Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

George was absolutely certain that they were talking about him.

He was in AP Biology, 4th period, and the lab group of popular seniors at the table next to him were huddled together, whispering and looking at a piece of paper. Worse, they kept glancing up at him and laughing.

He did his best to ignore them, instead focusing on the lab he was supposed to be working on. His own lab group was useless, each of them scrolling on their phones, completely ignoring the assignment. George was left doing the entire lab on his own. He read through the instructions, trying to make sense of what he was supposed to do.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. It was one of the boys from the other group. George gave him a once-over, unimpressed. He looked like any other boring, brunet soccer Chad at this privileged school. More notable was the way he stood with his hands behind his back, holding back laughter.

“Hi, George, right?” The boy asked.

George narrowed his eyes. How does he know my name?

“Right..” he said slowly, glancing back at the lab group. They were all staring. The two girls giggled and looked away quickly, but a boy sitting between them held his gaze, a confident smirk on his face. The boy had long blond hair tied into a bun at the top of his head. George shied away from his stare, turning back to the brunet.

The boy brought his hands in front of him, revealing a folded up piece of paper. “My buddy Dream wanted me to give you this.” He extended the note and George stared at it.

“Dream?” George asked, confused. Soccer boy used his head to gesture at the blond boy. George’s eyes shot over and met his gaze again. The boy winked at him and George flushed.

“He wanted you to know that-” the boy snorted out a laugh and paused to collect himself. “That he means every word.”

“Um, okay.” George took the note. “Thanks?”

“No problem.” The boy retreated to his group, snickering loudly.

George glanced at his own lab group. None of them looked up. He slowly unfolded the paper, trying to ignore the four seniors he knew were watching him. It was a letter, written in a messy scrawl.

Dear George,

I saw you at the other table and had to know who you were. From the moment you walked into the room, I was mesmerized. Your wavy brown hair looks like rich chocolate. Your eyes are magical. I feel butterflies when I look at you.

Please be mine.
Dream

His signature was followed by a messy heart.

George’s face flushed. If there was anything he hated more than people whispering about him, it was being made fun of. He was a junior. He wasn’t some silly schoolboy who was flattered by cheesy lines straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Scowling, he dared to glance at their table. The entire lab group howled at his expression and George felt his ears turn red. To make matters worse, Dream caught his eye and blew him a kiss. George’s breath hitched. Why did he have to be kinda-

“Hey, George!” The brunet boy called out. Several classmates turned their heads to see what was going on and George hunched his shoulders, hating the attention. “You gonna respond?”

George looked back at the note. I feel butterflies when I look at you. On a whim, he turned the paper over and drew a cartoon butterfly, signing his name at the bottom. He refolded the note but hesitated. He definitely was not going to walk over there. Thankfully, the brunet who had been acting as messenger saw George holding the note and hurried over.

“Thanks, Georgie,” he said, snatching the paper from George’s hand. “I’m Sapnap, by the way.”

George watched as Sapnap raced back to his table and handed the note to Dream. Dream’s confident smirk was back as he unfolded it with his group huddled around him.

Dream took in the drawing and George watched as his smirk fell away, replaced with a look of disappointment. George’s face was burning with embarrassment, but he smiled triumphantly.

Dream looked up at George, holding his gaze for a long time. George watched in shock as his eyes began to fill up with tears. Dream pouted dramatically as they spilled over onto his cheeks. How did he even do that?

They maintained eye contact as Dream slowly raised his hands and began to tear the note apart. When only shreds of paper remained, Dream made the shape of a heart with his fingers and mimed breaking it.

George rolled his eyes and looked away, eyes landing on the clock. Crap. He had ten minutes to finish the lab. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and refocused on the assignment.

---

George handed in the worksheet just as the bell rang. Not his best work, but at least he’d finished it.

As he headed back to his seat to collect his things, he nearly bumped into Dream. He froze a second before they would have collided.

Dream chuckled. “Hey.” His voice was deep. Not that it mattered. George looked up and met his eyes. Green. Dream was grinning at him, clearly finding the situation funny. Heat rushed to George’s face.

“Hi,” he muttered before he scurried away, grabbing his backpack and racing out the classroom door without a backward glance.

Chapter Text

“Earth to George.”

George blinked twice. “Sorry, what?”

Quackity sighed. “George, what is with you today? I said, are you gonna eat your chips?” He gestured to George’s unopened bag of Fritos.

“No, you can have them,” George muttered. Quackity immediately snatched the bag and tore it open.

Karl cleared his throat. “So, George, you gonna tell us why you’ve been so quiet? How’d the bio lab go?”

George flushed. Curse his friends for being so observant. “It’s uh, nothing. I almost ran out of time but I think it went okay.”

“Are your partners still being useless?” Karl asked, sipping a Monster energy drink.

George picked at his bagel. “Yeah. Whatever, if they fail the test that’s not on me.”

“Wow George, you’re actually a horrible person.” Quackity says, shaking his head.

“Shut up, Q.”

George scans his eyes around the cafeteria, bored, when his gaze catches on a blond bun. It’s definitely Dream—George remembers the white T-shirt he was wearing earlier. He’s several tables down and facing away from him.

George watches as Dream talks animatedly, gesturing with his hands. The people around him laugh.

“What are you looking at?” Karl whispers in his ear.

“Oh, uh. No one.” Karl exchanges a look with Quackity. “Anyway!” George claps his hands. “We have our choir dress rehearsal tonight, right?”

“Yeah! I’m excited to hear all the performances,” Karl says, going along with the subject change.

George nods absentmindedly and silently wills himself to forget about Dream. It was all just a stupid prank anyway.

---

George had only chosen to take choir for the easy A. He was in a lot of advanced classes this year, and it was one of the only electives with no homework. Besides, Karl and Quackity really wanted him to join. So far class had been alright, but tonight’s dress rehearsal would be his first “choir experience” as Karl phrased it.

Naturally, George brought his homework. Hey, the grind never stops.

His group was called up for a sound check first. As soon as he got back to his seat in the auditorium, George pulled out one of his textbooks and started working on his history assignment.

“You’re so boring,” Quackity whined. George shrugged and ignored him.

When all the choirs had done their sound checks, the director announced that each of the solo numbers would perform as practice. George half-listened as people sang various showtunes or versions of Hallelujah.

The next solo started, and George heard a few opening chords on a guitar. He glanced up curiously and froze. It was Dream. George stared openly as Dream closed his eyes and began to sing.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Dream’s low voice glided softly over the notes as his fingers nimbly picked at the guitar. His face was expressive, eyebrows pulled together tightly. George remembered his face as he fake-cried in biology. Definitely a theater kid.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free

A Beatles fan, then. George appreciated the classics. His homework lay forgotten as he watched. Dream opened his eyes and George could’ve sworn he was staring at him. His face began to heat up and his pulse raced.

Surely Dream wasn’t really looking at him, it just seemed that way. But the imagined eye contact made George extremely flustered. He cupped his cheeks with his hands, trying to cool his face down.

Blackbird, fly
Blackbird, fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

As Dream strummed the final chords, he looked down and George released a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes. What is wrong with me?

He heard the sound of someone clearing their throat next to him and his eyes shot open. Karl and Quackity were both staring at him, eyebrows raised.

Karl gestured at George’s red face still cupped in his hands. “Is there… something you wanna tell us?”

Chapter Text

The echo of a gentle guitar chord was still ringing through the auditorium. George blinked and slowly began to readjust to his surroundings. Dream was putting his guitar into a case and leaving the stage, other students were talking softly, and Karl and Quackity were both regarding George with narrowed eyes.

George cleared his throat. “What?” He figured playing innocent was his best bet.

Quackity glanced at Karl. “Dude, if only you could see how red your face is right now. You look like a tomato.”

George bit the inside of his cheek, trying to will the blush to dissipate.

“So, uh, how do you know that guy?” Karl asked, raising his eyebrows at George.

George huffed. “It’s not what you think, alright? I barely know him. I’m not, I mean, I don’t…” he trailed off, thinking about the day’s events. The note Dream had written him, the stupid butterfly he’d drawn. The fake pout Dream had performed during class compared to the genuine emotion in his voice as he sang.

“Um, you alright, George?” Karl’s teasing expression had shifted into concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He stood abruptly. “I’m gonna go get some water,” he muttered, squeezing past Quackity and heading for the door. He slipped out into the hallway and leaned against the wall for support. He felt lightheaded and he had no explanation as to why. Dream’s singing was incredible, sure. Why that would make his head dizzy and his knees weak, George had no idea.

That’s when the side door to the auditorium opened and out walked Dream, guitar case swinging from one hand. George watched as Dream blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the light, before they landed on his face and widened in gleeful recognition.

“Georgie?” Dream said with a smirk. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh. Dream. Um, hey.” George relaxed his stance, trying to look casual and not like someone who could barely walk just a moment ago.

Dream’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. “Did you like my song?”

Color rushed to George’s face. “Yeah, it was, um. It was really good.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, avoiding Dream’s eyes.

“Aww, Georgie, you look embarrassed. Was it something I said?” This time, it was easy to read the expression behind his eyes. Dream was laughing at him.

George glanced around, looking for a quick escape. Anything to stop this conversation and save him from humiliating himself. He must have looked pathetic, because Dream’s expression softened into something like pity.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I was just teasing you, George. I’m glad you liked the song.” Dream gave him a genuine smile and George ducked his head, examining his shoes.

“Well, I should, um,” George gestured helplessly at the doorway. “My friends—”

“Are you good at Biology?” Dream asked suddenly.

“What?” George glanced up, surprised, and met Dream’s green gaze. “I’m alright, I guess. Why?”

Dream grinned, setting down his guitar and unlocking his phone. “Great, can I get your number then? In case I need help on the homework, you know.” He ran one hand through his hair. With the other hand, he extended his phone, which was lime green with a clear case.

George took it. “Yeah, um, okay.” He typed in his number and set his name as george :], tacking on the smiley face at the last second before handing the phone back to Dream. With that, George turned and rushed back into the auditorium before Dream could comment on the color of his cheeks.

He slid back into his seat quietly and Karl gave him a concerned look. “You feeling any better, man?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” George pasted on a smile which he hoped was convincing. “Hey, Karl?” Karl raised his eyebrows.

“Um, am I good at Biology?” George fiddled with the strings of his hoodie.

Karl giggled loudly. “Is that a joke?”

George groaned. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Karl stifled his laugh with the back of his hand. “So why is the guy who keeps asking to copy my Biology homework asking me if he’s good at Biology?”

“You guys are so loud, we’re gonna get in trouble,” Quackity hissed, leaning over to look at them. George glanced up to the stage to see that he was right—their director was giving them a look. George took the opportunity to settle into his seat and avoid Karl’s questions for now.

Once the dress rehearsal was over George grabbed his backpack and rushed out of the auditorium before Karl or Quackity could stop him. He really hoped they both had a ride home.

As George pulled into his driveway his phone vibrated. Text from unknown number. It had to be Dream. He was still recovering from this evening’s confrontation. The thought of opening this text was going to send his heart racing straight out of his chest. He headed inside, leaving his backpack by the door and heading straight to his bed to lay down for a second, not even bothering to turn the lights on.

Maybe something was wrong with him. As hard as he tried, George couldn’t stop thinking about the way Dream’s voice had melted over the soft melody of the song, blending so nicely with the guitar chords.

He was just lonely, George decided. Lonely and maybe a little touch starved if he was being honest.

His thoughts were interrupted by another buzz from his phone. He sat up slowly, trying to find his phone in the dark. He retrieved it from somewhere on his mattress and unlocked it with a sigh.

Unknown number: hey Georgie
Unknown number: what are you up to?

George’s fingers shook as he typed out a reply.

Me: Nothing, really. You?

He cast his eyes to the ceiling. Why was Dream giving him so much attention? It was only a matter of time before he got bored and moved on to someone else. George needed to be careful, not let himself get too attached.

Dream’s response came almost immediately.

Unknown number: just thinking about your little butterfly doodle

George felt his face begin to heat up. How did Dream manage to have such an effect on him, even through texting? He saved Dream’s contact to his phone before responding.

Me: Yeah, right.

Dream: no, really, it was so cute !!

George stared at Dream’s message until his phone screen turned off. Cute. Why was Dream calling him cute? Also, why was the way Dream texted so endearing?

George sighed. He really needed to get some sleep. He decided to leave Dream’s text unanswered, connecting his phone to the charger and relaxing against his pillows.