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“What?” George’s spoon clinked against the ceramic bowl in front of him as his exasperated voice broke through the silence.
Dream is sitting across from him at the kitchen island and the morning sun bathes the room in a serene glow. The house is unusually quiet, Sapnap is still asleep, and Dream has been watching George prepare and subsequently eat cereal for the last 5 minutes.
“Nothing,” he shrugs, slouching over the countertop with his chin resting on his hand. The white t-shirt he wore to bed is creased in every possible spot, and his soft smile and messy hair make him look still half-asleep, content.
“Seriously, what are you doing?” George continues between spoonfuls of cereal. “You’re just sitting here, not moving and staring at me. It’s weirding me out, you’re like a creepy statue. Staring Dream statue.”
“I don’t know, I’m literally not doing anything,” the ever-present smile on Dream’s face got a little wider. “If anything, I’m admiring you. Let yourself be admired, George.”
“Okay...” he looked around the kitchen in confusion. “Well, then can you stop admiring me while I’m eating. I’m eating , Dream,” he lifted the spoon to eye-level to demonstrate his point, drops of milk falling back down with a splash.
“I’m not stopping you from eating,” Dream’s words sounded muffled as he leaned more of his weight on his hand, his palm covering his cheek.
“Yeah, but you’re, like, distracting me,” George looked down, his eyes focused on the milk he started swirling around the bowl. “I don’t stare at you constantly.”
A beat.
“You can,” Dream’s voice sounded as soft as he looked.
George’s eyes shot up. “Obviously I can. But I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” His sarcastic response betrayed a hint of amusement.
“Yeah, why not? To be fair, you didn’t know what I look like before. You can stare at me if you want, George.”
He took a second to wonder if Dream realized just how piercing his eye contact was, almost unbearable sometimes.
“I know I can, I just don’t .”
The newest moment of silence stretched out a little too long for comfort, and Dream’s entire demeanor was so vulnerable it almost hurt.
“You don’t want to?”
George took a moment to rub his eyes before standing up and walking over to the sink, putting down his empty bowl. He was desperate to change the scarily real tone that suddenly hung low in the kitchen.
“Well, I’m, like, super smart and perceptive and I’ve noticed everything about you already.” He turned to face Dream and leaned back on the counter. “But you can’t take your eyes off me. You probably looove staring at me or something.”
“I do.”
There’s that eye contact again, and George is fighting the urge to look away.
After processing the answer, he jerked back with a chuckle. “Why did you say that so genuine?”
“It was genuine, George.” Dream blinked slowly. “It always is.”
George’s grip on the conversation has slipped away now, and he quickly excused himself from the kitchen, mumbling something about having a video to edit.
“You know me, it’s going to take forever, probably.”
As he climbed the stairs, scattered thoughts started crowding his brain and he made an effort to ignore them all, at least until the door to his room was shut. Tightly.
He wondered if Dream stayed in the kitchen for a long time, or if he got up and went on as if nothing happened. He also wondered which option is worse.
Dream decided to leave George alone for the rest of the day, fearing he might’ve spooked him before with… whatever it was that spooked him. He still wasn’t completely sure.
Instead he spent his day milling about, working on whatever to stay occupied. By late afternoon he turned on Sapnap’s stream, the sounds of a Valorant game keeping his thoughts at bay for a while.
“Dream’s here?” Sapnap’s voice tore his eyes away from the spot on the floor that he’s been staring at. “Bro needs to start grinding Valo or he’ll fall off. Look at the master at play and learn, Dream.”
He let out a chuckle, leaning forward to reach his keyboard and open chat.
Dream: wow you suck
Dream: this your first game?
“Ah, shut up, bitch.” Sapnap voice came through the speakers as Dream leaned back in his chair again. He stayed until the end of the stream but didn’t participate any more than that, his thoughts wandering off elsewhere.
Now nearing the evening, Dream shuffled around the room, a hand gripping his phone as he moved from one corner to the other and back again. The Twitter space that he had started a while ago has gone silent now, with only occasional comments now and then. Mostly he started it for company, in a weird way, and it helped him to keep focused as he folded and put away his laundry.
He worked through his last pair of socks and, having closed the drawer, unlocked his phone. The silence filling the room, with the occasional sound of the Twitter timeline refreshing, was broken through with a knock on his door.
Dream absentmindedly headed towards the sound, still looking at the screen in his hand. Opening the door, he barely managed to get out a greeting to George before–
“It’s my turn to stare at you.”
Dream looked up as his fingers quickly found the button to end the space.
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