Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dream dropped the cardboard box he was carrying onto the tile floor with a thud.

“Careful, idiot!” Sapnap called from behind him. “I think the dishes are in that one!”

Dream sighed heavily and leaned against the wall behind him.

“This is like the millionth trip we’ve taken up those stairs, my arms are tired. I couldn’t have carried that box one more step.” Dream massaged his biceps, feeling his muscles tighten. “And I think the dishes are in one of the boxes by the counter. This one should be the air fryer.”

Sapnap slid the box he had been carrying onto the kitchen counter next to Dream. “Oh great, I’m so glad you can toss that box around just because it’s the air fryer.”

“Well since it’s my air fryer, I think I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty,” Bad’s voice interrupted, breathing heavily. “Now can you stop arguing and help me?”

Dream turned to find Bad trying to force a mattress through the front door of their apartment which was clearly too small.

“Bad, what the hell?” Dream laughed. “That’s not gonna fit.”

“I’ll make it fit,” Bad replied, gritting his teeth.

“Please, Bad, I’ll help.” Sapnap pushed himself off the counter and rushed to the door.

Dream chuckled to himself and looked around their new apartment. It was about what you would expect from a college apartment in a big city. The kitchen was small but clean – granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and not enough cupboards for all the dishes they had brought. Maybe it would look bigger once they put away the boxes that littered the floor and counters. The kitchen connected to the living room with one of those fancy open floor plans that Dream saw on HGTV all the time. There was a couch and an armchair pushed against the wall and a coffee table in front of them. Against the other wall was a dining table and chairs. All of the furniture was simple and probably not designed for comfort but it would work. Three doors branched off the living room to each of their individual bedrooms. Dream was already dreading having to unpack everything he had dumped on the carpet of his new room.

It was kind of crazy that the three of them would be living in these rooms for the next three years as they finished their degrees. At least he hoped they would – maybe one of them would decide to move out at some point. But he couldn’t see that happening. The three of them had been best friends since the first day of middle school and they had been waiting ever since then to finally live together.

“Bad, angle it the other way,” Sapnap grunted, lifting the mattress off the ground.

“What other way?”

“The way you had it before, idiot!”

“You’re seriously gonna hurt yourself,” Dream observed, still leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you should help then.”

“No thanks, I’m busy unpacking.”

Sapnap turned his head as much as he could with the way he was holding the mattress. “No, you’re not! You’re just standing there watching!”

Dream bent down and opened the box at his feet. He pulled the air fryer out of the box and set it on the counter next to him. “See? I’m unpacking.”

“I hate you,” Sapnap huffed. “I’m gonna move out.”

“Yeah right, we just moved all this stuff in here.”

“I think I got it!” Bad called from outside the front door, completely oblivious to the exchange between Dream and Sapnap.

The mattress broke free of whatever it had been caught on and lurched forward, throwing Sapnap to the ground and landing on top of him with a loud thud. With nothing to stop his momentum, Bad stumbled forward and landed on the mattress. Sapnap’s breath was pushed out of his lungs with an audible woosh as Bad pushed himself back to his feet.

“Oops!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, Sap!”

Dream couldn’t even help Bad pull the mattress off of Sapnap – he was doubled over, grabbing his sides with laughter.

“Are you okay?” Bad extended his hand to Sapnap as he lay on the floor.

Sapnap made no move to grab it. He just closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest like he had died.

“Sapnap?” Bad asked. “I said I’m sorry!”

Dream could barely see what was going on – tears streamed down his face and his stomach hurt so much from laughing that he thought he was going to have to lay down on the floor next to his friend.

“Please, Bad, just leave me here to rot,” Sapnap mumbled. “I can’t do this today.”

“Um okay?” Bad said. “Can you help me move my mattress to my room before you rot?”

“Bad!” Dream choked out between bouts of laughter. “I can – I can help you. Just give me – give me a minute.”

Once he had wiped the tears from his eyes and caught his breath, Dream stepped over Sapnap to help Bad move the mattress into his room. There was another bit of pushing and pulling to get it through the doorway, but Bad had figured out what to do this time and Dream didn’t end up getting tossed to the ground. Sapnap eventually dragged himself – and his pride – off of the tile in the kitchen to help them start unpacking the boxes they had brought up. They decided to start by opening up the boxes that had the essentials like plates and silverware; they would deal with everything else later. When that was done, each of them vanished into their own room to start unloading the boxes there.

Dream smiled to himself as he placed his little trinkets on the shelves that lined the walls – drumsticks from his old drum set, a Minecraft Lego set he had made with friends, a little stuffed cat that looked like his own cat Patches, and whatever else he had crammed into the moving boxes. It was sort of weird to see things he had brought from his childhood bedroom in such an unfamiliar place, but it was also sort of exciting. It wasn’t like putting them up in the dorm room that he and Sapnap had shared last year – this was much more permanent. He would be living in this room full time until he graduated in three years. And that felt like a seriously long time. He just wanted to make the most of it.

After just two weeks of classes, Dream already wanted to give up. No one had told him that his second year of college would be so much harder than the first. And how was he supposed to make the most of the year when he could barely even find time to see his roommates – and he lived with them!

He bounced from class to class in a daze, taking notes, reading chapters, and finishing assignments as fast as he could before doing it all over again. The library became his best friend and he found himself there for hours every day. But the whole time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was letting his time go to waste. He should be doing something more than just going through the motions. He wanted to make a statement, to do something cool and new. And on the Friday of the second week, he found his answer.

It was 8 p.m. and Dream was finally dragging himself out of the library. His head pounded, his stomach growled, and he felt like he was on the verge of passing out. His whole body felt tired, like sheer exhaustion had crawled into his bones and settled there. Rubbing his eyes, Dream climbed slowly down the stairs through the middle of the library. He passed students everywhere that looked just like him – bags under their eyes, backs bent from the weight of their backpacks. Is this really what college was supposed to be like?

He walked through the lobby but stopped in his tracks when he passed the bulletin board next to the front door. A big black poster filled the middle of the board with huge white letters – Band Auditions. Beneath that in smaller print, the poster had a time and date for a band that was looking for a new drummer.

This was it. This was going to be the way that Dream made the most of his time.

Not many people knew this about Dream – pretty much only Bad and Sapnap since they had been friends for so long – but he was a pretty good drummer. As a kid, he had gotten in so much trouble for breaking things around the house that his parents had bought a drum set so he could bang on that instead. It turned out that Dream had a weird gift for rhythm and he’d started taking lessons a few weeks after he got the set. Throughout high school, he’d never really done anything with his talent. He never joined the school’s band or tried to start his own. Drumming was just something that he loved to do. And now it was going to be his escape from college life.

He looked at the date on the poster and checked his phone before his heart skipped a beat. Holy shit, the auditions were happening that day. Looking back up at the poster, he realized they were also happening in under an hour all the way across campus.

“Of course,” he mumbled under his breath, turning away from the bulletin board and walking out of the library as fast as he could without running.

After practically sprinting across campus, Dream finally made it to the address that was on the poster. He was sweaty, out of breath, and his shoulders ached from carrying his backpack the whole time, but he had made it.

He looked up to find himself standing in front of a house just across the street from the college campus. It was a nice house – a single car garage, decent sized yard, good neighborhood. But there were no lights shining through the windows and Dream couldn’t hear any music coming from inside. He checked his phone. He was only a few minutes late, they should still be holding auditions.

“Hello?” he called out tentatively, walking slowly through the front yard to the porch. His heartbeat quickened with each step he took.

Nothing changed as he got closer to the house. The porch light switched on as he stepped up to the front door causing him to jump back and let out a sound of surprise.

“Hello?” he called again. He pretended that he didn’t hear the nerves in his own voice.

Again, nothing happened. Dream stepped closer to the house, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear something inside. There was a sort of vibrating coming from somewhere, like someone was watching TV or playing music.

He knocked on the door. When no one still came to the door, he reached for the doorknob, jiggling it around in an effort to get it open. Now, Dream wasn’t normally someone who would try to just walk into someone else’s house, but he had walked all the way across campus for this and he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“Is anyone in there?” he yelled, trying to open the door again.

There was a sudden movement from the window next to the door and it swung open easily, knocking Dream back a few steps.

“Are you trying to break in or something?” a voice demanded.

Someone flicked on a light in the entryway, illuminating a figure leaning against the door frame. Dream’s eyes took a second to adjust from the dark.

“No,” Dream croaked, his throat dry. “I’m here for the audition?”

Suddenly, his eyes adjusted and he could see the figure standing in front of him. His heartbeat, which had just been racing faster than he thought was possible, tumbled over itself even quicker. The boy was beautiful – dark brown curls, pale skin, pursed pink lips, deep umber eyes. Dream’s eyes scrambled to take in every detail of his face from the tiny scar above his left eyebrow to the black ring pierced through his lower lip. His gaze trailed down. The man was wearing a plain white t-shirt tucked into baggy black jeans with some sort of chain laced through the belt loops. On one forearm, there were dark vines inked into milky-white skin, the tattoo curling around the boy’s muscles as he tucked his hand into his pocket. His hip pressed into the door frame and, with a start, Dream realized the boy was staring down at him as if he was waiting for him to stop scanning up and down his body.

“Well try not to bust the door down next time,” the boy said.

It took Dream a second to process the words since he was so distracted by the boy’s soft accent as it curled around each letter. His expression was serious, but if Dream looked close enough, he could see a hint of grin playing around the boy’s lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“S-sorry.”

“So, you’re a drummer?” the boy asked, tilting his head.

Dream blinked a few times before he was able to respond, head still swimming. “Uh, yeah. I-I mean, I don’t have super formal training or anything. But… I can play.”

The boy smiled, eyes growing warmer in an instant. “Cool, come on in. I’m George, I play bass guitar in the band.”

Dream stepped forward hesitantly, palms sweaty and words still fumbling over each other as he tried to tear his eyes away from George. “I’m-uh– I’m Dream.”

George stood to the side, holding the door open so Dream could walk in beside him. As he brushed past the boy, he caught a subtle hint of cologne that made his knees weak.

George smiled again, gesturing for Dream to follow him through the kitchen. “That’s a cool name. Feels like the kind of name that someone in a band would have.”

Dream laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“We’ll be doing the auditions in the garage,” George said, leading Dream down a hallway. “We had it soundproofed cuz we were getting too many noise complaints.”

“Ooohh, that makes sense! I was so confused why I couldn’t hear any music when I was outside. You should turn on the porch light or put up a poster or something so people know that the auditions are still happening.”

George shrugged. “If people are really interested, they’ll stick around. Like you did.”

Dream watched George as they walked. Now that they were on equal footing instead of having Georeg above him on the steps, it was clear that the other boy was a few inches shorter than him, but there was an air of confidence about him that almost masked his shorter stature. He walked upright with his shoulders square, arms swinging at his sides. The fingers on his left hand twitched and tapped against each other like they were constantly running through different positions on guitar strings. Dream would be lying if he said he didn’t find it endearing.

“Right through here.” George pushed open a door in the hallway and gestured for Dream to climb down a small set of stairs.

“Is this our new star drummer?” a voice said from the dim lighting of the garage.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, we haven’t even heard him play yet,” another voice responded.

“Guys, be nice,” George said, following Dream down the stairs. “This is Dream, he’s here for the audition.”

Dream forced a thin smile and waved anxiously.

There were two boys lounging in lawn chairs on one side of the garage. One of them had floppy brown hair and was wearing an oversized sweater with a pattern that looked like it belonged on some grandpa’s couch somewhere. The other boy looked like he belonged on a football field instead of in a band – he had dark hair that was parted in the middle, swooping down over his eyes, and a t-shirt stretched tight across his chest and arms.

“That’s Karl,” George said. The boy in the sweater waved. “And that’s Foolish.” The other boy smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

A knot formed in the pit of Dream’s stomach as it suddenly hit him that he would need to play drums in front of these people. Obviously, he knew that’s what an audition was in theory, but it was so much scarier to be standing in front of them right now. His palms began to sweat.

“Do you have your own sticks?” George asked, sliding down into an empty lawn chair next to the others.

“Um… no, I don’t. Not right now, my sticks are at home.” Dream’s voice felt weak to his own ears.

“That’s okay,” Karl said. “Our old drummer left his sticks so you can use them. If you’re good enough for the band, you can keep them or bring your own. We don’t really care as long as you can play.”

Karl stood up and walked across the garage to what looked like a makeshift stage. Dream saw two guitars, a keyboard, a stand for a microphone, and a set of drums.

“He left his drums too?” Dream asked in surprise. Drum sets were expensive, there was no way anyone would just leave theirs behind.

Foolish scoffed. “I wish. He took the drums but forgot his sticks. We had to go buy a new drum for the band. When he left, we realized it would just be easier to have all the instruments belong to the band instead of to the individuals.”

Dream looked to George for confirmation, who nodded. George’s gaze seemed weirdly cold all of the sudden, but he blinked a second later and it was like nothing had happened.

“Oh, okay. Cool.” His mouth was dry and he swallowed hard.

Karl held out a pair of drumsticks and Dream walked nervously toward the stage. He set his backpack down on the floor next to the drums before grabbing the sticks. They felt weird in his hands. He hadn’t realized that he was so used to using his own sticks and he made a silent wish that the different sticks wouldn’t make him mess up.

“What are you gonna play for us?” George said as Karl made his way back to the lawn chairs.

Dream’s mind went completely blank and he forgot every single thing he’d ever learned on the drums as he sat on the stool behind the set. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “Uh, well what kind of music do you guys play?”

George smiled like Dream had gotten the answer right to some kind of unspoken question and Dream’s heart gave a weird sort of flutter in his chest. “We play pretty much whatever. But recently we’ve been narrowing our music down to be more alternative indie.”

Dream wracked his brain through everything he had taught himself when he was still playing regularly. He had gone through a phase with Led Zeppelin and Greta Van Fleet but they definitely didn’t fit the genre of music that George had said. And he didn’t need to think for even a second before dismissing the idea of playing an AC/DC song. Then, something clicked in his brain – a song he had learned for his sister a while back because she had told him about her favorite band.

“What about the drum line from Arabella by Arctic Monkeys?” he asked, gripping the drumsticks tight in his hands. “Is that kind of what you’re going for?”

Slow grins spread across all three of the boys’ faces.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much spot on,” Karl said.

Dream nodded and twirled a stick in his hand, looking down at the drums in front of him. A wave of familiarity washed over him. He’d played drums just like this hundreds, maybe even thousands of times before. The anxious knot in his stomach unfurled and the tension left his body. Suddenly, he was just back in his basement, sticks in his hands and his parents complaining about the noise upstairs. He counted off four beats in his head, tapping the stick in his right hand against his thigh, and began to play.

Even though he hadn’t played the drums in over a year since he moved away from home, it came back to him just like he had never stopped. His hands flew across the high tom and medium tom, tapping the rhythm into their batter heads. The sound coursed through his veins. It pumped adrenaline through his body and silenced every other thought in his mind. His left foot found the pedal for the hi-hats, counting off the beats like they were second nature, while his right foot pounded the pedal into the bass drum. After just a few minutes, the muscles in his legs were already screaming at him to stop since they hadn’t been used in so long, but his entire body was full of energy and he barely even noticed. He had forgotten what a rush playing the drums was.

He played for what felt like forever. Each beat rattled his bones, every rhythm worming its way under his skin. He didn’t need to worry about using different sticks or his sweaty palms – he was unstoppable. At one point he got cocky and started twirling the sticks in his hands during rests, grinning to himself with the sheer thrill of the music.

When he reached the end of the song, he let the last note ring out before dampening it. He was breathing heavily and sweat dripped down the sides of his face as he rested the drumsticks against his thighs.

“Wow, that was insane,” George’s voice said, startling Dream. He had been so absorbed in the music that he had completely forgotten about the people watching him.

He looked up to find all the band members staring at him with various expressions of amazement on their faces. Unconsciously, his gaze shifted to focus on George, taking in the way his mouth hung open in slight shock, how his cheeks seemed just a little bit more pink than before. He felt his own face grow warm under everyone’s scrutiny.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” Karl exclaimed. “That was crazy!”

Dream smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. I had a few lessons, but I spent most of my time just messing around. It’s just… fun, I guess.”

The three boys looked at Dream with wild grins on their faces. There was a new light in their eyes, something mysterious and bright. They kept looking at each other with a strange excitement.

“So… am I in the band then or…?” Dream asked, setting his sticks on the snare drum.

“We’ll need to discuss it, give us a second,” George said with a wink that said um yeah idiot, you’re in the band.

Karl and Foolish tilted their chairs toward George and they all leaned their heads in, whispering to each other. Dream pretended to ignore them, looking around the garage as if he couldn’t hear them.

“We’ve come to our decision,” George announced.

Dream looked at George and couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat. He could’ve brushed it off as being nervous about getting into the band or not, but he knew that the real reason was because of how beautiful George was. The way he effortlessly lounged in the lawn chair, legs stretched over the armrest, brushing his dark hair back from his face and curling his plush lips back in a mischievous smile.

“You’re in the band!” Karl exclaimed, clapping his hands in excitement.

“Don’t you have other people coming to audition?” Dream asked, checking his watch.

“You’re the only person we’ve had all night. And I don’t think anyone else is coming since auditions were supposed to start 30 minutes ago,” Foolish said. “And your playing was better than anyone we’ve looked at, including our old drummer. So, you’re in.”

Relief washed over Dream. “Oh, thank god,” he sighed. “I’m glad I didn’t just make a fool of myself for no reason.”

George laughed and it was a good thing that Dream was sitting down because, if he had been standing up, he would have fallen to his knees at the sound.

“We’re not kidding, by the way,” Karl said. “You’re a seriously good drummer.”

Dream felt his cheeks grow warm. “Oh, thanks.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to find a text from Sapnap.

Snapmaps
where r u? plz come home soon, im gonna kill bad. he won’t stfu abt his coding class

Dream smiled to himself and responded saying he’d be on his way soon.

“So what now?” he asked, looking up.

“Can we get your phone number? Then we can add you to a group chat and talk about a rehearsing schedule,” George said. “And, if you have time, you and I could have extra practice time so that I can help you learn our songs. We should probably do that first since there’s no point in rehearsing together if you don’t know the songs.”

A thrill rolled through Dream’s chest at the thought of spending time with George. Alone. In the garage. Just the two of them. No one else. Playing music.

He might end up going crazy.

“Yeah of course.” Dream grabbed his backpack as he stood and walked over to the lawn chairs, holding out his phone. Karl took it first and started typing his number in, then passed it to Foolish.

“We’ll add our contacts and you can text us, that way you’ll have all our numbers and it won’t be confusing,” Karl said.

He passed the phone to George and Dream watched, enamored, as George’s thin fingers flew across the screen. When the other boy looked up and handed Dream his phone back, their hands brushed for a second longer than Dream thought was normal. He was suddenly very aware of the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Thanks guys,” he choked out, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

Looking down at the screen, George’s contact was still being displayed.

george ;)

Dream felt faint. How on earth could a little winky face make him feel like he was on the verge of passing out? He didn’t have an answer but, for right now, he was almost okay with it – with just feeling the rush of adrenaline pump through his veins at the tiniest little thing George did. Almost.

Another text from Sapnap appeared and Dream sighed.

“Anyway, I kinda have to go. My roommates are about to strangle each other.” George giggled, a bright, bubbly sound that filled the room and made Dream’s chest swell. His words failed him.

“It’s been great meeting you!” Karl exclaimed, giving Dream a playful nudge. “And welcome to the band!”

Foolish gave Dream a kind of pat on the shoulder that, just like the rest of Foolish, seemed like it would’ve belonged better on a football field.

“Here, I’ll walk you back to the front door,” George said.

Dream followed George back out the garage and down the hallway toward the front door. The air between them felt thick with some sort of tension. Dream couldn’t tell if it was because they weren’t talking this time or because he had almost broken the door down earlier, or if it had something to do with that little winky face on his phone.

They made it to the front door. George stood to the side and held it open for Dream as he stepped down onto the patio.

“I, um… I’m excited to be in the band with you.” Dream looked up to see George grinning down at him with a knowing look. “I mean, excited to be in the band with all you guys. Not just you.”

George giggled again. “I know what you mean.”

Dream’s heart skipped a beat. “You do?”

There was no way George could know about Dream’s attraction to him already… could he?

“Mmhmm,” George said. “Not a lot of people get to say they’re in a band, y’know? At least a good one anyway.”

Dream’s shoulders sagged with relief that George hadn’t been able to see right through him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been looking for something to make the year more special.”

Dream cringed at how obvious he was being, referring to George as something special that he’d been looking for. His cheeks grew warm as George’s eyes found his. There was something swirling in George’s gaze that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Looks like you found it,” George said.

Dream’s heart sputtered in his chest. He felt his face flush bright red. Was George saying what he thought he was saying?

But before Dream could say anything more, George was closing the door slowly behind him. “Goodnight, Dream. See you at the next rehearsal.”

Dream smiled through his embarrassment and waved awkwardly at the closing door. He turned around, walking across the front yard with a new spring in his step.

Over the next few days, Dream’s life felt easier. He was still spending almost full days in the library and doing his homework as fast as he could, but now he was able to look forward to twice-weekly rehearsals and the way his heart stuttered when George’s name appeared on his phone screen.

Their first rehearsal had been a little bit of a nightmare if Dream was honest. George had texted him and they’d made plans to meet on the Wednesday after auditions to walk through the songs. When he got to the house, George was waiting for him on the front porch, smiling at something on his phone. Dream had a fleeting burst of jealousy – wishing foolishly that he could be the only reason for George to smile – until George had looked up at him and a new light had filled his eyes. Then Dream felt like he was floating on air. They’d talked casually as they walked through the house to the garage – typical “how was your day” and “how were classes” stuff. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but every time George even looked at Dream, the butterflies in Dream’s stomach started to flutter and his palms got sweaty.

When they got into the garage, Dream sat back on the stool in front of the drum set feeling more nervous than when he auditioned. He tried to get used to the drumsticks again, twirling them in his hands and tapping rhythms to himself as George got his stuff ready, but whatever magic had washed over him during his audition wasn’t coming this time.

And the worst part was when George had slung his guitar across his shoulders, adjusting the strap just right and starting to warm up. Dream watched in awe, pretty sure his jaw was actually on the floor, as George let his fingers fly across the fretboard. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth in concentration and his eyebrows furrowed while he played, and Dream thought he might just be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

How was it possible that a man Dream had met just a few days ago could turn him into such a nervous, sweaty mess? And how was it possible that the man in question didn’t even seem to notice?

Dream lost track of how many times he had to stop and wipe the sweat from his palms or he messed up the count because watching George sweep the hair out of his eyes made every thought leave his brain. But every time they had to stop and start again, George would smile reassuringly and offer some words of encouragement.

“You’re doing great, Dream,” or “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” or “You’ll get it next time, just give it one more try.”

Dream hated it. Well, he didn’t hate it. Every second spent with George felt like the best seconds of his life. He just hated feeling stupid. He knew how to play the drums and, if he was being honest, the songs were easy enough that he could learn them just through the first few playthroughs. It was just George that was throwing him off.

The next rehearsals went better than the first. Dream slowly realized that George, as beautiful and wonderful and funny as he was, was just another person. He would mess up the songs too – his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and swearing under his breath when his fingers would slip into the wrong position. And then it was Dream’s turn to hype him back up, to ask him questions and tell him jokes to distract him from his mistakes.

Over the hours that they spent together working on songs and messing around, Dream felt the connection between him and George start to grow. What had been a small spark at the audition was turning into stable flames fanned by their constant banter – teasing jokes and grins as they played, flushed eyes and bright faces when they finished a song, genuine conversion before they reluctantly said goodbye. At the last few rehearsals, Dream had noticed that they started lingering over the doorway longer and longer, neither of them wanting to say goodbye. Their brief texts about practice times turned into constant contact – memes, random emojis, basically anything that they were thinking during the day got sent between them. And every time, Dream’s heart never failed to do jumping jacks in his chest when that little winky face showed up on his phone.

The only problem was Dream couldn’t tell if George was feeling the same way. They texted all the time, were always smiling and laughing when they were together, and the way George held Dream’s gaze when they finished a song was electric. But Dream still didn’t know George well enough to know if something was actually going on or if that was just the way that George was with everyone. He assumed there was something special going on between them but there was always an annoying thought in the back of his mind that he was just seeing what he wanted to see. Maybe George was just being friendly – making him comfortable as a new member of the band. He would feel like an absolute idiot if he read too much into the whole thing and ended up doing something stupid. So he kept his mouth shut and let his heart run away to be with the boy playing the guitar.

“How are you feeling about the songs?” George asked, laying on the floor next to Dream’s drum set.

Dream and George had been rehearsing together, just the two of them, for a few weeks. They had walked through all the songs until Dream was pretty sure he could play them forward, backward, and sideways if he needed to.

Dream yawned, stretching out on the floor next to George. Close enough to be casual but not close enough that they could accidentally touch because Dream wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“I feel good about ‘em,” he replied. “Well, except for that one part that I keep messing up in ‘Radio Silence’. But I think I just need to run through that a few more times.”

George pushed himself to his feet, standing in front of Dream and holding his hand out. “Then let’s run through it again.”

Dream groaned, ignoring the thrill of panic that ran through him at the thought of grabbing George’s hand. “Geoorgeee, we were relaxing.”

“And now we’re done relaxing.” George smiled. “C’mon, don’t be lazy or I’ll kick you out of the band.”

“Please,” Dream scoffed. “You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

George pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear as if he were calling someone.

“Hi, Karl?” he said, giving Dream a pointed look. “Yeah, Dream’s being lazy again.”

“Again?” Dream exclaimed, grinning. “When was I being lazy before?”

George made a shushing noise and gestured for Dream to be quiet. “Sorry Karl, that’s just Dream interrupting.”

Dream rolled his eyes, still making no move to get up from the floor.

“Mmm yeah,” George said like he was agreeing with Karl’s nonexistent voice. “Yeah, we’ll have to kick him out of the band, right?”

Dream chuckled and pushed himself slowly to his feet, making a show of bowing to George when he stood up.

“Oh, never mind, Karl! False alarm, we’ll have to kick Dream out some other time.” George giggled as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“You’re lucky, Dream, Karl was totally ready to kick you out of the band.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dream said, rolling his eyes again. “You think you’re sooooo funny.”

George put his guitar strap over his shoulder and tightened it. “Well yeah, but that’s only because I am funny.”

Dream laughed, grabbing his drumsticks.

“See!” George exclaimed. “You think I’m funny too!”

“Whatever.” Dream grinned to himself, doing his best to hide it from George and failing miserably. “Can we just run through the song so I can go back to laying on the floor?”

“Of course.” George plugged his guitar into the amplifier. “Anything for you, Dreamie Poo.”

He ran his fingers across the strings and a burst of sound came through the speakers placed around the garage.

“Ready?” George asked.

“Ready.”

George counted them down. Dream tapped his sticks on his thighs in time with George’s counts and they launched into the song. The beginning was easy – playing a simple beat, switching between the pedals for the hi-hats and bass drum. He heard George playing his part and cautiously looked up as his hands continued their rhythm. His heart swooped in his chest when he realized George was already looking at him. He was biting his lip in concentration and Dream watched a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face as the song built. Their gazes met and they grinned at each other. There was something burning behind George’s eyes that Dream had never seen before. He felt a pull in the pit of his stomach as he watched George toss his head back to play a riff, letting his fingers move in a way that was nothing less than hypnotizing.

Before he knew it, the song reached the chorus. Dream was (unfortunately) pulled away from watching George since it was his turn to focus on his playing – the part that he always messed up was right at the end of the chorus. He looked down at his hands, remembering the beats that he needed to hit. In his head, he counted down. When it was time, he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, consciously moving his drumsticks where he needed them to go. Floor tom for two beats, crash cymbal for two beats, then snare, hi tom, snare, hi tom, floor tom, crash cymbal, crash cymbal. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

“Yes!” George cheered, finishing out the next few notes before swinging his guitar around to be on his back. “You did it!”

“Woo!” Dream smiled up at George. “I did!”

The last note from George’s guitar was still ringing in the air around them as they looked at each other. There was a certain kind of energy that flowed between them as the sound echoed through the garage – something electrical, something powerful, something almost dangerous. Neither of them moved, both too caught up in each other to do anything else.

Then the room grew quiet and they realized they were still staring at each other.

“Well, go ahead,” George said, loosening the strap on his guitar.

“Go ahead with what?” Dream said, sudden visions of him running forward and kissing George floating across his vision.

“You can go back to laying on the floor now. Y’know, since we ran through the song.”

“Oh, right.” Dream ignored the sudden disappointment that flared in his chest.

He placed his sticks on the snare drum and sank to the floor, closing his eyes.

“I think you’re ready to start practicing with the full band.” Dream felt George lay next to him.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“You mean I’ll have to share you with the other two? I don’t know if I wanna do that.” Dream’s voice was lighthearted but he knew he really meant what he said.

“Ha ha, very funny,” George scoffed. Dream couldn’t tell if the other boy was blushing or if his cheeks were still red from playing the song.

Dream rolled onto his side, looking down at George. “But what if I mess up again?”

George smiled. “You won’t.”

“But what if I do?”

“Then you’ll mess up and we’ll run the song again, like we do when it’s just the two of us. I mean, I mess up all the time, so does Karl and so does Foolish. We just pat each other on the back and move on.” George’s expression grew more genuine. “You’ll be great.”

Dream felt his face grow warm and he rolled back onto his back. “Thanks.”

“I mean it, you’re a really good drummer.” George paused before adding, “Even better than our last one.”

“I hope so,” Dream chuckled. “Or else I’ll look like a total idiot.”

George grinned. “You look like an idiot all the time, how would that be different?”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you. You can’t see it since you’re laying down, but I’m rolling my eyes at you.”

“Whatever.” George giggled. “You know I don’t mean it. You’re actually pretty cool.”

Dream flushed. “Oh, well thank you very much. You’re not too bad yourself.”

They looked at each other for a split second before bursting into laughter, rolling away from each other on the floor.

When they stopped laughing, the room fell quiet – both boys staring at the ceiling in silence, smiles on their faces – and Dream could almost imagine that they were something more than friends.

Almost.

For their next rehearsal, they met to play with Karl and Foolish, and Dream finally felt like he was officially a part of the band. He realized that no one had told him what instruments the other two played, so it was a total surprise when he walked into the first entire-band practice and saw Karl standing at the piano keyboard, running his fingers up and down in various scales, and adjusting the microphone in front of him since apparently he also did lead vocals. Foolish showed up a little later with a solo guitar slung over his shoulder, which answered Dream’s question about what instrument a jock would play.

The band instantly meshed together. George’s bass guitar blended perfectly with Dream’s drums to lay down a background of sound, Karl’s keys supported his crisp and clean vocals, and Foolish’s lead guitar highlighted the melody line. It was beautiful in a way that Dream had never experienced before. He was a part of something bigger than himself – something incredible – and he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as they ran through song after song.

With each rehearsal, they only got better. Dream started learning how to play off the other instruments and get more creative with the drum beat. George and Foolish both began adding more riffs and improvisations during the pauses between Karl’s singing. And even Karl’s keys seemed to develop more and more. Suddenly, they were a real band. Like, a real real band. And everything was perfect.

Well, almost perfect.

Dream still had a massive crush on George that only seemed to get worse with each hour they spent together. Even when they were with Karl and Foolish, George seemed to go out of his way to talk to Dream. After every song, Dream would look up to find George staring at him as they let the last note ring out, his eyes always full of something that Dream just couldn’t identify. George still insisted on walking him to the front door, even though Foolish and Karl would leave by themselves every time. And one of the worst parts (or maybe the best, Dream hadn’t decided yet) was that George had started pretending that he wanted to learn the drums. When the band would just be messing around, George would slide onto the stool next to Dream and pry the sticks from his hands with a grin, tapping a nonsensical beat onto the hi-hats and bass. He would practically beg Dream to teach him to play even though both of them knew that George had no real desire to learn. But Dream was a weak man. With their thighs pressing together and the faint scent of George’s cologne making him dizzy, there was no possible way that he could say no, especially when George would bat his eyes and push his lower lip out in a pout. It was only thanks to Karl and Foolish that they would get interrupted or have to work on another song.

Now, all of this would logically lead Dream to assume that there really was something going on between them. George didn’t do that same thing with Foolish or Karl – didn’t lean into them as close as possible or hesitate to say goodbye at the front door. But Dream still had a nagging worry that he was reading into everything too much. Neither Foolish nor Karl said anything to him about George’s behavior being out of the ordinary, so Dream was left in the same place he’d been before – crushing with a boy who seemed to have no idea.

“We’ll have our first gig in November, so let’s start working on the set list for that,” Karl said out of the blue.

It was the beginning of October. The band had spent the past few months helping Dream learn the songs and developing their new sound. Now that Dream really had the hang of it, they spent most of their rehearsal time just messing around and writing new songs that, at least Dream thought, would never end up seeing the light of day.

“What do you mean?” Foolish asked from where he was laying on the floor. No one knew how he got there, he was just sprawled on the floor with his phone covering his face and his limbs at odd angles.

“We always do a show for George’s birthday, so we need to decide which songs we’ll perform,” Karl explained.

“Your birthday’s in November?” Dream asked, spinning around on his stool to face the lawn chair where George was sitting.

George nodded sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, it’s really not that exciting anyway.”

“How old are you gonna be?”

“Twenty.”

“Oh shoot, I was gonna ask you to start buying me alcohol,” Foolish chimed in.

George rolled his eyes. “I’m not that much older than you guys.”

Dream suddenly had a weird feeling fill his chest and he turned away from George. Even though the two of them had spent so much time together over the past few months and Dream’s feelings were only growing stronger, it didn’t take much for Dream to realize that he didn’t really know George at all.

“Anyway,” Karl continued. “What songs do you guys want to perform?”

“Wouldn’t we just do the songs we always do? From the album that we haven’t made into an album yet,” George asked.

Karl shrugged. “We could. But we’ve been doing cool stuff now that we have Dream. I think it would be super sick to play one of the songs that we’ve been messing around with.”

“I thought that all we were doing was messing around,” Dream said. “Like, I haven’t written down or memorized anything from the stuff we’ve been doing.”

“That’s fine, we can take the stuff we’ve just been messing with and develop a full song,” Karl said, sitting down in a lawn chair next to George.

Dream swung around on the stool again and Foolish lifted his head just enough to look around at everyone.

“I’ve already been working on new lyrics,” Karl continued. “I know they would go really well with that riff George has been messing with and the drum line you’ve been doing.”

Dream looked at George to see him slowly nodding his head. The more he thought about it, the more Dream was leaning toward writing a new song. He had been thinking of a new beat that he’d been doing in between songs and when they were messing around. And the idea of making a new song, something that could stick around forever, drawing them closer together as a band – he had to admit it was appealing.

But what was almost more appealing was the fact that he and George would have to spend even more time together since the bass guitar and drums would need to play off each other more so than the other instruments.

“I’m in,” Dream blurted out.

George nodded.

“Same,” Foolish said, putting his head back on the floor.

“Great!” Karl exclaimed. “So next rehearsal, we’ll start really dialing in on this song.”

“Sounds good,” Dream said.

The rest of the rehearsal was spent messing around again, but each of them was paying more attention to what they were doing – making mental notes of what sounded good, what sounded bad, and what could potentially go into their new song. Even as they played nonsensically, Dream couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting to George. Watching the way his fingers moved, the way his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth in concentration, the way he kept looking up and catching Dream staring. It was intoxicating.

Maybe working on a new song together wasn’t the best idea. But it was too late now.

Writing a new song was much harder than Dream expected. Obviously he had expected it to be a lot of work, but even he was caught off guard by how many hours the band would be spending in rehearsals. It seemed like every minute he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or doing homework, Dream was in George’s garage. And as exhausting as it was, Dream loved it. He loved doing the same series of beats over and over again until they were seared onto his memory. He loved playing something that matched with Karl’s or Foolish’s notes and seeing the way their eyes lit up. And he would be absolutely lying through his teeth if he said he didn’t love spending even more time with George.

Since George and Dream needed their playing to match up the most, they had started adding one-on-one rehearsals back to their schedules. It was Dream’s favorite part of his week. Spending time with just George never failed to put a smile on his face and stir up the butterflies always lingering in his chest.

The month of October flew by and suddenly it was a week before the gig for George’s birthday. The band had put the finishing touches on their new song just a few days ago. Dream and George had decided that they should do one last rehearsal with just the two of them to perfect their rhythm, so they were back in George’s garage, running through the entire song from start to end.

“I think we got it,” George said, breathing heavily as he dampened the last note ringing from his guitar.

Dream grinned up at him, wiping a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Should we take a break?” George ran a hand through his hair to push it back from his forehead and Dream’s pulse spiked.

“Sure. I think I need some water, it’s so hot in here.”

“That’s just because I’m here.”

Yeah, Dream thought.

“Ha ha,” he said out loud.

George giggled to himself.

Dream leaned over to grab his water bottle from where it was sitting next to the drums. He took a huge gulp, feeling the cold liquid trickle down his throat. He wondered if it would be acceptable to pour water on his head to cool himself down like athletes do. Probably not.

He set his water back down and straightened up to find George staring at him.

“What?” he asked. “Did I spill water all over myself?”

George giggled. “No, idiot.”

“Then what?”

George took a deep breath like he was about to say something, then hesitated. He looked down at the floor in front of him.

“What, George?” Dream’s palms began sweating and he was sure that it wasn’t from the heat of the garage.

George looked back up, his serious expression replaced with a mischievous grin. “Why won’t you teach me how to play the drums?”

Dream’s heart sank a little in his chest. It wasn’t that he wanted George to be bold and talk about this thing that may or may not exist in between them. It was just that he was beginning to lose his mind. If he was making everything up like he thought he was, that would be fine. But it was starting to seem like George was intentionally creating moments like this just so that Dream’s pulse would start to race.

“George,” Dream groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I’m being serious, Dream! It can’t be that much different than my guitar. I mean, the playing would be different, but the rhythm would be the same.”

“Do you really want to learn how to play the drums?” Dream asked.

George nodded enthusiastically.

“Fine. C’mere.”

Dream watched the grin on George’s face brighten until it practically lit up the room as he bounded over to the drum set.

“Sit here.” Dream stood from his stool and walked behind it, gesturing for George to take his seat.

“Why can’t we sit together?” George asked, looking up from the chair and batting his eyes.

God, Dream thought. This is going to be the death of me.

“Because I can’t teach you if we’re squished together.”

George pushed out his lower lip and Dream had to look away for fear of caving into every thought running through his mind.

“Okay, now take the drumsticks. And hold them gently.”

Dream handed the sticks to George, their fingers brushing together in a way that sent chills up Dream’s spine.

“Like this?” George asked, holding the sticks in his fists.

“Not quite, a little more gently.”

George loosened his fingers around the sticks but kept them clenched in closed fists. He looked up at Dream for confirmation.

“Like this?” he repeated.

Dream took a deep breath, steeling himself for the physical contact they were about to have. He knew that just touching hands wasn’t anything crazy and he could do it with anyone else no problem. But something about George – about the way his skin felt, the way he was gazing at Dream, the way their bodies were already far too close. It was more than Dream had bargained for.

He reached out and cupped a hand around George’s, maneuvering his fingers underneath the sticks and lifting his palm to place a thumb in line on top of the stick. The instant their hands touched, Dream thought the room would burst into flame with the overwhelming amount of electricity that he could feel flying between them. It felt like sparks were skittering up and down his arms, sending chills rolling through his body. The butterflies in his chest were flying around frantically. They knocked against his ribs and beat their wings so hard Dream was sure George could hear it in the silence.

“Like that,” he mumbled, adjusting George’s other hand. He was scared to raise his voice above a whisper for fear of ruining the sudden intimacy of the moment.

George blinked up at him, lips slightly parted and pale cheeks flushed. Dream imagined that he could feel puffs of warm breath ghosting over his skin from how close the two of them were. Their eyes drifted down to their hands then back up to find each other. If he were able, Dream would dive into those deep brown irises and never come back up for air.

Dream felt George rotate on the stool so their bodies were facing each other. George’s knees pressed into the inside of Dream’s legs, the contact spreading a fiery warmth throughout his whole being and igniting a new flame deep in the pit of his stomach. Thin fingers intertwined with his own around the drumsticks. If Dream had thought there were sparks flying between them before, there were probably bolts of lightning now. And as much as he didn’t want to read into anything that happened between him and George, he thought that this pretty much crossed the line between friends and something more.

He could feel his own gaze drifting down to George’s lips – pleading, begging, screaming a question he had been dying to ask since the first time George had opened his front door.

“Dream,” George whispered.

“George,” he replied, voice barely audible to his own ears.

George leaned forward slightly, pushing himself off the stool and tilting his chin up. His eyes were asking the same question as Dream’s and it seemed like Dream finally had an answer.

In a sudden rush of movement, they let the drumsticks clatter to the floor, both of them reaching for the other. Dream’s hands cupped George’s jaw and he felt warm fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck as their lips met.

Kissing George was unlike kissing anyone else. It was hot, it was passionate, it was intoxicating. In the first second after their lips crashed together, Dream already decided that he could spend his life doing nothing but kissing George and he would die a happy man.

Their lips moved against each other fast and rough, fanning the flames of pure want that had sprung to life in Dream’s chest. Their teeth clicked together. Neither of them cared. They were too busy pushing forward, yearning for more, more, more. It was like a dam had broken between them – holding back everything they had been trying to hide – and they couldn’t bring themselves to stop. The only sounds Dream could hear was their rapid breathing and the roar of desire filling his head. George nipped at Dream’s lower lip. He dragged his teeth along the soft skin and Dream couldn’t silence the whine that rose from the back of his throat.

Suddenly George’s fingers untangled from his hair and small hands found their way to Dream’s chest, pushing him backward. When he opened his eyes, Dream saw George standing in front of him, a hand covering his mouth and eyes wide.

Oh my god, oh my god, what did I do?

“George, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

George’s gaze was unfocused, staring blankly at the floor in front of him as he shook his head.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” George repeated louder. “I promised myself I-... Nevermind.”

“George,” Dream said softly, taking a step toward the other boy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I think you should go.”

Dream recoiled a step.

“What?”

“I think you should go.” George’s voice was cold in a way that Dream had never heard before. “Please.”

Dream picked his drumsticks up from where they had fallen to the floor, wishing they were still warm from where George had held them just moments before. Picking up his water bottle and backpack, he gave one last glance toward George. George was standing in the same spot, eyes still glassy and a hand still pressed against his lips.

Dream opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it. He shut his mouth tight and slowly climbed the stairs out of the garage.

As he walked through the quiet halls of George’s house, pushed his way out the front door, and walked across the lawn, Dream realized that was the first time George hadn’t walked him out.

That week seemed to drag on. Time passed so slowly that Dream was sure someone was playing a prank on him. He texted George what felt like hundreds of times – trying to make sure things were okay, asking what he had done, apologizing all over himself. He had to stop himself from checking his phone every few minutes to see if George had texted or if he had a missed call. On their usual rehearsal days, he found himself walking the same path to George’s house before he realized what he was doing. It was really starting to get on his nerves – and he had a lot of those.

A constant stream of doubt, anxiety, and every other negative feeling Dream could feel had crawled into a nice warm spot in his chest and turned it cold. He spent his days oscillating between a total emotional breakdown and feeling completely numb. He didn’t know which one was better. On one hand, he was so anxious about everything – what had happened with George, their upcoming gig, why George wasn’t talking to him, school projects, if he had ruined everything with George (he thought about George a lot) – that he wanted to get rid of all the feelings that made him feel like he could hardly move. But on the other hand, when the waves of numbness washed through his body, he wished he knew that everything was going to hurt twice as bad once he started feeling it again.

He was equal parts happy and terrified when it was the day of their event – happy to get it over with, terrified about literally everything else. After checking with the rest of the band (he’d noticed that George hadn’t responded to him but Karl had said that George said it was okay, whatever that was supposed to mean), Dream invited Sapnap and Bad to the birthday party as moral support. Even though they’d all been adjusting to living with each other and Sapnap still threatened to throw Bad down the stairs outside their apartment, Dream knew that they would come together to support him when he needed it.

Their show was scheduled to be at a small venue near the school’s campus. Dream had helped Karl and Foolish (but not George… again) put flyers up in the library, student center, and a few different buildings to advertise. Karl had coordinated food and decorations, Foolish had organized drinks (Dream suspected more than a few of them were alcoholic), and Dream still hadn’t heard anything from George. He thought about that more than he’d like to admit.

Dream, Sapnap, and Bad showed up to the venue an hour before the show was supposed to begin. Karl and Foolish were already there and Karl said that George was running late. Dream’s heart sank just a little deeper in his already hollow chest, but nodded and smiled like everything was okay.

“Karl, Foolish, these are my roommates Sapnap and Bad,” Dream said, pointing to each of them in turn.

“Oh, the roommates that constantly want to kill each other?” Foolish asked.

“What?” Bad exclaimed. “We don’t want to kill each other!”

“Speak for yourself,” Sapnap said. “I can only listen to you ramble on about how much you like muffins for a certain amount of time before I wanna strangle you.”

Bad turned to Karl and Foolish. “He doesn’t mean it, he loves listening to me talk.”

Dream smiled fondly at his friends before excusing himself to go set up his drums. It felt weird for him to be on the stage – usually when he was at a venue like that, he was paying to see someone else perform.

“Feeling nervous?” Karl asked, stepping away from Sapnap and Foolish’s conversation about the university’s football team.

Dream nodded, not trusting himself to speak as all his emotions suddenly hit him at the sound of Karl’s voice. He sat down heavily on his stool.

Nervous? Yeah, he was absolutely terrified. He had never performed in front of a crowd before, what if he made a fool of himself? What if he got stage fright and couldn’t play a single note? What if he messed up so insanely bad that he could never face his band again? And none of that even included what was bothering him the most – George. What if George ignored Dream entirely? Or, even worse, what if he pretended like nothing happened? What if he joked with him and looked at him and smiled at him with those lips that Dream never should have kissed?

“Hey,” Karl said softly, rubbing reassuring circles into Dream’s back. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ve practiced for hours, you know these songs like the back of your hand.”

Dream shook his head, flushing with embarrassment as tears began to fill his eyes. “What if I mess up?”

“We all mess up sometimes. But no one will even notice. Anyone in the audience won’t know the song well enough to know you’ve messed up. The only people that will know will be the band and we’ve already heard you mess up about a thousand times during rehearsal. Trust me, Dream, you’ll be great.”

Karl’s reassurance and kindness tipped Dream over the edge and before he knew it, tears were spilling over his cheeks. Huge sobs wracked his body as he clutched at the drumsticks in his hands. A warm arm wrapped around his shoulders. Karl rocked him gently back and forth, rubbing his back. Gratitude welled up in Dream’s chest, making him cry harder.

They sat like that for a few minutes as Dream cried all his emotions out. His stress and anxiety and fear poured out of him, running down his cheeks and dripping on the denim of his jeans. After a few deep breaths, Dream was able to calm himself down.

“What’s really going on?” Karl asked.

Dream wiped at his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Karl smiled gently. “I’ve seen people get nervous before their first show, but no one’s ever been this nervous. There’s gotta be something else weighing on you.”

“I’ve just…” Dream hesitated. He could just tell Karl that he was nervous about school – brush the whole thing off and move on. But something was urging him to tell Karl the truth.

“George and I kissed,” he blurted out. “And I thought it was a good thing. I mean, I’ve liked him for months and I kinda thought he liked me too. But right after, he told me that we shouldn’t have kissed, asked me to leave, and we haven’t talked since. I just… I don’t want to mess everything up.”

Karl paused, taking it all in. Dream could see it on his face as he processed the information, weighing responses against each other before taking a deep breath to speak.

“You can’t tell George that I’m telling you this,” he began. “But George was kind of in love with our old drummer. Y’know, the guy who left. It’s a long story, but basically George had been crushing on this guy for months. When he finally got up the nerve to tell him, the guy freaked out and left. After that happened, George swore to himself that he wouldn’t get involved with another member of the band in case the same thing happened again.”

Dream’s heart sank in his chest. His stomach felt heavy. How could someone possibly do that to someone like George? George was… perfect. He was funny, insanely talented, smart, kind, beautiful – Dream could go on and on. He couldn’t imagine why someone would ever want to just leave George behind.

“That’s horrible,” he breathed out.

Karl nodded. “Yeah. When George told us what happened, Foolish and I felt awful. We haven’t talked to our old drummer since. I would hate to see him go through something like that again.”

“You still could be something,” Karl said. “You just need to let him know that you’re not gonna run off like that other jerk. I think that’s what he’s scared of more than anything else – that you’ll just leave him behind.”

A door on the other side of the room opened and George rushed in, guitar slung over one shoulder and a backpack slung over the other.

“Sorry I’m late!” he called out. “I was finishing a project in the library and totally lost track of time.”

Dream wiped his eyes again, hiding his face from George as he made his way toward the stage.

“Just think about it.” Karl grinned and gave Dream a last pat on the shoulder before walking over to George.

The next hour was a blur as the band got ready for the show. Dream did his very first soundcheck, which he thought went pretty smoothly for someone who had never done one before, and had a sip or two of one of Foolish’s drinks (definitely alcoholic). After his talk with Karl, Dream’s chest felt a little bit lighter and his nerves weren’t so strong. George still seemed to be avoiding him, but Dream felt a little spark of hope as he thought back to Karl’s suggestion.

Once it was time for the show, the band waited together backstage as the audience began to file in. There were a surprising number of people making their way into the venue, grabbing drinks and chatting to each other as they waited. Dream could tell by the increasing volume of conversation that more and more people were entering.

“Looks like a pretty big turnout,” Karl said, peeking his head out from backstage. “Maybe even bigger than last year.”

“Nice,” Foolish replied, a wild grin on his face and his cheeks flushed more than usual.

“How many of those drinks have you had?” Dream asked.

“Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies.”

“Okay, so a lot?”

“Shh guys! It’s time!” Karl hissed as the crowd grew quiet and the lights switched off.

Dream was pretty sure he blacked out for most of the show. He remembered walking onstage, hearing the crowd of people cheer louder than he’d ever thought possible, being blinded by the bright stage lights, and sitting down clumsily on his stool. After that, he only remembered flashes – Karl hitting the high note in their first song, Foolish flipping his hair back and forth as his fingers flew across the strings, nailing the drum line he had written for their new song. And even though things felt weird between them, he remembered George giving him a small smile when he didn’t mess up the chorus line they had practiced together. He remembered the drumsticks feeling different in his hands, like they were an extension of himself instead of part of an instrument. He remembered the burn in his muscles as he relentlessly pounded the bass pedal and hi-hats, and the feel of sweat dripping down his face. And he remembered the crazed smile that never left his face during their entire performance.

Then, just like that, it was over.

With the crowd’s cheering still ringing in his ears, Dream followed Foolish off the stage. He felt invincible. He felt like he was floating on air, like he was drunk off the sheer power of their performance.

“That was sick, you guys!” Karl yelled. “Oh my god, we’ve never played that well! Like, ever!”

Dream laughed and high-fived the others.

Foolish slung an arm around Karl’s shoulders. “C’mon! Let’s go get a drink!”

Karl grinned and let himself be led toward the refreshment’s table, leaving Dream and George standing alone backstage.

Dream was instantly brought back down to earth, like someone had dumped a cold bucket of water on him and he woke up in the real world again. The silence between him and George crawled into his veins where it had been before, sending a chill crawling up his spine.

“That was pretty cool, huh?” he said, feigning a casual tone.

George didn’t respond. He refused to look at Dream, choosing to stare at the floor around his feet instead.

Dream sighed heavily. “Look, George, can we talk?”

“Talk about what?” George said, voice almost as cold as the ice making its way through Dream’s bloodstream.

“About… I don’t know… us?”

George scoffed. “No, we can’t. And I have to go, there are people here to see me.”

Without looking up, George started to leave the same way Foolish and Karl had.

“George, please! Why do you keep running away from me? I just want to figure things out with us.”

“There is no us! I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again and I’m not letting it turn out the way it did last time.”

“I know, but it won’t be like last time.” Dream was practically pleading.

George stopped in his tracks and turned around. He looked up, making eye contact with Dream for the first time since their show had ended. Dream almost wished he’d kept looking at the floor with the way deep brown eyes caused his heart to stop beating.

“What do you know about last time?” George asked.

“Karl told me everything that happened with you and that drummer guy,” Dream said sheepishly. “But you can’t be mad at him! He only told me because I basically had a mental breakdown before the show.”

“You what?”

“I was kinda freaking out because we kissed and it was really good but then you kicked me out and you weren’t talking to me and I was stressed about the show but I was more stressed about messing everything up with you so I-”

“Woah, woah,” George said, holding up a hand to stop the stream of words flowing uncontrollably out of Dream’s mouth. “Slow down. You were worried you messed things up with me?”

Dream smiled sheepishly. “Well yeah. I mean, we kissed and then you kicked me out. I thought I did something bad or read something wrong or maybe you just didn’t want to kiss me.”

George’s cold facade dropped away, leaving genuine concern written across his face. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think that whole thing through or how it would seem to you. I just… needed to run away from my feelings for a little bit. It was getting too overwhelming.”

“It’s okay,” Dream said. “I’m not upset with you at all. I was just confused.”

George paused like he was thinking, then turned to Dream. “Can we go somewhere a little quieter so we can talk?”

“But it’s your birthday party?”

“I know, I know. We can come back to it later. I just– I want to explain everything to you so we can try to figure things out. I don’t wanna confuse you anymore.”

Dream nodded and George led them through the venue, waving at people and making passing conversation as they left the venue. They walked through the parking lot toward a bench near the back of the building.

“Damn, I wish I brought a jacket,” George mumbled, shivering slightly in his t-shirt.

Dream slipped off the flannel shirt he’d been wearing over his t-shirt, wrapping it around George’s shoulders. “It’s not a jacket, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thanks,” George said with a grateful smile.

When they made it to the bench, Dream sat on one side and George sat on the other, leaving what felt like an ocean of space between the two of them.

George took a deep breath and began talking.

“Karl, Foolish, and the old drummer founded the band during their senior year of high school. They all knew they were going to the same university and agreed to keep the band together. I was a transfer student from London and just so happened to find their flier looking for a bass guitarist. I auditioned, got into the band, and immediately had a crush on the old drummer. Nothing happened for a long time – I guess I was too scared he would reject me, make fun of me, ruin the band. Whatever. Over this past summer, he and I spent a lot of time hanging out. Not just during rehearsals, but going to parties and seeing each other on weekends. We slept over at each other’s houses a lot and we always slept in the same bed, and sometimes we’d wake up cuddling. Being the naive boy I was, I thought that meant he liked me the same way that I liked him. So I told him. Turns out, he thought we were just friends that liked to hang out. He was very straight and felt uncomfortable with the idea of being in the band with a gay person who had feelings for him. So he left. He didn’t tell me anything. Just told Karl and Foolish he wouldn’t be part of the band anymore and he wanted his drum set back. The next rehearsal was when I found out.”

George took a deep breath, gaze shifting to the ground in front of him as he continued. “Obviously, I was crushed. For a lot of reasons, but mostly because he just… left. No goodbye, no explanation, no nothing. He was one of my best friends and he left me like I meant nothing. So that’s when I decided that I would never get involved with anyone in the band again. It’s too… too messy.”

“George,” Dream said softly. “I’m so so sorry. That guy’s the biggest idiot ever for not seeing what a great person you are. And you’re probably better off for not being friends with him, even though it happened in an awful way.”

George nodded, still staring at the ground. “I know, you’re right. But it took me a while to realize it.” He sighed. “Anyway, when you showed up to auditions, I didn’t want something like this to happen again. But of course, you just had to be cute and funny and really good at the drums.”

George gave Dream a quick smile. “And I did want to kiss you. Like, a lot actually. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to take things further with you because of what happened last time.”

Dream stayed quiet for a few moments. George went back to staring at the floor, his fingers tapping mindlessly against his thumb in that strange habit of his.

“I just don’t want either of us to regret it, if that makes sense,” George added.

“I don’t regret it,” Dream said. “I don’t regret any of it.”

George looked up. “Really?”

“Of course not. Y’know, I’ve liked you since the first moment I met you. When I tried to break your door down at the audition and you opened it up, I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And the more I got to know you, the more I liked you. You make me laugh like no one else does, you’re always so kind, and you always inspire me to play my best. Seeing you for rehearsals has been my favorite part of these past few months, it’s gotten me through every stupid class I’ve been taking. You’re the thing that’s made my semester special, not the band.”

George’s dark eyes sparkled with tears. “You really mean it?”

“Absolutely!”

“I like you too.” George sniffled and wiped at his eyes before continuing. “I mean, I’ve liked you for a while too. You could probably tell, I don’t think I was very good at hiding it.”

He chuckled wetly and another tear slid down his cheek. Dream reached out to wipe it away. George blinked at him and smiled weakly.

“You’ve been my favorite thing about this semester too.” George continued. “I’ve loved getting all your silly little texts and walking you to the door and pretending that I want to learn how to play drums. You make me feel like I’m important… like I matter.”

“George, you’re one of the most important people in my life,” Dream said softly. “You do matter. You matter to everyone and especially to me.”

George reached a hand out to rest on Dream’s knee. For the sake of the moment, Dream ignored the sparks skittering across his skin at the contact.

“Thank you.” George looked up at him, stars shining in the tear tracks streaking down his face.

“Look,” Dream continued. “We can take everything as slow as you need to. We don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. We can even just go back to being friends. I just… I don’t want to lose you. You’re too important to me and I care too much about you to let that happen.”

George tilted his head like he was thinking. “I don’t think I want that.”

“What do you mean? You don’t want what?” Dream’s pulse spiked and he took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst.

“I don’t want to go back to just being friends,” George said simply. “I want more than that. I want to keep being in the band together, but I want to be able to go on dates too. I want to lay on the floor in my garage like we always do, but I want to be able to hold your hand and rest my head on your chest. And I want to walk you to the door after rehearsal, but kiss you goodbye.”

Dream felt tears beginning to form in his eyes as George talked. His heart soared and a massive weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. He reached out to place his hand over George’s and their fingers intertwined.

“Dream, I really like you.” George smiled, voice catching in his throat. “And I’m willing to break my own stupid rule about not dating band members if it means I get to date you.”

Dream was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He was just too wrapped up in the feelings flooding through his chest and spinning through his mind.

“Dream?” George gave his hand a squeeze.

“I want all that too,” Dream blurted. “More than I’ve wanted anything, I want all that with you.”

They smiled at each other, wiping stray tears with their free hands.

“Can I kiss you?” Dream asked. “Like a real, proper kiss where you don’t kick me out of your garage afterward?”

George laughed. “No promises.”

They leaned forward, tilting their heads slightly and brushing past each other’s noses. When their lips met, it was very different from their first kiss. It was slow and sweet and everything that he wanted a first kiss to be. Dream wanted to savor this kiss – to drink in every second and commit it to memory.

One day, he would look back on this kiss and be able to say that it was the first time he realized he was really, truly in love with George. And he knew that George would be able to say the same.