?” Dream frowns.

There was just something about Dream taking everything literally that never failed to astound him. But how could he blame him? It’s not like he was expected to understand human culture and speech. Anything that Dream had learned up to now had been random blabber from people who came by the pond.

George shakes his head and brushes Dream’s hair back to reassure him. “Of course not. I’m just teasing, I do that a lot. So you better get used to it.”

“You make others feel insecure, then?”

His face pales, his eyes widening at Dream’s bluntness.

“Yes and no. It’s in a friendly way, okay?” He grumbles, twirling Dream’s hair.

“Can I do it too, then?” Dream beams.

“Sure, why not.”

A drumming against the tub starts up, Dream’s tail whipping against the surface.

Dream’s tail up close is glossier. It may be a result of the bathroom lights, or the result of him no longer being covered in mud. He can truly appreciate the gleam Dream’s tail has to it now, how every scale attached to him isn’t perfect. Some are chipped or a bit too short from his ventures in the water, there’s even rows of scales that are missing one or two.

Such impurities don’t deter George from being mesmerized by him. The green of his tail pops more and he can recognize that those scales inside his drawer really are Dream’s from the web-like structure they have.

“Can I touch it?” He tentatively asks.

“Yeah.”

Nodding, George places his hand on Dream’s tail. It isn’t slimy, but it isn’t dry. The scales definitely have a roughness to them.

He runs his hand down Dream’s tail until he reaches the end of it. The shape of his tail is round and ovaloid. His breath hitches and he looks at Dream for affirmation to keep going. Dream nods at him without hesitation.

Exhaling shakily, George holds Dream’s tail. Delicately, he presses at it. His tail fans out more with the movement.

Dream’s tail appears to darken in colour, which can't be right. He’s probably sleepy, it’s been a long night. He should be in bed by now.

A couple seconds pass by. But, nope, it’s still changing. Startled, he snatches his hand back.

“Dream, your tail!” He hisses.

He looks up at Dream. But Dream’s not even paying attention to what’s happening to him. Instead, he has his hands covering his face.

Had he fucked up? He really hopes he hasn't.

“Shit, Dream, did I do something wrong?”

He takes ahold of Dream’s hands and gently pries them away from his face.

Holy shit, Dream looks like a cherry. His face is painted in a deep cerise colour while avoiding George’s gaze.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Mhm.”

Dream’s face gets a shade darker.

Curious, he switches his attention between Dream’s tail and face. His brain buzzes before he figures out what’s going on.

“Holy shit. You blush with your tail, too?”

Dream looks to be as baffled as George.

“I guess so…” Dream murmurs. He strains while he attempts to pull the last bit of his tail into the water.

“Dream, your entire body doesn’t fit in the tub.” George clarifies, “if you want I could wet it for you. To stay moisturized, or whatever.”

“Please do, it feels horrible.”

“You baby. It can’t be that bad.” He scolds.

Either way, he fetches a used up rag from under the sink cabinets and dunks it in the water. He squeezes the excess water out and rubs it along Dream’s tail. The rag gets caught in between the grooves of Dream’s scales as he wipes.

Out of courtesy and necessity he leaves the rag on the brink of the tub for Dream to grab at. He couldn’t stay up all night caressing Dream’s tail with water.

“George?” Dream whispers.

George is already making his way to the door, his feet dragging against the floor.

“Yes?” He yawns drowsily as he inspects Dream who’s peering at him.

“Are you leaving?” Dream sheepishly mumbles, his gaze dipping into the water.

“I have to go to bed, Dream.”

“Is that what humans call their resting area?”

“Yeah, where’d you sleep? Other than in the water.” George rushes to add.

“I slept beside some stones, it was annoying when the others came.” Dream fusses, his lips down turned.

“Others?”

Is it possible there’s more of Dream’s kind? Come to think of it, what was a mer doing in a freshwater habitat? Most tales about mer often detail them inhabiting the ocean by a cove or shore. Yet here Dream was residing in a pond.

“Yeah, other fish. They’d push me around while I slept.”

Well, that was certainly disappointing.

“Are there others like you?”

It’s out of the blue and definitely catches Dream off guard. His eyes widening momentarily as he flusters for an answer.

“I don’t— I’m not— I don’t know.” Dream dolefully confesses, his voice wobbly.

“Hey, it’s okay.” George hurries back to Dream, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything.”

Dream may be the only mer that’s left in the pond, as depressing as that may sound.

That can’t be right though. Bullmar’s Tales had spoken of a mermaid being caught during the fishing competitions.

“We don’t have to worry about it.” George soothes, “for now let’s get going to dreamland.”

“Dreamland?”

Nodding George stands to leave, “Yes dreamland. Goodnight Dream. Call me if you actually need anything okay?”

“George, I—.”

“Dream.” He knows what Dream’s trying to do, and he’s not willing to sleep on the bathroom floor tonight.

“Goodnight, George.” Dream says instead.

George doesn’t wake until noon the next day, which isn’t an abnormality. The night’s laborious tasks had taken its toll on him.

Still, he slips out of bed with groggy eyes and newly formed eye bags and gets ready for the day.

The first thing he does is check up on Dream, who he finds to still be snoozing within the tub.

An unusual sight, but one he should start getting used to. Dream sits in the tub snoozing with his back against the tiled wall of his tub, his arms crossed. George has the misfortune of hearing a gurgling noise come from Dream’s mouth. He chalks it up to being either spit or water, not that he wants to know.

It is, however, endearing to watch as Dream’s face scrunches up, along with his twitching, webbed ears.

Admittedly, he had assumed Dream would be more like an early bird, choosing to wake up early at dawn to get some whatever needed to be done.

Obviously he’d been wrong, and he’s wrong to assume that Dream would wake up from flicking on the light. Dream doesn’t awaken, all he does is grumble and scratch his arm before settling back into his peaceful sleep.

At the very most George had thought Dream would’ve been a light sleeper. Then again, they’d both gone to sleep at questionable times last night, and he was sure that the sudden change in environment had affected Dream more than he’d let shown.

George decides to let Dream sleep in.

He moves on to brush his teeth, his toothbrush creating a fairly loud noise with its bristles. But still, Dream continues to sleep.

He stops his fussing and lets him be. He’s got other pressing matters to attend to, like the enormous wagon that’s taking up half the bathroom space.

George would have to go and return the wagon to Sapnap. After he got rid of the water inside, that was. In the back of George’s mind he was tempted to tell Sapnap that he had miscalculated how much water the plants would need. Maybe he could convince Sapnap that the excess water caused it to flood.

He decides to wake Dream up so he could alert him that he’ll temporarily be gone. The last thing he needs is returning home to ruined shower curtains from a panicked Dream.

Crouching down besides the tub George stares at him, almost feeling bad for having to wake him. George takes a peek inside the tub. The water looks cleaner than it did last night. The soil has settled to the bottom of the tub. It’s a little bit gross but he has larger things to deal with.

He starts off by poking at Dream’s tail.

All Dream’s tail does in response is jerk.

Sighing he leans forwards, careful to not slip into Dream’s watery bed.

He rubs at Dream’s arm, gently shaking it. Dream’s head lolls to the side but he’s still not awake.

The last thing he ends up doing is brushing Dream’s hair back while whispering his name.

“Dream, Dream. Time to wake up.”

Nothing.

“Dream?” He still doesn’t respond.

George’s heartbeat drums against his chest. It’s okay, he’s still breathing, you idiot.

Had he caused Dream to go into a coma? …He hopes not.

Frantic, he shouts out Dream’s name.

Still nothing. Swallowing, he takes hold of Dream’s shoulders and hysterically starts shaking him.

Dream remains unresponsive even with George’s hectic shaking. George is really starting to freak out now, who should he call? A vet? Better yet, he could splash cold—

An abrupt hiss-like growl rips out into the air, causing George to slip and stumble forward. Just before being submerged under water Dream catches him.

Faintly, he can feel Dream’s claws digging in through his shirt. What comes next is a boisterous wheeze that erupts from Dream from deep within his chest.

“Oh my gosh!” Dream wheezes, tumbling into another fit of laughter, “I’ve caught you twice now!”

George’s face flushes red with embarrassment. He spouts out a breath of hot air against Dream’s face. Immediately Dream quiets down, flinching and shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Dream yelps as he closes his eyes, the onslaught of air still hitting his face.

“You better be! You asshole!” George scolds as he pushes himself away from Dream.

“I’m an asshole?” Dream asks, ignoring George’s scolding.

“Yes, as in that was mean.” He feels like a preschooler having to define what such a word means.

“But, I caught you again. I saved you.” Dream points out.

“Dream, you literally caused me to slip.”

At the reminder Dream wheezes again, his tail flapping with the same enthusiasm. Unamused, George watches, waiting for the laughter to die down. He decides to change his tactics when he feels a smile threatening to pull at his lips.

Clearing his throat he walks to the wagon, “Okay, then. Dream, I’m leaving.” He announces, reaching for the handle of the wagon.

Dream’s laughter ceases. He hears a thump and squelch as Dream shuffles in the tub, “Wait, what—“ he blubbers out dumbfounded.

“I’m leaving.” He repeats. He really does need to go and return this wagon.

“But you said I could also tease.” Dream says. He’s clearly interpreted George’s actions as a response to his prank.

“You can. I just have to return this,” he gestures at the wagon, “then I’ll be back, okay?”

Dream looks between the wagon and George as if contemplating his response..

“And you’ll be back?”

“Definitely. Now don’t make a mess okay?” George warns, already heading out with the wagon in tow.

“I won’t.” Dream huffs, settling back into the tub.

George regards him one last time before exiting the bathroom.

Returning the wagon goes without a hitch. The only thing that causes him to worry is when Sapnap glances at the wagon’s mud caked wheels. He should’ve washed them before coming. Sapnap doesn’t appear too preoccupied by it, as he goes on to tease George about its condition

“Must’ve been some hardcore gardening.”

“Yep.”

“Didn’t know you were into gardening, when did that happen?” Sapnap asks him, directing the wagon into the treasure trove that was his garage.

“Since my mom got succulents.”

That wasn’t a complete lie, his mother had been buying succulent after succulent with them either flourishing or ending up buried in their backyard.

“And how’s that going?” Sapnap groans, shoving away some piled up boxes.

“Terrible.” He admits.

“Of course.” Sapnap says.

“Shut up.”

Eventually George ends up back home. His stomach growling. He had forgotten to eat before leaving, Dream having scared away his appetite.

Sneaky little bastard.

He ends up serving himself a bowl of cereal that he takes into the bathroom with him.

Upon entering he notes the condition of his bathroom. Nothing is destroyed, but there are enormous amounts of soap suds puffing out from the tub. Dream, the culprit, hasn’t even noticed him. He’s far too entertained playing with the bubbles.

Great, now he’d really have to change the water.

He’s hungry, though, and isn’t in the mood to fuss about the bubbles taking over his tub. Ignoring his current predicament, he goes to sit beside the tub with a sigh. Instantaneously, Dream freezes and sheepishly turns around to glance at George.

“Hi, George..” he mumbles, squishing another cloud of bubbles.

“Hi, Dream, what’re you doing?” He asks, watching as Dream unsubtly hides a bar of soap underwater.

Glancing at the tiled wall of the tub he notices that his bottles of soap are absent. An easy investigation shows them floating in Dream’s bathwater.

“I don’t know.” His ears droop when he answers, his body slumping.

“Whatever, at least you’re not stuck in the toilet or some shit.”

George mostly says that for the sake of reassuring himself, as he’s not sure what kind of reaction Dream’s body may have to the soap.

Being rational, he tells himself that something would have already happened by now had the soap been bad for Dream. After all, Dream had the soap bar sliding between his hands as he created more soap bubbles.

He couldn’t be bothered to take it out of Dream’s hands. Besides, it would keep him entertained while he ate his food. He’d left the house on an empty stomach, after all. Enthusiastically, he begins to spoon cereal into his mouth.

Occasionally, he glances at Dream to make sure he isn’t eating the bar of soap.

For a while they sit there, George eating his cereal and Dream producing bubbles. It doesn’t last very long. Dream looks down at what he’s doing.

“Why is your water white?” Dream asks, frowning.

“It’s milk.” George says, while chewing another mouthful of cereal.

“Milk?”

“Yes it comes from— Never mind, it'd take awhile to explain.”

Nodding along, Dream stays silent, intently watching as George scoops up another portion of cereal.

“And those colourful stones? Why’re you eating them?” Dream asks, his voice shaky with concern.

He nearly spits his cereal out at Dream’s antics, “They’re not rocks! It’s cereal!”

Dream stills, he stares between George and the cereal. George thinks that’s the end of this conversation so he continues eating, that is until Dream asks him; “Can I have some?”

He swallows down the Fruit Loops in his mouth. Glancing down, at his bowl he sees he only has eight left. It’s a hard decision he has to make.

“Sure.” He could always get more later if he wanted to.

“Yes!” Dream exclaims bouncing around in the tub, some soapy water nearly spills onto the floor.

“Here.” He hands over the bowl of cereal to Dream. Well, he tries to.

Dream doesn’t exactly take it. He just sits there while looking at the bowl in front of him.

He cocks his head to the side, his ears drooping, “what?”

“Hold your hands out.” George instructs.

“Okay,” hesitantly he holds his hands out.

“Okay, now hold it.” George says, he places the bowl into Dream’s hands.

George feels his body stiffen when the bowl tilts to the side.

Dream’s grip is firm and prevents the bowl from falling. Amused, George watches Dream slosh around the contents of the bowl. His eyes wide and engrossed at the bowl’s contents.

Then, Dream moves to dig his hand into the bowl..

“Wait, no! Use the spoon, Dream.”

He stops midway in the act, “spoon?”

“Yeah, the metal thing poking out the bowl.”

“Oh, okay.” He grabs the spoon awkwardly in a fist. He stares at it before looking at George for further instruction.

“Okay, now just, do this.” He explains, he moves his own arm and hand in a sweeping motion directed at his mouth.

The instructions must’ve not been clear enough. Dream ends up doing the exact same motion as George, but instead of using the spoon to get the cereal. He uses it to get a spoonful of bubbles from the tub.

“Hmm, alright. Come here.” George motions for Dream to come close.

The rim of the tub acts like a makeshift table, allowing Dream to set down the bowl. Reasonably, George takes the spoon out of Dream’s hand and goes to rinse it.

Sitting back down in front of Dream, he focuses on trying to teach him how to correctly use a spoon.

“Okay, so what you’re gonna want to do is,” he takes ahold of Dream’s hand and adjusts his fingers into their correct positions. He’s careful as he does it, not wanting to nick himself on Dream’s claws.

“Okay, then you just…” George guides Dream’s hand with the spoon into the cereal and aids him in finally getting his spoonful of soggy cereal.

George doesn’t react much when he continues to guide Dream’s hand to his open mouth. There he deposits Dream’s spoonful of cereal.

It’s only when Dream is chewing that George pays attention to the warm flush on Dream’s cheeks. Glancing down, George notices he has yet to release Dream’s hand.

“Or— Or you could just do this too.” George adds on, grabbing the bowl to tilt into his own mouth.

Why hadn’t he just done that instead?

“But really, it just depends on how you want to eat it.” George concludes as he takes the bowl away from Dream.

“George.” Dream murmurs.

“Yeah?”

“Why’s it feel tingly?” He sniffs the last part out. His face reddening more, Dream’s eyes begin to water.

“What the…” George trails off, watching as tears start to slide down Dream’s face.

He sniffles wiping at the tears aggressively, “George—,” he sobs out.

Fuck. Fuck!

Frenzied, George dashes out the bathroom and into the kitchen where he fills up a glass of water. It was just fucking cereal, so why was Dream acting like he’d eaten a tub of hot wings?! The only thing he’d been eating up until now had been raw fish, without seasoning… The sugar in the cereal.

Dream hadn’t ever had an ounce of flavor in his food up until now.

He has to hold back his laugh when he enters the bathroom again to see Dream’s red eyes.

“George!” Dream yelps, frantically swishing around in the water.

“You can't be serious!” George says, laughing as he hands Dream the cup of water.

The water disappears not even a second later. It’s a process that repeats until George decides to drop a couple of ice cubes in. This results in Dream chewing the ice cubes.

Chewing ice… what a weirdo. But at least his sobs had deteriorated into sniffles.

“You’re so silly.” George says, absentmindedly he brushes a hand through Dream’s hair, that’s covered in soap suds.

Unsurprisingly, Dream nuzzles his head into George’s hand, “Can we do that again?”

“What?” George grits out, did the idiot seriously want to eat cereal again after that?

“No. This.” Dream says. He must’ve somehow heard George’s internal monologue.

Dream demonstrates what he means by moving George’s hand away from his head. Hesitantly, Dream interlocks their hands. Or, well, he tries to.

“Just do it right.” George adjusts their hands until they’re fully interlocked. Dream’s claws leave a ticklish sensation on the back of his hand.

“There’s a right way to do this too?” Dream asks in awe. He inspects their hands.

“Yeah.”

“Is there a right way for everything?”

“Eh, sure.”

Grinning, Dream pulls their hands close to his face. He glances at George before nuzzling his warm face against their hands. The heat radiating off of Dream’s face leaves George curious as to how Dream hasn’t managed to cook himself alive.

“What’s this?” George asks, thumbing at a discoloured area on Dream’s tail.

On the right side of Dream’s tail is a smooth patch of scales that stick out from the rest. It's a wonder he’s only seen this discoloration now. He’d run his hand down Dream’s tail numerous times before, always taking his time to memorize the grooves embedded in Dream’s scales.

Whenever he was smoothing a hand down Dream’s tail it was usually to keep himself busy while in the bathroom with him. In recent nights he’d been coming into the bathroom to have a talk or hang out with Dream. On those same nights, Dream would occasionally mess around with the bar of soap. Annoyingly, it would create more mounds of bubbles for George to clean up.

“Hmm?” Dream says, slurring his words.

Dream himself is relaxed, his back leaning against the tiled wall of his bathroom. But upon hearing George’s question he strains to lift himself upright, pulling his tail towards himself. Similar to George, he inspects the area that George had been talking about and rubs at the pensively with his own hand.

“Oh, yeah. I got it once while hunting.” Dream says, releasing his tail to flop back down.

“Yeah, but how?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I just remember something sharp hooking me.” Dream stares at his tail, scrutinizing it.

“Must’ve been a fish hook.” George mutters. He lifts his hand towards Dream’s tail and rubs at the scar soothingly.

Dream jumps before wiggling his tail.

The patch of discoloration is not too different from the rest of Dream’s tail. Apart from the sparse scales it’s relatively unnoticeable.

“Stop.” Dream laughs.

It must be a scar, George concludes. He traces over it with his finger, smiling when Dream lets out a breathy laugh.

“How’d you get it out?”

“I cut it off with these.” Dream says, showcasing his sharp claws to George.

“Of course you did.” George says, he turns his attention to the book on his lap. Contrary to what George had been doing in previous nights, he was not here to chat or watch Dream play with soap. He had other plans tonight, which involved him hauling a fat ass book with him into the bathroom. Earlier today he had gone to the library again to check out another book.

He hadn’t planned on getting another book, but after reading through Bullamar’s Tales he’d come out empty handed without more information on mer. Involuntarily so, he’d finished it in a hope to find more information apart from the fishing debacle.

Unfortunately, sans a mermaid helping a fisherman cheat, there wasn’t much. Other than a technical analysis about the fisherman and mermaid going to court for cheating. The most interesting thing out of that tale had been finding out that the mermaid and fisherman were lovers.

And so, he’d gone to the library in search of another book by the same author. He trusted the author enough by now, no longer skeptical about their absurd stories. At least, he had until he found a corner in the far end of the library dedicated to them. Full of books about Bigfoot and ghosts.

Grateful over not finding Bigfoot or ghosts, George had skimmed over the spines of the dusty books, searching for one titled mer or something along those lines. Luckily enough, there had been one titled with ‘mer something’ that he’d immediately plucked off the shelf.

Unluckily, he hadn’t been expecting the book to weigh nearly two pounds. Even the lady that was checking him out of the library had asked him if he needed any help.

Now, though, he has the book in his lap. Ready to be opened.

“Of course I did?” Dream repeats, confused.

Right. He was still talking with Dream. So much for not actually wanting to spend tonight chattering.

“Yeah. As in, that's a good thing.” George says, distractedly.

Refocusing back on his intended task, George flips the first page of the book to the table of contents. The words ‘anatomy’ and ‘speech’ stand out to him. He knows he should be questioning the authenticity of this book, but he’s desperate to learn more about Dream and his kind. Besides, where else is he gonna get information from?

Definitely not the internet. It had only provided him with “headcanons” about mer.

Really, it was his safest bet. He’d only learned so much about Dream, most of the information being stuff he’d seen firsthand.

Gnawing on his bottom lip he contemplates on where to begin. The table of contents is vast, with different titles. Ignoring the various topics, he unceremoniously pinches a surplus of pages and flips them. He hopes to land on something of use.

It results in a loud slap that causes Dream to jolt beside him.

“George!” Dream hisses.

“Oops, sorry.”

“Hmm.” Dream grumbles scooting over to him, “What’re you doing?”

“Reading. Now shut up.”

“What?”

“Quiet.” George says. He sets the book down on his lap and resettles his hand along Dream’s tail.

Without hesitation he begins to rub along Dream’s tail, pushing down any scales that are slightly raised. He’s confused about them being raised, having not known that Dream’s scales had the ability to raise like the hairs on a cat’s back.

George is pleased to find that the soothing motions of his hand along Dream’s tail works, as Dream no longer makes an effort to open his mouth. The only sound coming from him is the sound of his tail flapping against the tub with mirth.

With it now silent, he starts to read the diagrams, text and scattered notes.

He’s quick to recognize things he’s seen firsthand, such as mer’s ears drooping when feeling distressed.

What intrigues him are the varying types of mer tails that are presented to him on a separate page. They’re all different varieties, all with one thing in common: they’re freshwater mer. Still, he’s surprised to see an exact drawn out image of Dream’s tail on the page.

It isn’t until he reaches the last page of the anatomy section that he’s really paying attention to the text. On the page there’s a diagram with a mer and a human, he can physically feel his eyes widen with every word he reads off the columns of text.

“I’ve seen it firsthand, my wife turning from mer to human. A beautiful sight it was, her elegant tail forming into the legs of a human…”

The competitor from the other book had a mer partner… but that didn’t mean George wanted to hear his thirst about his wife. Nimble he skirts his eyes over the text, skimming until he gets to a section that sounds far more informative than whatever love story he was about to read.

“Horrified I had watched as my wife’s skin dried up, the idea of her fair smooth skin cracking up from the dry air had sent me into a haste to do something. Yet she’d told me to stay afar, to just watch. And watch I did, as her tail fully dried up, her scales began to transform into human skin.

Bit by the bit it looked as though her scales were chipping off into human skin. Yet somehow no scales littered the floor.”

“Oh my fucking shit.” George breathes out, snapping the book shut.

He faintly notices the trembling that racks his body.

“Dream!” He turns to say.

He gets no response, and when he turns around to look at him he’s met with a knocked out Dream whose eyes are shut, a gross trail of spit spilling out the corner of his mouth. His arms are crossed over his chest, rising and falling with every breath he takes.

He’s almost afraid to stop moving his hand along Dream’s tail. In case that’ll wake him up unintentionally.

In the end he swipes it off, scared of waking Dream up.

Such fear originated from Dream frowning at him for stopping his caresses before. Then demanding he continue in the most unsubtle way possible which revolved around him whining at George until he gave in. It happened to work most of the time much to his chagrin.

Tonight it seems he’s been spared.

Sighing he bookmarks the page he’s on and whether it’s out of courtesy or care he fetches the rag atop the rim of the tub to soak in the water.

After squeezing out the excess water he runs it along the part of Dream’s tail that hangs out the tub. Paying careful attention to how he swipes it over his reflective scales. He may mess around with the ends of Dream’s tail, which flares open when he drags the rag between the ridges of it.

George closes the door.

“Goodnight, Dream.”

“What’s all this for?” Dream asks, voice drowsy. It’s the first thing he’s said all morning, having recently just woken up.

While Dream had been sleeping, George had woken up earlier than usual. It hadn’t been much of an arduous task after tossing and turning in bed for who knows how long.

He could blame his antsy behavior on wanting to figure out if the book was legit or not.

The only reason he even had some faith in the book was due to the last book helping him find a merman.

The only other thing quenching his worries were the numerous medical procedures listed inside the book. They weren’t anything too wild, just simple procedures you could perform if your mer was under the weather or even suffocating.

The last one being something he prayed he wouldn’t have to do. It would’ve been an easy fix, just locate your mer’s gills to flush water into them. Dream’s gills were located on his neck and were often hidden behind his thick hair.

“Preparing for something.” George answers after finishing up his internal monologue.

“For what, though?” Dream asks. He leans over the edge of the tub, observing as George fixes up the towels on the floor.

This morning he’d also gone through some precautionary preparations that were for Dream’s sake.

By that George meant that he’d rummaged through the laundry closet in search of torn or washed out towels. He’d then strategically strewn them along the bathroom floor to avoid flooding the floor in water. Not slipping along the floor was the only benefit Dream got out of this

“Preparing to get your legs.” George says, clarifying his previously vague sentence.

Naturally Dream questions him, “What?”

“To get you legs.” George repeats, the towels on the floor look like a mispatterened carpet.

“Legs! Like yours?” Dream enthusiastically exclaims, swishing the water in the tub.

“Legs like mine.”

George fishes his phone out. He opens his camera roll to review the pictures of the pages he'd taken. He needed to be sure Mer truly could get legs.

“Are you ready?” George asks, approaching Dream.

“Um, I guess. Sure?”

“All right then, let’s get started.”

George plunges a hand into the tub to remove the plug, the water around Dream starts to sluggishly drain.

“George?” Dream says, he moves close to George.

“It’s going to be okay.”

George tucks Dream's hair back like he always does when Dream feels distressed.

There’s no point in waiting for the water in the tub to drain out completely, he’s going to place Dream on the floor anyway.

Deliberately, George wraps his arms under Dream's armpits. George huffs as he strains to lift Dream out the tub.

George hadn’t grown muscles overnight. Luckily Dream helps him by pulling himself out the tub. Even if it ends with them stumbling onto the bathroom floor.

“Dream, why?” George, groans in pain.

“Am I— am I doing it right?” Dream asks him, completely ignoring him. He scales up George until he meets his face.

So much for the towels. Dream was actively soaking his clothes while on him.

“Not exactly. Let me just…"

Cautious, George does his best to maneuver them into a sitting position. As he moves them Dream's arms come up to wrap around his neck. They remain there after George manages to have Dream sitting on his lap.

Dream nuzzles his face against George’s neck while he holds onto George. Dream's humid breath blows against his ear quickly.

Dream's still nervous.

“Okay, so now what?” Dream asks.

“Now we dry you up and wait.”

He feels Dream nod his watery face against his neck. The gesture causes the little scales on Dream’s face to brush his skin. It leaves behind a ticklish sensation that leaves George smiling, fondness for his odd, mer friend rises in his chest..

George wouldn't mind having Dream on his lap more often.

George shakes those thoughts away, he grabs a nearby towel to begin drying up Dream.

“I don’t need a blanket. I’m not cold.” Dream says, backing away from George’s neck.

“It’s to dry you up not to warm you up, you idiot.”

George slings the towel over Dream's body. Dream being far too tall proves to be a nuisance as George strains to dry him.

Dream either doesn't notice or care about his struggles in drying him. He merely sits still, occasionally laughing when George stumbles upon a ticklish area by accident.

George’s face heats up unnecessarily when drying the front of Dream’s body.

Things seem to be going alright. Dream’s still alive.

“George”

“What?”

“I feel weird…”

George wasn’t sure if feeling weird was supposed to be a part of this whole transformation thing. Nothing in the book had mentioned feeling weird, then again the book was just there as a scuffed up way for George to try and understand what the fuck was going on.

Dream, who's still feeling uneasy, starts to flap his tail along the floor in his anxiousness.

“Hey, it’s okay. What feels weird?” George says, he runs a hand through the back of Dream’s head. scratching softly at his scalp.

Some of the tenseness in Dream’s body leaves. “My body feels weird. My tail…”

Was that good?

George wishes he could truly reassure him. But not even he knew the whole extent of the situation.
All they could do now was wait to see what happened.

Something does happen soon after thinking that, it happens in the form of George receiving a hard smack to the back. The impact of the smack causes him to wheeze out in pain.

“Dream, what the fuck!” He says, exclaiming.

Absent-mindedly he rubs at his back, soothing the pain from the kick, “Why’d you kick me!”

“Ah! Fuck!” Dream squeals.

George receives another kick on his back.

“Dream! Stop kicking me!”

George finds a way to get control by taking a hold on the legs thrashing beside him.

Legs…

Dream’s mortified, his face pinched with worry. Dream thrashes his legs against George. In addition Dream’s now naked on his lap.

“Dream! Calm down you idiot!”

“Oh my— oh my god, my tail! It’s fucking— it’s gone! George!”

“Dream I know, just please chill out.”

“Oh my god, it’s like it's actually gone! It’s not there anymore!”

“Dream—“

“I have—mph!”

A balled up towel whacks Dream in the face, successfully quieting him.

Unceremoniously George slides Dream off his lap. Dream lands with a huff on the ground.

“Okay, you wait there while I get you some clothes..”

George leaves Dream in the bathroom. Worries pile atop George’s mind the entire time he spends jostling his drawers for clothes that fit Dream. Dream had a habit of getting into unnecessary problems. George is thankful to find Dream where he left him when he returns.

George helps Dream dress. For some reason Dream marvels at the clothes that press against his body. Dream had seen George wearing clothes often but George supposed it was different when you were the ones actually wearing them.

Teaching Dream how to walk doesn’t end up being much of a hassle. With that being said they do still end up running into some complications.

They run into said complications, quite literally, due to Dream’s tendency to run around the house. It results in him smashing himself against George’s dust- gathering, drywalls. While it had been funny at first, it had soon morphed into concern after Dream had a painting fall atop of him during one of his excursions.

Apart from that, Dream was apt at learning how to walk: right away he’d managed to keep a steady stride with his long legs.

George had begun to feel bad about keeping Dream cooped up in his house. Dream insisted he didn’t mind. But George did. What was the point of learning how to walk if all Dream could do is pass the same corridors every day?

It wasn’t fair. George may have stayed inside all day but that was because he’d already seen everything there was to this town.

Dream had not.

With that in mind, George had taken Dream out of the house for a stroll along Bullmar’s sunny streets.

This way Dream could get some fresh air, test his new learned skills out, and George could attend to some important matters concerning Dream. “Important matters” meaning clothes for Dream that were specifically tailored for him.

He needed to get Dream clothes to call his own. Otherwise he’d be stuck wearing George’s too tight shirts.

George’s shirts literally looked like a crop top on Dream. They would expose his toned stomach out to the world and send George into a flustered mess.

It may have been for George’s own odd sake as well, but he did genuinely want Dream to have clothes of his own. The poor man would constantly be paranoid about tearing George’s clothes. It led to him walking around the house awkwardly to avoid tearing the seams of George’s clothes.

Getting to a clothing shop wouldn’t be simple, though. Not when Dream was constantly gawking at every little thing he saw. The obliviousness caused strangers to glare at him after Dream had not so inconspicuously asked George why someone’s hair was dyed kelp green.

During their entire stroll they’d garnered even more unwanted stares from George’s old high school acquaintances.

It was a fact that everyone in the small town of Bullmar knew each other. How could they not?

With a population of an outstanding 650, it was hard to not know who the baker’s granddaughter was or who the damn postman was.

It was especially difficult to not know when someone wasn’t a local.

Dream, who so transparently flaunted his wonder at even the most mundane elements of the town, was hard not to notice.

George would tell Dream to stop acting like that but he didn’t have the heart to tell him that when he was obviously exuberant to be outdoors again. He can’t even feel embarrassed when he’s being tugged aside so Dream can point at a trash can.

“It’s like the one in your house.” Dream says.

“Yeah. Let’s go, I'd rather avoid shopping in the afternoon when people start flooding in.” George says.

George interlocks their hands to drag Dream away from the stinky bin.

They’re almost at the clothing shop. This clothing shop is the closest to them, the only other way they can get clothes is by going to the mall that’s in the city.

“Oh, is this the shop you told me about?”

“Yeah, just watch your head.” George warns, far too late.

He hears a yelp, and turns to see Dream rubbing his forehead solemnly.

“I told you to be careful.” George sighs.

The shop itself smells like it did the first time he came in: dusty with an undertone of cheap perfume accompanying it.

Various clothing racks line the store in aisles, people rummaging through them.

George bringing Dream to the shop turns out to be nerve wracking, the people in the shop are so nosy. They keep staring at Dream. George thinks the staring is because Dream whacked his head at the entrance.

George gives Dream’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

They make a beeline towards the end of the store where people are scarce.

“Alright. Time to get you actually dressed.” George declares, he glances up at Dream who is skimming his eyes over all the clothes hanging on the rack.

Dream’s posture appears tense, his back hunched, and arms cradled closer to his body.

“Is there something wrong with the way I look?”

“No, you dingus. This will just make you look better… you’re already…” George looks Dream up and down, flushing at what he’s about to say.

Dream looks confused, he cocks his head to the side, “I'm already…?”

“Nice looking! Now let’s pick some clothes out.”

In a haste George starts rifling through a clothing rack next to them. The clothing rack is disorganized, with jeans and shirts mixed together into a mess.

While shuffling through the various clothes dangling on the rack George finds a sweater that’s embroidered with a sunflower. Interested, he inspects it.

George hears loud shuffling. He redirects his gaze onto Dream.

“See something you like?”

Dream flinches away from the hoodie.

George frowns at the reaction. “If you like it, I’ll get it for you.”

Dream blinks at him, then nods slowly before picking the hoodie off the rack. Enraptured, George watches as Dream holds the hoodie close to himself.

“Thank you George.” Dream says, shyly.

“As long as we get you dressed I don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay. In that case, can I get those too?”

Dream points has got to be the ugliest pair of shoes he’s seen. He understands Dream hasn't seen clothes very often, but to want to have something like that is just preposterous no matter the context. They’re a pair of beaten up black Nike shoes. The soles are ready to tear off and the laces are unthreading.

They’re just plain ugly.ThatMs probably why the shoes are wedged between the back aisles of the store.

“Except that, I’m not getting you that. How about you get some of these instead.” George’s eyes go to another pair of shoes on the rack.

“See these are better,” George grabs a pair of dress shoes off the rack and holds them up to Dream.

George was absolutely not spending a dollar on those ugly ass shoes. If anything, he’d rather spend it on a pair of dress shoes from a deceased grandfather.

“These will help you look like a dashing gentleman, you might even get the ladies attention.” George tacks on the last bit, his mouth becomes slightly bitter.

“Why would I want the ladies' attention?” Dream pouts, “I just want yours.”

“Well in that case, whichever attention you want it’ll work.”

“So, I’ll have your attention then, right?”

“Yes.” George agrees, his chest feels funny. He doesn't think he's having a heart attack; it’s more like a flutter that comes by every once in a while.

Dream’s face brightens at George’s confession. He’s quick to snatch the shoes from George’s hold.

“Let’s just get you some pants and head out.” George says, looking around the store for pants.

On a crisp autumn evening Dream and George find themselves in line at the fair with many others.

George didn’t think the annual fair was something to be that fond of: at least from what he’d experienced.

Now, though, he thinks he’s experiencing a whole different fair. They aren't inside yet, but he can hear the boisterous cheery music of a carousel booming out behind the colorful gates. A large Ferris wheel towers over the fair’s gates.

A warm hand squeezes George’s own. George turns to Dream who’s smiling at him.

George smiles back. “What?”

“Thank you.” Dream breathes out, blushing.

“For what? We haven’t even gotten in yet.” George grumbles, shifting his feet against the ground beneath him.

“We’ll get in soon.”

The clothes George had gotten for Dream fit him well. Tonight he’s wearing a pair of tall brown corduroys that exaggerate his already long legs. Along with his pants Dream daunts the green hoodie with the sunflower embroidered on it.

“It better be now. My feet are killing me.” George complains.

Dream hums then looks at the sky.

“Not that long.” Dream replies.

“All you did was look at the sun.”

“I know.”

George decides to avoid whatever conversation was about to brew.

With time and George’s annoyance they eventually make it into the fair. Upon entry the music and lights become clearer. The laughter, chatter and squeals of other people around them become a mix of sound as they take in the sights.

Various attractions greet them such as the swirling teacups that violently jerk the people inside them side to side. The bumper cars and carousel aren’t too far away either, where kids ride the plastic horses while their parents watch or join them and the whirring of bumper cars hitting each other can be faintly heard. Beyond the entry rides and decorative trees George can spot dozens upon dozens of play booths decorated in string lights and LEDS.

“C’mon.” George directs, moving them towards the playbooths.

“Where are we going?”

“The booths.”

“Booths?” Dream asks, “do we have to pay again?”

“No, these aren’t like the toll booths. They’re the playing booths. You can get cool stuff.” George clarifies.

“Cool stuff like?”

George isn’t able to even start explaining that part, because in the hustle and bustle of the fair he catches sight of Karl and Sapnap. Presumably they’re on a date judging by where they are in line for an enormous green glowing saucer that spins people around. However they seem too engrossed within themselves to take notice of George’s staring. Not wanting to jinx his luck, he looks away. George’s hands are clammy, he wipes his free hand onto his pants and prays Dream doesn’t start feeling yucked by his other hand.

Truth was, he had yet to tell Sapnap and Karl about Dream. Even though it’d been awhile since Dream had appeared before him and taken residence in his home. He just didn’t want any surprises. George knew Sapnap would’ve most likely been ecstatic at witnessing a mer — Sapnap had been the one to drag them out to the middle of a pond that one night.

George however couldn’t say the same for Karl. He may have shared the same penchant of Sapnap for enjoying fantasy and mythology, but he couldn’t exactly pinpoint that interest to a certain degree. Karl’s secrecy may be due to the fact that George had always been the one clubbing their silly little stories about sirens and harpies. Yet, hypocritically, here he was with Dream. A mer that was holding his hand tenderly while George guided them through the crowd.

“George?”

“Hmm?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, let’s just keep going.”

“Okay.” Dream beams.

At the booths Dream makes the bizarre and spontaneous decision to go to what George assumes to be the last of the playbooths. There’s barely any people there, and he can see the fencing and trees that enclose the fair.

He questions Dream before ultimately giving in to his odd request.

They wade through the outdoor corridor of booths. The string lights above them illuminate the path. Around them voices call out an invitation to play a game. The booths are so bright and colorful, they yell at your face to come play me!

The booth at the end is a juxtaposition to all the other booths around it. What are supposed to be iridescent lights are instead simple bland yellow lights that you find at the clearance section.

The vendor inside is similar to the others though, she’s kind and happily offers them a game of darts in exchange for 3 dollars. It’s cheaper than the other booths George realizes. All the other booths would typically charge you more than twice the price as this booth. If they win they’ll get a stuffed animal of their choosing from the many that hang behind the vendor.

Dream’s immediately enticed by the idea.

The vendor jubilantly takes three dollars that George forks over. In return George receives three metal darts painted in lacklustre paint. When he picks them up he's a bit surprised at the weight they hold. He hands them to Dream, who immediately fumbles with them.

“Careful, don’t poke yourself.” George warns him, reaching out to adjust his current grip on them. He was a safety hazard to himself.

“How about you hold them like this?” George says, moving Dream’s finger around to hold one of the darts correctly. “Then just put the rest over here.” He sets the other two onto the booth’s counter.

“Alright, are you ready?” George tweaks Dream’s thumb a bit more up so it’s not too close to the sharp end of the dart.

George grows concerned when Dream doesn’t respond to him, “Dream?” He finally looks up to see Dream’s blushing and staring down at their hands.

Typical Dream behavior.

Sighing, George asks again, “Dream?”

“Your hand is smaller than mine.” Dream blurts out.

Taken aback by the abrupt comment, George jerks back, ears already flaming up, “What?”

Dream’s eyes widen and his eyes dart around to avoid George’s face. His expression now full of panic. “W—wait, that sounded weird. Fuck.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“I’m sorry George.”

“Dream. Just hit the targets.” George says, knowing Dream was ready to jump onto a multi chaptered rant of how he was sorry.

“Right.” Dream nods, squeezing the dart between his fingers.

Dream’s first time at playing darts is memorable in the worst way possible. Dream misses his first shot. George tells him he’s just warming up to encourage him. But then he misses his second shot, then third. All of Dream’s darts land far away from the intended target that is the bull’s eye.

“George, I’m so sorry.” Dream says, all the darts on the board appear to cause Dream grief, “we can go.”

George sighs.

“We can go do something you want instead,” Dream pleads, reaching a shaky hand towards George’s limp hand beside him.

“No.” George says, “You wanted a stuffed animal, and we’re getting it.” George finalizes, glaring at the stuffed animals, then at the torn fabric targets.

George clutches Dream’s hand while he exchanges another three dollars for darts.

“Trust me.” George whispers.

“Right—Right,” Dream stammers out.

Squeezing Dream’s hand, George grabs a dart, with great disdain he lodges the dart into the bull’s eye. Haughtily George proceeded to jab the remaining darts within their target.

“Which one are you getting?”

“The fish.” Dream says, pointing at a large fish behind the vendor.

The vendor unhooks the fish behind her. She hands the fish into Dream’s eager hands.

“Well?”

“I love it.” Dream says, he squeezes the fish in a tight hug.

The fish is nearly half of Dream’s size. Where he’ll put it, George doesn’t know. He can only pray it won’t be in their bed.

“Good.” George nods. He spent a good amount of money on that thing. It was for Dram though, so that kinda made it alright.

George let’s Dream guide them through the crowd next. Dream definitely has no clue we’re they’re going, mirth blooms on his face anyway. George’s smile on the other hand dissolves completely when they finally reach their destination.

In front of them Ferris wheel winks at them with its mirthful lights.

“Can we go on that?” Dream asks him, walking towards the line by the Ferris wheel.

George gulps. “Sure.”

Georgems hands pool with slippery nerves. His fear of heights reawakened.

He squeezes his hand around Dream’s when the line gives a sudden jerk forward, from beside the conductor he can see as groups of people flood out of the Ferris wheel.

Not having much of a choice George and Dream follow behind the line, waiting as each person climbs onto their own carriage.

They manage to snag the last seat at the Ferris wheel. George selfishly thinks it’s misfortune.

He hobbles up the metal stairs of the carriage. Dream’s already waiting for him on its plastic chair. Dream’s bright expression helps him gather some resolve. It’s enough resolve to bottle up the tinge of nausea that washes over his stomach.

Behind George the carriage’s dingy door snaps shut. He’s sealed his fate, there’s nothing he can do now. He squeezes onto the seat with Dream, they’re snuggled close to one another. On the floor of the carriage their legs are tangled together. The carriage wasn’t designed for long legged people like Dream. The crammed carriage is made worse with Dream’s stuffed animal that sits on their laps.

“I’m excited.” Dream says in utter glee.

George wants to say the same.

“So am I.” George says, tense.

The Ferris wheel shudders to life, the carriages sway from the engine’s tremble. It mimics the light tremor that wraps around George’s legs in a vice grip. His heart is going to leap out of his throat.

The carriages gently swoop forward, the Ferris wheel does its job of lifting them higher and higher up the ground. George watches the fair shrink.

They could fall from this height.

“Have you ever been on a Ferris wheel?” Dream asks.

“Yeah. It was kinda like this.” George says he had gone on the Ferris wheel once at the fair. That’s how he had learned he was deathly afraid of heights.

“Terrifying?” Dream asks.

“What?” George glances at Dream.

“I’m kind of scared.” Dream admits.

“This was your idea.” George reminds.

“That was before I knew I’d be scared.”

The soft lights of the carriage illuminate the planes of Dream’s face in all the right ways. They make his skin glow, literally and metaphorically. Perhaps there was something that he had gotten out of this terrifying trip. George had managed to get the perfect view. Although the creases of fear that lined Dream’s gentle face disrupted the view.

“Look at your home.” George says, pointing in the distance.

He could try to distract Dream. George was absolutely mortified by where they were, they were passing the Ferris wheel’s zenith.

“My pond.” Dream says in awe, “I’m glad you came to my pond.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you just make me feel something” Dream says, his eyes cast downwards.

“Dream.”

He says his name, it means a lot of things at that moment.

Around them the spruce trees surrounding the fair grow tall. The ground below them regains their size. George’s heart his excessively knocking against their rib cage long after they leave the ride.

A pair of people pass them with cotton candy.

“We should get some food.” George declares.

“Food?”

“Yeah. From the concession.”

“Concession?”

“Yeah, it’s like what they have.” George says, showing Dream more people with cotton candy.

“That looks good. What is it?”

“Cotton candy, It's sugar but fluffy.” George continues to explain, “So do you want some?”

“Yes.”

“Great, let’s go.” George says cheerily, “and if you change your mind there’s other things you can get.”

“Oh, more?” Dream asks, in disbelief.

“Yeah like candy apples.” George suggests, he begins to list off various foods.

George walks Dream through the fair. The cloying scent of greasy turkey legs is a compass that leads them to the concession stands.

There’s about three concession stands that surround an area with multiple benches.

The three concessions advertise different foods, cotton candy, burgers and anything else you may find at a fair. Dream and George already know what they want so they get in line to order themselves a mouthful of sweetness. The cones they receive come in odd shapes, Dream gets a cotton candy that’s shaped like a square. George gets a cotton candy that’s a circle.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen.

Immediately Dream takes a bite of his cotton candy, he emerges with sugar coating his lips.

“I love it, George.” Dream says, his cheeks are plump with cotton candy.

“You love a lot of things don’t you?”

“I do.” Dream says, he glances at George.

“Can I try your cone?” George asks.

Dream hands his come to George without hesitation. Dream did a lot of things George asked for without hesitation. George can only wonder if he’d do that with anyone else, as far as George knows he isn’t like this with anyone else. George treats everyone the same, with bold remarks and neutral eyes. Except Dream, he was willing to scare himself on a ride for Dream. The closest sacrifice George had done for someone like that was for Sapnap when he’d needed help with an assignment at the dead of the night, but Sapnap was his close friend.

Dream was like a close friend, but different. Not only in his physical attributes, it wasn’t even the way he acted. Something about him just caused George to act differently.

“Are you like this with anyone else?” George asks.

The question catches Dream off guard, he licks off a stray string of George’s candy candy from his lips.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Wanting.

Did Dream want from anyone else?

Somehow Dream seems to understand what he means. That could only make sense with how much time he’d spent with George. Dream was probably profound in all of George’s intricacies. George could confidently say he was profound in Dream’s own mannerisms.

“Well, I don’t know anyone else.”

George’s heart squeezes.

He hums for Dream to continue.

“But I think I could only be like this with you.” Dream finishes.

“Be like what?” George presses.

Dream looks at George. “In love with you.”

George breathes out shakily.

Dream’s face colors pink. “I’ve been trying to court you since I saw you.”

George remains silent, scales and plants flood his mind.

“You’ve accepted my courting but you haven’t said anything.” Dream mumbles, he’s unsure of himself.

George had learned about the courting of mer. Their traditions were bound to appear inside the book. It was rather embarrassing to say he spent a good few hours analyzing Dream’s actions and then comparing them to what was written in the book. It wasn’t hard to do, the book wrote in explicit detail everything there was courting and how gifts and their quality dictated how a mer would react to their pursuer.

A part of George had scoffed at how mer appeared to be materialistic.

“Dream.”

Dream stares at him worried, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Let me kiss you.” George says, it’s a statement but it’s open for Dream to reject.

“Kiss me.”

George dives in. He pecks Dream’s lips, it’s a mere brush of lips to ascertain that it's truly all right.

“That’s not a kiss.” Dream whispers against his lips. He clearly takes his own words as a challenge.

Dream holds the sides of George's head.

“Kiss me.”

“I’m kissing you.” George says before pressing his lips against Dream’s.

Dream threatens to bruise his lips in his attempts to reciprocate the kiss. Between them crystals of sweetness mingle, their lips together in tandem. George brings his hands to hold Dream’s head in place as they kiss. It’s so messy, spit decorating the corners of their mouths after they separate.

Sheepish, George dries the drool that clings to the corners of Dream’s lips after they separate.

“Kiss me more.” Dream breathes against him.

On the floor their cotton candy lays forgotten and Sapnap and Karl meet Dream not long after their activities. It’s awkward with George whipping up Dream’s whereabouts on the spot. George doesn’t mind introducing Dream as his boyfriend at all though.

Shortly after the meeting at the fair, George, Sapnap, Karl and Dream reunite to watch a scary movie together. The only thing that’s more dreadful than the film is when George remembers something he had foolishly forgotten about.

It is something he tries to mention to Dream over a coffee date.

Only he fails to do it.

“George, what's this?”

George’s throat dries.

It’s an innocent question. There’s nothing new about it, Dream always asks questions like this about the most simple or basic things. George will never object to answering them. If he’d done that months ago then he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had with Dream as he had.

Dream asking him that question though is the last thing he wants to hear right now.

In Dream’s hands are papers. Papers that explicitly detail George’s imminent departure for college in the near future. College was something George had forgotten about wholeheartedly. Like many things though you couldn’t keep running or hide from them forever. College was at the top of George’s food chain and it was set to devour him shortly.

George would do anything to stave off college from ripping him away from Dream.

“George— what’s college?” Dream asks next, his eyebrows pinch together.

It’s hell.

Dream’s reading the papers in his hold. George should stop him from reading them but he’s frozen where he sits on their bed. They had been watching a show on George’s laptop when George had had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

George back then wasn’t worried about the obvious papers laying on his bedside table. His mother was right, keeping your room organized was important.

“Dream.”

Dream looks at George. “It says you're leaving.”

It’s how Dream’s lip wobbles near the last syllable of his sentence that causes George to join Dream’s side.

“I am.”

George is honest, there’s no good denying he’s going to be leaving. It was established before he met Dream, predestined to happen. Only back then George hadn’t thought much of it, he’d only shrugged because it was routine. Enjoy a boring break in his small town with the occasional fun then go back to steaming Florida to bake his brain into cinders with comp sci. Dream had come to destroy his routine marvelously, he had turned his boring summer into something worth a while.

How did George repay him? By leaving for college, and making Dream cry.

“What?” Dream sniffles.

George would have liked to say he wasn’t leaving.

“I’m leaving, Dream.” George repeats, “to college.”

Dream’s eyes turn glassy, fat blobs of tears cling off his lashes threateningly.

“Why?”

“I have to go, Dream.” George says.

George doesn’t know why he has to go. George has a comp sci degree to earn but he doesn’t need to do any of those things, yet he has to.

“So you’re leaving me?”

George has to watch Dream suckle on his bottom lip to hold back his tears. Dream’s hurt because of him.

“What? No.” George says he takes the papers away from Dream and lets them drop at their feet.

“That’s what it sounds—sounds like to me.” Dream says, his voice watery.

“I could never leave you. Not voluntarily that is.”

Tacking on the last part hurls a knife through his chest. It crumbles Dream’s walls, his tears drop from his honey eyes spattering George’s floor.

George’s heart throbs in his ears. He squeezes Dream in an embrace. Dream clings to him like a koala, he grips onto George with a shaky frame that wracks both their bodies. George remains quiet, he lets Dream cry onto his shoulder where his tears gather and sear his skin through his clothes.

George speaks when Dream’s sobs turn into sniffles.

“I was going to tell you.”

“But you didn’t.” Dream finishes for him, he nuzzles George’s neck.

“I didn’t.” George confirms letting out a breathy laugh, “I got distracted.”

By you.

George doesn’t say. It was true, shamefully so. George’s plans on telling Dream he was leaving during their date had shattered the second their date began, Dream had been having such a good time smiling and laughing.

Inside the coffee shop telling him had become impossible. Dream’s lovely expression in experiencing a coffee shop had been endearing. He had been eagerly sipping on his hot chocolate while telling George about its texture and flavor like a food critic.

If this was his reaction to finding out about him leaving then they probably would have caused a scene at the coffee shop. On one hand George is glad he hadn’t told him then, this was something personal and important to the both of them. It was something that was meant to be shared only between them.

“I wish you hadn’t gotten distracted then.”

“It was probably best I did.”

“Why?”

“I was going to tell you during our date, but you were having so much fun.” George says, shrugging.

“Aw you like me.” Dream says, he pulls away from George’s shoulder.

Dream’s face is covered in blotches of red, around his eyes there are visible tear stains that wreck George’s heart.

“I like you a bit.” George says, tugging the corner of his shirt up, “come here.”

Dream gives him a confused look but leans his head towards George.

Gently George dabs his shirt against Dream’s face, it’s an effort to wipe away his tears. Even as a human Dream makes a sound that’s akin to a purr when George rubs the palm of his hand along Dream’s cheek. Dream would always be mer inside regardless of his exterior George supposed.

“I like you a lot.” Dream says, he pushes away George’s caring hands to kiss his forehead.

“Clearly. Why else would you kiss me?”

“Exactly.” Dream agrees.

“How about we finish our show then we can worry about this later?” George says, he motions at the papers on the floor.

Dream frowns at the papers on the floor. Almost like he’s blaming them for being in this situation, it’s partly true.

“Okay, it’s just—“ Dream starts but cuts himself off.

George hums already making his way back to their bed.

“Can we cuddle more?”

“Dream, you’re dumb.”

George motions for Dream to come to bed. Why Dream bothered to ask questions like that George didn’t know. Whenever he did though it was a reality check for George, because wow, he had managed to actually get a boyfriend somehow. An odd one at that but a boyfriend in every aspect nonetheless.

The bed creaks under Dream’s weight as he joins George. Dream settles behind George to embrace him, his hold on him remains from throughout the entire film.

George knows why.

The only thing that brings them mild comfort is knowing George will eventually be back.

George’s announcement hangs heavy in the air. It causes turmoil for the both of them as George’s days in Texas draw to an end. They’re on edge, anxious and stressed, and George can see it in the way Dream obsessively chews at his lip, or twirls his hair.

George tries to help them settle their uneasy minds by taking them on as many dates as he can while he’s here.

George takes him out on a walk to the forest and even the pond. Dream avidly shows him where he would often be in the murky water. Dream points at a cluster of cattails by the edge to explain that he would often be there to watch the sunset. He’d also be there to catch rain in his mouth during late April.

Dream eagerly shares his apparent secret with George. Dream tells him he found the fish to toss at Sapaap and George by the edge of the water.

Eventually the days come to an end. George is in his room packing his luggage with a stubborn Dream on his bed that keeps trying to distract him.

On the dawn that George has to leave tears are shed unceremoniously. George had promised to bid Dream farewell the day he would leave. All George had to do was walk Dream to the pond where he would exchange his legs for a tail again.

If only things were ever that easy.

“I’m going to be missing you.” Dream says, voice wobbling.

“Dream—.” George exhales, George drops the bag he had been carrying to jump into Dream’s embrace.

They squeeze each other so tight that there will surely be bruises covering George’s skin.

“I’m going to be missing you too.” George confesses against the skin of Dream’s neck.

Moments later the bag George had carried is full of Dream’s clothes. Dream is in the water again after what feels like an eternity. He can’t recall the last time Dream was in the water, he just knows it was a while ago

“How’s the water?”

George watches Dream dip his head underwater. He erupts on the surface of the pond in a bit with a splash.

“It’s great. Wanna come in?” Dream offers.

“Nah. Not today. Maybe next time.”

“Which will be?”

“In three months.”

“That’s a long time right?” Dream asks, tilting his head.

“Hopefully not too long.” George says, sending him a weak smile, “about three full moons if that works.”

Dream visibly deflates at his words. He slumps forward into the muddy exterior of the ground.

“That’s— a lot.”

George hums in agreement.

“I—I’m going to miss you.” Dream says, shakily. His lip wobbled the entire time.

Pain makes itself known in the crevices of George’s ribs. Dream’s eyes are rimmed red with unshed tears that now slip down his face.

George wills away his own tears, “I know, Dream.”

Tentatively, George holds the warm sides of Dream’s head. He caresses his thumbs over the tiny scales that adorn the edges of Dream’s face again.

Dream’s beautiful.

George kisses his forehead, then his nose, his cheeks, and when he kisses his lips he kisses him like he’ll turn to dust if he’s not too careful.

George pulls away.

He sniffles, staring at Dream’s dull honey eyes, “I promise I’ll be back.”

Dream hesitantly nods, his eyes glazing over with more tears.

“Can you stay just a bit longer?”

“Of course.” George whispers, rubbing his thumb along Dream’s scaly temples.

So George stays, he stays until he has to forcibly leave.

Returning to college is as bad as George remembers the dorms smell old and they’re cramped. Even worse there’s no Dream. At least Sapnap is here with him.

Sapnap wasn’t in their dorm right now though. He was off helping Karl unpack on the other side of campus. Sapnap was lucky in that he got to have his boyfriend with him at school. It kind of made George envy him.

George had finished unpacking yesterday, he’d done it in an attempt to quell his thoughts on Dream. It had worked, except it didn’t last forever. George didn’t have mountains of belongings to unpack, he had only brought what was most important with him. His clothes, amenities, important things— he’d brought a picture of Dream with him.

Upon remembering he turns where he is sitting on his bed to glance at it. Dream’s pretty toothy grin compliments George’s own silly face. Beside the picture frame he’d placed Dream’s first ever courting gift to him, that was one of George’s important belongings.

Sapnap had called it his Dream shrine. It will probably be his shrine in the next three months.

With nothing much to do George grabs the pouch. He spills the scales onto the bed to inspect them. All the scales have varying degrees of erosion on them. Some are chipped, others are scratched.

George would have to ask Dream how he went along collecting these scales for him.

Class started tomorrow.

George’s calendar teases him with its dark numerals until finals arrive. He and Sapnap are sweating anxiously the night before exams, but they manage to pass them.

It’s early in the winter, yet the climate outside their dorm remains the same. The only thing that’s changed is the interior of their dorm that has multiple bags and boxes littered along the floor. They were bound to leave first thing tomorrow morning.

A quick glance at a wall reveals paint that’s whiter than the walls. It’s where their clock had been, Sapnap had suffered in getting down the day before.

Had Sapnap fallen then there’d be no one to take them home, no one to take George to Dream. It was plain and simple, George couldn’t drive that left Sapnap being the only designated driver.

The night before they leave George is restless, he wiggles and twists in his sheets until they cocoon him. George is excited, too excited. He keeps thinking about having Dream in his embrace, about caressing his hair, about kissing him.

Dream had come to be an enthusiastic kisser. It was another thing George loved about Dream.

Distantly he thinks he ought to tell Dream he loves him.

“Are you excited?” Sapnap asks.

“Yeah. Now drive faster:” George answers.

George is all the words that mean excited. He’s going to see his boyfriend again after three months. Sapnap has a boyfriend of his own so he should know what George feels like.

“You’re paying for my gas.” Sapnap says.

“Not my problem.” George says, dismissively, he leans against the leather seat.

“It is.” Sapnap groans.

“It’s not.”

They know they’re homebound when they see that familiar green Texas sign greet them. It's the only landmark George will pay attention to. They’re even closer to home hours later when they drive off the highway and into a woodsy road.

George always hated this road, because its hilly terrain would persistently jostle them until their insides were a smoothie.

“Fuck.” George says, eyeing the hill they’re about to drive down.

“You’ll do that with your boyfriend soon enough.” Sapnap says.

“Like I haven’t heard you and Karl before.”

Sapnap stutters for a response. It never comes.

Eventually they pass by their little sign that marks their town. Its 700 residents displayed proudly on it. George could’ve sworn it’s less with the amount of people he actually sees out and about, but that wasn’t his biggest concern.

Upon entering the town George is pleased to see not much had changed. The bakery remains where it was last, and the shady allergy remains shady.

Throughout the sidewalks he sees the town’s familiar residents with light sweaters on.

They continue going through town until the old buildings turn into modern suburbs. Sapnap stops at George’s house.

George leaps out of the passenger seat the second he hears the car shift to park. George springs inside his house, vaguely he hears Sapnap mention something about visiting later.

George meets his mom inside who hugs him tightly while she peppers a kiss onto his forehead like she always has. His mom tells him about Dream, she tells him she hasn’t seen him around. George nods before promptly dropping off his luggage in the living room, he’ll deal with it later

George can’t name a time he’s left the house in such a rush. Dream’s on his mind the entire way pedaling his legs through the woods. He enters the official path then like many times before George follows the makeshift path in the grass. The echo of dead leaves and twigs infiltrating his ears along with his racing thoughts about Dream.

The pond appears empty when he arrives, the lotus and lily pads are gone. Including the chunky cattails that would sway in the wind their bare stems wave at him.

George heaves, he needs to recover his breath to call out to his mer. George clears his throat, it’s nostalgic shouting out Dream’s name. George steps closer to the pond’s edge, his gaze doesn’t leave the pond’s surface. He’s desperately searching for any ripples in the water.

Under him George feels his misfortune befalls on him again. His foot slips on a slippery slope again, but instead of meeting the freezing waters of the pond his back colliders with the ground.

Familiar arms wrap around George, he’s smiling before he even looks down to see who it is.

“Dream.”

“George.”

Softly, George admires Dream’s face. Dream has a bright smile that shows off his sharp teeth. His eyes are glassy but full of the same elation. His summertime freckles have left his nose, he notes.

George’s train of thought is interrupted by a slap, then another slap. George peeks over Dream’s shoulder to see his tail avidly wagging.

It makes George laugh.

A soft peck from Dream quiets him.

“Dream.” George huffs.

With great effort George gets them into a sitting position with Dream’s long tail draping off his lap and into the water. Tenderly George locks Dream in a kiss. George tries to run a hand through Dream’s scalp but his hair has gotten tangled again.

Dream’s lips start to shiver, warm tears glide down George’s cheek.

George pulls away:

George slides his thumb along Dream’s cheeks to wipe away his tears. “What’s wrong?”

Dream gives hiccups tearfully. “You came back. Like you said you would.”

“I did.”

George embraces Dream, his whimpers and gasps rack through his body. George makes sure his lips will be sore tomorrow by dusting kisses over Dream’s face.

Dream’s whimpers turn into sniffles. That’s when George decides to breathe a confession against Dream’s face.

“I love you, Dream.”

“You do?”

George rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

Dream gives him a bright grin, his cheeks turn ruddy as he moves his head up to kiss George’s cheek. Dream’s facial scales rub against George’s face.

George fell in love with a mer.

George schemes on how to bring Dream home afterwards.