Archive of Our Own

Heavy winds blow through the trees that line their house in Orlando. Dream, taking a well-needed break from hours of coding, stretches out on a lawn chair in the backyard. A storm is coming. He can smell the rain already, and if that wasn’t enough of a sign, then the fact that the wind is making his hair slick straight back should be. He laughs, sends a snap of himself with the ‘July 12th’ sticker to George and Sapnap, then heads inside. As soon as his back hits the couch cushions, his phone lights up with a Snapchat notification.

George, he presumes, because Sapnap is hours deep in a Valorant stream. Heart beating fast, he opens the message. It’s a selfie, though George’s brown eyes are obscured by pixelated meme glasses. Dream chuckles and clicks past it.

Five years since YLYL Finale, the text on the next Snap reads. Below is a link to the video, which is clicked on instantly, without hesitation. He watches nearly the whole video through, smiling with his heart panging. It’s bittersweet, listening to everyone’s laughter, thinking about how different they were back then. He has to pause the video to get his laughter under control when Sapnap starts talking about double entendres. In the video, it’s Dream that nearly gets George to crack when he says that whatever Sapnap was referencing wasn’t even a double entendre, and then—

“Yeah, you little single entendre!”

George nearly dies, and looking back at it now, Dream thinks that he definitely should’ve lost a life for that. 

Trust that the Dream Team —especially Dream and George— know all about double entendres. Crude remarks are always their go-to, whether the conversation is serious or not. Really, Dream can’t remember a time when they didn’t use double entendres. It’s what best friends do, though for Dream and George…

Well, it might mean a little more than a joke, even though neither of them has ever admitted it.

Some things they say are traditional double entendres. Things about, “You would wanna get hammered, wouldn’t you, George?” or being the master of their craft, with one of those references being Minecraft. Most famously amongst them, being a “master baiter.” And of course, there are the quite obvious hidden meanings behind those, aimed to get under each other's skin and put certain thoughts in their heads. But sometimes, it goes a little deeper than that. Sometimes it’s a little kinder, a bit more gentle. Sometimes it’s during quiet nights— ones spent under blankets while a random YouTube video rambles on the TV with no one paying attention. Other times, those double meanings bounce off the walls during get-togethers, making their friends erupt into laughter. Sometimes it’s during private reunions, after one of them has traveled, whispers muffled against shoulders.

These aren’t traditional double entendres. Really, some wouldn’t call them double entendres at all, but neither Dream nor George know what else to label them.

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” George muttered once, though the smile on his face was audible from an ocean away, through shitty headphones, over his stupid London internet.

Dream knows he doesn’t mean it. Everyone knows that George doesn’t mean it, and vice versa when it’s Dream muttering it under his breath. Hell, they’ve deemed it their term of endearment on multiple occasions. But that’s the thing they call a “double entendre,” but DNF’s version, if you will. And saying that they hate each other is a similar example, because hate is far from how they feel about one another; that much is obvious. There’s not an ounce of hate laced between those three words, or any other insult they throw at each other. It’s pure love. Adoration. Admiration. Of course, in the besties, buds, and pals type of way… but they know it’s also in a way that’s deeper than that. It’s always been deeper than that, especially when George arrived in Florida. One of Dream’s favorite, most vivid memories came moments after the camera turned off. After breaking George’s blinds, Sapnap left for the kitchen to get a snack. It left the other two in George’s room alone. Dream will never be able to forget the way George walked into his arms, laid his head on his chest, and captured him in the tightest embrace.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” he breathed.

“Me neither,” Dream said back, resting his cheek atop brown locks of hair. “You’ve only been here five minutes, and I’m already miserable.”

You’ve only been here five minutes, and this house finally feels like home. I never want you to leave, is what he means. George chuckled, and to the blonde, hearing it in the flesh for the first time was so beautiful that it made his heart jump into his throat. He was certain that George could hear how fast it was beating, the rate increasing with every word that was spoken.

“Yeah,” George scoffed. “I actually hate it here. I already wanna book my flight back to London.”

I’ve waited so long for this, wished on every shooting star for it. I’m never leaving.

They pulled apart with shy smiles, fingers brushing over sides and lingering a little longer than normal best friends would opt for.

The thing is, they’ve never talked about anything. They’ve never dared to speak about what lies behind their taunts and teases. Even when they’re sitting in the hot tub, a brand new bottle of wine being passed between them, words slurring, it never goes past a whispered, “I love you,” and a gentle, “I know.” Everything is just left as is. They know deep down that they’re not just friends, and that they’d be insane to call themselves that. However, nothing else is pursued, and they’re left as not friends, but something in the middle between it and the unspoken territory of lovers.

Honestly, it hurts a little. For Dream, even thinking about it makes his head pound. His fingers fly up to pinch the bridge of his nose to try and relieve some of the pain. He can hear his pulse in his ears, and—

Oh, wait. Those are footsteps.

As soon as he lifts his head, his eyes meet George’s. Suddenly, he’s drawing a blank, and the pain in his head ebbs away.

“Oh, you’re still down here,” George says as he descends the stairs. Dream nods as he scoots over. It’s more of a signal that George is invited to sit with him, because there was enough space on their massive sectional to begin with.

“I was just watching your ‘You Laugh You Lose’ video,” Dream tells George when he finally sits down, lifting his legs onto the couch and sitting cross-legged.

“Yeah, I was too,” he says, and Dream adds, “but I had to pause it at the ‘double entendre’ part because I was laughing too hard.”

“Bro, I totally should’ve lost for that,” George laughs.

“I was thinking the same thing!”

Their laughter dies down after a few seconds and bubbles into silence. Dream resorts to picking at his nails, and while George usually wouldn’t think anything of it, something inside him warns that something’s off. He analyzes the blonde, eyes glancing over him and picking up subtle cues.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Dream responds. “Just really tired.”

Most of it is true. He’s been up since the break of dawn, coding for MCPVP. He only took two breaks, and one of them was just a quick jog to the kitchen for some frozen grapes. What he doesn’t say is that the mere idea of what he and George aren’t is making him feel a little under the weather. Additionally, what he doesn’t say is that George just being near him is making him feel better. That part, George thinks he understands through their unspoken language. So, he hums and shifts himself closer to Dream.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, and pulls Dream into a hug from the side, pressing their cheeks together. The blonde sighs, and George smiles as he feels his best friend melt into him. When the hug ends, Dream falls to the side and lets his head rest against George’s chest, curling into a ball.

“You kinda look like a shrimp,” George muses. Dream snorts, and the room fades into silence once again. It’s a bit more comfortable this time. There isn’t any tension in the atmosphere like there was a few moments ago. The air conditioner blows quietly in the background, and the two start to hear the pitter-patter of rain against the windows. George splays one hand over Dream’s back, and the other plays with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Can you be done for tonight?” he asks.

“With coding?”

“Yeah.”

Dream trills his lips.

“I could be,” he answers. “Why?”

George shrugs.

“I thought that maybe we could go out and do something, but… seeing how tired you are, I think maybe we could just stay in and chill. We could order something and watch a movie, if that sounds good to you,” he proposes. Dream raises his eyebrows.

“That actually sounds really good,” he admits. “You still have my card saved for that sushi place, right? Just get—”

“—I’ll pay, okay? And pick what you wanna eat.”

Dream groans. Even though his head doesn’t hurt much anymore, it feels heavy. He also knows that any more thinking will make it pound again. He buries his face in George’s chest.

“...I really want a burrito from that Mexican place down the street…”

“A burrito? And… how about churros?”

“Oh my god, yeeeesss,” Dream drawls, flipping onto his back to look up at George, who laughs lightly and pulls out his phone to order.

“The one with chicken, please. And can you add that white sauce?” Dream requests. George makes an odd face— a disgusted yet suggestive look.

“White sauce?” he snickers.

“Well,” Dream counters, “I can’t remember if it was queso or sour cream—”

“Bro would want some white sauce, huh? Why should I even add it on? You have white sauce at home.”

Dream deadpans, slapping his forehead and huffing out a breath.

So, as he was saying, a double fucking entendre.

There are so many things he could respond with. He could brush it off, or he could play into it. He knows what meaning lies behind George’s words, and he could choose to flip it to make his best friend flustered, make him eat his words. Although, Dream doesn’t feel like he has the energy for that, so he picks the easier, more energy-efficient option.

“Just add it, idiot,” he grumbles with a smile.

“Fineeee,” George drawls, nails tapping against his screen. Dream only stares up at him, tracing features he’s grown to be so in love with. George’s skin is illuminated by the cool light from his phone, freckles dotting the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, which sparkle so much that the screen can almost be read in his pupils. Stubble is sparse across his chin, but it appears George is still tending to it, keeping the lines and edges sharp. He bites at the dead skin on his lip as he types, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, but it never stops Dream’s eyes from wandering there. He smiles to himself as he stretches.

“What’re you gonna get?” he asks George, who says, “Tacos and horchata.”

After a moment, the brunette tosses his phone to the side.

“Fifteen minutes,” he announces, and goes back to playing with Dream’s hair. It’s nice, until—

“Y’know,” George begins with that slight tinge of mischief. “Since you chose where we’re eating—”

“—I knew there was a catch!”

“—I think I should get to choose what movie we watch.”

“I guess that makes sense,” the blonde agrees, squeezing his eyes closed. George grins.

“I wanna watch the new Minions movie,” he states like he’s unveiling the latest piece of tech. Dream breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, I thought you were gonna say something like Obsession.”

“We could watch that too,” George suggests with a shrug.

“No, no,” Dream rushes out, “Minions is good. Obsession will freak me out too much.”

“Scaredy cat,” George calls him, but is more than happy with the outcome.

***

Comfortable in their home theater, the two zone out on the yellow blobs with eyeballs speaking gibberish on the screen. Dream is curled up under a blanket, munching on a burrito the size of his head. George, on the other hand, is hunched over his plate, trying to keep loose pieces of taco lettuce from falling between the cushions. The center armrest is pulled up so that their bowl of popcorn and other sweets and desserts are accessible to both of them, and definitely not so that they can be closer to each other.

“D’you wanna try some of my burrito?” Dream asks, mouth full.

“Sure,” George answers with a shrug.

“…can I have a bite of your taco?”

“You can try. It might crumble everywhere.”

George is right. It does crumble everywhere when Dream bites into it, and it falls apart in his hands. With pieces of broken taco shell stuck to his lip, he slowly looks over at George, who looks utterly disappointed. Upon meeting each other’s eyes, they erupt into genuine laughter.

“You’re such a dumbass,” George mumbles, wiping tears away from his eyes. “You’re literally the dumbass.”

“Fuck off,” Dream giggles, and swipes broken shell and shredded cheese off his shirt and back onto the plate. They dissolve into silence, packing the food up and setting the containers aside on the floor, and focus back on the movie. About fifteen minutes go by, and Dream feels his eyelids growing heavy. He rubs them, hoping the small bit of pressure will refresh them. To no avail, however, and George is starting to notice. Without a word, the Brit drapes an arm over Dream’s shoulders, pulling him to the side once again, inviting him into his space to lean against him.

“I’m gonna fall asleep if we sit like this,” Dream warns. George only laces a hand in dirty blonde curls and guides Dream’s head onto his chest.

“S’okay,” George assures him. “I know you’re tired. Plus, maybe you can sleep some of the dumbassery away.”

Dream smiles, and before his eyes flutter shut, he glances at the clock.

Thirty minutes, he tells himself, and sets a mental alarm. Thirty minutes will be a good nap, and I’ll still be able to catch the end of the movie.

Finally, he lets himself succumb to sleep. George keeps his hand movements steady, grasping at the roots and twirling soft strands around his finger. He has to pry his eyes away from the sight of the beautiful boy asleep on his chest, and glue them back to the screen. It feels impossible not to stare when his best friend is so comfortable and content, face smushed against and buried in the fabric of George’s hoodie. And then, a hand reaches over and grabs a handful of it. George fucking melts. It forces the air from his lungs, and he slaps a hand to his mouth to keep any other noises from escaping.

Cute, he thinks.

“Fucking idiot,” he whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind the blonde’s ear. In his sleep, blissfully unaware, Dream smiles, and George dies all over again.

It’s safe to say that Dream’s mental alarm does not work like it usually does. Turns out, when the boy you’ve been secretly in love with keeps playing with your hair and dragging his nails along your back, it disables the entire thing. Thirty minutes later, Dream has slumped down so far that George’s thighs have become his pillow. George is 90% sure he’s drooling, but he really doesn’t mind, because he’s never gotten Dream like this before.

A few minutes pass, and Sapnap waltzes in, dark circles under his red eyes. His eyes lock onto Dream, and he extends a hand toward him, ready to ruffle his hair.

“Aww, so cute!” he quips, mimicking the popular TikTok audio. 

Having Dream curled up on his lap has unlocked something inside of George. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so protective over anything, let alone anyone. Maybe it’s too much so, but he doesn’t want Dream to move, or anything at all to disturb his peace. Usually, Sapnap’s antics would be tolerated, maybe even instigated, but George can’t risk this moment ending so abruptly. Before Sapnap’s hand makes contact, George grabs his wrist. Hard.

“Don’t you fucking touch him, Nick.”

Dream’s dead asleep, but there’s a tiny part of his brain that is still paying partial attention to the environment around him. It echoes, but he can still hear the movie playing in the background. George’s breathing had been so steady, and it was the predictable rhythm of it that had kept him asleep. So, when it shifts —a sharp, piercing inhale— and George lashes out, words hissed through gritted teeth, his brain starts to pay a little more attention.

Weird, George never calls Sapnap by his real name unless he’s really upset.

However, all that Dream catches after that are bits and pieces. The next thing he hears before his brain tunes out is Sapnap taking a step back, socks scratching against the carpet.

In surrender, Sapnap puts his hands up.

“Woah, chill. I won’t. Goddamn.”

With hesitance, George lets go, and Sapnap tries to change the subject, hoping it’ll air out the tension swirling around them.

“How long has he been like that?” he asks quietly.

“About 45 minutes.”

Cautiously, Sapnap sits on the armrest beside George. He moves slowly, like George is going to lash out again at any moment. The Brit side-eyes Sapnap as he settles, but he’s starting to sense that he didn’t come in here to deliberately cause trouble. They both wince when the chair creaks, and Dream stirs a bit, but doesn’t wake.

“...sorry I snapped at you,” George murmurs after a moment of silence, when the time feels right, and Sapnap will know he’s being genuine.

“It’s okay, dude,” Sapnap murmurs in response. George sighs, exasperated.

“It’s just that…” he starts, but cuts himself off. He’s unsure what exactly is about to come out of his mouth, but whatever it was felt far too vulnerable. He and Sapnap are close, but it’s rare for them to have heart-to-heart conversations. This feels like the beginning of one, and it’s weird enough, but the fucking Minions being on the big screen just adds to it. Sapnap’s eyes are boring holes into his head, though, and George knows he isn’t going to let this go.

“George,” Sapnap utters. “Just say it.”

George shakes his head. It feels too difficult to get out now, but with one glance at the boy in his lap, breathing so evenly and with long eyelashes brushing the apples of his cheeks, it bubbles back up instantly.

“He’s so tired. And he’s so comfy. And he’s just… he’s the sweetest.”

“So tired… he’s so… the sweetest…” Dream’s brain hears, though he’s unaware of what they’re talking about. He figures it could be Milo, and it checks out… sort of. All he knows is that there’s a gentle hand in his hair, and fingers splayed against his side. Right now, right here, nothing else matters.

“He is… very kind,” Sapnap affirms, but—

He just doesn’t get it.

George doesn’t ramble very often, contrary to popular belief. He’ll do it on stream, but that’s because he kind of has to. When he’s by himself, he knows he can’t just stay quiet. He’ll lose retention, and even though numbers aren’t a big deal to him, he still cares about the content he’s putting out to fans. But this— god, he isn’t sure where this comes from.

“He’s not just kind, though. He— he genuinely cares about people. He loves helping when he can. And he works so hard all the time because he just wants to bring people together to have fun. He’s just so passionate about everything and— and he’s just so full of love, even when it backfires on him. He just never fucking stops trying to do good. And— and there’s just so much more about him. He loves animals, and cats, and— and he wants a ferret. He loves hugs, and being close, and telling people he loves them. He’s like the physical fucking embodiment of love.”

Sapnap just stares, jaw slack. He’s racking his brain with ways to respond when George drops the bombshell.

“...and I think I love him.”

Sapnap sits straight up, hands on his knees.

“...what do you mean? Like… what kind of love?”

Dream chooses that moment to roll over, and the other two nearly jump a foot in the air. Fear crosses George’s face, and he’s pleading with the universe that Dream didn’t hear their conversation. It quickly becomes obvious that he’s still fully asleep, though. He faces George now, rather than the screen. One of his hands grabs another fistful of George’s hoodie, while the other shoves itself between George’s body and the couch to wrap around George’s waist. The blonde hums, discontent. His eyebrows are drawn in at the middle, and he wears a slight frown. Figuring it’s a bad dream or a nightmare, George pulls him closer.

“It’s okay, I’m still here,” George assures, voice soft. He smooths out the lines in his forehead, trailing down until his thumb brushes against his cheekbone. Sapnap watches every movement.

“You’re in love,” he gawks. George shrugs, not like he’s unsure, but like he can’t believe he’s saying it either.

“How can I not be?” George asks rhetorically. “I mean, look at him, Sapnap. How can I not be in love with someone who’s so— so selfless, and empathetic, and generous? That’s what I mean when I say he’s the sweetest. He’s like a giant teddy bear. All around, he’s just such an amazing person. It’s unfathomable to me sometimes, just how big his heart is.”

Sapnap nods, and the two pay attention to the last few minutes of the movie. After the end credits roll and the screen goes dark, Sapnap speaks again.

“I think you should tell him.”

George looks at him incredulously.

“Are you crazy?” he queries. Sapnap crosses his legs, gearing up for his defense.

“I don’t think so,” he replies. “I think he’d take it well.”

“Take it well?!” George whisper-yells. His hand stalls on Dream’s skin, where his shirt has ridden up near his side, and where George has been tracing shapes for the past 15 minutes.

“I don’t want him to just ‘take it well,’ idiot. The only way I’d ever tell him is if I thought he felt the same way. But there’s no way in hell I’d just randomly be like, ‘Oh, hey, Dream! By the way, I’m head over heels for you,’ if he was just going to brush it —brush me— off. It could ruin the whole dynamic, and to me, preserving our friendship is more important than—”

“George,” Sapnap deadpans. “Look at him. Right now, look at him.”

George does so, and instantly, he starts to tear up. He observes him for a moment— how relaxed he looks, arms wrapped around his torso and grabbing any part of George that he can. And even though George has pulled him close, Dream seems to be unconsciously doing the same. Then, he thinks about how this is probably the most sleep Dream’s gotten in the past week, and how he felt safe enough with George to nap on him, let him play with his hair, run his hands over his back. And then there was earlier, when George understood the silent plea for comfort, for gentleness, and how he could visibly see the muscles in Dream’s shoulders relax while he had him in his arms. George runs a hand through the blonde’s hair and squeezes his side.

“Listen,” Sapnap enunciates. “He hasn’t told me anything, but from an outside perspective, that looks like love to me. He doesn’t do that with just anyone, George. And on top of the way he looks at you, seeks you out, and lets himself be vulnerable —like this— around you, I think it’s worth telling him. I obviously can’t be 100% sure, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that there’s definitely some mutual feelings between you two.”

“Told me anything… looks like love… be vulnerable… mutual feelings…” Dream picks up on. Maybe he’s dreaming, he figures, and holds onto George a little tighter.

“...I wouldn’t just wanna tell him, I’d… y’know, ask him to… to be my…”

Boyfriend, Sapnap understands. George wants to ask him to be his boyfriend.

George sighs again.

“How would I even start that conversation?” George ponders aloud. Sapnap shrugs.

“Well… his birthday’s coming up, y’know,” he offers. “You could always plan something out for him around that time… think about what he likes, how he likes to celebrate… and then just be honest with him, dude. Tell him exactly what you just told me.”

George raises an eyebrow. It’s the first good idea Sapnap’s had in ages.

“Yeah, maybe…” the Brit trails, though he’s already hatching a plan.

“Good. I’m glad you’re at least considering it,” Sapnap says with a nod. “I’m gonna… leave you to it, then. Tell him I said goodnight if he wakes up.”

“Will do,” George murmurs. “And thanks, Sap.”

With a knowing smile, Sapnap heads back up to his room. George tugs his phone out from under his best friend’s limp leg and creates a new document in his Notes app. He titles it ‘Minecraft Coords,’ so that if Dream is searching through his notes for any reason, he won’t be suspicious. In that document, he starts jotting down ideas.

• Birthday is on a Wednesday — party the Saturday before???

• Ask his mum if they can host — decor at our house will be sus

• Fly friends out to FL

• Chill BBQ, summer theme? He loves summer

• Ask Sav to help w decorating + aesthetics

• Surprise party duh

Then, he realizes there’s a lot of answers he needs to get from Dream somehow, so he writes as many as he can think of in another paragraph.

• Cake flavor/desserts:

• What he wants for his bday:

• Fav grilled food:

• Fav snacks/sides:

• Fav summer memory as a kid:

And obviously a great party needs great decorations! Plus, George needs to start making a grocery list of things he knows he’ll need.

• Balloons

• Confetti, streamers, swirly ceiling thingies

• Birthday banner + tablecloths

• Matching plates and napkins and shit

• Hot dogs + buns

• Burgers + buns + toppings + condiments

• Chicken? Steak? Ribs? Idk what else can be grilled wtv I'll ask his dad

• Corn, veggie tray? FRUIT TRAY.

• Popsicles/otter pops

• Booze obv + reg. Drinks + ice + cups

• Water balloons lol + buckets.

• Pool floats + noodles + water guns

George nears the end of his list right as Dream starts to stretch and open his eyes. The blonde inhales deeply, hands outstretched to the ceiling, and his eyes land on George.

“Hi,” he murmurs, and George grins.

“Have a nice nap?”

“Yeah,” Dream answers, then frowns. “Why’s it so quiet? Did you turn the movie off?”

“It ended like an hour ago, idiot. You’ve been asleep for like— two hours.”

Dream turns bright red and whips around to look at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly midnight— definitely not the time it should’ve been if he’d actually slept for 30 minutes as he’d planned.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he groans, running a hand over his face. George eases him back down, one arm supporting his head.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he placates with a slight laugh. “I’m glad you were able to get some rest.”

Dream smushes his face back against George’s chest, pouting.

“Yeah, but I missed the ending of the movie, and you’ve been wanting to watch it.”

“I don’t care about that. The only reason I suggested we get food and watch a movie is that I wanted you to take a break, Dream.”

Dream huffs and closes his eyes again, still trying to adjust to being awake. George plays with his curls, drags his fingertips along his back, his hand down his side, his leg, and back up.

“Were you doing that the whole time I was asleep?” Dream asks.

“Yeah,” George tells him.

“No wonder I slept so long, then.”

George’s heart skips a beat, and he swallows hard.

“Why? Do you like when people play with your hair and stuff?”

“No,” Dream denies, and just when George is about to pull his hand away out of sheer embarrassment, Dream adds, “I just like when you do.”

The blonde cracks his eyes open. The look on George’s face makes his heart swell.

“...really?” George questions, and Dream tuts.

“No, George. I actually lied. I hate when you have your hands in my hair or anywhere on me.”

“Shut up, asshole.”

With a chuckle, Dream reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of George’s face, but leaves his arm dangling around his shoulders. It brings them a little closer than they were before, but it’s not so much so that George will call him out on it. It’s just enough that their eyes can’t help but flick down to each other’s lips every now and then, enough that they can feel each other’s breath flit across their faces, and to put the notion in their heads that if they lean just a little closer, their noses will touch.

“You know,” George whispers, “this lighting makes you look exceptionally stupid.”

The light makes your eyes sparkle so much, makes all of your features look so soft, and I love it.

“Yeah,” Dream mutters back, “it’s not doing you any favors, either.”

You look ethereal. Angelic. I’ve never seen you like this, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get this image out of my head.

Suddenly, George finds his free hand cupping Dream’s jaw. The hand around George’s shoulder shifts to the nape of his neck, lacing through chocolate brown locks. It takes everything in them not to move any closer. Especially George, who has fully come to terms with his feelings since his conversation with Sapnap. But this— this makes him feel so sure about his decision to ask Dream to be his, and that when he does, it’ll last a lifetime. He knows now that this needs to be special, heartfelt, and —like Sapnap said—honest. But now isn’t the time, so he slowly moves his hand away, straightens his back, and clears his throat. Dream sits up faster than George expected him to, but he probably feels just as tense as George does. The brunette is determined to change the mood.

“Hey, uh— can I ask you some questions? They’re kinda important. But you cannot ask what they’re for.”

“Uh… sure, okay,” the blonde croaks, unsure of where this is going. George smiles, crosses his legs, and faces Dream so that the other can’t see his phone.

“Okay, number one,” he begins. “What’s your favorite flavor of cake?”

“Cake?” Dream implores.

“Ah! Don’t question it!” George juts in. Dream throws his head back.

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t! Uh… red velvet, I guess.”

“And what about desserts in general?”

“Wh—” Dream starts, but he doesn’t get far.

“Stop!” George screams through a laugh. Dream nods, serious now.

“Okay, okay! Um… I guess— oh! Y’know what I haven’t had in a while? Those doughnut holes. The glazed ones.”

George snorts, holding back a laugh as he types.

“What?” Dream presses. George bites back a smile.

“Bro would like a glazed hole, huh?” he slurs. Dream slaps his forehead.

“Is that your next question? Because the answer is—”

“Shut up! No, my next question is: What—”

If I ask what he wants for his birthday, that’ll be too obvious.

“Uh— what are some things you want but wouldn’t buy any time soon?”

Hopefully that’s good enough.

Dream raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t verbally question it.

“Uh… I don’t know, actually. I’m always in the market for Sooners merch. Other than that, something to like— put all my jewelry in. Oh, and I kinda want some new rings.

New rings, George thinks. That’s it. Bingo.

The brunette pauses. Everything lines up so perfectly, and he knows exactly what to do. Frozen with his phone in hand, he quickly snaps himself out of his daze in fear of drawing attention to himself.

“Okay, and what’s your favorite thing to eat during a barbeque?” George asks next. He feels like he’s conducting a formal interview.

“Chicken, I’d say. It depends on who’s grilling. Like, my dad makes a mean kebab.”

Chicken + his dad’s kebabs, George types.

“Cool. What do you usually like to have with it? Like, sides and snacks?”

“Salad. Chips and dip. Things like that,” Dream tells him. George breathes a sigh of relief when he sees they’ve arrived at the last question.

“Last question,” he chimes. “What’s your favorite summer memory from when you were a kid?”

At that, Dream narrows his gaze. Even though George told him not to question anything, he’s still doing so inside his head. This question, out of all of them, feels so oddly specific. Not just specific, either, but deeper than the others. Dream has to dig far back into his mind and pull out a memory he’s kept tucked away in the safest part of his brain. It’s weird to him that this question is being asked amongst ones that feel so surface-level. Luckily for George, Dream doesn’t see any connection between these questions. Each one seems so random, so unrelated. Plus, on top of everything he’s been working on, the last thing he’s thinking about is his birthday.

“Well, there was one day where my parents hosted this end-of-season party for the football league I was in. The entire team came over, plus their families. It was just this huge thing. But the best part of it was either when we found out that our coach set up this massive slip-and-slide down the hill behind my house or when we went swimming at night, and my parents set up a disco ball, threw a bunch of glow sticks into the pool, and played music. Saying it was magical sounds stupid, but… it felt like you were in a movie.”

George smiles, listening to Dream intently. Without tearing his eyes away from the blonde, he adds to his list:

• Glow sticks, disco ball, slip-and-slide.

Dream cranes his neck as he tries to look over George’s hands and at whatever he’s been typing this whole time. George pulls his phone close to his chest, and Dream groans.

“Will I ever find out what these questions are for?” he asks. George smiles.

“You will. Soon,” he promises. Considering what ‘soon’ can mean in their terms, Dream isn’t satisfied.

“Georgeeee,” he whines. George nudges him with his foot.

“Oh, stop. Don’t you trust me?” George asks. Dream’s face softens.

“Always.”

“Good. Trust me, then. You’ll find out like— early next month, okay?”

It eases Dream’s anxiety just a little. However, a strange countenance crosses his face a moment after. George tilts his head.

“What?” he questions.

“I have one question for you,” Dream discloses. “Was Sapnap in here earlier?”

George’s blood runs cold.

“...yeah, why?” he reveals hesitantly. Dream shrugs.

“I just thought I heard you guys talking earlier, but I couldn’t figure out if I was just dreaming or not.”

“Oh,” is all George can really say at first. He feels small, like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, even though he’s completely uncertain if Dream heard the entirety of their conversation. In the moments before he decides to ask, it’s a very real possibility. There’s a slight chance that Dream knows exactly how he feels now, and just hasn’t brought it up yet. It hurts to swallow, and his vision is a little blurry, but still, George asks.

“Did you… did you hear what we were saying?”

Dream shakes his head.

Relief.

“No, I just heard voices and could tell it was you and Nick, but… I didn’t hear anything. Why?”

Now George can play it cool. Now that he knows the coast is clear, he can brush it off and pretend like he didn’t spill his biggest secret to their other housemate and mutual best friend.

“I was just wondering. It’d be cool if your subconscious heard us talking about our World Cup predictions and it like— transformed your dream or whatever.”

“Ohhhh,” Dream drawls. George thinks he bought it. It sounds pretty realistic, and the World Cup is something they’ve all been watching and talking about anyway.

“Yeah,” George says, then yawns. It causes Dream to yawn as well, and the Brit can’t help but think about how he’d once heard that if you yawn and someone else yawns after, then you must have a special connection.

“We should go to bed. It’s late,” he whispers. Dream nods.

Quickly, they clean up the remnants of their Mexican food. Some of their popcorn had spilled at some point, and they laughed when they found Patches hiding around the side of the chair, munching on a few pieces. Once leftovers are placed in containers and watered-down drinks are poured down the sink, the two bid each other goodnight and make their way to their respective rooms.

Once he hears Dream’s bedroom door close, George bounds up the stairs, shuts his door, and flops onto his bed. There’s always time for sleep, and it will come later, hopefully with dreams of his best friend asleep on his lap, his hands embedded in dirty blonde curls, gentle kisses, and wholehearted confessions. For now, though, George opens Google on his phone and begins his lengthy, detailed research. Three words in the search bar, he hits enter.

Silver promise rings.

Yeah, they’re a little cheesy. He knows that. But, Dream is cheesy too. Sometimes they’re cheesy together, and George wouldn’t rather be cheesy with anyone else. That’s part of what the rings symbolize. So, even though it might seem a little stupid, he smiles and peruses link after link, photo after photo. He needs them to be beautiful. To be meaningful. And to be perfectly Dream and George.

***

Within the next week, George is determined to have all his plans finalized.

The first item on the checklist is to call Dream’s parents to see if they’d be willing to host. Looking at the big picture, George knows hosting a party at their own house would be ideal. However, he’d never be able to keep it a surprise if he was having to plan and decorate in the spaces Dream uses the most. Plus, Dream’s family usually likes to be part of the planning and celebration, so George figures that they’d at least be open to the idea of hosting the party.

“Hi, honey, are you okay?” Dream’s mom asks when she picks up the phone. “You never call!”

“Hi!” George exclaims. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was actually calling because Dream —er— Clay’s birthday is coming up and I had a few ideas that I wanted to run by you.”

“What do you have in mind?” she asks. It’s like she already knows, because George can hear the smile on her face. He laughs.

“Well, I was thinking about a surprise party, but I was wondering, would it be possible to host it at your house? It’d only be me, Nick, and about seven other friends.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun! Is there anything specific you want us to handle?”

“Um… I can handle most of it. I was thinking the theme could be kind of… summer-y, maybe. If his dad could barbecue, that’d be great! I know Dream really likes the kebabs he makes. I’ll probably make a list of food we’ll need, send it over to you to check over, and then buy everything a few days before.”

“Yeah, his dad would love to barbecue! And for your list, just make sure you add yellow bell peppers for those kebabs,” his mom says, and George hears a faint, “Huh?” come from behind her. They both laugh, and he waits for Dream’s mom to fill his dad in on the plans.

“One more thing… could you reach out to Dream’s brother and older sister and ask if they’d like to attend? I know he hasn’t seen them in a while, so…”

“Sure thing. His sister’s a bit busy nowadays, but I’m sure they’ll both make an effort to be there. Is there anything else you need us to do?”

“Other than that, I don’t think so. A couple days before the party, I’ll probably ask Savannah to help me decorate since she’s, like… pretty good at that stuff. Oh— also, is there room anywhere for a slip-and-slide?”

“A slip-and-slide?” she questions, but it’s not a no. “Um… actually, yeah. There was one year where we had a slip-and-slide that went down the hill in the backyard—”

“Wait, that’s what Clay was talking about! I had asked him what his favorite summer memory was, and he mentioned a party with his old football league. Was that it?”

“Yes!” she bubbled. “Is that why you wanted to do a summer theme? We can definitely recreate it! I have some pictures from that exact party if you want them for reference!”

“That would be amazing,” George responds. “Thank you so much! I’ll text you if there’s anything else that comes up!”

Two days after his and Dream’s movie night, he calls all of their friends, asks them to attend the surprise party, and books their flights.

“Bad,” George says when he hears the other end of the line connect.

“Yeah?” Bad chimes. “What’s up?”

“Would you be down to come to a birthday party for Dream on August 8th? It’d be a surprise. I’ll buy your plane ticket and everything, and you can stay at our house, obviously.”

“Uh… well, I’m supposed to see when Skeppy—”

“Skeppy already said he’s coming,” George interrupts. It’s a complete lie, and he grimaces as he awaits Bad’s answer.

“Oh— okay, then. Sure!”

“Okay, good. If you want, I can fly you out the day before and like— sneak you into the house. You cannot let Dream know you’re there, though.”

“Don’t worry, you muffin, I won’t!” Bad swears, then verifies that George’s plan works with him.

Next, George needs to call Skeppy before Bad can message him anything about the party he hasn’t heard about yet. He scrolls through his contacts hurriedly, muttering, “Come on, come on, come on!” Finally, he lands on Skeppy’s name and clicks the call button without hesitation.

“George!” Skeppy yells when he picks up. George almost thinks he’s been caught, but yells, “Skeppy!” regardless.

“How are you doing?” the other says, and George breathes a sigh of relief.

“I’m good, but— listen. I was wondering if you’d come to a surprise party I’m throwing for Dream’s birthday. It’s on August 8th, I’ll pay for your ticket, and you can stay at our house, just— please come. Bad is coming!”

“Um— o-okay! Y-yeah, I’ll come!”

“Great. Uh… it looks like the only available flight near that date is like— the day of. Is that okay? Sapnap or I will pick you up.

“That’s fine, I have a video scheduled to film on the 9th anyway,” Skeppy responds, and George hurriedly books one of the two remaining seats.

He follows this process with Sam, Puffy, Antfrost and Velvet, and even Daquavis. He’s glad that they all have such great friends, because all of them are willing to come even if George wasn’t covering all of the travel costs. Sam is —by far— the hardest to convince— something George only half-listens to about ‘married life’ and whatnot. But, in the end, each and every one of their friends plans to be in Florida for the party. Before he forgets, he jogs over to Sapnap’s room and tells him the date and plans, and then he remembers he should probably check with Dream himself.

“Hey,” he quips, sauntering into Dream’s office. “Can you be available on August 8th?”

“For you? Of course. Why?” the blonde asks, swiveling around in his chair.

“There’s a new sushi place opening that day, and I was thinking that maybe we could get lunch or something. I asked Stinknap, and he said he’s down.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I heard of the place you’re talking about. But yeah, I’m down. I’ll make sure to clear my schedule. Maybe we can all see a movie after?”

“Yeah, for sure,” George says with a smile. He turns around and exits the room with a smirk, knowing the whole ‘sushi lunch’ is a ploy to get Dream out of the house. The best part is, there is no new sushi spot. If there is one, George hadn’t known about it beforehand, but it makes the whole thing ten times funnier.

By day three, George has all of the decorations ordered, with Savannah’s help, of course.

George had come up with the general theme. He wanted lots of different colors, eccentric patterns, and sparkling lights that spread over every corner of the room once it got dark. It’s what fits the inspiration pictures that Dream’s mom had sent. Sav did the hard part: finding matching decorations. She made it look easy, and in a matter of hours, she had an Amazon cart full of balloon arches, banners, streamers, tablecloths— even things that George wouldn't have ever thought of. She was successfully making George’s vision come to life with bright reds, vibrant greens, and every color in between. George’s only mistake was letting her log into his Amazon account, where he had his payment information saved, and telling her to just purchase it when she was done.

“How did you manage to spend almost two thousand dollars?!” George shrieks when she walks in the front door the next day. She slides her sunglasses onto the top of her head and shrugs.

“First of all, you didn’t give me a limit. Second of all, it’s gonna look fire. I’d be thanking me right now, if I were you.”

George throws his arms up and rolls his eyes, and Sav simply shoves past him and makes her way to the couch, where Patches is sprawled out on a cushion.

“Fine, but you’re gonna be the one shoving all the boxes into your car and driving them to your house,” George murmurs, crossing his arms. Savannah takes Patches into her arms, though the cat wriggles away as soon as she hears the doorbell ring. Upon opening the door, George comes face to face with a delivery driver. It’s not Amazon, no. This package holds something far more precious than an item from Amazon.

“Package for George Davidson,” the driver says.

“That’s me,” George quips.

“Sign here, please.”

“Alright…” the Brit hums as he scribbles his signature on the small tablet extended toward him.

“Thanks, have a good one,” the driver says, and George closes the door. In his hands is a white, glossy wooden box. Red ‘FRAGILE’ stickers are slapped on every side, unable to be missed by anyone who handles it. Obviously, Savannah is curious.

“What’s that?” she asks as she approaches. “Let me see.”

“No way. It’s not for you!” George argues, hiding it behind his back when she tries to swipe it out of his hands. He’s not as quick as he’d hoped, because her long, polka-dotted nails catch on the side of the box. She gets a glimpse of the logo and pauses when she realizes that it’s from a local business that creates custom rings. Her jaw drops.

“What, are you proposing to your boyfriend or something?” she jokes as she lunges for the box again. For a moment, George just stares at her, knuckles white around the box.

“…not exactly,” he reveals. That catches her off-guard. She jokes about George being fruity all the time, but she never really expected him to freeze like he is, a nervous and terrified expression crossing his face. Savannah takes a step back.

“…what do you mean?”

George slouches forward, nauseous. First Sapnap, now Dream’s sister. Except Sav is much more intimidating, being Dream’s sister and all.

“…he’s not my boyfriend yet, but… I’m going to ask him to be,” George explains slowly as he opens the box and reaches inside. His hand lands on a tiny, sleek, forest green case, and he wedges it out of its styrofoam holder.

“…with these.”

George flips the box open, revealing two silver rings. One is significantly bigger than the other, bearing a detailed inlay of thrashing waves, crushed blue sapphire embedded into the grooves, and sealed with resin. The other has a detailed inlay of mountains, embedded with crushed emerald, and also sealed with resin. Engraved on the inside of each ring are two words:

My idiot.

Even Savannah knows the meaning behind those words. With George, idiot doesn’t usually mean idiot, and when his hands are shaking as they hold out these beautiful pieces of jewelry, she can only assume what those words must mean otherwise.

My love. My light. My world. My happiness.

Her throat tightens and grows sore.

“George…” she croaks. “Who are you asking to be your boyfriend?”

Sav is pretty sure she knows the answer. In her mind, there’s really only one person it could be. Still, she asks, because she needs to hear it from George.

“…your brother…” he whispers. Sav’s hand flies up to cover her mouth.

“You’re fucking joking,” she gushes, and the tears come right after. She sobs as —for the first time— she wraps her arms around George and pulls him into a hug.

“He’s going to love them,” she babbles, “and they’re fucking matching?”

“Sav— it’s okay—”

“I know, I’m just so happy!”

George laughs and pats her back before pulling away.

“They are matching, though,” he tells her. “The one with waves is his.”

“He’s going to be wearing your color?!” she screams, voice brittle. It’s a really good thing that Dream isn’t home right now, because there’s no doubt that he’d be able to hear all of the commotion from his room.

“If he says yes,” George says, holding back tears of his own. Savannah deadpans, letting her hands fall to her sides.

“Bruh,” she drones, sniffling. “Are you dumb? He’s obviously going to accept.”

 She doesn’t know it, but that reassures George more than he could ever put into words. Hearing it from Sapnap is one thing, but hearing it from Dream’s sister is another. She’s known him her whole life, understands him in a way others don’t, and sees him in an entirely different light. When she tells George that he’ll definitely say yes, nearly all of his doubt dissipates.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and closes the case, setting it gently back in its box.

“When are you gonna ask him?” she queries. George takes a deep breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts.

“Sometimes during the party. I’m not sure when, just… at some point,” he explains. Savannah squeals.

“I’m so excited for you guys,” she murmurs, wiping her eyes. “He loves you, George. He’s going to be ecstatic.”

***

The day of the party comes sooner than George had expected it would. Not like it’s a bad thing, because he figured he’d be wallowing in anxious anticipation for what felt like forever, thinking it’d eventually consume him whole. The only thing that ended up consuming him was Dream himself, and maybe that’s why it was easier to keep his worries at bay. Their movie nights became part of their weekly routine, indulging in them every few days. They relaxed in the living room while waiting for the food to either be delivered or finish cooking, then headed to their home theater. They took turns picking the movie and food, but they never knew who would be the one to fall asleep during the movie, and which one of them would end up quietly combing through the other’s hair with one hand, and running the other up and down their arm. It made the days fly by, took away sleepless nights, and gave his mind something else to think about. Still, George’s excitement only grew as the date neared.

The Brit never wakes up bright and early unless the occasion is special. This occasion is so special to George that he wakes up before the sun has even climbed over the horizon. By the time golden rays refract onto the floor of the kitchen, he’s showered, dressed, hair combed, and waiting for the toaster to pop. In a bit, he’s going to head out to the grocery store for some last-minute items, then head over to Dream’s parents’ house to finalize some decorations. Then he’s going to drive back to the Dream Team house to pick up their friends, drive back to Dream’s parents’ to drop off said friends, then go back to the Dream Team house under the sushi lunch ploy. Luckily, Sapnap is going to pick up Skeppy from the airport, but that’s only because George doesn’t trust him with getting everyone out of the house unseen.

Getting them inside was enough of a hassle. At the time, it seemed convenient that most people could catch a flight and land at Orlando’s airport within minutes of each other. It meant that George only had to make one trip to the airport, which made getting out of the house much easier. On the other hand, it also meant he had to cram six people into his four-passenger car. That was hilarious, though. Puffy instantly called dibs on the front passenger seat, so Bad ended up in the middle, Antfrost sitting on Velvet’s lap to his right, and Daquavis sitting on Sam’s lap to his left. But then he had to sneak six people into the house at the same time. Dream was home, trying to figure out why his code wasn’t working the way he wanted it to. He had tried re-entering it over and over, analyzing line by line. This didn’t mean he was holed up in his office; it meant that he was pacing around the whole house, talking to himself and thinking of potential solutions. So, the seven of them couldn’t just waltz through the front door or through the side door, and it’s not like George could just start hauling everyone’s luggage in. They ended up having to recruit Sapnap to hang halfway out of his bedroom window so that they could throw everyone’s luggage up to him. At one point, though, Sapnap dropped Sam’s suitcase right as Dream was walking by.

“...are you okay in there?” Dream had called through the closed door. From below, everyone could hear what was going on.

“Y-yeah,” Sapnap stammered, “I just tripped!”

The doorknob started to click, and everyone froze.

“D-don’t come in, I’m naked!” Sapnap screeched, and the turning doorknob instantly swung back to the closed position. Outside, everyone laughed quietly.

Dream eventually went back to his room, and George had everyone sneak up the stairs. The other problem was that no one could come out of their room until it was time to head to the party. To combat that issue, George stocked everyone’s rooms with water and snacks. Somehow, the only close moment they encountered was the suitcase ordeal. A miracle, George knows.

He runs a hand through his hair, stressed out about how this is all going to play out. It feels like something is bound to go wrong, but he tells himself that if he keeps that mindset, it’s going to happen. So, he shakes his head and pulls out his phone. He’s going to send Dream a text, letting him know he’ll be out running errands all day, but will be back for their lunch. However, he stops himself and smiles when he thinks about going into Dream’s room and just telling him in person. George eats his toast, brushes his teeth, then heads into the blonde’s room. It’s dark when he enters, and his eyes have a bit of trouble adjusting to it. He knows his way around, though, and steps over the pair of shoes he knows are sitting in the middle of the floor. His knees finally hit Dream’s bed, and by now, his eyes can at least make out the shape of a body under the sheets. George sits on the edge of the mattress and rubs Dream’s back.

“Dreamieee,” he sings in a whisper. The blonde turns over and hums, eyes still closed. George smiles and tilts his head, so enamored that he almost forgets why he’s in here in the first place.

“I just came in to let you know that I’m gonna be out running errands for a while, but I’ll be back in time for our lunch, okay?”

“Mmm,” Dream grunts, “no.”

George tsks and runs a hand through Dream’s messy curls.

“What d’you mean, ‘no?’ I have to.”

“No,” Dream repeats, a little clearer. “Stay here.”

Before George knows it, he’s being tugged down to the mattress and pinned against it by Dream’s limp arm.

“Idiot,” he swoons. “Only for a little while.”

Satisfied, Dream wedges himself under George’s arm, lays his head on his chest, and flings a leg over him. George tuts and closes his eyes, then takes a deep breath. He’s careful not to let himself drift off, despite being so comfortable. His best friend is so warm, so cozy, and so cuddly that it’s hard not to, and in any other circumstance, George would’ve been asleep in the blink of an eye. Five minutes pass, and the brunette taps Dream’s arm.

“Okay, let me up,” George grumbles.

“No.”

Dream stiffens his arm as soon as he feels movement. George huffs.

“Dream, I need to go. These errands are important,” he complains.

“More important than me?” Dream asks. George rolls his eyes. He turns to look at him, only to find that Dream is already staring at him, half-lidded.

“...nothing’s more important than you, Dream,” he says after a moment of silence.

If today’s about honesty, I’ll start here.

Dream inhales sharply.

“...then stay. Just stay here, George. With me. Don’t— don’t go.”

These errands are for you, dumbass, George thinks.

“I don’t want to leave,” he admits, “but I actually have to.”

“What is so important?” the blonde prods, his words barely intelligible.

“...I can’t tell you yet,” George explains. Dream pouts.

“Why? I’m definitely gonna forget all of this happened anyway,” he jokes. George scoffs, but doesn’t answer.

“I’ll tell you all about it at lunch if you want. I’ll see you when I get home, alright?”

“Fine,” Dream relents, freeing George from his grasp. George gives one last squeeze to Dream’s bicep before he rises to his feet.

“Can we— can we at least do this later? We don’t even have to watch a movie, just…” Dream trails, then pats the side of the mattress that George just left. George bites his bottom lip, too many thoughts running wild. He thinks about the party later— about the rings, about his plan.

If you say yes, we’ll have the rest of our lives to do that.

“Maybe. We’ll see,” he responds. Dream groans.

“And if you’re actually leaving, at least tuck me back in,” Dream mutters. “Kiss me goodnight.”

“It’s morning,” the Brit giggles. The other shrugs.

Just kiss me anyway, he thinks.

To appease his best friend, George straightens the blankets and makes sure none of him is uncovered. In the time that it takes him to do so, Dream is already fast asleep once again.

“I’m definitely gonna forget all of this happened anyway,” George recalls him saying, so he might as well indulge a little. He leans down, brushes the hair out of Dream’s face, and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. The blonde stirs awake again, smiling like an idiot.

“Bye, Dream,” George murmurs fondly as he exits.

“I love you,” Dream mumbles against his pillow.

I love you too, George thinks. More than anything.

“Eat a dick,” he says instead, and he hears the blonde laugh lightly, because they both know what it really means. After all is said and done, George grabs his keys and leaves.

The run to the grocery store is actually kind of peaceful. It’s different when you’re one of the first people inside, not crowded by others. No music is playing through the speakers yet, and the only noises are the sound of cart wheels rolling against the linoleum tile and the gentle hum of the freezers.

George isn’t there for much— just a watermelon, veggie tray, chip dip, hot dogs, buns, a couple of yellow bell peppers, and a few more things. He handled the meat, drinks, and snacks a few days ago, but held off on some of the produce to make sure it was fresh. He grabs what he needs off the shelves, checks out, and greets the little old lady that he normally sees whenever he shops.

Ten minutes later, and George is back in his Tesla, driving in the fast lane to Dream’s parents’ house. ‘On Your Sleeve’ by Nightly blasts through the speakers, and he can’t help but think about how the lyrics apply a little too much. The windows are down, and wind floods the car, slicking his brown locks back. With the Tesla on autopilot, he grabs his phone and sends a snap to Dream.

I look like u in that pic u sent last month, he types. So ugly ugh.

He hits send, laughing at his second so-called double entendre of the day. ‘So ugly,’ as if he didn’t save it to his camera roll and stare at it for those 20 minutes before he walked down the stairs. In that photo, Dream was smiling so hard that his eyes closed. His nose scrunched, and his cheeks were so rosy, probably from the wind, but George couldn’t help but find it adorable.

Finally, he pulls into Dream’s parents’ driveway, where Savannah is eagerly waiting for him on the porch.

“What took you so long?” she chides as she ambles to the passenger side of George’s car, where he’s unloading grocery bags.

“I told you I’d be here at 7:00 AM!” he refutes. “It’s 7:07 AM!”

“Yeah, so you’re seven minutes late.”

George rolls his eyes, Sav laughs, and they head inside. As soon as George has one foot in the door, his jaw drops.

“Holy shit!” he gasps.

Balloon arches line every major entryway, and streamers droop from them to create curtains. From the ceiling hang the metallic swirls and stars that George requested. It’s exactly what he envisioned, with sunlight reflecting off of them and making rainbows bounce off every surface in the room. Banners span every empty wall space, some screaming ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ and others being rows of flags or fringes. Upon walking into the kitchen, he notices that the dining table has already been decorated with a blue tablecloth, rainbow confetti scattered across the middle, and green balloon weights on either end. The chandelier above acts as a center point for more streamers, which branch out in every direction to where the wall meets the ceiling.

“Savannah,” George gapes, “this is amazing.”

“You think this is good?” she inquires. “You should see the backyard.”

Both of them bolt to the backyard, and when George pulls open the sliding glass door, his eyes whirl around. Paper lanterns of all different colors dangle off the patio’s overhang. The gazebo shades are down, and in the center hangs an electric disco ball, ready to go the minute the sun sets. The pool is already littered with floats and noodles, and multiple packs of glowsticks sit nearby. In the shade sit buckets upon buckets of water balloons, sorted by color, presumably so that everyone can split into teams. Back near the door, a few tables are arranged in a row, plastic tablecloths blowing in the wind. George understands that this is where snacks and drinks are going to go, seeing that some ice chests peek out from under the tables.

“This is… oh my god, I don’t even know…” the brunette trails. “You literally made this better than the vision I had in my head.”

Savannah beams.

“It’s because I’m goated. Duh,” she replies, then adds, “The slip-and-slide is at the top of the hill, by the way. My parents don’t wanna start it until everyone’s ready, though.”

George nods, takes one last look around, and heads back inside with Sav. By this time, Dream’s mom is preparing food in the kitchen.

“Hi, honey!” she chimes excitedly, pulling George in for a hug.

“Hi,” he responds with a smile. “Is there anything I can help with? You guys have me until noon.”

Dream’s mom hums and looks around the counter.

“Well, I think I’m good here in the kitchen. Their dad’s out right now, picking up ice, helium balloons, Clay’s cake, and the donut holes, but he might need help seasoning the burgers when he gets back! Until then, there might be some decorations Sav needs help with.”

George turns to her, and she motions for him to follow.

Savannah and George spend the next few hours setting out plates, napkins, and plastic silverware. Bowls for chips and dip are arranged on the table, leaving space for the fruit bowls and veggie platter. Eventually, Dream’s dad stumbles in with the cake in both hands, multiple buckets of doughnut holes hanging off his fingers, a bag of ice balanced on each shoulder, and a bunch of balloons in his grasp. George and Sav lunge into action, taking anything they can out of his hands. The ice is emptied into the chest, balloons are tied to chairs and weights, and George begins to let Dream’s dad teach him how to properly season meat while Sav arranges the doughnut holes in a tower. Before any of them know it, the clock hits twelve, and George tells them that he’ll see them in a bit. At the same time, he gets a text from Sapnap that he’s gotten Skeppy from the airport, and that he’ll be dropping him off at Dream’s parents’ house before heading home. George notifies Dream’s family, then bolts out the door.

A brick sits in George’s chest the entire drive back to the Dream Team house. He has no clue what he’s going to walk into, has no plan until he sees what he’s working with. For all he knows, Dream has already found out about everything, though he surmises someone would’ve messaged him by now if that was the case, and his phone has been eerily silent all morning. He’s the one who breaks the silence, messaging the group chat titled ‘Operation: Eat Dream’s Cake,’ the name courtesy of Velvet.

Omw home, George sends. 15 mins. Be ready plz.

The Tesla is parked right in front of the front door for optimal escape. Plus, it’s away from Dream’s window, in case he were to glance out of it. George opens the door slowly, quietly. He peeks his head in first, and when he spots no one, he slips inside. If possible, he doesn’t want Dream to know he’s even home right now. He listens out first, holding his breath. He doesn’t hear any talking or shuffling around, but he sees that the light under Dream’s door is on.

So, he’s awake, he tells himself. He also doesn’t hear any footsteps upstairs, which is a good sign. The kitchen and living room are empty as well. After a moment, he hears the faint hiss of water.

He’s in the shower, George realizes. It’s perfect.

DREAM IN SHOWER, EVERYONE GET DOWN HERE RN, he frantically texts the group chat, hands shaking. He nearly drops his phone, but manages to hit the send button. Not even five seconds later, everyone bolts around the corner and descends the stairs, some tripping over each other’s feet in the process.

“Go, go, go!” George whisper-yells, ushering everyone out the door and quietly shutting and locking it behind them. Then, he rushes over to the driver’s seat and buckles himself in.

“Sit the same way you did when I picked you guys up from the airport! Hurry!” he rushes. Daquavis frowns.

“But I want Sam to sit on me this time!” he whines. Sam turns to him, deadpanning.

“Brother,” is all he says. George forces them into the car without a care.

On the drive back to the party, everyone talks about how they’re going to surprise Dream. Will they all jump out at once? Sneak up on him and scare him? What’s going to happen? Then, Bad suggests the most epic idea.

“How ‘bout we all —like— hide in different rooms, and then come out individually?”

“Wait, that actually sounds so good!” Ant agrees.

“Yeah, and so, me, Dream, and Sapnap will walk in, okay? And obviously he’ll see the decorations and be like, ‘Oh my gosh, no way!’ and his family will pop up from behind the couch or whatever and yell, ‘Surprise!’ After that, let’s have Bad come out, then Skeppy, Ant and Velvet, Puffy, Daquavis, and then Sam!” George adds, clarifying the chain of events. Puffy volunteers to be the one to fill Dream’s family in on everything.

A few minutes later, a text from Sapnap comes through to the group chat.

Blake and Tony came with me to pick Skeppy up, it says. Dropping them off at the party too.

George breathes a sigh of relief. Blake and Tony were invited to the party, obviously, being close friends. However, the five of them rarely hang out together. Inviting them to the so-called “lunch” would have been weird in itself, so it’s one less thing for George to worry about.

The group jumps out of the car excitedly when they pull up to Dream’s parents’ house. George leads them inside, and they gasp at the decorations just as George had done.

“Holy rainbow,” Daquavis chirps, “who did all this?”

“Me,” Savannah pipes from the dining room table, where she’s emptying bags of chips into bowls. “Isn’t it awesome?!”

“Bro, it’s sick!”

At that moment, Dream’s mom enters the living room, greeting everyone familiar and introducing herself to Daquavis, whom she hasn’t met yet. Sapnap, Skeppy, Blake, and Tony arrive a few minutes later. Then, Puffy begins describing the surprise plan to Sav, Dream’s parents, and his younger brother, whom George is a little surprised to see. George waits around to see if anyone has any questions, but Sapnap heads out a little bit early so that it doesn’t seem suspicious if he and George arrive home at the same time.

“Are you leaving now?” Dream’s dad asks George.

“I’m about to, yeah,” he says.

“About how long do you think you’ll be?” Dream’s mom questions, and George narrows his eyes, thinking.

“Like… 45 minutes, I’d say. Sapnap will text when we’re five minutes out.”

And with that, George gets back in his car and nervously drives back to the Dream Team house.

***

Sapnap is leaning against the kitchen counter when George walks in, arms crossed. Dream sits on one of their barstools, petting Patches, who is perched on the counter.

“Hey,” George hums when he walks back in, acting nonchalant even though he feels absolutely frazzled.

“Where the hell have you been all day?” Dream probes. His tone is playful and not suspicious at all, but George’s brain tricks him into thinking it is. Still, he scoffs.

“I told you I was going to be running errands all day, but I’d be back for lunch!”

“When?!” the blonde shoots back. Patches scurries under the coffee table when George snorts.

“This morning. To be fair, you did say that you probably wouldn’t remember anything, but do you seriously not?”

“I mean— barely. I remember you being in my room, but… I was tired, you were in my bed, and I was comfy,” Dream explains, and Sapnap raises an eyebrow.

“I know,” George replies, eyes not quite able to meet Dream’s, “you wouldn’t let me get up.”

After a beat of silence, he decides to test the waters.

“I could’ve said anything, y’know. I could’ve told you I was like— in love with you or something, and you wouldn’t remember.”

Dream’s chest rises quickly, a shaky breath taken in. He holds it for a moment before letting it go and tightening his jaw. Sapnap’s eyes go wide; meanwhile, George only stares.

“Y’know, I—” Dream stutters. “I probably wouldn’t.”

Something in the atmosphere has shifted again. George feels the weight that settles onto his shoulders, and by the looks of it, Dream feels it too. Sapnap seems tense now, his shoulders stuck in a permanent shrug. He’s not sure where the unease came from. All he knows is that he had felt fine, but once he sensed Dream’s upset —lips turned downward in a slight frown— George felt heavy. Then again, George’s emotions and judgement have been off all day, so he decides to drop it for now. He claps his hands together, then announces, “Alright, I’m starving. Who’s ready for sushi?”

It’s shocking that everything has gone according to plan thus far. The car ride is smooth and nearly traffic-free, and the tension eases when George droops his arm around Dream’s shoulders as he drives.

“You okay?” he mouths. Dream nods with a smile. Like their first movie night, George plays with the curls that sit near the nape of his neck, and Dream leans into his hand with his eyes closed.

As promised, Sapnap texts the group chat when they’re five minutes away from pulling up to the party.

5 mins, is all he says. At Dream’s parents’ house, everyone screams and panics, puts down their drinks, hops off their chairs, and bolts to their assigned hiding places. Dream’s immediate family, plus Tony and Blake, remain in the living room, hiding behind couches, tables, and counters. Bad and Skeppy run to the bathroom, Ant and Velvet wait in Dream’s dad’s office, Sam and Daquavis in the laundry room, and Puffy hides in the pantry. Savannah turns off the lights, yelling one last, “Is everyone ready?!” In return, she receives excited confirmations.

Meanwhile, Dream finally opens his eyes and realizes that they’ve been driving for much longer than they should’ve had to, and that they’re nowhere near where he thought this new sushi place was.

“Wait, where are we going? I thought the restaurant was north of us.”

“It’s not,” George responds, holding back his giddiness. “Maybe you’re thinking of another one.”

Dream buys it until George turns into his parents’ neighborhood. Now Dream knows something’s up.

“W-wait, huh? Why are we over here?”

Again, George lies. All he needs to do is make it believable up until the point where they enter the house.

“Your sister wanted to come,” he explains as he pulls up to the house and parks. “She said she might be a minute, though, so we can go in and say hi to your parents if you want.”

“Oh. Yeah, let’s go in,” Dream agrees. In the rearview mirror, Sapnap sneaks a smile at George, who raises his eyebrows. All three of them get out of the car and approach the front door. George’s hands are sweating, and his entire body is shaking like he’s back in Antarctica. Here is the moment he and countless other people have been preparing for for weeks. All of the stress, the hard work, the luck— all of it is about to pay off. George and Sapnap stand behind an oblivious Dream, smiling as he sticks his key in the lock, turns the door handle, and steps inside. The first thing Dream sees is the array of decorations spanning the living room and kitchen.

“What the hell—”

“SURPRISE!” his family yells as they jump up from their hiding places. Somewhere near the dining room, a confetti cannon pops, and pieces of rainbow paper rain down over Dream. He shrieks, jumping so hard that he topples into George.

“It’s okay, I’m okay!” George assures as Dream tries to steady him. “Go in! Go say hi!”

“Oh my god— bro!” Dream laughs when he sees his brother. He meets his family in the middle of the living room in a group hug. Sapnap turns on the lights.

“You did good,” he tells George with a pat on the back. “Look at him. He’s so happy.”

“Holy shit!” Dream exclaims. “Who— when— huhhhh?!”

“George, honey,” his mom tells him. “He planned everything.”

The blonde whips around, eyes glimmering from the tears in his eyes. Green meets brown, and George’s breath catches in his throat. Before he knows it, he’s in Dream’s arms, pressed against his chest, blinking tears away.

“You did all this?” Dream asks.

“Yeah,” George sniffles, “remember when I— I asked you all those questions last month?”

“Oh my god, I do! That’s what it was for?!”

“Yes! Yes, everything— all for you.”

“I love you,” Dream murmurs into his hair.

“Happy early birthday,” George mumbles back. He’s about to say a bit more when he hears a door creak open.

“Did somebody say birthday?!” Bad announces, hands up as he exits the bathroom. The blonde jumps back, hand over his mouth.

“Bad?! What the—”

“—Language!”

“—muffin?!” Dream finishes. He nearly tackles Bad to the ground when he runs over to him, arms outstretched. Luckily, both of them catch their balance, but Dream is holding onto Bad so tight that it looks painful. While occupied with Bad, Skeppy takes the chance to sneak up on them.

“Did somebody say muffin?!” he says right near Dream’s ear, startling him again.

“What the fuck is going on?!” he sobs as Skeppy grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him a bit. “I— Jesus, my face feels so red, and—and I just like— I can’t—”

Skeppy pats his shoulder, his grin growing wider. Noticing, Dream tilts his head.

“Hey, pal, y’know what else is red? And y’know what rhymes with can’t?”

“No fucking way—”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Antfrost and Velvet yell as they burst out of the office.

Poor Dream, George says to himself as his best friend collapses into Ant and Velvet’s arms. He’s absolutely ecstatic about the party, his family, his friends— but George can tell he’s very overstimulated, hands flapping at his sides when he pulls away, eyes whirling around the room, tears streaming down his cheeks. He also knows that Dream wouldn’t trade this moment for anything, and that in a few minutes, they can get some food and water, which will help him regulate his emotions. For now, though, George sits by, face hurting from smiling so much, ready to jump in if Dream needs it. He keeps a soothing hand on his back, just to let him know he’s still there.

“Dream, your eyes are so…” Velvet trails.

“So— so what?” Dream blubbers.

“...puffy,” Ant finishes. Dream stares for a minute, and George squeezes at his back.

“Turn around, Dreamie.”

As soon as he does, he sees Puffy peeking out from the pantry, smiling.

“Happy birthday!” Puffy calls, holding back tears herself. It works until Dream folds in on himself, lowering himself down to a squat, where he presses his palms to his eyes.

“Oh my god…” he whispers, voice hoarse. George hooks his hand under his arm and helps him stand up again, where Puffy is waiting to wrap her arms around him.

“Don’t cry, you homeless green Teletubby!” she teases. Suddenly, a hand grasps Dream’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” a voice says. “I’m also homeless.”

When Dream turns, he comes face to face with Daquavis, who had referenced their Minecraft duel. The blonde cackles, dapping Daquavis up when he offers his hand.

“It’s a lot of people, huh?” Daquavis inquires. Dream nods.

“Yeah, but the more the merrier!”

For a moment, everyone goes quiet, a smile spreading across their faces. If Dream wasn’t confused before, he is now. In the few moments before the silence is broken, he racks his brain, trying to think of who else could possibly be here.

“Merrier? I hardly know ‘er!” Sam’s voice booms from the laundry room, and the blonde turns to look George dead in the eyes.

“How did you—”

How did you get Sam to come? is what he was going to ask. Dream knows as well as George did that Sam would’ve been the hardest one to get to attend, since he’s been busy with his wife and his private life in general. To Dream, the fact that Sam is here is bordering on a miracle.

“DREAM!” Sam screams, extending the vowels as he leaps into Dream’s arms. Everyone dies of laughter, watching Dream attempt to spin Sam around, and Sam, who’s blushing and kicking his feet, twirling his imaginary long hair.

“Alright, is that everyone?” George calls. In unison, everyone gives a long, “Yesss!”

“Good,” he says. “Let’s get this party started!”

Everyone erupts into cheers and high fives before splitting up. Some wander back over to the snack table while others chat near the stars. Dream and George talk to Sam for a bit until Dream’s dad walks in from the backyard. On his arms and hands, he balances multiple trays, filled with foil-wrapped burgers, chicken, hot dogs, and Dream’s favorite kebabs.

“Eat up, guys!” he says, placing the trays on the dining table with Daquavis’s help. Everyone looks to Dream, implying that they’d like him to plate his food first. He does so, grabbing George by the wrist and leading them to the table. They grab paper plates, and Dream reaches for the kebabs first. George admires Savannah’s work, seeing the four equal stacks of plates, the cups of plastic cutlery, and how she’d fanned out the napkins for extra flair. When he looks up, Dream is holding a hot dog with a pair of tongs.

“Do we have any buns?” he asks. His mom nods and brings the packs of bread over to the table, realizing they’d forgotten to lay them out before everyone arrived. George smirks as an idea pops into his head.

“You would want a wiener in a bun, wouldn’t you, Dream?” he murmurs slyly, loud enough so that everyone could hear. People erupt into hoots and giggles as Dream’s face turns red. George laughs and gives him a playful shove, and the blonde clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“You and your fucking double entendres,” he mutters, smiling. “I hate you.”

It’s not what he means, though, and it’s not what George hears.

I hate you like I hate cold rain on a hot day.

I hate you like I hate summer sunsets.

I hate you like I hate night drives with you in my passenger seat.

“Yeah, I hate you too, idiot,” George says back. Warmth floods throughout his chest.

I hate you like I hate London winters.

I hate you like I hate picking up lemonade on the way home.

I hate you like I hate a warm blanket and an oversized hoodie, a movie, and you by my side.

After their plates have been filled, Dream and George head out to the backyard to eat at a table on the patio. A few follow, but keep their distance, almost like it’s an unspoken rule for when the two are together. 

“Wow, you guys even decorated out here—” Dream effuses, but cuts himself off when he spots the disco ball and the glow sticks. George smiles. He knows.

“This— this is exactly like—” Dream can’t find his words. “How did you recreate this so perfectly? It’s— the memory I told you about. This is like— spot on.”

“Your parents had pictures,” George explains, mouth full. “There’s even a slip-and-slide at the top of the hill.”

Dream’s jaw drops.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“Bro,” Dream says through a laugh. “Please, tell me all about the process and stuff. I’m so interested in like— how did you do all this without me knowing?”

“First of all, the hardest thing was not telling you, because I tell you everything.”

Well, not everything, George thinks, but he digresses and carries on, yapping while Dream eats his hot dog.

“And so, actually, it was sort of Sapnap’s idea. When you were asleep during the Minion movie, Sapnap and I weren’t talking about the World Cup,” he reveals. “We were talking about—”

About how I’m so in love with you.

“—stuff,” George says instead. “And the fact that your birthday was soon came up in the conversation. So… I started planning while you napped, had a couple questions I needed to ask you —which now you know is because of this— and… yeah! Those were the first steps.”

The brunette continues, explaining how he recruited Savannah to decorate, asked his parents if they could host, and how he called all of their friends to fly them out.

“And— it’s really funny, because you didn’t even know all of them —except for Skeppy— were in our house overnight.”

“They were?!” Dream implores, shocked, and covers his mouth when George nods.

“Remember the other day when you like— heard Sapnap drop something in his room?” George asks, and hesitantly, Dream responds, “...yeah?”

“Well, that was us launching suitcases up to Sapnap through his window, and if you had come in, you would’ve seen like— a bunch of random luggage scattered all over the floor.”

“Oh my god…” Dream chuckles. “You’re insane.”

“I think we all are.”

“How did you get everyone out, then?” Dream asks next. George sighs.

“I got lucky. When I got home, you were in the shower, so I just messaged everyone to run down and get in the car.”

Dream laughs, nearly choking on his last bit of hot dog. He reaches for his burger next, takes a bite, and reels his head back.

“Holy shit, these are good!”

“I’m glad,” George remarks. “I seasoned them. Your dad was giving me a— a meat lesson, if you will.”

“He was what?!” Dream shouts, and the two burst out laughing.

“Not like that, idiot! He was teaching me how to—”

Dream puts a finger up, signaling for George to hold on a second. Dream and George go quiet, and Dream narrows his eyes as he listens for something. George doesn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, just their friends bantering, the wind in the trees, and the grill still sizzling. And then, he catches it. A voice that he’s never heard before. One that sounds too much like Dream and Savannah, but not exactly matching either of them. It’s light, feminine, and she has Dream’s old wheeze. George can’t place it.

The chair screeches as Dream stands, rushing inside and pushing past their guests. George follows, curious. The blonde comes to a halt in the doorway to the living room. George can’t see over him, nor can he see around Dream’s parents and siblings that seem to be crowding around whoever the voice is coming from. Then, he hears it.

“Mom, I’m good, don’t worry!”

Mom? George wonders, until everything clicks.

Dream’s sister. His older sister.

As if on cue, Dream breathes out her name. George has only heard her name a few times, but it’s impossible to forget when Dream wrote a whole song about her, talks about how much he misses her every now and then, how he wishes they stayed as close as they were when they were little.

Finally, George catches a glimpse of her. Blonde hair like Savannah, curls like her mom, a nose like Dream’s.

“Hey,” she says when she catches Dream’s eyes. Her smile fades a bit before she murmurs, “Happy birthday.”

“When—” Dream stutters. “How did—”

“George invited her, sweetie,” his mom tells him. His older sister nods.

“Yeah. Who is this ‘George,’ anyway?”

Behind Dream, George goes stiff and bites his tongue.

Who am I? he thinks

Just the guy that’s been best friends with your brother for 10 years. Just the guy who’s going to ask him to be his boyfriend later on.

“He’s… George is—”

Dream cuts himself off. He and his sister haven’t spoken in a long time, obviously so long that she’s completely unaware of who George is, both in general and who he is to Dream.

He’s my best friend, he could say, but he wants to tell her more, just… not in front of everyone, who now has their eyes glued to the situation.

He’s my boyfriend, would be a lie, but feels more fitting.

It’s complicated, is honest, it’s true, but it leaves room for questions that he can’t give answers to right now.

George grabs his arm from behind him, so Dream steps aside to reveal the brunette, hands clenched at his sides. George bites back his words, presses his tongue to his cheek, and smiles.

“Hi, nice to finally meet you,” he greets, holding out his hand. Slowly, she takes it.

“You too,” she says with a smile. George relaxes.

“Did you plan all this?” she asks. “It’s really cool.”

“Pretty much, but I had a lot of help from everyone. I wanted to plan something for Dream’s birthday, though. We’ve always been… super close,” George says. Dream’s older sister smiles, nods, and looks back at Dream.

“You’re still going by Dream, Clay?” she giggles. The awkwardness breaks, and Dream rolls his eyes with a smile.

“It’s my whole brand, weirdo,” he jokes. “I’ll tell you more about it sometime.”

George is the first one to turn and head back outside, Dream following immediately. The second they step back onto the patio, Dream wraps his hand around George’s wrist and pulls him back before he reaches his seat.

“I’m sorry,” Dream mumbles. “I know she can seem a little standoff-ish, but she’s really nice, I swear—”

“Hey, it’s okay, idiot,” George placates, a hand on Dream’s bicep. “I just hope I didn’t overstep by inviting her.”

“George,” Dream deadpans. “I haven’t talked to my sister in ages. She doesn’t even come home for Christmas. This is like— one of the best birthday presents anyone could’ve ever given me.”

A sheepish smile grows across George’s face, and Dream pulls him in for a hug. Against Dream’s chest, George sighs and closes his eyes. They revel in the moment until they hear Ant and Velvet laughing from behind them, where they decide to pull apart and resume eating.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur filled with food, music, laughter, and just getting to be kids again. After a while, everyone heads up to the slip-and-slide, which Dream’s parents monitor while Dream and his friends take turns zooming down the giant tarp. They even attempt to go down all at once, which ultimately results in a giant pile of people on the ground. At one point, Dream crashes into George, landing on top of him. Their mouths are as close as they were during their movie night, and their eyes flit down to each other’s lips as they catch their breath. Today, however, both of them are feeling a little bolder, and it’s Dream who calls George out.

Why d’you— keep— looking at my mouth, Georgie?” he says between breaths. George grins.

“You have— grass on your lip,” he pants. Dream hums, knowing it’s entirely a lie.

“Get it off, then.”

“I could,” George huffs, “but you’re crushing me and— my hands— they’re stuck.”

“So?” Dream asks. “You could always use your—”

“Come on, lovebirds! Let’s do a water balloon fight! You can be on my team!” Puffy calls, unknowingly (okay, maybe a LITTLE knowingly) interrupting the moment.

The water balloon fight is cutthroat, to be blunt. No one remembers fucking water balloons feeling like actual bullets, but then again, the last time any of them did this was when they were little. Daquavis is a beast, and Dream feels like he’s dueling him all over again when three balloons come flying in his direction. Sapnap pisses Bad off, only targeting him. It almost gets Bad to fully swear, which only eggs the Texan on even more. Sav and Puffy use kickboards as shields, pool noodles as baseball bats, and try to wield off anyone who threatens them. Eventually, the last water balloons are spent, and everyone jumps in the pool.

Sitting in a flamingo pool float, feet kicked up with a hard seltzer in his hand, Dream hears the speakers crackle to life. A few weeks ago, George had made a playlist of Dream’s favorite songs along with some that sounded —to him— like summer. The starting notes of one of those songs began to bring the atmosphere to life.

Spine by Wesghost.

Meanwhile, Sam and Dream’s older sister begin to take the glow sticks out of their packages, crack them, and toss them in the pool. In addition to those, Skeppy sits on the pool stairs, blowing up some light-up balloons. Dream lets his head fall back and closes his eyes.

Grateful is an understatement. Not just for the party, but for George, for his family, and his amazing friends. Listening to their laughter over the music is like a remix made just for him. It feels so good to be reliving such a significant moment in his life, especially with people that he knows will be lifelong friends. He hasn’t felt this at peace in a long time, and just like that first movie night, it’s like George knew exactly what he needed.

Where is he, anyway?

As if on cue, George screams as he flies off the diving board. He lands so close to Dream that it knocks him off his pool float.

“Dream! Dreammm!” George shrieks. “Sapnap’s trying to kill me!”

As soon as Dream blinks the water out of his eyes, he comes face to face with his best friend, who is clinging onto him for dear life.

“Wh— huh? Oh! Get him, Sap!” Dream yells, seeing that Sapnap is not trying to kill George, but has taken possession of the biggest water gun they have, and is aiming it straight at the Brit.

“No— stop! I don’t wanna be wet, idiot!”

“You’re already wet!” Sapnap cackles over the noise. George still uses the blonde for protection, but what he doesn’t see is Dream setting his can on the pool deck and positioning his arms around George. With one swift motion, he picks him up and launches him toward Sapnap. Then, a new song starts to play.

Retrospect by Vistas.

Behind Dream, Puffy is on Bad’s shoulders while Ant is on Sam’s, and they’re trying to push each other over. Velvet sits nearby, acting as the referee. Tony and Blake hitting a beach ball across the pool to each other, and Savannah’s in the corner, posing with her sunglasses and Alani, trying to take selfies amidst the chaos. Dream decides that it’s time he gets in on the action. He swims over to where George and Sapnap are now trying to see who can out-splash the other. It’s George who has the water gun now, and Sapnap is using his arm to create enormous waves aimed for George’s face.

“Dream, grab him!” Sapnap yells, while George screams, “No! Dream, hold him back!”

Dream ultimately decides not to take sides. He grabs a pool noodle, fills one end with water, and blows air through the other while aiming at Sapnap. A large stream of water exits the noodle, flattening Sapnap’s hair over his eyes.

“That is not fair,” he pouts, and Dream snorts.

“How?! You guys are throwing literal waves at each other!” he retorts.

“Fine, I’m going to find another noodle!” Sapnap argues, and swims away. It leaves George with Dream, the brunette on guard.

“Drop your gun; we can call a truce,” the blonde offers. George shakes his head.

“You wish.”

The song ends, and another starts. This one has always tugged at Dream’s heartstrings, but there’s an instrumental part around 1:26 that sounds exactly like how summer should feel, and he figures that that’s why George added it to the playlist.

Sometimes by Blue Imagined.

His heart races as the beginning notes flow through the air, reverberate through his chest, and bring goosebumps to his skin. Suddenly, George looks a little softer, the colors of the sunset mixed with the lights in the water making him glow. Staring him dead in the eyes, waiting for him to make a move, Dream can’t ignore how beautiful he looks.

It’s Dream that lunges first, catching George off-guard with a splash to the face before he throws him over his shoulder and into the water. The Brit rises to the surface, spits out a mouthful of water, and sprays Dream square in the face with his water gun.

Oh, it’s on, Dream thinks, laughing. For a minute, they wrestle in the water, Dream still using his pool noodle as his ‘weapon.’ Sometimes he’s blowing water out of one end, other times, he’s smacking George in the head with it. George fights back, though, splashing and thrashing around, refilling his water gun every few seconds and disrupting Dream’s sight of him. That is, until he realizes he’s losing. He throws the toy to the side, rips the noodle from his best friend’s grasp, puts it around the back of his neck, and pulls him close. George, acting on impulse, doesn’t even register his actions until Dream’s mouth is inches away from his, his best friend’s hands on his waist, and both of them breathing hard into each other’s mouths. For Dream and George, the world moves in slow motion. Dream’s heart jumps into his throat as that special part of the song travels on the wind. George just stands there blinking at him, eyes unable to pry themselves off his mouth. Dream sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he breathes. George smiles.

“Hey,” he says back. Though the silence has been broken, neither of them moves— not moving closer, and not pulling away. The gears are turning, both wondering if they should move closer, or just let it be. Dream clenches his jaw.

“George—” he starts, but doesn’t get far.

“I win,” the brunette brags. He remembers that he doesn’t have the rings, and though he had wanted to save their first kiss for when he presented them, this moment seems too perfect to pass up. With the noodle, he pulls Dream a little closer, eyes fluttering shut, cold noses brushing against each other, when—

“Who wants cake?!” Dream’s dad yells, and the two jump apart.

“...I guess we should—” George stammers.

“—yeah,” Dream croaks, and everyone gets out of the pool and heads inside to change.

The Dream Team lets the family and guests change into dry clothes first. Some take the downstairs bathroom while others use the upstairs bathroom. As soon as Sapnap comes down from upstairs, George heads up, and Dream heads into the downstairs bathroom. Five minutes later, as George is descending the stairs, he hears his best friends talking in the bathroom, door wide open. He fully plans to round the corner and join them until he hears the topic of conversation.

“So, what are you gonna wish for when you blow out your candles?” Sapnap asks, half jokingly. Dream sighs, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it before he walks out to the people waiting for him.

“What I always wish for,” he mutters. Sapnap, standing behind him, narrows his eyebrows. Dream turns around to face him, leaning on the counter.

“Same thing?” Sapnap questions. Dream tuts.

“Same thing?” he scoffs. “Same person.”

It’s that admission that causes George to stop, mere inches from the bathroom door. Instead of walking in as he’d planned, he leans against the wall and listens.

“W-wait,” Sapnap stutters. George can hear the stress in his voice, because if Dream names someone other than George, then Sapnap has gone and given George false hope.

“Who— what do you mean?” he prods. Dream takes a deep breath before he speaks.

“George,” he admits, and the Brit has to cover his mouth to keep himself from crying, or cheering, or losing every ounce of air in his lungs. Maybe it’s all three— he’s not really sure.

“I’m wishing on one of his stupid fucking double entendres,” Dream tuts. “It’s kinda stupid, actually, but…”

The more Dream dives into the specifics of the moment, the clearer it becomes to George that it must replay like a movie in his head. It hurts that he didn’t realize this was such a significant moment for Dream. Really, he feels sick, because the moment Dream is talking about is from fucking 2021.

Seven hearts.

Three hearts.

One heart.

Zero.

“Goddamn it!” Dream yelled, slamming his fists on his keyboard. George cackled. They’d been practicing PVP for an hour, and out of ten matches, Dream had only won three.

“How many hearts were you on?” he questioned.

“One,” George answered through a hearty laugh. The blonde raged again.

“One?! That’s literally all I needed, and I could’ve crit you out!”

Over Discord, Dream watched a smirk cross George’s face. It’s not smug. He wasn’t bragging. It was full of mischief— the kind Dream knew would get his heart racing.

“Oh yeah?” George slurred. “You want my heart, Dream?”

“And obviously I knew what he was implying, but it was then that I finally came to terms with the fact that… I do want his heart. I want to be the one to have his heart. I just… have never been this in love with anybody. And I’m sorry to like— throw this on you right now, but… I don’t know. I know he doesn’t feel the same way, but… I have everything I could ever want except for him. He’s like— the missing piece, y’know? And I know I sound fucking stupid— to keep wishing for something I know won’t happen. It feels pointless to me too, but… I can’t stop…” Dream utters.

Though he can’t see him, George can picture Sapnap’s face. He can almost see the shock, the disbelief that’s written across it, along with the pain that comes with knowing Dream feels this hurt, this hopeless. He can imagine the way he must be pressing his lips together, eyebrows furrowed, the nervousness in his eyes because he doesn’t know what to say.

“Dream—” Sapnap begins, but cuts himself off. George narrows his eyes. He knows what he’s about to tell Dream, and if he even says one more word—

“What?” Dream asks. Sapnap breathes out.

“Nothing, I just… I think it’s a good wish. You never know when it might come true, ‘kay?”

“...okay,” Dream says, sounding small. Sapnap brings Dream in for a hug, murmuring, “It’s gonna be okay. Trust.”

“Yeah… alright. Now get out, I have to piss,” Dream tells him, lightening the mood. Sapnap nods, and as he walks out, the bathroom door closes behind him. He also comes face to face with George, who is as red as a tomato. Sapnap says nothing, and neither does George, who is frozen in place with his jaw slack. Sapnap does pull him in for a hug, though, patting him on the back. Slowly, George finds it in himself to move and reciprocates the embrace.

“I told you,” Sapnap says. “You got this,  Georgie.”

Sapnap leaves with a smile, and as soon as he regains the feeling in his feet, George follows. When Dream enters the dining room, the lights are off, 27 candles are lit, and everyone begins to sing. Dream takes his time walking to the center of the table, where his older sister has already pulled out a chair for him. He sits, and the song concludes.

“…what’re you gonna wish for, Dreamie?” George asks quietly, moving forward to lean onto the table. Sage green reflecting the flames, Dream holds George’s gaze as he blows out the candles. It doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone, and a loaded silence fills the space just a moment before the —awkward, now— round of applause. Dream is served the first piece of cake, along with some doughnut holes. George waits patiently for his piece, letting his friends go first. As he stands near the table, he hears Puffy speaking to Dream a few feet away.

“What was your wish?” Puffy asks before sliding her fork between her teeth. Dream shakes his head.

“Can’t say,” he answers, “or else it won’t come true.”

It will, George says in his mind. It will. I promise.

After the cake, Sav leads Dream outside to the biggest tree in the yard. Wrapped around the trunk of the tree are rainbow lights, and over a thick branch, a traditional piñata is strung. George had no clue about this, and after a bit of eavesdropping on the muttering amongst him, he learns that it was actually Sapnap’s addition to the festivities. Dream is selected to go first, obviously, and he’s blindfolded and handed a large stick wrapped in streamers. He swings once, twice, and on the third, he smacks a cone off the piñata, though no candy drops yet. Dream’s brother is last to take his turn, and on his second swing, the mass of cardboard and paper falls to the ground, cracking open and spilling candy over the grass.

“The loot!” George yells as he slides onto the ground. “It’s free!”

By this time, the sun has fully set, and the decorations are glowing at their full potential. With the music still blasting, Dream steps under the disco ball, watching the patterns spin around him on the ground. He motions for everyone to join him under the lights, and his friends jog over and dance to the songs that play. George steps aside to queue up a few that he knows Dream will love.

Sleepover by dreamfone.

Falling by Chase Atlantic.

Shut Up and Dance by WALK THE MOON.

He’s only been able to add three songs to the list before he’s pulled back into the crowd by a large hand on his bicep. Quickly, he slips his phone into his pocket and turns around. He’s unsure who he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t Dream, green eyes sparkling, rainbow lights dancing in the reflection in his pupils. He’s smiling wide, pulling George close, and swaying them side to side as the lyrics to this first queued song begin. He takes the brunette’s hand in his, outstretching their arms like they’re ballroom dancing, with a firm hand still on his lower back. The blonde sings the chorus, and George grins with his head tilted to the side. He loves how carefree Dream seems right now, and he’s fully aware that he’s been needing this. So, he loops an arm around Dream’s neck and lets himself be guided wherever the music takes them.

Presents come next. Dream sits on the couch, everyone surrounding him. He receives an array of Sooners merchandise, and how Bad managed to get him a signed football is beyond him. He also gets some things that he never thought about, but that will come in handy. Sapnap got him some blue light glasses, and he hopes that it’ll help the headaches that those hours of coding cause. Puffy is the one who gifts him a new ring display, and attached at the back is a little rack for his earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. Even though George has another gift for him later, he also gives him a new shirt— a rare NASA graphic t-shirt with intricate designs, both on the front and back. It’s one he’s been eyeing for a while— a black shirt with pink and blue, a rocket, and prints of The Great Wave off Kanagawa near the hem and on the sleeves.

Waves, just like the ones on the ring.

George didn’t make that connection while making his purchases, but he thinks about it now, as Dream tears open the wrapping paper and gasps when he sees what lies in the box.

“No way,” Dream breathes with a smile, holding it up for everyone to see. “How did you even find this?!”

George shrugs, sheepish and blushing.

“Thank you, I love it,” Dream tells him as he carefully folds it up and places it back in the box. He opens a few more and thanks everyone for his gifts as well as their presence.

It’s 8:00 PM when the planned activities conclude, though the party is far from over. Dream’s dad has brought out the old photo albums and home videos, and Dream’s mom dug out some old board games and card decks. George and Dream’s dad, along with Velvet and Puffy, are many pages deep in a photo album from 2004 when George’s phone buzzes. He ignores it for a moment, then discreetly turns it over to see the screen. It’s a text from Savannah, who is sitting at the dining table with Bad, Skeppy, and Sapnap. When he looks up at her, he finds that she’s already staring straight at him.

Did u ask him yet? the text reads. George swipes down on his screen to view the time.

9:09 PM.

He takes in a sharp breath. He didn’t realize it had gotten so late.

No, he texts back, but I’m about to.

He doesn’t bother making up an excuse— just telling everyone that he’s going to go find Dream. Just glancing around the common areas, he doesn’t see him anywhere. All the guests are either in the kitchen or living room. Antfrost, Sam, Tony, and Blake are on the floor playing Go Fish, and Dream’s older sister and brother are in the kitchen helping Dream’s mom pack the cake away into containers and to-go boxes. Everyone is accounted for except for Dream.

No worries, George thinks. He’s probably in the bathroom.

Except, the door to the downstairs bathroom is wide open. But, so what? There’s another bathroom in the house, and if Dream’s not in there, then maybe he’s in his old room. George heads upstairs to find out. His stomach sinks a little when he sees that the door to the upstairs bathroom is also wide open, and when he peeks into Dream’s old room, it’s vacant with the lights off. Every other door upstairs is open, though all the lights are off. George doesn’t check them thoroughly out of respect, but when he glances inside, he doesn’t see his best friend.

His breathing begins to pick up as he jogs down the stairs, glancing into Dream’s dad’s office, the laundry room, around corners— and still, nothing. He checks Dream’s location, and—

Great, his phone is dead.

At this point, George isn’t even sure if he’s still at the house. For all he knows, something went wrong and he left without notifying anyone. Then again, George has been in the living the whole time, and so have multiple other people. Surely someone would’ve seen Dream walk out if that was the case. Just to be sure, he swings open the front door, takes a few steps outside, and scans the yard.

Nothing.

His throat burns, and every swallow feels like sandpaper. George’s vision is starting to become blurry, and his head begins to pound.

I lost my chance, he thinks.

Was he being ridiculous to think things wouldn’t go wrong? He’s starting to consider it. Why had he not kept his eyes on the clock? On Dream? Why hadn’t he made his move sooner?

Shaky, sweaty hands press to his eyes.

Think, George. Think.

He’s checked every corner of the house. It doesn’t make sense. There’s got to be something —somewhere— he’s not thinking of, but the panic is starting to cloud his thoughts and taking away his ability to be rational. Standing in the space between the living room and kitchen, a wave of nausea washes over him, and he can feel the color drain from his face. It could be worse, though. At least he hasn’t lost the rings or something.

Wait.

George’s hands fly to his pockets just to make sure he can still feel the small box beneath the fabric.

Fuck.

It seems to have disappeared, along with Dream. His pockets are empty, flat against his legs no matter how many times he pats himself down.

“George, are you okay, honey?” Dream’s mom asks as she walks up to him. Everyone else is still too engrossed in their activities to notice George quickly shutting down.

“I can’t—” he chokes. “I can’t find Dream, can’t find—.”

I can’t find the fucking rings I was going to ask him out with.

“Oh— are you talking about this?” she asks, pulling the box out from the pocket of her dress. “Sorry. Nick said you left it in the bathroom when you changed into your swimsuit, and he asked me to give it back to you earlier. It just slipped my mind.”

At least, George is slightly relieved now. He takes it from her with shaking hands.

“S’okay, I just— still can’t find Dream, and I— I need t-to find him.”

Dream’s mom furrows her eyebrows.

“Is something bothering you? You’ve seemed a little… off all day.”

George opens his mouth, but his words falter. He feels like throwing up, crying, screaming— everything. Dream’s mom recognizes that, and the brunette feels lucky for her motherly instincts.

“Hey, come over here for a minute, okay?”

She leads them both to the office, closes the door, and pulls out two chairs, one for George to take. He sits, immediately slumping over the desk and letting a few tears slip.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” Dream’s mom whispers, rubbing his back. George takes in a ragged breath.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s— it’s a long story… kind of…” George admits. She smiles.

“Well, we have time. Lay it on me,” she says. George wipes his face and sniffles.

“The reason that— that I wanted to plan this party is so that I c-could do something nice for Dream,” he explains, “because… because I love him. And I—”

George pulls out the ring box and opens it, placing it on the desk for both of them to look at. Dream’s mom takes one look at it and covers her mouth, clearly trying not to act too shocked.

“I was gonna ask him to— to be my boyfriend. And I was already so scared, and then— then I heard him talking to Sapnap in the bathroom earlier saying that—”

The more he thinks about it, the more heartwrenching it is. He can’t get through this sentence without bawling. George continuously wipes tears and snot from his face with the tissues that Dream’s mom pushes toward him.

“—that I w-was his birthday wish, and that I have been for— for a few years…”

“Oh, honey,” she coos, “his wishes have always been about you. Ever since he was about 16.”

George freezes, tissue to his nose. The nausea returns, but so does the giddiness. Slowly, he raises his gaze from the desk to meet her eyes.

“Wh— what are you talking about?” he prods. She gives him a sympathetic smile.

“First, he wished you’d message him back about… coding, I think it was. Then he wished you’d be in Florida soon. And now… well…”

George just stares, eyes wide and mouth dropped. A shiver crawls down his spine, brain short-circuiting. It’s nearly impossible to wrap his mind around the fact that they’ve both been in love with each other this whole time. George thought his feelings went deep, but now learning about Dream’s is making him realize that this has all been long overdue.

“I thought… I thought this was like— a five-year thing at most,” he gawks. Dream’s mom shakes her head and crosses her legs.

“Much longer than that. He loves you, honey.”

Five years is bad enough, but 11? George does the math. Dream had first messaged him in the summer of 2015, which would make him 16 at that time. Later is better than never, he supposes, but George had perfectly executed this plan in his head, and now it’s all spiraling down the drain with each second that passes.

“I need to tell him how I feel,” he blubbers, “but I can’t find him. His phone’s dead, so I can’t see his location. He’s not upstairs, not downstairs, not in the front yard…”

“Did you check the backyard?” Dream’s mom asks. George raises his eyebrows.

“I didn’t,” he admits. She nods.

“By the pool. That was his favorite spot when he was younger. Go check there, and if you still can’t find him, we’ll look together, okay?”

With that, George grabs the ring box, snaps it shut, shoves it in his pocket, and heads to the back door. He doesn’t walk outside right away, because Dream most likely is out there, and he’s nowhere near ready yet. His face is still red and blotchy, his nose is stuffed, and he’s still shaking. Instead, he cracks the blinds to the window that faces the pool and peeks out of the slit.

There is Dream, in the one place George didn’t check. He’s sitting with his feet in the pool, gazing up at the stars. All of the colorful lights are still on, glowsticks still floating in the water. Next to him is another mango seltzer, dripping condensation onto the deck.

George quickly shuts the blinds and tries to steady his breathing.

I can do this. He’s going to say yes.

Five uninterrupted minutes pass, George pacing back and forth in front of the window. He practices some calming exercises, all while fidgeting with the ring box. Eventually, Puffy notices his anxiousness, and when she gets a better look at him, she sees how tight his shoulders are, how his eyebrows are drawn in at the center. Inconspiculously, she approaches him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“George, you okay, buddy?” she questions. George swivels around, and in a moment of impulsiveness, opens the ring box and holds it up in front of her. Of course, she gasps so loud that everyone turns their heads to look at them.

“Are you fucking proposing?!” she screeches. “I didn’t even know y’all were dating!”

What sounds like a billion exclamations of, “What?!” come from the common areas. Suddenly, everyone is rushing to the scene, circling around them and gaping at the rings. George swallows hard, trying to calm everyone’s —including his own— panic and excitement.

“Bro, I thought you were asking him out, not proposing!” Sav yells. Velvet’s head flicks toward her.

“You knew?!” he implores.

“Uh— yeah! Duh!”

“I’m not proposing, guys. These are promise rings. I’m asking him to— to be my boyfriend,” George explains. Some breathe a sigh of relief, others seem disappointed.

“Where is he?” Skeppy asks.

“Outside.”

“Well, what are you doing in here, you muffin?!” Bad teases. Then, Dream’s dad chimes in.

“Go out there and get your boy!”
“Yeah, hurry before he comes in!” Dream’s older sister encourages. George beams at her. He knows that they’re going to get along well, despite their rocky introduction.

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” George announces, and as he reaches for the handle to the sliding door, everyone cheers.

***

One last deep breath.

You got this, George.

He slides the door open, sauntering out onto the patio and toward Dream, who looks back to see who’s just walked out.

“Didn’t expect to find you out here,” George quips like he’s not freaking out inside. Dream chortles.

“Why not?” he questions. George sits down on his right, sticking his feet in the pool.

“Because it’s outside. You never touch grass.”

It earns a squeaky laugh from the blonde, sending butterflies through George’s stomach.

“Well, technically I’m not touching grass; I’m touching concrete, so…” Dream defends before taking a long sip of his drink. He offers some to George, who accepts. After taking a small sip, he hands the can back, and Dream sets it down on his left. The two sit quietly for a moment, gently kicking their feet through the water, listening to the crickets chirp.

“Nah, I actually came out here to chill for a little while,” Dream explains, breaking the silence. “There’s just a lot of people, and noise, and stuff. Were you looking for me or something?”

A sarcastic remark is locked and loaded on the tip of his tongue. George opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself before anything escapes.

No, not at all. That’s definitely not why I said I didn’t expect to find you out here. I actually hoped you left, he almost says. For now, though, he wants to put the jokes, the sarcasm, and the double entendres aside. He remembers Sapnap telling him to be honest, and he’s going to stick to that, even if it’s a little awkward at first.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I was, actually.”

Dream doesn’t ask why. He simply smiles and nods before looking back down at the water. Still so incredibly nervous, George analyzes every word that has come out of Dream’s mouth thus far. Learning that he was so overstimulated that he came outside makes his stomach drop, and his palms begin to sweat again.

“I’m really sorry if the party was too much. I just wanted to—”

“No, no,” Dream interrupts, “it wasn’t too much at all, but you know me. Sometimes I just need a minute to… recalibrate.”

“Yeah, I get it,” George laughs, feeling a little lighter, but still unsure. “Well, do you want me to head back inside, or…?”

“George, no,” Dream insists, a hand on George’s arm. “No, definitely not. I never need a break from you.”

The two turn back to the water, but George continues to stare at the blonde from the corner of his eye. The heaviness lifts from his shoulders, his breathing steadies, and his heart rate slows. He remembers the reasons he fell in love with Dream in the first place; the gentleness, the kindness, and his genuine heart. The adrenaline rush dwindles, and his head clears. No matter what George says, they will be okay, and they will be together.

When the seltzer is finally drained, Dream stretches and lies back onto the pool deck. George’s eyes follow him down, tracking his movements, watching him cross his arms behind his head and sigh.

“C’mere,” Dream coaxes when he notices his best friend’s gaze. He pulls his right arm out from under his head and extends it across the deck, inviting George to curl up next to him. Without hesitation this time, George sinks down, settling into Dream’s side with his head on his chest. Dream’s arm wraps around him, his hand brushing up and down George’s waist. The brunette doesn’t waste any time, either. He wraps his arm around Dream’s torso, mimicking the same movements with his hand. Warm and content, Dream speaks.

“Y’know… this has been my spot ever since I was little.”

“So I’ve heard,” George murmurs. “Your mum told me.”

“Yeah. I think it’s lucky, or something. Either that, or this is where the universe can see me, listen to me,” Dream says. George peers up at him, pink and green reflecting in his brown eyes.

“Oh yeah? Why d’you say that?” he queries. Dream smiles warmly.

“Well… when I was 12, I was lying in this exact spot. I was looking up at the stars, thinking about how strange it is that we’re supposedly the only forms of life in this massive void. And I was wondering: what if someone or something could hear me? So I lay here for an hour, just talking. I talked about anything —everything— and at the end, I made a wish. And y’know what that wish was?”

“What?” George inquires, still drawing shapes on Dream’s side with the tips of his fingers.

“I wished for a best friend, and the next day, I met Sapnap.”

“...you’re kidding,” the Brit gawks. “Actually?”

“I’m 100% serious. And then, five years later, I was here again. And out of the blue, after my phone had been quiet all day, I got my first message back from you. I was right here, George.”

George’s vision goes blurry. He knows Dream isn’t making any of this up, but it is crazy. And now, another one of Dream’s wishes is about to come true right here, and he doesn’t even know it yet. George squeezes his waist, then moves his hand up to lie on his stomach.

“Surely that’s— that’s just a coincidence, right?” he implores. “It sounds too crazy to be anything more than that.”

“That’s what I thought at first, too,” the blonde admits. “But then I was sitting here when I opened YouTube and saw that one of our videos had over a million views, and when you messaged me about your visa being approved.”

What Dream doesn’t say is that this is also where he realized he was in love with the boy lying on his chest.

“Holy shit…” George whispers.

“Yeah. And now… now you’re here with me. It’s like everything has come full circle,” Dream goes on to say. For a little while longer, they gaze at the stars. A couple of constellations are visible, and they try to connect them in their heads. Then comes the epitome of irony. If this really is a coincidence, it’s damn near perfect. A shooting star races across the sky, fizzling out as it travels east.

“Woah, did you see that?!” Dream yells just as George exclaims, “No way!”

The two sit straight up, pointing at the star’s path. They breathe hard, trying to contain their laughter.

Wish upon a star, George thinks, wiping tears from his eyes. Of course.

When he looks over at Dream, he’s gone oddly quiet. His eyes are focused on the sky, unblinking, but sparkling just like the stars. George knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Are you… are you making a wish? Now that you’re here again?” he asks. Dream huffs out a laugh.

“I’ve been wishing, George. I’ve been out here for half an hour, and… and I’ve been begging the universe for this,” he answers, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

“For what?”

“Same thing I wished for when I blew out the candles.”

“Oh, so it hasn’t happened yet?” George questions, playing dumb. Dream shakes his head and picks at his nails, and the brunette grows impatient.

“...but what are you wishing for? Like, specifically?” he prods. Dream gives him the same response he gave to Puffy when she asked.

 “I can’t tell you what it is, or it won’t come true.”

George smiles to himself, not because he thinks Dream is being ridiculous, but because this time, he knows Dream’s wish is going to come true regardless of whether or not he reveals any specifics. He presses his thumb against the box in his right pocket. The solution to both of their biggest desires is shut inside a tiny green box, engraved in the metal.

“I wouldn’t put too much thought into that superstition, Dream.”

“Oh yeah?” Dream challenges, finally tearing his eyes away from the stars and briefly letting them land on his best friend. “Why is that?”

George falters for a moment. When Dream receives no counterargument, he redirects his gaze back to the pool, ripples slowly making their way across the water that glows a thousand colors.

“Well,” George finally sighs. “The reason I actually came out here is to… to make your wish come true.”

Dream’s breath hitches at first, but it ultimately results in a tut.

“But… I never told you my wish,” he retorts, “so there’s— there’s no way you could make it come true.”

George can hear the apprehension in his voice, and it’s obvious he’s trying not to look at him. It’s understandable since Dream thinks that he doesn’t feel the same way. He’s also under the impression that George has no idea what his wish actually is. If anything, he supposes that his best friend must think there’s some expensive material item that Dream forgot to mention, and he’s about to tell him right there that he’s bought it. In the blonde’s head, without a doubt, George has no idea that he’s in love with him. That’s not to say that he doesn’t hope. That he doesn’t have faith in the universe, in the spot they’re sitting in. He didn’t lie when he told George that he’s been begging the universe to grant this wish for the entirety of the time he’s been sitting out here. That small percentage of him lets him wonder if this is the last few moments of ‘just friends.’ It lets him wonder: if he were to look over at George, would he already be looking straight at him? Maybe the admission that swirls in Dream’s eyes could be seen in George’s too. But the other percentage keeps him facing forward, not daring to turn his head.

George is looking straight at him, though. So lovingly that it makes his own heart ache. It’s clear that his best friend isn’t going to face him. Not without prompting. He thinks about how he should go about this. He doesn’t want to launch either of them into an abrupt confession, because he knows this is going to require conversation. And as much as George just wants to grab his face and finally kiss him, he knows that the reason Dream came outside in the first place is that he was overstimulated, so rushing such an intimate moment when they haven’t so much as spoken a word about their feelings also feels like too much. He looks down at their hands, resting on the concrete inches away from each other. George considers intertwining their pinkies, but that doesn’t feel like enough. So, without thinking too much into it, he takes Dream’s hand in his, holding it tight.

As soon as they touch, electricity shoots through Dream’s body. He whips his head to the side with a countenance of utter shock. Finally, he lets himself fully come face to face with the brunette. George looks up at him through his long lashes, still clumped together from crying. A shy smile crosses his face, and he squeezes Dream’s hand before pressing his lips to the top of it. 

Dream is reeling, heart pounding, ears ringing. There’s a million questions racing through his head, and it feels impossible to ask any of them right now.

How did you know?

Is this really happening?

How do you feel?

What is going on?

Did Sapnap tell you?

There are about as many emotions, too. So many that he can’t quite distinguish what he’s feeling. Happiness would be an understatement, because it’s clear that George isn’t upset. The details of how he feels are still a mystery, but holding his hand, his lips pressed to his skin, he can start reading between the lines. There’s also utter confusion, because how did he find out? Maybe a little anger too, reserved for Sapnap if he’d told George his secret. Everything is combining into a mess that feels bigger than Dream himself. He’s at a total loss for words. Luckily, George sees that

“Dream,” George whispers as he brings their hands to rest on his leg. As soon as the silence is broken, some of the tension dissipates. Dream drops his shoulders and sighs, relieved. Both of them turn their bodies toward each other, one leg resting on the deck, the other still gliding through the water. Reluctantly, Dream places his other hand on top of George’s and squeezes back, though he’s shaking his head in disbelief.

“How did—”

“—I overheard your conversation with Sapnap in the bathroom, but I’ve—”

“Shit,” Dream mutters after his jaw drops. Downright mortified, he tears his hands away from George and presses his palms to his eyes. For a moment, he hopes that the darkness will swallow him whole, saving him from this humiliation.

Add embarrassment to the list of emotions, Dream thinks. He groans, then speaks.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out like that. Actually, I didn’t mean for you to find out at all—”

“Dream— wait, look at me for a minute—” George requests.

“—because I didn’t think you felt the same way, and I hope you know that you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to—” Dream continues, dragging his hands down his face. George shakes his head and reaches out, trying to get him to slow down.

“Dreamie, hold on—”

“—god, I’m such an idiot. Actually fucking stupid. I knew I should’ve just not said anything, kept my fucking mouth shut—”

This time, George doesn’t interrupt him with words. He doesn’t bother, understanding that it’s futile when Dream is anxious and flustered. Plus, he hates to hear his best friend talk down on himself, and he figures that they’ve waited long enough for this. He kisses Dream to shut him up. George rises to his knees and slams their lips together, catching Dream completely off-guard with a hand in his hair, the other on his cheek, steadying them both. He waits to pull away until Dream relaxes against him, lets his eyes flutter shut, and lets out a content sigh. Even when he does pull away, he doesn’t go far. He keeps one hand on Dream’s cheek, drags the other down to the side of his neck, and kisses him again. It’s gentle this time, aimed to calm, to reassure, to let him know that yes, he does feel the same, and no, he’s not stupid.

They breathe into each other’s mouths, foreheads pressed together, half-lidded.

“Let me finish, yeah?” George murmurs. Dream nods, and George lowers himself back onto the deck.

“I overheard your conversation with Sapnap,” the brunette starts, taking Dream’s hand back in his, “but I’ve had this planned for way longer.”

Dream tilts his head, confused.

“I wasn’t entirely honest with you earlier. When I told you that during the night we watched the Minion movie, Sapnap and I weren’t just talking about your birthday. What really happened was that he walked in, tried to wake you up, and… I snapped at him. And long story short, I ended up rambling to him about how I felt about you. So, he told me that I should tell you, which is how we started talking about your birthday. He mentioned that I could do something for you, and so… I planned the party, but I also planned to pull you aside at some point so that we could talk.”

“George… you did all this—” Dream says, motioning around him with his free hand, “—just so we could talk about… how we feel about… about each other?”

“Well, not just for that,” George corrects. “You just… you work so hard all the time. You deserve this party, Dream. You deserve to be celebrated, to be surrounded by people that love you, to have fun. You deserve a break, to smile, and laugh. And I wanted to organize this to show you that… that I love you. I love you as my best friend and… and a lot more, as I hope you’re starting to realize.”

Teary-eyed, Dream nods, and the two laugh.

“There was something else Sapnap told me, though. It was when I was telling him that I didn’t know how to start this conversation, and he advised me to just be honest with you. We both know I’m not, like, the word connoisseur or whatever, and I usually can’t find the right words, but… that night, I just could not stop talking. He said to tell you exactly what I told him, so… so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m gonna— gonna put aside all the sarcasm and double entendres, and tell you exactly what I think, okay?” George tells him.

“Okay, but I’m definitely gonna start crying,” Dream warns. George laughs and wipes a stray tear from the blonde’s face.

“That’s okay, I’ve done my fair share.”

George takes another deep breath. He prays that whatever comes out of his mouth makes sense and doesn’t just sound like a jumbled mess. He’s practiced enough times in the shower and in the mirror to have his spiel memorized, but under this much pressure, this may as well be his first time reciting it. Still, he takes Dream’s other hand in his and speaks.

“Dream,” he starts, and the blonde is already shedding tears. “You are —by far— the sweetest person I have ever met. I’ve looked up to you for so long because… everywhere you go, everyone you meet, you strive to do good. I told Sapnap this, but you’re literally the physical embodiment of love. You have the biggest heart, and you wear it on your sleeve. You care so much about everyone and everything, and you’re kind, even when that kindness isn’t returned to you. All around, you’re such a genuine person— so selfless, and empathetic, and generous, and I… I can’t help but be so in love with you.”

“George,” Dream chokes out. “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

George pauses, letting Dream bring him into a hug. The blonde holds him like he’ll disappear if he lets go, sobbing into his shoulder and balling up handfuls of his t-shirt in his fists. George peppers kisses onto his shoulder, his temple, and the side of his head, keeping him close.

“I love you too,” he says as he pulls back. “You are the most amazing person, love. I feel like I’ve fallen in love with you time and time again, each time more than the last. I genuinely just… adore you. I love how you talk when you get excited; I love the face you make when you focus. I love how you love animals, and how you talk to Patches. I love when you want to snuggle up next to me on the couch, or when you want me to play with your hair. I love every inch, every part of you, especially the parts you don’t like about yourself. I’m dead serious when I say I’m head over heels for you. I love you more than I think you’ll ever know, and definitely more than I can ever express. You are it for me. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Dream wipes the tears from his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. With his thumb, George draws circles on the top of Dream’s hand.

“I know that was a lot; I’m sorry. I hope it made sense,” George mumbles, tears brimming in his own eyes. Dream shakes his head.

“Do not say you’re sorry, oh my god,” he laughs wetly. “That was perfect, George. Absolutely fucking perfect, just like you.”

“Jesus, Dream,” George croaks, bright red crawling up his neck and settling on his cheeks. Dream rearranges their hands so that he’s holding George’s.

“I don’t even know where to start, because everything you just said is exactly how I feel about you…” Dream trails. “I’ve had my entire heart reserved for you for as long as I can remember. You’re just… you’re everything I want in someone, and more. Even if you don’t know it, you’re always so helpful, whether it’s with coding, or our mods, or… me. And even though you joke around 99% of the time, it’s really obvious you care. And I know I’ve said this before, but you really, really are a light in the room. The brightest, George. Your jokes are what keep my spirits up. You just always know how to make me feel better, always know exactly what I need. You’re so good at getting me out of my head, whether it’s with food and a movie, or a giant fucking party. I really don’t know how to explain it, but… the way you make me feel is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. It’s this— this warmth in my chest that just… makes me feel like I’m home, like I belong exactly where I am. Baby, you’re— wait, can I call you that now? Baby?”

“Fuck—” George hiccups, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Yeah. Please. Call me— call me whatever you want.”

Dream laughs, cupping George’s jaw and wiping tears away with his thumb.

“Baby, you’re like— ethereal. I can’t believe you’re real sometimes. There’s just— there’s just so much about you, George. I love your smile, how you turn so red when—”

As the blonde speaks, George gives him the most bashful look with his cheeks red, his smile downturned, and his eyes glimmering. Dream beams.

“Yeah, that,” he giggles, then kisses the top of George’s hand. “I love how passionate you are about what you do, and how meticulous you are when you execute your ideas. I love how you hold your hands in front of you when you take photos with fans. I love that you can barely go a day without lemonade. And I cannot stress this enough: I love you. Everything about you. It’s always been you, and it will always be you. It was you when you were in Brighton. It was you when you were in London. It was you the moment you stepped foot in Florida. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Sapnap that I’ve never been this in love before. You were the missing piece, George. You complete me.”

The silence that comes after their lengthy confessions is loaded, but not with the apprehension that was there before. In its place is affection and fondness, and the guarantee of a new chapter together. George covers his mouth to keep his sobs at bay, but he rises back onto his knees and lets Dream take him back into his arms.

“I love you,” he whispers again. Dream rubs his back and presses a soft kiss to the side of his neck, his cheek, then his lips. As the minutes pass, their tears finally dry tacky on their skin, their breathing slows, and their hearts beat in sync. George is the one to pull back, sitting on his knees.

“And… back to that double entendre you were talking to Sapnap about… you have my heart. All of it. Even back in 2021 when I said it, you had it then too.”

A smile grows on Dream’s face, and he tilts his head as he lays his hand on George’s thigh.

“And, I hope you know that when I say I hate you or that you’re an idiot, I actually mean everything I told you. I know we’ve said it’s our term of endearment, but… I want you to know that it means so much more. It means everything good,” Dream murmurs. The word ‘idiot’ rings a bell in George’s head.

The rings, he remembers.

“Speaking of idiot, I have one more gift for you,” he reveals. Dream huffs out a laugh.

“What more could you have possibly gotten me? You’ve already given me everything I’ve ever wanted,” he jests. George laughs along as he reaches into his pocket. He holds the box out in front of Dream, letting him register what it is before he opens it. Dream’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, utter shock crossing his face once again. Every bit of air is forced from his lungs, and he can’t seem to take any more in.

“George—” he stammers. “What—”

“Don’t worry, I’m not proposing or anything. Not yet.”

Dream means to brush it off, to deny that’s what he was thinking, to shield himself from more embarrassment. But what actually comes out in a single breath is much different. In his defense, this moment has been about being honest, about spilling everything they’ve been holding back. Even though his brain has no control over what falls from his lips, even though it should be jarring, it’s everything but. Tears threaten to spill again as he speaks, voice wobbly and brittle.

“I wouldn’t mind if you were.”

“Fuck, Dream,” George coughs, and he has to take a minute to compose himself before continuing. “Trust me, a proposal would be— be much more dramatic.”

Suddenly, there are tears back in his eyes too, and he’s doing everything in his power to keep himself from breaking again. Dream isn’t helping much, though, because he’s staring at George with such an overwhelmingly soft, loving gaze, tears dripping onto the pool deck. It’s obvious that this is an insight into Dream’s heart, to their future together. George knows he’s going to love him loudly, gently, and passionately all at once, and the brunette wouldn’t have it any other way.

“These,” George starts as he flips open the box, “are promise rings.”

Dream gasps and covers his mouth. His shoulders shake as he cries silently, his breaths sharp and fast. He notes the details in the metal— the emerald green mountains, the blue sapphire waves. The light bounces off the words ‘My Idiot’ engraved at the bottom, making it feel so much more special, so much more personal, and so Dream and George. It’s clear how much thought and effort was put into these, and to know that George created this vision and brought it to life by himself makes these absolutely priceless.

George resists putting a pause on his speech to let Dream calm down, but he knows that these tears couldn’t be stopped even if he tried. Besides, George needs to get these words out. After a month of planning, of keeping them inside a secret locked document, he needs Dream to hear them. Hear him.

“This is my promise to you, that I love you and will continue to love you for as long as you’ll let me. I promise to care for you, to be by your side —your partner in life— through everything— sickness, health, the good, the bad, rough patches, and whatever else comes our way. This is my promise to you, that I’ll play with your hair during every movie we watch—”

Dream finally drags in a ragged breath, and presents his hand to George, who takes it gingerly.

“—and to actually take you to a sushi restaurant. I promise to make you laugh, dry your tears… I promise to stay in bed with you for at least five extra minutes before we have to get up—”

At this, Dream giggles, still sniffling, but the tears fall slower now.

“There’s so much more, so… not last, and definitely not least, I promise myself to you. I promise you the best version of myself, and I promise to keep growing, to keep learning, to keep working on who I am as a person. I promise you my love, my heart, my soul,” George pledges. He then takes the ring with the blue waves out of the box and positions it in front of Dream’s right ring finger before asking the question.

“That being said, this is me formally asking: will you take this ring and be my boyfriend?”

“God, yes. Yes, of course,” Dream gushes, and George happily slides the ring onto his finger. Without any prompting, without any spoken words, Dream carefully takes the box from George’s hands. He slides the other ring out of the satin pillow, takes George’s hand, and slowly slides it onto his finger.

“And to you, I promise the same,” he murmurs. Dream pulls George back against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around his middle. George cups Dream’s jaw with both hands, brushing their noses together before slipping his tongue into Dream’s mouth, the kiss so fervent that it melts them both. Pulling away, George presses his head to Dream’s shoulder and takes a deep breath for the first time in what feels like ages.

“And to be clear, I will love you forever,” Dream states out of the blue, matter-of-factly. George laughs, but doesn’t doubt it one bit. He watches Dream analyze the ring for a moment before explaining the meaning behind the engraved images.

“The waves,” he says, “are because I crossed an ocean for you, and I’d cross a million more. And blue, obviously, because it’s my color.”

The blonde looks up, taken aback again.

“That’s so cute,” he mumbles. “And what about the mountains?”

“Do you remember what you told me when I was still in London and we thought that my visa would never get approved?”

Dream narrows his eyes, partially remembering, but he ends up shaking his head.

“You told me that you’d move mountains to get to me if it came down to it. And, because of Everest. And because green is your color.”

“How do you… how do you even remember that?” Dream questions. George smiles, helping them both up off the ground.

“It’s just something that stuck with me, like the double entendre stuck with you,” he explains, wiping the residual tears stuck to his lashes. Dream does the same, and closer to the light, George notices how swollen his eyes are. He can only imagine what his face looks like, tear-streaked, puffy, and red.

“Should we head inside?” Dream asks. George nods.

“Yeah. Everyone’s probably sitting on the edges of their seats, waiting to see what happened out here.”

Dream raises an eyebrow.

“What d’you mean? They knew?”

“Well, not initially,” George admits. “I told Sapnap last month, obviously. Then I had to tell your sister because she was at the house when the rings arrived. And then I had to tell your mother because she saw how freaked out I was when I couldn’t find you. And then I showed Puffy the rings right before I came out here, and she screamed because she thought I was proposing, which got everyone’s attention, so…”

Dream cackles, murmuring, “Oh my god, that’s crazy.” George gives him a small shove, and the blonde grabs his hand, leading them toward the door.

Every guest is in the living room. Some are sitting cross-legged on the floor, others are anxiously tapping their feet on the ground from their seats on the couch. Dream’s mom is pacing back and forth in front of the TV, and Savannah is picking at her nails, leaning against the wall. The second that the door creaks open, everyone sits pin-straight. George walks in first, and at first glance, it doesn’t look good. His eyes are glued to the floor, but his face is in fact red and swollen, stained with tears. Slowly, he raises his gaze, and when he sees everyone looking back at him, concern written all over their faces, he smiles, just as Dream walks in and grabs his hand, grinning wider than he ever has before.

Got ‘em.

Their friends erupt into cheers and congratulations, and suddenly, confetti comes flying their way. The culprits are Blake and Tony, who must have found a couple of extra confetti cannons lying around. Dream and George burst out laughing, holding a hand over their chests from being startled by the loud noise.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Velvet yells, and before they know it, the entire room is chanting with him. And who would Dream and George be to deny their guests? They turn to look at each other, shrugging as if to say, “Why not?” George tilts his head upward, though Dream has a different plan. He scoops George up in his arms, holding him bridal style. As he dips him, he presses their lips together. In between kisses, George is laughing uncontrollably and holding on for dear life.

“Happy early birthday, idiot,” he says when Dream finally puts him down.

“Thanks, babe,” Dream replies. “Best birthday ever.”

George feels heat rise to his cheeks. It’s going to take some time to get used to hearing those nicknames from Dream, but luckily, he has forever to work on it.