Chapter Text
It’s a night for parties.
The city is bathed in lights of various colors, exploding with confetti and champagne and glitter, and it’s not even midnight. Dream can’t imagine what it'll be like when the clock hits zero.
Out his window, he sees people with glow stick jewelry balancing champagne flutes while stumbling around on six inch heels, people dressed like mini disco balls, and—refreshing—people who just don’t give a shit. Maybe it’s because he’s lived through too many New Year’s Eves in the past, but he doesn’t care anymore. Age 24, young and ripe and ready to party, and all he wants to do is go home and hang out with his cat.
But Nick decided that wasn’t allowed.
He flinches as something pops and hits the ceiling of the limo. Nick whoops and pours the alcohol leaking from the bottle into a glass. Dream glances at him and sighs. Guess it’s pregame time.
“What’s this?” Dream asks as he takes the glass offered to him.
“Booze,” Nick answers.
“Okay, let me rephrase,” Dream says, gaze narrowed. “What kind of alcohol is it, smartass?”
Nick snickers as he pours his own drink. “No idea,” he says. “Might be vodka.”
“Vodka doesn’t pop like that,” Dream says, handing the drink back. “I don’t like champagne.”
Nick sets the bottle back in an ice box built into the arm rest next to him. “Aw, come on, man, it’s New Year’s!”
Dream doesn’t budge. “And when this comes crawling around the same time next year, we can continue this argument,” he says.
Nick sighs and takes the glass. “Fine,” he mutters. “More for me.”
Dream rolls his eyes and leans against the window. Party after party, just because the number at the end of the year is going up one. Big deal. He’s never understood this holiday, and he doesn’t really want to.
He also doesn’t understand why Nick is so dead-set on throwing one of the biggest parties in all of LA. According to him anyways. Dream didn’t even know he knew that many people.
“Who have you invited anyways?” Dream asks, turning back to Nick. He has no idea how he isn’t sick at this point, facing backwards in the car.
Nick swallows the last of his second drink before answering. “Uh, all my gamer friends,” he says. “And they invited their friends who invited their friends, and so on.”
“So you don’t know half the people at this party?” Dream asks. “Better than me, I only know one.”
“And I’ll stick by your side the whole night,” Nick promises.
“No you won’t,” Dream mumbles. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed. He won’t hold it against his friend; he’ll have guests to entertain, and a lot of them by the sounds of it. And judging by the “gamer friends” part of his response a few moments earlier, it’ll be a party full of people talking about video games Dream has either never touched or never heard of. Dream might’ve invited a singer friend of his… if he had one.
He hates other celebrities most of the time.
Nick—a.k.a Sapnap—is a huge gamer, with 10 million subscribers on YouTube and lots of friends in the same community. He’s basically a mini-celebrity, and loves to flaunt that fact as if his best friend isn’t going on a world tour the next year for his huge music career. Neither of them really talk about it though.
Nick acts more like a celebrity than he does anyways. He’s always throwing parties, always going to events, always doing things Dream doesn’t. It’s why he has a limo. An overly extra one, in Dream’s opinion, but that’s Nick for you.
They pull up in front of the apartment Nick lives in. Dream can see strobe lights from the penthouse as they step out of the car, and he’s already regretting agreeing to this whole thing months ago. But still, he follows Nick up, wondering how fast he can get out of this.
He can hear the music by the 22nd floor. For context, the penthouse is on the 27th. He feels terrible for people who might have kids in this building.
They get to the top floor, but Nick has to insert a key into a panel for the doors to actually open. When they do, the party gets even louder as everyone cheers. Nick throws his arms up, walking into the party with a big smile. Dream grins and shakes his head, knowing this is his friend’s element.
Nick climbs onto the DJ stand, careful to avoid the technology, microphone in hand. “What’s up, everybody?!” he shouts over the music. He gets screams in response.
Dream inches closer to the DJ stand as Nick welcomes everyone and lets everyone know there’s four hours till midnight exactly. Of course he timed his fucking entrance.
“Excited?” Nick asks as he jumps down from the table. The music picks back up, and people return to what they were doing before. “C’mon, I want to introduce you to some of my friends.”
Dream lets himself get pulled through the crowd, hoping Nick’s loose grip on his wrist is enough that they won’t get separated. A drink is shoved into his hand—he doesn’t know by whom—but one sniff tells him it’s vodka and punch and to not drink it.
“Punz!” Nick calls.
A man a bit taller than Nick with pale blond hair, a black baseball hat, and baggy clothes turns. He grins upon seeing Nick, and Dream’s wrist is released as the two men dap each other up.
“Hey man,” Punz says. “Thanks for the invite. It’s been fun so far, not that you would know.”
“Dude, you need the entrance!” Nick exclaims. “Anyway, I wanted to introduce you to my best friend since forever.”
He turns and holds out his arm towards Dream. He steps forward cautiously, suddenly self conscious in front of who he can assume is one of Nick’s closest friends. He gives a tight smile and an awkward wave.
“Dream, Punz and Cate,” Nick says, motioning to Punz and a girl with curly brown hair, glasses, and a wide smile. “Punz and Cate, Dream.”
“Hi,” Dream says.
“What’s up, man?” Punz asks, holding out his hand for a dap-up. Dream obliges, only slightly awkwardly. “Nice to meet you. You’re the singer, right?”
Dream nods. “Yeah,” he says. “You know me?” Despite being famous, possibly more-so than anyone at this party, he’s still surprised when people say they’ve heard of him.
Punz makes a face. “I’ll be completely honest, only because Sapnap is always talking about you,” he says. “I’ve heard one of your songs, and it sounded really good though.”
“I’ve listened to your music,” Cate pipes up. “I’m drawing a blank on the title, but I really liked your second album.”
“ Is Anyone Listening ?” Dream asks.
Cate snaps and points at him. “That’s the one,” she says. “I really liked it. Lyric genius, gotta tell you.”
Dream flushes. “Thanks,” he says, grinning.
“Ooh, Sam!” Nick shouts. “Gotta go, enjoy the party!”
He pulls Dream away, giving him only a split second to wave and smile. Nick pulls him up to a man with dirty blond hair and basketball shorts.
“Sam, Dream. Dream, Sam,” he says, motioning between them. “Dream has been my friend for years. Sam, I met, like, five years ago?”
Sam grins. “Ish,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Dream.” He holds out a hand, and Dream shakes it.
“You too,” Dream replies, smiling. How has he never heard of any of these people?
Nick pulls him around the party, introducing him to more and more people—Hannah, Bad, Skeppy, Sylvee, Ant and Velvet, Gia, Puffy, Spreen—none of whom he’ll remember by the end of the night. He ends up losing Nick after he shouts “George!” It’s a name he recognizes, maybe one of the only ones. Nick has mentioned him several times, and he’s even watched one or two of his streams. He’s a bit embarrassed to admit that he finds George incredibly attractive, and despite wanting to meet him officially, he presses against the wall before the party eats him.
Unfortunately it doesn’t. He’s left alone in a crowd, lights flashing and music pounding, and he’s getting a headache.
I need a drink.
-
“George!”
George turns at the sound of Sapnap’s voice. “What do you want?” he asks.
Sapnap scoffs. “Well, hello to you too,” he mutters. “I wanted you to meet someone.”
George raises an eyebrow. “Are they hiding in your pocket?” he asks.
Sapnap turns and slumps. “For fuck’s sake,” he mumbles. “Whatever. If you see some sad, lonely idiot, he likely belongs to me.” Sapnap looks back at George with a frown.
“Keep him on a leash,” George offers.
“No,” Sapnap says. “How’s the party?”
“I hate it.”
“Great. Then leave.”
They bicker back and forth until Sapnap leaves, muttering something about a drink. George rolls his eyes and turns back to Hannah and Sylvee, deep in conversation about the newest Minecraft update. George is hardly following along, not having played Minecraft in over a month. He misses it, so maybe he’ll pick it back up. Stream it with some weird mod or something.
“Hey, did you meet Dream?” Hannah asks.
“The singer?” Sylvee asks. “Yeah, he and Sapnap are close apparently.”
Hannah nods. “He seems really nice,” she says. “I almost felt bad when I said I’d never heard any of his songs.”
Sylvee laughs. “He’s been on the radio a lot. He’s really famous.”
“Who are you guys talking about?” George interrupts.
The girls both pause and stare at him. “You didn’t meet Dream?” Hannah asks.
George shakes his head. “Is he the guy I keep seeing on my Instagram recommended? Going on a world tour?”
“That’s him,” Sylvee says. “He’s leaving sometime mid January and returning in, like, December or something. He’s going everywhere .”
George hums. “I think I have some of his songs downloaded.”
“Wait, did Sapnap not drag him up to you clearly against his will?” Hannah asks.
“That’s probably what he was about to do,” Sylvee remarks. “He’s probably cowering in a corner somewhere. Poor guy looked so out of his comfort zone.”
Hannah shrugs. “Rightfully so,” she says. “It’s a party full of gamers and he’s a singer who’s never met any of these people.”
“I know I’d be uncomfortable in a situation like this,” George says.
The conversation drifts away from the mysterious singer George has not met and has barely heard of. He’s sure Sapnap will eventually ensure their meeting, considering he’s met the rest of their friend group, clearly.
Still, even as they begin to discuss an event coming up soon, one George has been looking forward to for months, his focus is strayed to the singer, wondering if he should introduce himself without pressure from Sapnap.
-
Alcohol is truly disgusting. Dream hates it, has no idea why people drink it.
He takes another sip as he roots himself back to the wall, careful to not bump any photos Nick might have hung up. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar face approaching. Nick introduced them earlier, but their name is long forgotten.
“Hey Dream,” he says.
Dream smiles tightly. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names,” he says. It’s mostly the truth.
The man chuckles. “Sam,” he says. “You, uh, looked kinda… I dunno.“
“Nick sent you, didn’t he?” Dream asks.
Sam shrugs. “He said to look for a ‘lonely idiot’.”
Dream chuckles. “I’m fine,“ he says. “Just… not used to people.”
“I feel that,” Sam says, grinning. “Um, so should I stay or are you good?”
“I’m good.” He’s not. He wants company. He just doesn’t want to drag someone he hardly knows over to hang out with him in complete silence, when they’d clearly much rather be with their friends.
“Cool,” Sam says. “If you want company, you can ask me.”
Dream gives him a thumbs up, knowing he absolutely won’t, but it was still nice of him to offer.
Sam retreats back into the sea of people, but Dream hardly gets another minute alone before someone else slinks up.
“Hey,” she says.
He stares blankly down at her, hoping she’ll get the hint that he forgot her name.
“Puffy,” she says. “And yes, Sapnap sent me over because he feels bad that he’s not able to spend time with you. He’ll probably be doing this all night, so I recommend the balcony if you don’t want strangers trying to talk to you all night.”
Dream laughs. “Okay, um, thanks?”
Puffy nods. “Hope it’s okay if I leave now,” she says. “Good luck.”
Dream chuckles to himself as she walks off. He might remember her after tonight, though it’s debatable.
The balcony doors are closed, but Dream opens one and slips through noiselessly. It’s not much quieter out here, but at least he’s alone.
He leans against the concrete banister, staring out at the skyline. It’s dizzyingly far down, so Dream tries not to look. Just stares at traffic jams in the distance and other apartments with other parties. From here, he can see the whole rainbow shining from the streets, reflected on buildings as it reaches higher and higher. He sighs, hoping he can see his breath like he could last night, but it’s a warm night, even for LA.
He downs the rest of his drink before tossing it over his shoulder, too bored to be bothered. He’ll pick it up when— if —he goes back inside.
“Littering?”
Nick leans against the banister next to him. He stares out at the city, grinning.
“Temporarily,” Dream says.
Nick scoffs. “Still littering,“ he says. “And it's very rude.”
They fall silent, staring at the city lights and just breathing. The music is still ridiculously loud, but they both ignore it. Trade it in favour of peace.
“How’s the party?” Dream asks.
“That’s my line,” Nick complains, slumping against the banister.
Dream snickers. “I win.”
Nick sticks out his tongue. “It’s good,” he says. “Everyone seems to enjoy it, which I’m glad about. It would be a bit embarrassing if everyone hated it.”
“Yup,” Dream mutters, nodding.
“You having fun?” Nick asks, tilting his head.
“A blast.”
“Wow. That bad?”
Dream shrugs, pushing himself up to stand straight. “I mean, Nick, I don’t know anyone,” he says. “I appreciate you trying to get your friends to like me, but this just isn’t my ‘crowd’. These are your people, not mine.”
Nick sighs. “Who is your crowd then?” he asks.
“You are,” Dream admits.
There’s a brief pause, before Nick groans, dropping his head in his arms against the banister. “There you go, making me feel like an asshole for not spending time together,” he grumbles.
Dream laughs, settling a hand against Nick’s lower back. “No no,” he says, “I’m fine. It’s your party, you do what you want.”
“I don’t want you to feel like I abandoned you!“ Nick exclaims, standing up. “I want you to have fun.”
“Nick,” Dream says, settling his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “I am fine. I don’t feel like you’ve abandoned me.”
Nick still looks perplexed, but nods. “You sure?” he asks.
Dream nods. “Go entertain your guests.”
“Well, not right now,” Nick mutters, a scoff in his tone. “I’m chilling out. Taking a break.”
Dream glances back at the people through the glass door. “Not much of a break when I can hear the music just fine out here,” he remarks.
Nick snickers. “You’re annoying.”
“What?” Dream asks. “It’s the truth!”
-
The party is stuffy. Crowded, sweaty, smelly. Average party-smell.
George huffs quietly, taking another sip of his drink. The conversation around him carries on unhindered as he steps back, towards the wall. He needs air, but taking the elevator down 27 storeys isn’t really ideal. Why did Sapnap have to buy the fucking penthouse?
He begins to slink towards the elevator, succumbing to his fate, when he sees someone out on the balcony. He had figured that the door was locked, so he hadn’t tried it.
His direction changes, pushing through the thick crowd of people to get to the door. He almost doesn’t care that he’ll have to sit outside with some streamer he probably doesn’t know. Almost.
The door is silent as it swings open, and George makes sure to keep quiet as he closes it again. He’d rather not have to talk to someone he doesn’t know, and chances are they might be a douche. He heads for the far part of the balcony, tossing a look at the person over his shoulder.
“You’re the singer.”
He says it involuntarily. His cover is very, very blown.
The man, Dream, turns around, cheeks tinted pink. “George,” he says, turning pink. “Sorry, that’s weird.” He shakes his head and waves a hand awkwardly. “Um, Nick’s mentioned you before. And, y-yeah, I’m the singer.”
George chuckles, stepping a bit closer. “Sapnap’s mentioned me?”
“Yeah,” Dream says, smiling. “I’m Dream by the way.”
“I know.” George returns the grin as he moves to lean against the banister next to Dream. “Parties not your thing?” he asks.
Dream shrugs. “I don’t know anyone here besides Nick,” he says.
“You know me now,” George points out.
“Well, if I was going by that logic, I’d know your whole friend group,” Dream argues. “I meant, like, I know him. We’ve been friends since we were kids, I know him better than I know myself, and vice versa.”
George hums, looking out at the city. It’s beautiful up here; the buildings look like sparkly Christmas trees to him, windows reflecting light from the streets. He’s never been this high, not at night. It’s so much prettier than during the day.
“It’s really pretty,” he breathes.
“It really is,” Dream whispers. “I’ve been to a lot of places, and LA at night makes the top 15.”
George snickers. “Top 15?” he parrots. “Only?”
Dream presses his lips into a line. “That was a lie,“ he says. “I’ve never left the damn continent.”
George throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Then why’d you say it?” he asks.
“I mean I have been a lot of places, to be fair,” Dream says. “I’ve been all over the continent, just never out of it.”
“How?” George asks. “Don’t singers go all over the world?”
“What do you think I’m doing next year?”
George grins. “I’ve heard about your tour,” he says. “Excited?”
Dream shrugs, but George can tell he’s thrilled about it. He doesn’t say anything though.
“Sell me on it,” he says.
“On what?” Dream asks, looking up.
George grins and nods towards him. “Your tour,” he says. “Sell me on it. Convince me to go see you live.”
Dream laughs nervously, pushing himself up. “N-no, George, don’t feel obligated to come see me just because-“ He trails off and motions between them. “Just because we’re both cowering outside.”
“Would it be so terrible if I said I want to come see you?” George asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard your music. I have some downloaded. I like it. Seeing you live would be cool.“
“Sounds like I don’t need to sell you on it then,” Dream teases. “If you already want to.”
George hums and looks away. “Well, maybe I don’t,“ he says. “Convince me.”
Dream chuckles. “Okay,” he says, shifting to lean back against the banister, facing the party. “Uh, live music is the best form of music-“ he counts on his fingers as he goes “-I have a lot of audience participation at my concerts, it’s my first huge tour, so you have lots of opportunities to see me in different cities, plus the obvious: you get to see me .” He gives George a flirty smile. “Convinced yet?”
George narrows his eyes. “You are exceptionally cocky,” he says.
“Oh, I know,” Dream says, turning back to rest against the banister. “It’s one of my biggest flaws.”
“That voice makes me think you don’t actually consider it a flaw.”
“You know me so well.”
George scoffs a laugh, shaking his head as he looks back out over the city. It really is gorgeous, and he almost feels bad that he doesn’t regret moving here in the slightest.
“Where are you from?”
George looks up at Dream. “What, it isn’t obvious?” he drawls, exaggerating his accent.
Dream giggles. George feels it in his bones. “England, wow,” he says sarcastically. “I meant, like, where in England?”
“London,” George says. “Born and raised. Moved a few months ago.”
“George,” someone says behind them, a drunk slur to their voice. Sapnap walks up to them, and it’s telltale in his eyes of just how drunk he is. “I need to introduce you to my friend Dream, have you seen him?”
George looks up at Dream and back at him. “No.”
“Oh he’s right here!” Sapnap exclaims. “Dream, I need to introduce you to my friend George.”
How did he get so drunk in such little time?
Dream smacks away his hands, grabbing his shoulders to stop his swaying. “Nick, how much have you had to drink?”
“Like… six?”
“Six what?”
“Drinks.”
“Of what?”
Sapnap shrugs. Dream doesn’t seem phased. Clearly, he’s used to his shit. George would just start slapping him.
“Okay, we need to find you some water,” he says. “Um, George, can you watch him for a minute? I don’t want him either jumping off the ledge or sneaking away from me inside for more alcohol.”
George nods. “No problem,” he says, looping an arm around Sapnap’s shoulders. “He’ll be fine.”
Dream gives him two thumbs up as he backs towards the door before turning and heading back inside. George grasps Sapnap by the shoulders and walks him towards the nearest chair.
“Sit,” he demands, turning and pushing him down. Sapnap more-so falls against the chair than into it, but he’s sitting.
“D’you like Dream?“ Sapnap slurs, shifting in his seat into what looks like a very uncomfortable position.
George frowns. “I just met him,” he says. “I don’t know if a five minute conversation gives the best judge of character.”
Sapnap’s head lolls to the side as he gives George an exasperated look. “Idiot,” he grumbles. “You don’t j’st spring into conversations with… strangers. You like him.”
He singsongs the last part, like he’s 8 years old and gossiping about his friends’ elementary school crushes.
George rolls his eyes. “Yeah right,” he says, but it tastes bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t know why.
-
Dream had to get out of there.
He’ll go back, don’t worry, he’s not an asshole. Nick needs water, he’s getting him water.
But god , George is so much prettier in person compared to his crappy laptop screen. Dream doesn’t usually use the word “pretty” to describe men, but it suits George better than “handsome,” though it does also work. “Pretty” is just a better fit. And he is really pretty.
Dream doesn’t think he’s ever bi panicked that hard. He didn’t show it, thankfully, but he had to dig his nails into his palms to stop staring at George’s lips. He started talking about his tour like a conceited idiot. Sure, George asked about it, but he still feels bad.
He slips into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge plus a bag of chips for Nick to snack on. “Being cocky is one of my biggest flaws,” Dream mocks himself under his breath as he walks back. “Jesus, I sound like every celebrity ever.”
Getting back through the party is a bit more of a struggle for whatever reason. Someone he doesn’t know stops him for a photo, which he agrees to, holding up a peace sign and smiling. He hurries towards the balcony after that.
“Catch,” he says, opening the door. He tosses the water bottle towards Nick, who doesn’t react. It lands in his lap, and he looks down at it.
“Ow,” he whines. “That hit my fucking dick, asshole.”
Dream snickers, handing him the bag of chips. He leans next to George, putting a good foot of space between them. But within seconds, the space begins to feel a little bit unbearable, and he shifts closer. If George notices, he doesn’t make any indication of it.
They face Nick as he opens the water bottle with a bit of a struggle, but he manages. They don’t talk, so the only sound outside—aside from the pounding loud music—is the wind and the crinkling of the water bottle as Nick drinks half of it with no breaks.
Dream huffs, turning out to face the city. The wind brushes through his hair, blowing it to the side. Shuffling sounds from next to him, and he turns. George looks out over the city, wind toying with his hair.
Dream tries to imagine George in London, walking through Tube stations, visiting Borough Market, Camden shops, sight-seeing on the London Eye. He can’t.
George looks like he was made for California. Hollywood, LA. Beaches, sun, carnivals on piers, sun-kissed skin and freckles, blue skies. He wasn’t made for cold days and fancy architecture and history, Dream can tell. He’s all sharp edges and panes of glass that reflect for miles; skyscrapers and city lights.
He has a Hollywood face. Soft hair, lips with a perfect Cupid’s bow, thunderstorm eyes. He’s honestly gorgeous.
“What?” George asks, suddenly noticing he’s staring. “Do I still have ketchup on my face? Sylvee told me I got it all, but she probably lied, the idiot.”
Dream smiles. “Nothing’s on your face,” he says. “You’re just… pretty.”
George flushes pink. Dream doesn’t think he’s seen anyone turn three different shades so quickly. It makes him giggle, and he shifts closer to George.
“Why would you say that?” George grumbles, looking back out at the city. He reaches a hand to touch his face and scowls.
“Because it’s true,” Dream says.
George blinks up at him, a soft look in his eyes, like he’s surprised anyone would ever compliment him. Dream wants to whisper about how lovely he looks as he kisses adoration into his skin. He never wants him to feel undeserving of praise.
“You’re an idiot,” George says, turning away. “You don’t even know me, why are you flirting with me?”
“I’m not flirting with you, I’m complimenting you,” Dream fibs. “Take it or leave it.”
George hums, side-eyeing Dream. “Okay, well it seemed like flirting to me.”
Dream grins, leaning in a bit closer. “Did you hate it?” he asks. “No, you didn’t. You’re blushing too hard.” Knowing he’s getting to George this much has some visceral affect on him.
“Shut up,” George huffs, ducking his head into his arms, folded against the concrete banister.
Dream leans back, a soft chuckle passing his lips. George shudders from next to him.
-
Dream takes Sapnap up to his room, and George slips back into the party. He avoids alcohol for now, not wanting to get as wasted as Sapnap when there’s still three hours to midnight. He instead snacks on the food available as he bobs up and down next to Puffy and Hannah. They’re dancing and laughing, making fun of him for his lame excuse of a dance move. He ignores them and continues to bob.
20 minutes later, he sees Dream get halfway down the staircase before pausing and frowning. George can see his inner turmoil about whether he should mingle with strangers or go back to Sapnap. Sapnap wins out, and he disappears again.
George turns to Hannah. “Can we go outside?”
The elevator takes its sweet time going down for something advertised as “fast” and “time efficient.” Granted, 27 floors is a lot, but still. George is annoyed, and the tap tap tap of his foot against the floor is all that can be heard besides the machinery taking them down.
The street is relatively quiet. George can see the party all the way at the top of the building from down here, lights flashing and strobing. Hannah shivers from the chill, but George hardly notices.
“Why are we out here?” she asks.
George huffs and leans against a brick pillar supporting the balcony that hangs over the street from the second floor. “I needed air,” he says.
“Sapnap has a balcony.”
“I also needed quiet .”
Hannah leans against the other side of the pillar. They’re both quiet for a moment, goosebumps pebbling over their skin. George waits, the moment she calls him out inches away. She knows him better than anyone, even Sapnap. They play rough with each other on stream, tossing insults like petty children and laughing at each other’s misfortune. But under all that, once the cameras are put away, George knows he can rely on Hannah for just about anything, and vice versa. She’s who he goes to for life struggles, and he’s who she’d go to if she needed to dispose of a body.
“What’s wrong?”
There we go.
“Dream is flirting with me,” he says, frowning lightly. “And I don’t know what to do.”
Hannah hits the bricks next to him with her palm, moving to stand beside him. He looks up, and her eyes are blown wide, jaw dropped. “Oh my god!” she exclaims. “He’s what?”
George rolls his eyes, a small amused smile poking at his lips. She’s been insanely invested in his love life since they met. He has no idea why.
“I’m sorry, but Dream, famous music singer, one of the hottest guys in that room, is flirting with you and you don’t care,” she says, dumbfounded.
George’s nose curls. “You think he’s hot?”
Hannah gives him a look. “Um, no. Refocus, please,” she says, snapping her fingers in his face. “Come on, you haven’t even considered talking to anybody in forever!” She hits him lightly in the chest. “He’s clearly interested in you, you should go for it! Flirt back, that’s what you do!”
“No,” George says flatly. “He’s probably just being an idiot.”
Hannah hums, crossing her arms. “Right,” she drawls. “And you’re just red from the cold.”
George scoffs and looks away, pressing the back of his hand to his cheek. Sure enough, it’s warm. He’s flustered.
“I literally am,” he says, turning back to look at her. “You’re just dumb.”
Hannah rolls her eyes and leans back against the pillar. A group of girls in sparkly dresses with purses over their shoulders and makeup applied perfectly pass, ignoring the both of them. George glares at them regardless. One of them glares back. He flips her off.
“Okay, what’s the problem, though?” Hannah asks. “Like, is it because he’s leaving the continent next month? Paranoia? Commitment issues? Fear of hook-ups?”
George shakes his head. “It’s not anything, I just- I don’t know, I haven’t liked anyone in a while-“
“Believe me, I know.“
“-so I’m, like, out of practice, or something,” he says. “I don’t know if I should tell him to stop or what.”
Hannah huffs. “Don’t you think you could at least indulge a little bit? See where it goes?”
George’s head bumps into the brick as he tilts it back with a groan.
“Okay, okay,” Hannah says. “Never mind. It doesn’t have to go anywhere, but I think a little healthy flirting would be good for you. You’re so boring.”
“Ha,” George scoffs, looking at her with a frown and a grin. She giggles and nudges their hips together.
“Can we go back up now?” she asks. “It’s fucking cold out here.”
“It’s literally 10 degrees, you’re fine,” George says. “You can, I’m staying.”
-
Nick, despite protesting and complaining the whole way upstairs, passed right the fuck out the second he touched the mattress. Dream got him arranged comfortably, which took way too long to do, set up a barf bucket and cleaned his floor a bit so he doesn’t trip and fall if he gets up. But he got halfway down the stairs before deciding he’d rather sit in his sleeping best friend’s room with a dead phone than try to make friends with people he’s never met and likely never will again.
As his phone begins to charge using Nick’s cord, he taps against the desk and hums a random rhythm. Lyrics start building in his head, and he mutters them under his breath. It’s something that won’t turn into anything; he has lots of these built in his mind. Small songs about day-to-day, nothing special.
This one is about someone . These little songs are never about people, but he doesn’t care to stop it. It’s not like it’s incriminating or illegal to sing about a pretty guy you just met. Whatever.
His phone buzzes, and he looks up to see it charging. He sucks his teeth and huffs quietly before glancing over at Nick. It’s been about 30 minutes since he fell asleep, and Dream feels like he should get him to drink some more water.
He sneaks out of the room and downstairs, hoping no one sees and stops him. Unless that someone is George. He’d be okay with that.
No one does, and he runs back upstairs with a chilled bottle of water in hand. He carefully wakes Nick and hands him the open bottle. He drinks half of it before complaining that he needs the bathroom. Dream helps him over, still worried he might fall flat on his face. He finishes the rest of the water before passing right back out.
Dream sighs and settles back in Nick’s desk chair. He opens his phone as his stomach rumbles. The action of opening the DoorDash app is subconscious, and ordering food for both him and Nick is natural. He’s had Nick’s regular orders for everything memorized for years.
Victor, his DoorDasher, is 30 minutes away after he places the order. He rounds it up to 50.
He wastes time doom-scrolling on social media, checking his order’s updates every 10 minutes or so. It doesn’t get much closer, as expected. DoorDashers are always busy on holidays, but this is nothing compared to the last half hour of the year when smartasses think it’s funny to answer the door and say “I ordered this last year!”
45 minutes later, Dream gets a call from Victor: he’s two minutes away.
Dream sighs and pushes himself up from the chair. He closes Nick’s door behind him and hurries down the stairs towards the elevator. But it’s on the 10th floor, and going down. He debates taking the stairs, but that would take too long. He just leans against the wall and waits.
The doors open a few minutes later. He pushes off the wall and nearly slams into none other than George.
“Oh, hey!” he says, smiling.
“Hi,” George says, a small smile on his lips. “Um, is this yours? Clay ?”
Then he notices the bag in George’s arms. “Oh, yeah,” he says, laughing. “Uh-“
“I was outside and the Dasher assumed I was you,” George explains as Dream takes the bag. “I figured I’d play along just so no one stole it or he just left.”
“Well, uh, thanks,” Dream says. “You wanna come sit in Nick’s room with me? Conversation with a sleeping man is kind of one-sided, I’ve noticed.”
George smiles. “Is it any quieter there?” he asks.
Dream shrugs. “Actually, yeah,” he says. “It’s sound-proofed, so I can still hear the music but not as loud.”
“Then lead the way.”
Dream tries not to trip and fall as he climbs the stairs, George right behind him. He feels like his knees are seconds away from giving out.
He opens the door and sets the bag of food on the desk. He takes out Nick’s order and walks towards the bed, reaching out to poke him until he wakes with a groan and a weak slap at Dream’s hands. “I ordered food,” Dream says. “I’ll give it to George if you don’t want it.”
Nick immediately sits up, eyes peeled wide. Dream snickers and hands him the food, placing the drink next to him on the nightstand. Nick hums his thanks as he begins to eat.
“Want some fries?” Dream asks George as he sits back down in the chair. “I didn’t expect a third, sorry.”
George gratefully takes some fries, sitting on the ground next to Dream. The three of them sit in silence as they eat, George taking fries as offered and muttering thanks.
“How are you feeling, Sapnap?” George asks as Nick crumples the garbage up into a ball.
“Like a truck hit me,“ Nick grumbles. “I’m never drinking again.“
George looks up at Dream. “Did he already sleep it off?” he asks, amazed.
Dream grins and shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Nick, what’s 25 times 5?”
“Bitch, I don’t even know that sober ,” Nick snaps, giving Dream a look.
“There’s your answer.”
George laughs, looking up at Dream with a wide smile. It makes Dream’s gut flip.
Nick tosses the ball of trash at Dream, grumbling under his breath. It lands at his feet, and he drops it into the delivery bag with the other garbage, placing it on the desk to remind them to throw it out later. When he turns back around, Nick is turned back over with the sheets pulled up to his chin.
He glances down at George. “What do you wanna do?“ he asks.
“Do you want to go back down?“ George asks. “Or are you escaping too?”
Dream shrugs. “What are you escaping from?” he asks instead.
George doesn’t answer for a minute, staring off to the side. Dream doesn’t push for an answer, content to sit next to him and just exist. He hadn’t found many people with whom he was comfortable doing that with. Existing .
“I don’t like most of the people down there,” George admits. “I prefer quiet to… that .”
Dream hums. “I usually like parties, but I hardly know anyone here, so…” He motions around to the room they’re in.
“Love that you guys are bonding,” Nick grumbles, “but get the fuck out. I’m sleeping .”
Dream and George exchange a look before hurrying out of the room, giggling quietly.
-
George goes back downstairs, certain Dream is following him. Once he turns at the bottom, he confirms it.
“Do you drink?” George asks.
Dream shrugs. “On occasion,” he replies. “Why?”
“I feel like getting drunk,” George says before turning towards a cooler sitting on the ground. He doesn’t know when it had made its way there, but he crouches anyways. “And I don’t feel like doing it alone.“ He tosses Dream a cheeky grin as he opens the cooler. “Pick your poison.”
“Anything but champagne,” Dream mutters, reaching in to grab a beer. “I’m putting this in a cup, I hate drinking from cans.”
“Can you get me a cup too?“ George asks as he pulls a gin and tonic combo from the cooler. He snags a small vodka at the last second and slips it into his pocket.
They crowd a corner of the counter, laughing as Dream gets a third of the can on the floor instead of in the cup. He keeps complaining that pouring anything from a can is difficult, but when George grabs another of the same beer, pops the tab, and pours it in, it goes easily. He gives Dream a cocky smile, and Dream shoves him playfully.
“You’re just an idiot,” George says.
Dream scoffs. “Whatever,” he says. “Hurry up, I don't wanna be down here any longer than I have to.”
George snorts, pouring his gin and tonic as Dream suffers and finishes what’s left in the second can before tossing it in the recycling. “Where are we even gonna go, genius?” George asks. “We got kicked out of Sapnap’s room.”
“I have an idea,” Dream says, tone light. He nods for George to follow, and he dumps his bottles into the recycling on his way out. He follows Dream up the stairs, curious. Dream ducks into the bathroom, holding the door open for George, who enters cautiously. The lock clicking seems to echo through the room.
“Why are we here?“ he asks, jumping onto the counter, careful of the vodka bottle he still has. He pulls it from his pocket and sets it beside him.
Dream shrugs, sitting on the bathtub ledge. “I dunno,” he says, taking a sip from his cup. “It’s probably the second quietest place in this apartment, I think.”
George hums, kicking his feet into the air and dropping them to the cupboards below him with a loud thump. He does it until Dream speaks again.
“So,” Dream says. “Uh, when did you meet Nick?”
“Um, seven years ago?” he says. “We met through mutual friends. Has he not mentioned me?”
Dream shrugs. “He mentions you every now and then,” he says. “None of your other friends though. He doesn’t really talk about his job,” he says. “Not streaming, YouTube, Minecraft, nothing. I don’t really talk about mine, either, so I guess it’s some sort of mutual, unspoken agreement to just not talk about it.”
George frowns, ignoring the way his heart rate spikes learning that he’s the only one Dream had properly heard of before tonight. “That’s dumb,” he says. “Who do you talk about it with then?”
“I mean, most of the world knows my business,” Dream mutters. “I don’t need to talk about it. He can just Google me and it’ll be there.”
George still thinks it’s dumb, but says nothing. It’s Dream’s decision to not talk about it.
Silence falls, at least between them. The floor thumps with how loud the music is, still very audible despite being the “second quietest room.”
“It doesn’t really feel like it’s actually New Year’s,” George says, taking another sip of his drink. “The year went too fast.”
Dream hums. “New Year’s is dumb, anyways,” he says.
George laughs, leaning back against the wall. “What? Why?”
“What’s the point of celebrating the last digit of the year every single fucking year?” Dream exclaims suddenly. George jumps. “Like, it happens every year. We’ve all seen it. Big whoop, another whole 365 days have passed!”
Dream takes an angry drink from his cup, and sets it on the floor. George has only spent an hour with him so far, but he figured Dream was some sort of gentle giant. Seeing him so angry over something so dumb is rather entertaining to George, and he has to muffle his giggles with a hand.
“What?”
Clearly it doesn’t work.
George bursts out laughing. Dream’s scowl softens until he’s chucking, head ducked like he’s embarrassed. He’s adorable.
“ New Year’s ?” George asks as he calms down. “You could’ve picked anything, any holiday to hate, and you picked New Year’s? It hardly even counts as a holiday!”
“I just don’t see the big deal!” Dream argues. He shifts on the bathtub ledge, leaning forward to dig his elbows into his knees. “I mean, why throw a million parties just to celebrate adding one to the year? It’s dumb, it’s pointless, and to be honest, a waste of money.”
George chuckles. “Then why show up here at all?”
Dream scoffs, sitting back up with arms crossed. “Nick made me come,” he says. George can’t help but giggle at his facial expression. “I’d have sooo much preferred staying home in Florida with my cat and making fun of the ball drop in New York.”
George gasps, throwing himself forward. “You have a cat?” he asks.
It seems he strikes a chord, because Dream just beams. “Yeah!” he says, pulling out his phone “Her name is Patches, she is… four, I think. Almost five. And I love her to death, she’s basically my child.”
Dream holds up his phone to show a photo of a tabby cat laying across Dream’s chest. Her face is tucked against his neck, one paw against his collar. Her ears are turned back, but George can assume it’s to avoid Dream’s jaw and the headphones he’s wearing. He can see the corner of Dream’s eye and the stubble of his beard. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this attracted to a photo, especially when the person in the photo is sitting right across from him.
“She’s a bit dumb,” Dream says, pulling his phone back, “and I say that in the most loving way possible. She attacks my shoes and knocks everything off of everywhere. She gets scared easily, and I have a video of me nearly jumping right on top of her where she launches herself into the air. It’s, like, my favourite video.”
As he talks, Dream continues to show George different photos of Patches. One where she’s in a pumpkin costume, a dinosaur costume, spread-eagle only very blurry so it’s even funnier, and a video of her nearly falling off the couch. George looks at every single one with a smile on his face, listening intently to what Dream has to say.
“I used to have a cat,” George says. “I could never tell if he liked me, though. I mean, I’m pretty sure he preferred me to my siblings, but only because I was the only one he’d let hold him.”
Dream grins. “That’s cute,” he says. “What was his name?”
“Officially, Luca,” George says. “The fans—my fans—knew him as Cat.”
Dream snickers. “That’s original.”
George scoffs and kicks him in the shoulder lightly. Dream grins and stares up at him with soft eyes, ones that make George a little bit sick. But he’s sure he’s staring back the same way, as if he hasn’t been all night.
“Don’t you think you could at least indulge a little bit? See where it goes?”
Damn you, Hannah.
“Anyway,” George says, more harshly than needed. Dream doesn’t seem to notice. “Um, t-tell me about this tour you’re going on.”
Dream blinks and seems to shake himself out of his haze. “I already told you about it,” he says.
“Barely,” George argues. “C’mon.”
“Okay, uh, what about it?”
George shrugs. “Anything you want,” he says. “Just… I don’t know, I’m curious.”
It takes a few seconds, but Dream breaks out into a large smile. “Okay!” he says excitedly. “Well, I’ve never been on a tour this big, and I don’t know if I ever will again considering I’ll be performing several times a month all year. Like, I’ve gone on month long tours lots before and those nearly ended me, but I’m still super excited. I didn’t know how many fans I had across the world until Ken, he’s my manager, told me I had global demand for a tour, and I just had to do it-“
George smiles, leaning back against the mirror with arms crossed over his chest. He lets Dream talk and talk, and as he listens, he knows Dream is grateful that he’s finally able to properly talk about this with someone. He makes a mental reminder to either get Sapnap to ask about it more, or get Dream’s number so he can talk to George instead.
Or maybe he’s just looking for a way to get Dream’s number.
-
Dream isn’t sure how long they spend in the bathroom. He talks about his tour until he feels like he’s dying of thirst, and he lets George talk about whatever while he recuperates. George chooses to talk about streaming, talking about how he’s most known for Minecraft but prefers IRL streams. He streams at least twice a week, and Dream pretends to write his Twitch down as if he hasn’t had it memorized since it first passed Nick’s lips in conversation.
At some point, they begin tossing questions back and forth, getting to know each other a bit more after each one. Time slips past; unbeknownst to them is just how much, until a knock comes pounding at the door.
Dream frowns curiously and stands to open the door. A familiar face with a name he can’t remember is frowning at him, arms crossed.
“Sylvee!” George exclaims. “What the hell?”
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Sylvee says, frown falling. “We were looking for you!”
Dream side steps so he’s not blocking their view of each other. He keeps a hand on the doorknob as his gaze flicks back and forth.
“Why?” George asks.
“Because it’s almost 30 minutes to midnight, and we didn’t want you two to miss it,” she says. “What have you been doing in here for over an hour anyways?”