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A few months had passed since Dream face revealed. As scary as it'd seemed then, looking back, it had been absolutely worth it. Because now he was living in Florida with his two best friends, George and Sapnap.
When George arrived from England, Dream had honestly been more nervous than excited. He was just so afraid of disappointing George, of him not being enough (enough what? He didn't know). And he obviously knew of his feelings for George. He wasn't blind, he'd realized he had feelings months ago, but he knew he'd secretly had them for years. As for George, Dream knew he was straight, he knew any hope he held of George loving him back was just wishful thinking. But he was content with continuing as just friends, even if he'd always want more.
It had been a casual Tuesday evening. Dream was just scrolling through Twitter. It was been a regular thread with the usual discussions about his face reveal he clicked on, his mistake had been in looking further. He knew it shouldn't mean anything to him. He knew that the cruel insults on his screen were from random people who's opinion shouldn't matter to him. But they did, and he hated it. He hated himself, his looks, and he hated his recklessness. Why had he even bothered to face reveal anyway? He was hideous, he should've known people would comment on it.
But it was over and done with now, so instead, he lay on his bed silently sobbing at 11:34 P.M., hoping maybe his tears would drown him, and end his misery.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Rather, he hears a soft knock on the door.
~~~
It had been a casual Tuesday evening. George wasn't doing anything particularly interesting, rather he was going to sleep relatively early for a change. That was the plan, at least till he heard soft sobs coming from across the hall.
Sapnap was asleep, and even if had woken up from a nightmare (or whatever could've caused him to cry), he'd have sought immediate comfort.
That left Dream. But why would Dream be crying? He knew that he felt more than he let on, and he knew he'd most likely not talk about it to anyone. Even just thinking about what could've caused Dream to cry broke his heart. Dream, who always prioritized his family and friends. Dream, who gave so much and expected nothing in return. Dream, who George had been hopelessly and irrevocably in love with for years.
He knew he had to go comfort him, so, he steadied himself and headed towards Dream's room, cries becoming louder the closer he got.
He softly knocks on the door, not wanting to startle the man he knew was on the other side.
"Come in," is what he gets in response, and he can tell from the crack in his voice he's been crying for a while.
He opens the door and pokes his head in, and the sight he's welcomed with is nothing short of heartbreaking. It's Dream, his Dream, curled up on his bed, phone discarded at his side. His eyes are red and puffy, his tear-stained cheeks shone from the soft light coming from his phone's screen.
He almost felt like crying himself, but he knows it's not the time. He also knows he's been quietly observing the beautiful man in front of him for a bit too long, and Dream nervously picks at his hands under his stare.
"Hey, I heard you crying from my room... what's wrong?..."
"Nothing, it's nothing. It's dumb, that's all. I was just, it's just,"
He can't seem to articulate a full sentence, so George sits beside him, softly rubbing patterns on his back (his weak attempt at trying to calm him down).
"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me. Just know that I'm here for you, and anytime, anywhere you need me, I'll be there."
Apparently, that wasn't the right thing to say, because Dream just started crying even louder. It should gross him out, the sweat making Dream's shirt stick to his skin, his tear-stained face, the bit of snot coming out of his nose, but instead, he only feels his heart break a little more each time the man beside him lets out a sob.
He glances over at Dream's phone, and is met with a familiar screen. What's not familiar, is people's actual response to the tweet. Insults, slurs, just cruel, cruel words filled the screen. The lower he went, the worse they got. And he just couldn't find it in himself to understand how anyone could something so heartless to the wonderful human being next to him.
It made him furious. None of them knew him, and not a single one of them deserved him. Dream, maybe the kindest, most selfless person he had ever had the pleasure of being able to meet, was crying at his side because what some idiots thought about him. As much as he wanted to do something about it, the only thing he cared about right now was comforting Dream, and he could think of only one way to do that.
So, he turned to face Dream, and gently held his face in his palms to make Dream look at him.
"Hey, Dream, look at me, please. Listen to me. You are the most beautiful, kindhearted and caring person I have ever met. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks about you, their opinions don't matter. Because they're wrong. Listen to me, you are amazing. And even if you were as unattractive as they think you are, which you aren't, you're maybe one of the most attractive people I've ever met, it wouldn't matter; because you are amazing. Alright? You're beautiful, and stunning, and frankly breathtaking and you're the kindest person I've ever met. And I'm rambling now, but what I'm trying to say is that what their opinion doesn't matter, they don't deserve you, and as long as I'm here, I won't let any of them hurt you. Not ever again."
It took approximately five seconds of silence for George to start to worry he'd said something wrong, and it took exactly eleven seconds for Dream to muster up a response.
"Do you really mean all of that?..."
"Yes. Every word of it. I'm sorry anyone ever made you think otherwise. I'm sorry anyone ever made you think you were anything short of extraordinary. You deserve so much better than that."
It took George three seconds to realize their faces were centimeters apart, he was still holding on to Dream's face, and more importantly, the other wasn't crying anymore.
It also took George an additional six or so seconds to register Dream was now holding on to his face, and they were kissing.
Oh.
Oh.
There were no fireworks. No explosion. Just him and Dream, in a dark room, at 11:51 P.M., kissing. Kind of, because he realized he hadn't been kissing back; and then Dream was pulling away, regret defining his features and mouth open, probably about let out an apology. This time, it took George less than a second to grab Dream by the collar of his sweatshirt and pull him in for another kiss.
It could've been seconds, minutes or hours. Neither knew and neither cared. Muttered love confessions in between kisses, touches and pulling of each other's hair, it all happened so quickly and then he was pulling away, drawing in an audibly loud breath of much needed air.
He opens his eyes he hadn't even realized were closed and he's met with Dream grinning ear-to-ear, looking at him as though he'd hung the moon and stars. And it's too much and too little all too fast and before he can utter a word, he's engulfed in a bear hug. All he can think is Dream. Dream, who smells like his expensive cologne. Dream, who's arms fit so perfectly around his waist it seems as though they were just meant to be placed there. Dream, who's still uttering whispered confessions into his ear. Dream, who he loves so wholeheartedly, it hurts.
Not actually, that's just Dream hugging him as though he's going to disappear if he lets go.
They sleep cuddled closely together that night, and the next, and the next, and all the nights that follow. And if Sapnap notices the sudden disuse of George's bedroom, he doesn't mention it. If he notices them holding hands, sneaking glances and touches, or running off together at gatherings, he doesn't pry. And if he's surprised when they tell him, he doesn't show it, instead settling for "Finally, I thought you two never manage to figure it out, seriously, you've been pining for ages."