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“You are totally in love with your best friend.”
The results take over his screen and George feels his heart drop; the thing he’d been fearing for as long as he could remember, confirmed right before his eyes.
It's clear that you are totally in love with your best friend. The question is, are they in love with you too? If you can find out the answer to that and it's yes, you could be on your way to a life of love and happiness.
There’s a pit at the bottom of his stomach, and for a moment he wishes it would swallow him whole. This was not the answer he was looking for. He’d hoped the test would tell him he was being ridiculous - that everyone thought about their best friends in the same way; that it was normal to want to kiss them, cuddle them, love them. He’d hoped that maybe the quiz would tell him to stop overthinking, not tell him that he was helplessly in love.
Yet here he is, wrapped in his blanket like a cocoon, slumped over as if he was a half full sack of potatoes, in front of a bright screen that’s telling him he’s in love with his best friend. He probably could have told you that himself, though.
But he still had hope, that maybe, just maybe, he was being silly.
He now realises he’s not.
He’s in love.
With his best friend.
“Shit,” he mutters to himself, rolling his head back in frustration as a wave of dread washes over his entire body. “Shit, shit, shit.”
It’s a weird feeling - clarity, of sorts. An almost finished puzzle, but you can’t find the last piece; you almost have an answer. That’s what this feels like, because not knowing what they are is such a huge part of their friendship.
The soft voices only used on each other, flirty comments and heart to hearts. The jokes that seem too real, that cross the line between platonic and romantic. The jokes that make George's head spin, wondering if Dream meant for it to come off so personal, so intimate. Sometimes George thinks Dream flusters him on purpose - but that’s what he does. That’s why he loves him.
That’s why he’s in love with him.
The morning’s rolled around by the time George has processed everything.
It finally, properly, hit him when he was going to get some water. He’d picked up a glass to take to the sink when he thought to himself about the time he was on call with Dream before they moved in together and he’d told George how much he loved that cup. When he asked why, Dream simply said, “I have the same one.”
It was dumb, it made him laugh when he said it. There was nothing significant about them owning the same cups. But the fact the only reason George used that cup was because of that memory really made him think.
Fuck. I am in love with him.
——
It’s pretty late the next night when George hears a knock at his door. He wants to ignore it, after all, it’s probably just Sapnap wanting to do something, but deep down he knows who it is.
He should really answer him.
They never go two days without talking to each other, especially now that they’re in the same house, and he hates that he knows how worried Dream will be right now. Guilt lingers in the air as he reluctantly opens the door.
“George!” Dream calls out as if he’s been waiting to say that all day. “Holy shit, man! I thought you’d like died or something. Where have you been?”
The brunet holds his breath while the other speaks, it feels like even the slightest noise might give away everything he’s thinking. Dream knows him well, he most likely could tell exactly what was wrong from a sigh.
George loves is in love with him for that.
“I’ve just been busy,” he lies. He feels bad. “Lost track of time, sorry.” That was half true.
“Are you okay?” Dream responds with almost no hesitation.
No. “Yeah, I’m good.” he reassures the other. “I’m tired though, I think I could sleep for days to be honest with you.”
The blonde laughs quietly. “Well, don’t let me keep you up. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and I missed you,” he speaks so softly, George feels his heart skip a beat.
“I missed you too,” he breathes out. “You’re not keeping me up, I want to talk to you,” he confesses a little too honestly.
“Oh yeah?”
God, Dream doesn’t know what he does to him. Dream is the feeling of fireworks painting the sky, the feeling of sitting on a rollercoaster moments before it takes off. Dream is the feeling of living. It takes everything in him to not kiss him right now. George rolls his eyes but finds him funny nonetheless. “Don’t let it get to your head, dumbass.”
“Too late.” Dream pushes him playfully before walking over to the bed and sitting down. “Have you even eaten? I didn’t hear you walk to the kitchen at all.”
“You must have been sleeping.” The brunet shrugged, sitting down next to him. Their thighs touch and George feels like a primary school kid freaking out over nothing.
Dream nods. “Must have been,” he agrees nonchalantly. He lays back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “You know,” he laughs, “I’ve never seen a grown man with those light-up stars on their roof.”
“I don’t know why,” the other says smugly. Butterflies fill his stomach at the sound of his laugh, a feeling of warmth rushing over him. “They’re cool. More people should have them, actually.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
Dream lets out a wheeze. “You’re such an idiot.” George feels his cheeks warm up at the ‘insult’ that he knows carries no meaning. It felt like ‘idiot’ was more of a pet name than anything else, he likes it.
Call him crazy, but sometimes ‘idiot’ sounds better than his own name.
“You’re the idiot,” he replies mindlessly, because that’s how things are between the two of them - mindless. It’s easy, it’s relaxed. They don’t have to think too hard about what to say because it all comes naturally.
It goes quiet and George lays back, his head practically on top of the other's chest. It’s peaceful, the brunet can hear Dream’s heartbeat; it’s comforting. Everything about Dream is comforting though.
And that’s the thing, just being close to him makes George feel at home - alive, even. There’s not a single person he can say the same about. It’s as if Dream completes him in a way he didn’t know he needed.
Dream makes George whole.
“Can I ask you something?” He breaks the silence with a question he’s barely been able to process. He regrets opening his mouth as soon as the words escape his lips.
Dream looks over to him and green eyes meet brown. The same green eyes - that although he can’t see the colour of - he loves. George could stare into the other’s eyes for hours and get lost within the beauty of them, how they light up when he smiles, or the creases that become way more visible when he squints - George loves his eyes.
“Of course,” he answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as if it was a stupid thing to even ask; it probably was, it’s Dream, after all. “You can ask me anything.”
The brunet ponders for a moment, wondering if now was a good time to risk losing everything. But as he stares into the face of the person he loves most, he can’t bring himself to say something he knows could end in tears. He can’t risk giving up their late night talks, their jokes, their friendship. Not yet.
“What would it take for us to stop talking?” he decides to ask instead.
The dirty blonde looks at him funny, eyebrows furrowing as he laughs. “That was random. I don’t know.” he answers honestly. “It would have to be something huge, and bad, obviously.”
“Yeah,” George agrees with a sigh. “But if you had to say one thing, what would it be?”
“I mean, if you tried to kill Patches, that would be a pretty big deal breaker,” he half jokes with a wheeze, “So, steer clear of that and we’re good. Why do you ask?”
The other turns away and diverts his attention back to the ceiling, where the star stickers light up the room just a little. “Just wondering.”
Dream notices the worried expression plastered on his best friend's face. “In all seriousness, I don’t think there’s much you could do to get rid of me,” he says reassuringly, placing his hand on top of George’s.
The brunet feels a knot in his stomach at the feeling of Dream’s hand on his, a warm pink spreading across his cheeks as he silently thanks God that the room is dark enough for it to go unnoticed. “That’s good then.”
The room falls back into a peaceful quiet, they can barely hear the tv playing in Sapnap’s room down the hall. Dream runs his thumb up and down George’s hand, in hopes that whatever is worrying him resolves itself soon.
——
A few weeks pass and Dream is pretty content with the fact his best friend seems to be back to normal. Maybe he should have known he wasn’t.
George sits in front of his computer, the same tab still open, telling him he’s in love with someone he’d hoped he wasn’t. There’s a knock at his door and he scrambles to close his window, just-in-time Sapnap peaks his head through the doorway. “Hey, George.”
“Hi,” he turns around his chair as his computer shuts down. “What’s up?”
“I’m bored,” the younger one complains, practically throwing himself onto the bed in the middle of the room. “I’ve done nothing all day.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Not mine.” They both laugh at how childish he sounds.
“Watch a movie or something,” George offers. “You still haven’t watched Fight Club and I’ve told you to like a million times,” he adds accusingly, though there is no bite behind his words.
Sapnap groans. “Maybe.” George pulls himself off of his chair and sits down next to the other. “What were you looking at?”
The older one wonders if he should just be honest. If he should confess the fact that for the last week his head’s been spinning at the idea of being in love with Dream. He supposes he should get it off his chest.
At the same time, he wants to keep it a secret, something that only he knows. Maybe it’s because he’s naturally more closed off about personal things, but it could also just be the fear of having to properly come out since he supposes he’s never really done that.
“I’m in love.” he spits out before he can stop himself.
Sapnap pushes him away in excitement. “No way, dude! Who is she?” he asks straight away, just as surprised as George thought he’d be. “Since when? How have you not mentioned this?”
“He,” the other quickly corrects, regretting saying anything to begin with. He notices his friends' eyes widen at his words.
“He,” Sapnap rephrases what he said. “Sorry, I didn’t know. Who’s the lucky guy?” correcting himself happily, he asks. George will admit that reaction made him feel a little better.
However, he still feels his shoulders tense up at the question. “It’s, um- It’s Dream.” he answers sheepishly, and he sees the way Sapnap’s face changes ever so slightly - not in a way of judgment, simply a way of saying ‘oh shit.’ without saying anything at all. “I just don’t know what to do,” he adds.
“Oh.” The other furrows his eyebrows and goes quiet and in this moment it feels like everything has come crashing down onto George and is suffocating him beneath the weight of it all, while he waits for him to say more. “Why do you seem so sad about it?”
“Are you joking?” he scoffs. “I’m in love with someone who will never feel the same way about me.” When he says it out loud, it hits him harder than he thought it would. The realisation that what he was saying was most likely true; that he is in love with someone who will never feel the same.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“I can make an educated guess,” he bites back without thinking and instantly feels bad. “Sorry, I’m just so frustrated.”
Sapnap wraps his arm around the brunet, pulling him a little closer. “You’ll be okay,” he offers but doesn’t say much else, he always has been a man of few words - when it came to stuff like this, anyway.
George leans his head onto his shoulder and sighs, he feels relieved that he’s told someone. Everything is just so confusing right now, still. He’s in love with his best friend and has no way of knowing if he feels the same way.
It’s Dream - he says romantic stuff then laughs afterwards. He does weird couple-y stuff then acts like nothing happened; he makes jokes that can’t be just platonic. It’s confusing - it’s Dream. It’s what makes their friendship what it is.
“I just don’t want to ruin anything,” the older one can feel tears forming in his eyes at the thought of losing someone so close to him. It would be like losing a part of himself.
Sapnap hugs him a little tighter. “You could never lose him, George. I swear.” For the sake of his sanity, he’ll choose to believe him.
“I hope so.”
——
He should just let it go, he thinks. He’s going to get the same answer whether he likes it or not, he knows he will. But the quiz calls his name and although he’ll say he isn’t to anyone who asks, he’s weak when it comes to things involving Dream.
Do you ever catch yourself staring at your BFF?
It’s obvious the creator of this quiz has never met Dream because if they had, this wouldn’t even be a question; how could you possibly take your eyes off of someone so perfect?
You’d have to be utterly insane to turn away from him as his eyes crinkle with joy every time he finds his jokes a little too funny, how crazy you’d be to look the other way when he brushes his hair away from his face with his hands, running his hands through that dirty blonde hair of his in a way that holds George’s eyes captive.
To even suggest that you wouldn’t be staring at Dream if you were given the chance is completely ludicrous.
George can only assume that everyone who knows Dream would also press ’Always’ while taking this quiz.
Do you try and make him or her happy?
George concludes that this is a stupid question. Of course it’s not his first thought when waking up in the morning, but trying to make him happy is certainly not just an afterthought.
If he thinks logically, then sure, maybe it is one of his first thoughts in the morning, but it’s not the first. Maybe 7th or 8th, realistically. Because when you know someone like Dream of course you want to make them happy, people like Dream deserve to be happy - they deserve the world.
George hopes Dream gets the world one day.
He doesn’t like how quickly he presses ‘It’s my first thought every morning.’
Do you try and look nice when you know you're going to be together?
He wants to say no. He wants to say he doesn’t care about what the other thinks of him, that he puts in no effort when he knows the dirty blonde is going to be around - but there’s no point in lying and he knows that.
He knows how much more effort he’s put into his looks since he moved to Florida: how he’s started doing his hair every morning when he wakes up, how he puts a little more effort into what he’s wearing - even if he’s just walking around the house. He’s hyper aware of what he looks like when doing daily tasks, because he knows Dream could be watching.
While losing a lot of dignity for himself he picks ’Always’.
Do you get butterflies if you touch?
There’s a flutter in his chest simply at the thought.
’OMG! YES!’ is the only accurate option he can pick, though he doesn’t think he’s as excited as his answer paints him to be.
Do you ever think about your future together?
He groans to himself. Of course he does, their whole futures are practically intertwined with one another's’. They live together, they work together, every aspect of their lives involves the other.
This quiz doesn’t take into account their situation, he thinks.
It would be difficult to avoid thinking of their future together. When so much of his life is also Dream’s, he always has to take him into account when thinking about his future.
Just like he remembers the dirty blonde saying, ”A lot of my future is your future too.” There’s still a flutter in his chest every time he thinks of that moment.
Add that to the list of oddly romantic things he’s been told by his best friend.
’All the time’ he clicks slowly.
What do you think when they laugh?
I can’t, he says to himself.
He can’t think of anything when Dream laughs. It’s as if something in his brain short wires and all he can do is listen to the sounds escaping the other's lips as his eyes crease in pure joy. Dream’s laugh is so… homey. He doesn’t think anything, he feels something.
He feels alive, he feels happy, he feels at home. If you were to describe Dream’s laugh, all you could say is that it’s like the sun, it’s warm, it’s bright, it’s… everything to him.
’It's great!’ he clicks without much more thought. Though, for the record he thinks it’s more than great.
Do you ever think about what it would be like to kiss your best friend?
Though he wants nothing more than to say no, than to say that it sounds disgusting to kiss the man he lives with, realistically he knows that’s not the case.
If he’s being honest, he thinks about it a lot.
Just yesterday when Dream was making dinner, George wondered what would happen if he just kissed him. If he just stopped beating around the bush and pulled him closer until their lips crashed into each other.
He thinks about kissing him more than he thinks about a lot of things.
Does anyone ever ask if you're dating?
Yes, a million times yes. Their own friends don’t know what’s going on between them - he doesn’t know what’s going on between them.
He can’t count how many times someone’s asked them if they’re together. He can’t count how many times he’s laughed, feeling a blush creep up onto his cheeks as he tells them he’s just friends. There’s too many times he’s felt his heart break just a little at the words leaving his mouth, clarifying they aren’t together - that Dream isn’t his.
How often do you think about them?
’Daily’ he answers without looking at the other options. Dream completely consumes his mind whether he wants to accept it or not.
Everything he thinks of somehow brings him back to the same person, he thinks he’s obsessed. Nothing he does, nothing he thinks about has nothing to do with the dirty blonde. Somehow, somewhere, he’ll find a link.
Do you think you’re in love with your best friend?
Yes.
Do you think you’re best friend is in love with you?
I don’t know.
You are totally in love with your best friend.
I know I am.
He supposes there’s only so much he can do now. He texts him. He sends the message before he has time to think it over. He’ll only know for sure if he asks him.
George
We need to talk. Come through to my room?
Almost instantly Dream responds.
Dream
Okay…
His heart beats at a million miles a minute as he listens to Dream’s footsteps get louder and louder. The door opens and quietly Dream closes it behind him and takes a seat next to the brunet. “What’s up?” he asks unknowingly. “Everything okay?”
No.
“I need to tell you something,” he confesses quietly, so quiet Dream isn’t sure if George wanted him to hear the words he’s barely saying.
“Alright,” the dirty blonde replies softly, offering his hand out to the other. “You can tell me anything, you know that,” he adds as an afterthought. Dream pulls the others hands on top of his and the brunet thinks they must be crossing some sort of line there.
George looks up at him, eyes connecting for what feels like years before he speaks again. The silence weighs heavily on both of them, a tension you could cut with a knife if you tried. “I don’t want this to change anything between us though.”
“George,” he reassures him. “Nothing you could ever say would change anything between us. I swear.” their pinkies interlock and George feels like he’s about to fall through a black pit on the floor, not that he would mind that right now.
“I like you,” the brunet purses his lips as his whole body tenses up at his own words. He hates the way his voice cracks while speaking, how vulnerable he sounds - feels. “Like, more than friends.”
Dream sits there for a moment quietly. He doesn’t say anything and George doesn’t know whether he wants him to or not. It’s like the world’s no longer spinning as he waits for an answer - any answer.
“Oh.”
Maybe not any.
There’s a look of surprise and speechlessness on Dream’s face. He tries to process what he’s hearing, but all he can do is sit there with his mouth slightly open, trying to find the right words to say. “George-”
“No, it’s fine. It’s stupid.” He pulls his hands away and feels tears threatening to come out. His words get lodged in the back of his throat and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold it all in for. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”
“George, it’s okay-” The dirty blonde goes to grab the other's hand again but George stands up before he gets the chance. He starts pacing the room and all Dream can do is watch as he mutters different apologies. “I promise it’s okay, George. I just can’t-“
George stops walking for a second. “You know what, maybe I should just go-“
“Geo-“
“Yeah. I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later.” He quickly grabs his phone and practically runs out of his room, leaving Dream sitting on his bed, trying to take in everything that had just happened. Each step he takes feels wobbly, his whole body shaking while he tries to hold it all together.
He doesn’t know where he’s going, or when he’s going to go back home - he’s not sure if he even wants to call it that anymore. Dream was his home, and if he can’t have that… then is Florida really what he thought it was? Was it worth moving halfway across the world just to ruin one of his closest friendships?
Tall lamp posts tower above him, casting his shadow onto the walkway. He can hear the sounds of squirrels in the trees around him and cars passing faintly in the background - no noise distracts him from the sound of his own heart, beating in his chest faster than it ever has before. There’s a sting at the back of his throat that makes him painfully aware of the tears he’s still somehow holding back.
Not soon after he’s finally got out of their neighbourhood and knows no one that knows him will see him, the tears fall down onto his flushed cheeks, as if they’re all racing to see who can get to the bottom of his jaw first. His chest feels heavy as he tries not to make any noise, gingerly wiping the water off of his face.
He’s really messed things up.
His phone won’t stop buzzing, but he chooses to ignore it anyway. Switching it to silent, he realises how shaky his hands have become, the phone screen’s blurry from all the tears as Sapnap’s contact picture pops up.
It’s strange, he thinks, that Dream hasn’t called him yet.
He’s yet to decide whether he’s grateful for that or not.
From the corner of his eye he spots a 7/11, he prays he has his ID in his phone case as he enters. It’s dim when he walks in, one of the lights in the store had blown. He grabs the first lighter he sees and goes straight to the counter.
There’s a young woman behind the register and he hesitantly walks up to the counter before asking for the cheapest box of cigarettes they had. It’s a bad habit he picked up in university that he thought he was over, but turns out he was wrong.
Sapnap had warned him a while ago that starting in the first place would come back and bite him in the ass - he probably should have listened. Because no matter how long he goes without it, he always seems to fall back into the comfort of a cig in his hand every time things get tough.
Old habits hit hard, he supposes.
He then goes to the only place he can think of.
Their place.
It’s stupid, he knows he shouldn’t go there - especially now of all times - but he finds his feet moving before he can register where he’s walking. It’s automatic, mindless, easy. He navigates his way through trees and bushes galore, he knows this trail like he knows the back of his hand. Eventually he finds himself at the foot of a tall abandoned building they’d come across a while ago.
He tiredly climbs up the ladder at the back of the building and makes his way to the ledge overlooking the ground below; it feels less secure without Dream holding his hand.
The only light is from the stars above and he finds himself searching for the constellations Sapnap always talks about just to keep himself occupied. It doesn’t work, all that runs through his mind is the look on Dream’s face when he uttered the words ’I like you.’ so stupidly.
God, he hates himself right now.
He should have known.
He should have known that Dream feeling the same would be too good to be true, that he wasn’t going to confess his feelings as well. He should have known because life isn’t a fucking fairytale.
He wishes it was.
He wishes Dream would have looked in his eyes and told him to stop looking so worried, he wishes he would have held his hand tightly and held him close while he whispered how he loved him too; how he wanted more.
To be honest, he wishes he’d said anything else apart from ’oh.’ What kind of answer was that? Let me spill my heart out to you just for you to say the most earth shattering response. He feels stupid.
He is stupid.
Stupid for believing they could be anything more than friends. That’s what they’re destined for. The silly jokes, late night talks, innocent teasing. The jokes that pass the line of platonic by a long shot, just to be laughed off and forgotten. That’s what they were meant to do: forget about them. Not take them to heart and fall in love.
He’s stupid.
He’s stupid.
He’s stupid.
He’s also in love; and part of him doesn’t regret saying something. Part of him feels relieved that it’s finally off of his chest. It’s freeing - in a way. In a weird, strange way. Like a weight which had been crushing him for weeks had finally been lifted from his chest, and although the air stung his lungs, he could finally breathe again.
Even if that meant crying his heart out for a while, (which he was definitely going to do.)
Looking up at the sky, dark blue painting the background of the stars, he can’t help but wonder what Dream’s doing right now. Was he crying? Sleeping? Talking to someone? Did he feel bad? Did he even care? Was he worried about George? He checks his phone, nothing from the dirty blonde yet.
That’s a bad thing, he decides. Surely when you turn down your best friend and they leave the house with tears in their eyes, surely, surely that should create - at least some - concern. He’s gotten more messages from his phone company since he’s left the house.
Tonight is a bad night, he concludes. He lights up another cigarette.
——
There’s a cold air stinging at his cheeks while he leans his head back against the cold brick wall behind him. George wonders if there’s any point in getting up now, the sun was already peeking up from behind the horizon, and he could faintly hear birds begin to chirp all around him.
His legs dangle over the edge - he feels free. He feels on top of the world, he likes it. The cigarette in his hand has long burned out when he finally decides to toss it away. He thinks this time tomorrow he’ll wish he was back here.
It’s peaceful at this time, when everyone else is asleep, or at least sane enough to stay in their homes. It’s so quiet he can hear his own heartbeat and it’s comforting; the confirmation he’s still alive - that he’s still breathing.
Looking up at the sky he tries to find shapes in the stars, maybe if he searches for long enough he’ll find the cassiopeia Sapnap always talks about. Although, he’s still not sure what he’s supposed to be looking for.
His chest feels heavy, just like his eyes when he supposes he should move. Reluctantly he picks himself off of the ledge and makes his way back home. His steps seem weighted while he drags himself back to his room, he feels less free when the wind isn’t messing up his hair, and the cold isn’t numbing his fingers.
It’s an indescribable feeling.
This entire week has been full of indescribable feelings. From dread, to guilt, back to dread, anxiety, dread again, more guilt, confusion, and everything in between, it’s safe to say George’s head has been all over the place lately.
Maybe he can use that as an excuse for what he said and they can pretend it never happened.
The house is quiet when he walks through the front door, apart from the muffled sound of the tv playing next door. He creeps his head around the corner and sees Sapnap lying on the couch asleep, his phone on top of his chest.
George remembers he silenced his phone and instantly feels guilt wash over him. He checks his messages and sees 20 unanswered texts and 13 missed calls from the youngest of them all. He feels a twang in his chest at the thought of Sapnap falling asleep while waiting for him to come home.
Quietly, he grabs a blanket from the other couch and carefully drapes it on top of the sleeping brunet. “Sorry for keeping you up, Sap,” he whispers, which causes the other to stir in his sleep.
He quickly texts him that he’s back so he sees it in the morning and makes his way back upstairs. His body practically collapses onto his bed when he reaches his bedroom.
He’s so exhausted and falls asleep within seconds of his head hitting his pillow.
Meanwhile, in the room next to him, Dream sits in front of his laptop, silently cursing himself as the bright screen hurts his eyes.
“You are totally in love with your best friend.”
It's clear that you are totally in love with your best friend. The question is, are they in love with you too? If you can find out the answer to that and it's yes, you could be on your way to a life of love and happiness.
His cheeks flush with red as tears slowly trickle down his face. He feels stupid. He is stupid. He’s in love.
He knew he was; how couldn’t he?
He loves George.
He’s in love with George.
That doesn’t matter.
He wants to ground to swallow him whole as he closes the tab and cries into his pillow. His chest feels tight and he wants nothing more than to burst into the other’s room to profess his love. He can’t. He won’t.
Maybe in another lifetime, Georgie.