Work Text:
It’s the end of the school day, and the sun is high in the sky, spreading exhaustion into the minds of students. George just finished taking a history test, and he can’t wait to walk home with Dream like they always do. George all but runs to their usual meeting spot; a tall oak tree at the front of the school. The shade feels nice, especially with the relentless sun beating down on his skin.
Within a few minutes, Dream arrives, sweat forming on his brow from the heat. He looks troubled, so George approaches him to wrap him in his arms just like a good boyfriend would. Before he can take him in his arms, though, Dream holds up a hand and utters the words that change everything.
“I think we need to break up.”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The moment George wakes up in a panic, he knows that he’s had that dream again. It’s been three years since their relationship ended, but somehow the memories linger in George’s heart, threatening to tear it out of his chest if he thinks too hard.
The dreams have been happening more often now, considering he and Dream need to see each other almost every day for rehearsals. It’s exhausting having to see him shine up on stage, the way he fits so perfectly under dazzling stage lights. It’s tiring having to talk to him, always only about the show and never more.
At the same time, he’s almost to the finish line. It’s their senior year. Opening night is today and after they perform this final play, they’ll never have to see each other again. The thought makes something sharp pang in George’s chest, but he refuses to give it the time of day.
Soon, he will be free from these torturous dreams about the one who got away, and that’s all that matters.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
After countless hours and a frustrating incident with lost mics at the dress rehearsal, the opening night is set to begin. George makes sure to come in early, as expected of the stage manager, and Karl and Quackity arrive shortly after. Karl is in charge of props, so he says goodbye to the two and runs off to join the rest of his team. Quackity, on the other hand, works with sound, so he takes his leave soon after.
George scurries around, helping with whatever he can. Unfortunately, the theatre department doesn’t have enough crew members this year, as most of them graduated after last year's show. Since they are so short on help, George has to work five times harder than usual.
He’s about to run a check on the lighting when he notices Dream isn’t on stage or in the back. He sighs, knowing that he’s going to be the one to look for him.
“Hey Punz, could you get the lighting crew together? I need to go find Dream, so just have them run the check without me,” he says once he arrives back at the lighting booth.
“Uh sure, but don’t you want to be here for it? I can go grab Dream for you instead,” he offers, already standing up. George shakes his head.
“No, I’ve got it. I trust you to handle this.” He’s only doing this because he’s the stage manager; it’s his job to keep everything in order. There’s nothing more to it.
Or so he tells himself.
“Suit yourself. Good luck, George. Come back quickly,” Punz replies as he makes his way out of the booth.
George decides that the best place to check would be the dressing rooms. Sometimes the actors get distracted and end up spending too much time there, resulting in them being late. Dream has always been more inattentive than most, so it makes sense for him to be hiding away in there.
When he enters, it appears empty at first. But as he takes another step, he hears a groan of frustration. Sure enough, when he turns to the noise, he spots a head of fluffy, blond hair.
“Dream?” He calls out, wincing at the way his voice cracks. Dream jumps and turns his head at lightning speed. His eyes are wide, and his arm is stretched over his shoulder.
“George,” he breathes, and he almost sounds relieved. George thinks he might cry over the sound of Dream calling his name. Even after so long, it still has a tender ring to it. “Sorry I know I’m late. The zipper is stuck. I would’ve asked for help but,” he gestures at the empty room, “no one’s here.”
George nods in understanding. “I can help, if you want,” he offers. Again, he’s doing this only because it’s what a good stage manager would do. Absolutely no part of him is offering just so he can stay around Dream a little longer.
Dream says silent, debating the offer.
“Okay,” he whispers, like talking to George is something that needs to be kept a secret. George hesitantly steps behind him and he’s met with a sliver of tanned skin and the broken zipper. He grabs hold of it and attempts to yank it up, but his hand slips off of it and instead grazes over Dream’s heated skin. He stutters out an apology that he doesn’t really mean, too focused on the warmth he’s been deprived of for so long. He wishes it were easier to touch him; he wishes he were allowed to touch him.
If he notices the way Dream’s back turns cherry red, he doesn’t comment on it, too focused on his own whirlwind of thoughts.
After a couple of failed tries, George finally manages to pull the zipper up, effectively hiding the skin that has been taunting him. He gives Dream a once-over, smoothing the back of the costume with hands desperate to preserve this moment. He debates staying there, drawing out this interaction for as long as possible, but they have a show to put on, and now is not the time to be selfish.
He steps back, heart aching, and takes in a gulp of air.
“Alright, you’re all set,” he tells Dream. He lets his hands drop to his sides, unsure of what to do with them. “Come out soon, okay?” He gives Dream a smile without meeting his eyes and turns toward the door to leave.
Before he can take another step though, he feels a hand grip his arm. He tries and fails not to relish in the touch.
“Thank you,” Dream says. His smile is soft, and while his eyes shine like emeralds, there seems to be a hidden sense of urgency behind them. George feels like Dream can see right through him, right to the very depths of his desires. He fears that Dream will be able to see the love that’s been festering in his heart for years, and will come to hate him for it. But even so, he finds it hard to look away. It’s been so long since he’s stood in front of Dream this way, with gentle touches and reverent glances. It makes him wonder if there’s still a chance for them.
He feels Dream squeeze his arm lightly before pulling away, eyes averted. George takes that as a sign to leave.
When he arrives back to everyone else, it’s a flurry of movement with excitement buzzing in the air. He hardly has time to even think about Dream when there’s so much to do.
However, when he finally takes his spot back up in the booth, Dream is all he can think about. It’s a bit hard not to when he’s the lead, and his entire job is to shine brightly on center stage. George hates the way his face flushes red when he and Dream make eye contact.
It’s foolish, it truly is, considering Dream most likely doesn’t even know he’s making eye contact with his ex when he’s up on stage, occupied with pleasing the audience. And even if he did, there’s no way he would care as much as George does.
Unconsciously, George prays for Dream to look at him a little longer, to trick him into thinking that they could be saved, that their love could resurrect itself off of fleeting moments. It hardly works though, and the two don’t get a chance to speak again for the rest of the night.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The second night of "The Stars and You" arrives a bit too quickly for George’s liking. He’s still worn out from the night before, especially because of a certain someone with skin like the sun and eyes like jewels. He hopes that he won't have to deal with anything too difficult involving Dream tonight, just for his own sanity.
George arrives early, as always, and picks up some costumes to bring them over to the dressing room. He expects it to be empty, but to his surprise, he hears Dream’s voice floating through the air the moment he steps in the door.
At first, he thinks he’s talking to himself, but as he listens more closely, he recognizes the words. They’re from the script, more specifically, the big confession scene.
He gets so wrapped up in Dream’s melodic voice that he doesn’t notice the clothes hanger about to slip out of his grasp. He only realizes when it clatters to the floor, the sound of plastic hitting the linoleum flooring echoing throughout the near-empty room. George sees Dream jolt out of his seat, and the motion reminds George of the night prior.
Dream rushes over upon seeing the fallen costume, picking it up for George.
“Where should I put this?” He asks. George points to a chair in the corner. While the blond brings it over, George distributes the other costumes to their rightful places.
“I’m sorry, I know I was probably being loud. I just felt that this part was stiff last night, so I wanted to practice it some more,” Dream explains, holding up the script. George nods in understanding.
“I find that a bit surprising considering it’s a romance scene,” he jokes, giggling. Though it bothers him to think about, Dream has probably dated others after they broke up. Dream lets out a halfhearted chuckle.
“I mean, not really. I’ve only ever dated you,” he mutters. George wonders if he heard him correctly. He struggles to wrap his head around the idea; it simply doesn’t make sense. Everyone loves Dream, so why wouldn’t he date anyone?
He ignores the questions piling up in his mind in favor of taking this opportunity presented to him.
“I could help you if you want. It might be easier with a scene partner.” He pulls his copy of the script out of his bag, flipping to the right page.
Dream gratefully accepts the help, grabbing a second chair for George to use. He sits down immediately, gluing his eyes to the page in an effort to calm his pounding heart. But one glance at the first line and his heart quickens its pace.
How in the world is he meant to say these lines without actually meaning them? What if Dream, always observant, picks up on the fact that these feelings are real?
He doesn’t have much time to panic, though, because Dream is looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to start the scene. He clears his throat and begins.
“You don’t know how many dreams I’ve had about you, hoping you’ll love me the same,” he reads, doing his best to pretend like he can actually act. The moment the line registers in his head, he has to resist the urge to groan. He forgot how much of this play revolves around love.
Oh fuck this, why does this stupid play have to relate so much to my current predicament?
“But,” Dream pauses, eyes flickering around the room, uncertainty fogging his gaze, “George.” The brunet thinks he might throw up; this can’t be happening. There’s no way that Dream changed the lines to add in his name. “It’s always been you,” he declares, and it sounds too much like a real confession for George’s comfort.
His cheeks feel like they're on fire, and he’s convinced Dream’s loving stare could burn holes in his skin. His eyes begin to water, and he tries his absolute hardest to keep the tears from falling. He’s about to tell Dream to stop, that he’s had enough practice, when the blond leans forward, cupping George’s cheek in his palm. The touch is delicate and earnest, and George leans into it despite himself.
And suddenly, their lips are getting closer, and their hearts are pounding even louder, and George didn't think they would practice the kiss-
“George! I need your help, I can’t find the mic-” Quackity rushes into the room, panic written on his face. But the moment he sees George and Dream leaning into each other, he has to take a second to assess the situation, “...tape.”
George practically screams, bolting out of his seat.
“Sorry Dream, gotta go! Good luck! Bye!” He rushes out, grabbing Quackity’s hand to pull him out of the room.
Once they’re out of earshot, Quackity speaks through panting breaths.
“What the fuck was that about? I thought you guys broke up like forever ago!” he exclaims.
“It wasn’t about anything. I was just helping him practice his lines. That’s all!” he defends, rolling his eyes.
“Well, that's an absolute lie. There was definitely something going on. I mean, I wasn’t even involved, but I could feel it! And you should've seen the way Dream looked at you when you got up. It was like you were worth more than the entire universe to him.”
“You’re insane. Now, let’s go look for that mic tape and pretend this never happened, got it?”
“Whatever you say.”
That night, while the performance goes on below him, George doesn’t even watch. The only thing he can focus on is Dream’s lips, and what it would’ve been like if they really had kissed earlier. Would it be the same as when they were dating? The questions bother him until he can’t think straight. And when it comes time for the kiss scene, all George can think is, that kiss would’ve meant something to me.
He’s never been more terrified of his own feelings in his life.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The final night of the play goes off without a hitch. There are no weird encounters with Dream before the show, and the performance ends with a standing ovation. George feels like he could float into the sky out of happiness, however, the nagging feeling of disappointment weighs him down.
It’s over, truly over.
After tonight, he won’t get to see Dream anymore, and once they graduate, there really is no going back. They’ll be on separate paths, and George may always be left with regret.
These are the things George thinks about as he enters the dark auditorium. Caught up in the adrenaline from the show, he had left without taking his bag. He expects the theater to be empty by now, after all, everyone is at the cast party and the audience left. But of course, the universe seems insistent on Dream and George being shoved in a room together, all the time.
George doesn’t understand it, Dream should be at the cast party, not sitting on the edge of the stage, alone. Neither of them says anything as the blond stands up and walks over to him.
Now, Dream is in front of him. It’s the first time they’ve stood in front of each other as themselves, not the lead or the manager, since the breakup. And though they are no longer together, and George knows he doesn’t have the right, he has an indescribable urge to reach out and touch . As they stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, George thinks, I will never meet anyone as beautiful as you.
George attempts to come up with something to say — anything at all — to cut through this fog of uncertainty and missed opportunities. He longs to blurt out every thought he’s had since they split, and wants to tell Dream how every night he’s had dreams about him. But of course, he can’t. That’s not what exes do.
When he finally thinks he’s found the words, a song cuts through the speakers. George recognizes it as “Fly Me To The Moon”, a song Dream sang to him a long time ago, back when they were still together. He turns his head to catch a flash of a navy blue hoodie, one he can immediately tell belongs to Quackity. “ I’m gonna kill him later,” he thinks, sighing.
“Sorry, I don’t know what that was about,” he tries at a laugh, “well, I’m going to go now so-”
“Wanna dance with me?”
Dream holds out his hand, and though he can only use the dim light from the hall to see, George can tell it’s trembling. He nearly turns him down, but something about the look in Dream’s eyes makes him stop. To both their amazement, he takes his hand.
Neither of them says anything. They don’t need to. Even though they’ve spent years apart, the way Dream holds George’s hand is the same: tender, pouring love into his skin. They follow each other, no one in particular leading. Heat flows up George’s spine and he thinks that this moment could burn him alive, but what scares him is that he thinks he would let it. As long as Dream holds him like this, like nothing has changed, he thinks he would be okay with the world ending right then and there.
The song comes to an end too soon for George’s liking, and he wishes he could stay like this, head tucked into the crook of Dream’s neck, their breathing synced.
“George,” Dream whispers, breath tickling the brunet’s ear, “stay right here, I’ll be back in a minute.”
George hums, letting Dream guide him over to the stage where he can sit. He’s still in a daze when Dream leaves, unsure if any of that even happened. A soft smile stays plastered on his face, and he doesn’t mind it one bit. For once, he lets the butterflies run amok in his stomach, and he enjoys simply being allowed to love someone.
True to his word, Dream comes back quickly. He looks tired with the way sweat drips down his forehead, and George hates the way it reminds him of the day they broke up. The blond holds something behind his back, and George can catch glimpses of purple sticking out.
“So, I know they usually only give these to actors, but I felt like you deserved one too, especially with how much effort you put into the show,” he explains as he pulls out a nice bouquet of blue roses. It’s one of the ones they were selling outside the auditorium for parents to pick up before congratulating their kids.
With no explanation, George feels his heart break a little. He somehow convinced himself that this bouquet was for more than just the show, that it was a piece of Dream’s feelings. But now, he knows he was foolish to think about such things, and so after he thanks the blond, he goes silent.
The quiet weighs on them both, and it’s only broken when Dream lets out a sigh.
“George, I need you to know something since this is probably the last time I'll get to stand in front of you like this,” he starts, looking at the shorter man with desperation in his eyes.
“I miss you more than anything. What I said that night, even if it was from a script, was the truth. You are the only one for me. And every day I come here, thinking I've moved on, but the moment I see your face, that lie crumbles. I know it's been years, and you probably don’t feel that way for me anymore, but I had to tell you before I never get this chance again.”
George remains there, mouth agape, eyes wide. How is he meant to handle this? What if none of this is real, and he’s already back home, in his bed dreaming? He feels like he can’t breathe, but the way Dream looks at him, honest and raw, is the most real thing he has ever seen.
“Dream… to be completely honest,” he breathes in, then out, preparing himself for the inevitable crash and burn, “I feel the same way,” he pauses, debating if he’s ready to admit this. His chest aches with panic, and he worries he’s unable to breathe. “Since we broke up, I’ve been having these… dreams about us, but they’ve been more frequent now more than ever.” His hands tremble as he grips the bouquet tighter in an attempt to ground himself. “These past three nights with you have felt unreal, and it makes me want you in all the ways I can't have.”
“But you can have me. I’ve always been yours, George. I just need to know if you’re willing to try again with me.”
George feels dizzy, his lips are dry and chapped and he’s unsure what to do with himself. All he knows is what his heart wants and so he lets himself fall.
“I am,” he admits.
Dream lets out a sigh of relief, nearly collapsing into George. He brings his hands up to cup George’s cheeks like the night before, only this time, it’s real.
“Now I can finally kiss you like I’ve been dying to.”
Their lips connect, and even after so many years of being apart, being together has never felt more right. Dream makes a home out of George’s lips, and the brunet lets him, pushing all the things he could never express right back at him. It’s euphoric, and wholeheartedly them.
They break apart, and George giggles, feeling happier than ever. Dream smiles at him like he’s made of stardust.
“Okay, I have something to confess,” Dream announces. George feels his heart drop. “Earlier, with the music, I planned all that. Quackity approached me the other day and interrogated me. Once I admitted everything to him, he agreed to help me out.”
“Oh my god, you had me terrified for a second. You both are so stupid ! But… thanks, Dream. It was really sweet.”
“God, you’re so cute,” Dream murmurs. Without a second thought, he wraps George up in his arms. The two giggle even more than before while Quackity watches from the hallway, pleased with the outcome of his plan.
“Next time, I’ll be planning their wedding.”