Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dream was intrigued by George for reasons he couldn’t explain. Something about him just drew him closer like a moth to a flame, Dream being fascinated by the light George emitted and everything he didn’t know about him. He couldn’t help it when his eyes followed his every movement, his every word, his entire existence. Dream didn’t want to be as trapped as he was in his tunnel vision out of fear of appearing creepy, because the last thing he needed was for George to find a reason to avoid him. But he guesses it couldn’t hurt to partake in some innocent yearning, right? 

They were friends but weren’t very close at the time, so all their interactions consisted of small smiles, waves of acknowledgement, and Dream glancing at George when they laughed in a group hangout, but George looking elsewhere. 

He was fine with this, really, but the unrelenting ache at the back of his mind wanted something a little more. He found reasons to talk to him that George wouldn’t go to his other friends for. Silly things like random facts, or profound quotes, or snippets of his own writing. Dream enjoyed it when he could be someone George could be quietly happy with, since his other friends were louder and antagonising, and he could see it in his face that the change in atmosphere was refreshing, even if their interactions were seconds long. It warmed him from the inside.  

“Oh, George, please, you know you love us.” one of them laughs. 

“It wouldn’t be any fun without you here.” another chimes in. 

“Perhaps,” George hummed then slung an arm around Dream’s shoulders, “But I’ll be sitting with Dream on the coach for the school trip. We’re leaving you guys behind.” Dream tried not to freeze under the physical contact, but also didn’t want to move out of fear George would remove his arm. He liked it there. George hardly ever touched anyone.  

“Wow, alright then.” someone rolls their eyes light-heartedly. 

He knew this was just some humorous bit they were all doing, it’s happened before, George wouldn’t actually drop his other friends just for him. But he didn't mind. This was cosy, this was nice. Dream was content with not being closer with George if it meant that he could have moments like this. But being in high school meant that things never stayed the same for long. 

George got a boyfriend. It was someone from inside their friend group, and everyone saw it coming from a mile away. He knew it was bound to happen. But that didn’t stop Dream’s heart from silently wilting. They looked happy, and visibly relieved that they worked things out and could finally be together openly. Dream was happy for them. He knew he didn’t mean as much to George as their friend did. It was inevitable. But so is the nature of high school, yet again. 

From the moment they publicly let everyone know they liked each other, everything started to crumble. They still had unresolved issues they should have talked about before getting together, and that caused the relationship to be fractured and rocky and painful. George and his boyfriend were both loud people, and so everyone in the friend group also got way too involved for something that should have been a personal matter. Their problems hurt a lot of people. It disgustingly became a topic of gossip for the other classes in their year. They were just two broken people hoping they could fix themselves together, but ended up bleeding into each other's wounds. And so, they parted ways. 

Dream wasn’t all that affected. He was never as involved with his friends as he probably should have been, but that never bothered him. He always seemed to be somewhere else when the big, life-changing drama happened within their group, and when he’d come back, he would be the only one still on good terms with everyone. He took a certain selfish pride in this. He liked being liked. It wasn’t that hard to stay indifferent and simply observe when things went to shit if it meant he could be a shoulder to rely on for the people he loves. He waited a long time for George to take the same opportunity, but his patience yielded nothing. He decided he was fine with that. 

The friendship group was in tatters. Dream could only watch from the numb space of his mind as he was slowly pushed out, one exclusion from a group activity at a time. They drifted and left dream stranded. He didn’t know what he did. He didn’t think he even did anything. Maybe that was the reason. 

But then he saw that the same thing happened to George, and all of a sudden, none of it mattered. He found himself selfishly relieved. He was so desperate to build a connection with George that he didn’t care. He needed George to know that he’d be a better friend for him. Dream reached out and felt a happy pang in his heart when George reached back. The two found comfort in their exile.

Chapter Text

George found someone new to like. Dream doesn’t think he purposefully does this. Rather, he’s sure George would prefer to not like anyone ever, but he always accidentally develops feelings because of situational scenarios. He goes vulnerable in front of someone and they help him out of it and he falls, and then they date and realise they’re not good for each other and the breakup is painful. Both parties leave the relationship more hurt than before. If Dream had a nickel for every time this happened, he’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s tiring to see it happen twice. It’s George’s main character disease, probably. He’s about to fall ill with it for a third time. Dream thinks George is sick of it too, but it seems he doesn’t even realise the pattern he’s in. 

“It’s actually embarrassing how much I like him,” George mumbles into his hands, “and I’m constantly going back and forth on whether he likes me back or not, I hate it.” 

“Yeah, it would be nice if he was straightforward with you-” Dream starts to reply. 

“But I don’t even know if I want to know, because then if he does like me, what do I do? I can’t have a relationship yet, I have commitment issues and everyone knows that.” George draws his knees to his chest.  

“But there’s also a chance he doesn’t.” 

“If that’s the case and I confess to him... then I guess I’ll just die.” 

They both laugh a bit at that, as if non-mutual romantic feelings are something light-hearted and dismissive and easy to laugh away. Not that George would know anything about unrequited love. Everyone he’s liked has returned the feelings. Dream envies and admires this about him. It's strange how the world works. 

George sits with his arms around his legs for a while seemingly contemplating something. He turns his head towards Dream and rests his cheek on his knee. His eyes are bright and easy to get lost in. “Do you have someone you like, Dream?” he asks carefully. 

The question makes Dream flinch and he turns his head away without thinking. “I—” 

George picks his head up a little with his eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“—… do. I do have someone I like, I guess.” He stares a hole into his shoe and mentally kicks himself. Dream was going to deny it but he ended up doing the opposite. He usually made careless mistakes like this when he was around George. 

“Oh? Are you gonna tell me who it is or am I gonna have to guess?” George asks with a slowly growing smile. 

This situation is less than ideal. It feels so cliché and cringe that it makes Dream want to rip his face off. 

“You don’t have to do anything, but no, I’m obviously not gonna tell you outright.” Dream scoffs while internally he screams at himself, I hate this so much I hate you so much this feels so dumb and unrealistic and yet so real at the same time make it stop– 

“Ohoho, this is so good,” George rubs his hands together excitedly. 

“Okay, but don’t make a big deal out of it, please.” Dream sighs, pained. 

“No- Dream. Let me have this. I like someone new, like, every other week—” 

Maybe he’s more self-aware than he thought. 

“—but you hardly ever like anyone so it’s all the more shocking when you do.” 

Dream rolls his eyes at that and reaches for his bottle of water. That’s only because he’s only ever liked one person in his entire high school experience. Anyone with a brain can guess who. 

George keeps his eyes on Dream’s face. Having even this much of George’s attention on him like this is suffocating, he wonders how George deals with his eyes on him almost all the time, and if he even notices. He takes a sip. 

“Is it Caleb?” 

The water goes down the wrong way. “You’re guessing right now?” 

“Yes, I thought that was obvious,” George waves a hand dismissively, “Is it— wait, are you gonna tell me if I’m right if I guess who it is?” 

Dream is still choking. 

“Is it Maria? Oh! Or Kieran? Is it someone I know?” 

“Shouldn’t you have—” Dream pauses to cough, “a-asked that first? Yes, idiot, it’s someone you know. You know I don’t talk to anyone outside of school.” 

“Is it a teacher—?” 

“George.” 

The subject of his warning giggles. 

This continues for a comedically long time.

Chapter Text

—  21 st  Dec  — 

Dealing with bad decisions was never Dream’s forte. He was thankful for the quiet of his home, but also resentful of it, since it made his choices seem so much louder. He could almost hear the mocking laughter echoing around the off-white walls. But this wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it out to be, this thought more trying to convince himself than anything else. He was just being dramatic for the comedy, surely. Not that this was remotely funny to him.  

The sound of a ringtone dial filled the silence, Dream worrying his bottom lip until he heard the other side pick up and he jumped to rattle off his string of words before Sapnap could even get a greeting in. 

“Hey, this probably isn’t what you want to hear on the last day of term, but I made the mistake of letting George try and guess who my crush is, what do I do if he figures it out?” 

After a pause, “Um, wow.” 

“Help me.” 

“Well,” Sapnap started slowly, “if he guesses right, just confess to him, and see what he says.” 

“But what if he reacts badly?” 

“It’ll take the weight off your chest.” 

“But what if he reacts  badly ?” 

“Why are you so sure he’s gonna react badly?” 

Dream gestures helplessly, “Because, Sapnap,” he paces around his room, “we’ve gotten a lot closer now. What if I confess and it makes things awkward? A-and we start not talking as much? I think that might kill me.” 

“Then don’t let him guess.” 

Dream paused his gesticulating hand and dropped it to his side. He grunted sadly in reply. 

A sigh, “Look, y’know what? You’ll be fine.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I know George, and I really doubt he’ll figure it out,” A sharp crunch crackled through the phone, “and if he does, he’ll probably reciprocate.” Sapnap continued with his mouth full.  

“Ha-ha. What.” It was less of a question and more of an incredulous statement. “Are you eating an apple?” 

“I was feeling snacky.” 

Dream shook his head, “But, he’s still not over his current crush, though.” 

“He will be soon enough,” another bite, “probably.” 

The thought of George ever returning the feelings seemed so insane and impossible. He grimaced. “If I wanted him to know,” he ran his fingernail along the grooves of his desk, “would it be better to let him guess, or for me to just tell him?” 

Sapnap chewed for a while. “How intense is this crush?” 

He thought back to a few nights before when George told him he was at a party getting drunk for the first time. George had texted him once in the middle of the event, words hardly decipherable, then he disappeared and hadn’t messaged him for the rest of the night. He knew he was stupid for letting it worry him so much. George could handle himself, and was with people he trusted. But it was hard for Dream not to worry about something. It brought upon a sudden strike of fear of everything that could have happened or be happening because he wasn’t there. He didn’t go to sleep, and he didn’t wake up.  

“Like, feeling sick from worry and can’t sleep, kind of intense.” 

“Oops.” 

Dream laughed humourlessly.  

Sapnap shifted. “Alright, what do you want the outcome to be?” 

That question threw him. People usually confessed so they could date the subject of their request, but Dream could never imagine himself actually asking George out. It all seemed way too improbable, and he’d have to deal with the painful rejection if he asked. He didn’t dare entertain the possibility of George accepting and them dating. What the hell? The idea made Dream itch. So, if he didn’t want the result to be them dating, what did he want? Peace of mind? To be friends with no secrets? A rejection so he could move on? 

“I don’t know,” Dream settled with finally.  

Sapnap hummed thoughtfully. “Either way, things will change, y’know, once you tell him.” 

Dream’s insides recoiled. All he could do was give a wilted hum before hanging up. 

—  31 st  Dec  — 

When wishing for darkness, the off-white walls seemed much brighter than they usually were. It burned Dream’s eyes and mind. It was New Year’s Eve, and all he’d done was lie on his bed contemplating everything and the consequences of every step he could potentially take. At some point, he had reached a conclusion, but he didn’t move and just kept thinking about how terrifying it was. He found a minuscule amount of resolve and sat up, reaching for his phone.  

i think i’m gonna tell him , he types.  

omg , came Sapnap’s almost instant reply,  okay yknow what  

go for it  

new year new you innit  

Dream switched chats. He tapped his finger on the side of his phone rapidly and kept flicking his eyes between the time on his phone to his open keyboard. He traced the outline of his phone case as he debated on whether or not to send the pre-written messages he had typed out. He never thought he’d ever genuinely consider doing this but here he is, six minutes before new year’s, thumbs dancing over his nervously worded confession that he has yet to send. Or not send. He still didn’t know if he really wanted to. He thought about it for very long and very hard and referred to his mental pros and cons list every other second. 

Pros of confessing to George:  

-It would lift the weight off my chest  

-He would finally stop asking who my crush is  

Cons of confessing to George:  

-Just about everything fucking hell   

-He might hate me for it  

-He might stop talking to me  

-Even if he’s not weirded out by it, we might never interact the same again  

-It might become a burden on him  

-Nothing. Will. Be. The. Same.  

Three minutes until midnight. Dream is sweating now. Two minutes. His brain runs through everything three more times and then it’s one minute. He pastes the message into their chat, goes, “Fuck it.” and presses send. He’s silent and still for all but three seconds before it sinks in what he just did and he explodes. 

“Shit.” 

—  1 st  Jan  — 

With shaky hands, he runs to Sapnap’s direct messages,  I DID IT BUT FUCK I’M SCARED , he checks his notifications before returning,  HE HASN’T RESPONDED YET  

There’s an immediate response and Dream distantly thinks about how Sapnap is probably enjoying how dramatic this all is,  IT’LL BE FINE TRUST  

Dream’s heart is desperately trying to escape his chest and he doesn’t blame it. He checks his messages to George for the Nth time.  

HI I NEVER REALLY THOUGHT I’D DO THIS  

I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THIS IS A GOOD IDEA  

BUT YOLO AMIRITE  

I HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU  

PLEASE DON’T HATE ME  

He’s about to facepalm about it again when he sees the ‘Delivered’ turn to ‘Read’ and he almost drops his phone. Three dots to indicate George is there typing. He read his messages. He knows now. God, fuck, this is awful.  

OH , comes George’s eloquent reaction,  NONO I DON’T HATE YOU  

I THINK  

I THINK I KNEW A LITTLE BIT  

BUT MAYBE I DIDN’T  

Dream lets out a high-pitched nervous laugh and combs through his hair with his fingers. He feels insane.  

After a slightly longer pause of typing,  hey it’s okay i’m proud of you for saying that, it takes guts  

It takes everything in him not to crush his phone in his hands and twist himself into a ball, so in a very composed manner he types back,  bsjdhfsksn  

Chapter Text

Skip forward to the start of term again, and Dream realised Sapnap was wrong: nothing had changed. And Dream was over the moon about it. They talked the same, they laughed the same, they sat in silence the same. Turns out when two mature people talk about feelings it  can  turn out okay. If anything, he and George just got even closer than before. Dream was on the verge of tears of relief the first few online interactions after New Year’s because he was just so scared of fucking everything up, but he’s glad he gets to keep their friendship. George made it clear he didn’t feel the same, and somehow, it didn’t even feel like a rejection. Everything was okay. 

The chatter of George’s homeroom was familiar yet grating on his ears at the same time, but Dream was thankful for its presence in his daily routine. A reminder that despite the New Year, everything was the same. He watched as George made his way to the door and said his goodbyes to [Redacted]. He smiled wider when he saw Dream standing at the door, which in turn made Dream smile wider, and then they both walked to class together. He couldn’t help the excited reddening of his ears as he talked to George because talking to George was always the highlight of his day, and his heart squeezed with love at how imperfectly perfect the shorter boy was even as he retold a story about a lady he met on the way to school. He tried to listen, really, but got distracted by his hand movements, the bob of his head as he walked faster to keep up with him, his mouth as he talked, really just everything about him. He thinks George notices, or thinks it’s impossible  not  to notice. Does George overthink their interactions now too? Does he second guess the things he says or does, too? Either way, George doesn’t let him know what he actually thinks. He hardly does. He just continues being charming and cute and goes on with his day. 

“Dream.” George said from the table, with his head hanging off the edge. He puts out a hand in front of him and mimics grabbing the ceiling beams.  

“George.” Dream parroted back in the same tone. He was trying to focus on his homework, but a certain brown-haired boy’s existence meant otherwise.  

They had study as the last lesson of the day and everyone else had already left. Dream didn’t know why George wasn’t in a rush to go home, but he wasn’t complaining. He enjoyed the time they spent together, even if they were doing nothing in the same room. It felt almost domestic. Not that Dream ever thought about that. The impossibility of the possibility made his heart hurt. 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable like that?” Dream finally abandoned his work to face the guy on the table next to him as if he were doing something more interesting. He wasn’t. But it was George.  

“No,” he mumbled, “But I’m just in a silly, goofy mood. Pain means nothing to me.” 

Dream chuckled fondly, starting to turn back to his Geography essay, “Be careful of your neck anyway, Georgie.” A sudden wave of regret washed over his face.  

George froze his suspended arm as he threw his head further back to look at Dream with an equally shocked but more delighted expression. “What did you just call me?” 

“Uhh, autocorrect,” Dream fumbled over his words and belongings, feeling like he needed to be doing something nonchalantly but was doing the exact opposite.  

“This is a verbal conversation, Dream.” George smiled cheekily, now looking at him the right way up, having had moved from his back to sitting up on his hands and twisting his torso towards the blond. 

“It just slipped out because I was laughing.”  

“Oh, this is hilarious,” George said while he shifted to lie on his stomach, elbows on the table, face in palms, legs kicking mockingly.  

Dream still refused to look anywhere in the gremlin’s direction, and let out a huff, “But I– it’s– ugh, whatever.” 

“You’re flustered,” He grinned, “That’s cute.” 

Oh, how he wanted to die. Maybe he  did  die and this was actually hell. The fact that he was burning up might be a solid indicator of that. But that meant George was in his hell too, which didn’t surprise him, but it meant the devils were going for emotional torture for this particular Floridian.  

His inner monologue was interrupted when he felt a poke at his cheek and he flinched away in surprise at the light touch. He saw George withdraw his arm with a giggle, “You’ve gone so red, I can practically feel the heat radiating off you from over here.”  

Cradling his face where he had been prodded, Dream let out a strangled sigh, “I think–” he grabbed his books, “I think I’ll get going. I’ll leave, I’ll go. I’ll— yeah.” 

Cackles followed after him as he made a bee-line to the door, but he couldn’t find it in him to be mad. He mumbled a wobbly, “You’re such an idiot,” and let George sling an arm around his shoulders. 

Dream was about to fall asleep when he sees a notification pop up on his phone. He reaches over and, realising it’s from George, he bolts upright and unlocks the device to reply. 

can i ask you a small favour , the words on his screen read. 

sure, what is it , he sends back. 

i was supposed to book the room for my club today but completely forgot  

and the teacher i'm supposed to ask will apparently only be there in the morning  

but i can only get into school late tomorrow  

and i know you like going into school like really early  

so  

could you talk to the teacher for me?  

Dream stared down at his phone. Since he had a free period first thing tomorrow, he was allowed to skip morning registration and go to school later in the day as long as it was before second period. He was planning on sleeping in because he really needed the rest. He stared harder at his phone. The clock on his wall ticked. He sighed. 

oh sure i can do that , he replies with an air of unconcern that he could never replicate in real life. 

BRILLIANT thank you sm  

of course  

He put his phone down quietly. Then he slapped his palms onto his face. This boy makes him look like such an idiot. 

Chapter Text

Dream was the happiest he’d been in a while. He was in a dark place, sure, but that made the good moments all the brighter. 

After a day of sharing one or two lessons with George, he could look forward to unhinged conversations over text. It was these times that reassured Dream that George was willingly his friend, since during school he couldn’t be sure if it was the forced proximity that brought out the polite friendliness in George, or if it was actually genuine. So, whenever George initiates a conversation online first, he feels like he can finally breathe. George  likes  being Dream’s friend and chooses to spend his free time with him, he knows this. He was okay.  

There was always this debilitating anxiety when interacting with George, fearing he’d said something wrong and he’d messed everything up and that George suddenly decided he hated him in the span of ten minutes and panicking and panicking for what feels like forever before George replies light-heartedly, and then everything is fine. Dream doesn’t mind this, he guesses, although sometimes a worry would snag on his mind. That this mentality and dependence was damaging, that it was too much. However, he reasoned with himself, the cost of his anxiety did not outweigh the rewards of deep friendship, in his perspective. So, he did nothing about it. 

But then those minutes in between responses started to get longer. He started to panic more. He started to feel disproportionate relief for such underwhelming replies. The time between interactions lengthened. He feared he was no longer imagining his worries. Everything was the same, right? 

In his intoxicating euphoria of being fortunate enough to be close friends with George, he forgot about the nature of high school completely. 

It was raining when Dream went for a run. It was raining even harder when he got a message from George. He didn’t look at it until half an hour later when he finally made it back home, drenched. With a sigh he locked the door to his home and threw off his layers, the phone in his pocket sliding out when his coat hit the floor. It lit up from a new notification that caught Dream’s attention. 

Buy milk  

Dream drew his eyebrows together and was overcome with a sense of dread, not because of that reminder, but because of the text message notification under it. 

can we talk?  

He steadied himself with his hand on a windowsill nearby. He didn’t bother reassuring himself that it was nothing because George never opened conversations like this. 

With twitchy hands and shaky legs, he went up to his room and unlocked his phone carefully. 

sure, what about?  

He sunk onto his bed slowly as he waited for a response. When the delivered status changed to ‘Read’ he flinched. He moved further into the middle of the mattress and sat cross-legged. His damp clothes dripped quietly onto the duvet. His knee bounced. All he could do was stare at his screen as the three dots indicating George was typing appeared and disappeared for a good two minutes. He shifted his sitting position. Still typing. He blinked, and suddenly new messages had appeared on his screen in the split second he wasn’t looking. 

a lot of things have been sort of stressful lately  

school, family, [Redacted], all that  

and i know you don’t expect me to tell you everything  

thank you for that btw, letting me keep my secrets lol  

Dream imagined George taking in a breath. 

however  

The typing stopped. A pause. Then the three dots came back. 

i've realised that I'm lowkey not really talking to you as much as i was and basically i feel like i'm massively leading you on because it’s been a really long time and  

you've like said you’re not over it  

me  

it  

idk  

and i just think i need a little break because we talk like A LOT and it’s maybe far too much right now and maybe we just need to take a step back  

Dream’s brain was going a mile a minute but also far too slowly. A break. That should be fine, right? 

Was he too much for him? 

i'm sorry about the stress,  he types. 

Did he hurt him? 

i hope you’re doing okay,  

Did he hate him? 

and that’s completely understandable.  

He felt like his internal organs were all twisting at the same time, to the same beat, and pathetically envisioned himself descending a never-ending spiral of stairs as some sort of poor analogy of where his mental health was heading, as if his imagination was going to help him escape the dull pain. 

It shouldn’t mean this much. He was being humorously dramatic, of course, but if you suddenly had to stop talking to the person you love because of  you  being  you , then this wouldn’t look as laughable, would it? 

thank you  

we can still talk normally irl just  

less  

Dream holds back more pitiful tears,  got it , he types back. 

great  

Great. 

Chapter Text

He realises, with the help of Sapnap, this break might be good for him. Dream knows how dependent he is on George and how wrapped up in his own mind he is about everything to do with him, but it’s something you can’t really be aware of until you’re out of it, which Dream is very much not. His interactions with George were genuinely the only thing keeping him going at this point, so maybe that might need to change. Change is good. This’ll be fine.  

Dream walks to school with a clouded mind, his only thoughts being a heavy fog of anxiety and playthroughs of what he should do in numerous potential scenarios. He wonders if people he passes can sense the storm he had just been through, or if they just see his schooled face and assume he’s walking with a purpose he knows he doesn’t have. His mind aches prematurely because it knows there’s a very long day of acts and pretences ahead. 

The first class to tackle was Maths. They share a table so Dream definitely didn’t overthink about having to sit next to George because this is supposed to be normal and Dream knew all about being normal. He considered sitting somewhere else though. Or just bunking the class altogether, which he’s never done. But, still, he stuck to the planned scenario he thought about on his way to school, opening the door of the room with a soft exhale. He was surprised to find George already at his seat unpacking his bag. This was supposed to be a normal morning, but there was nothing normal about George being early to class. The swing of the door caught the brunet’s attention as he was pulling his textbook out. It landed back in his bag with a thud when he used that hand to give a small wave to Dream. He gave a small smile in return. 

“Hey,” George called, tucking his chair in. 

“Hi,” Dream said hesitantly, shrugging his bag off and taking his seat. 

He hoped he looked less panicked than he felt because awkward situations always brought out the worst in him. Did he smile too much? Should he have greeted him with something else? Was this class always this quiet? Why was he hugging his bag in his lap? He needed to take out his books before the teacher arrived but he had put his bag there with visible intent and he would look stupid if he had waited that long to open it and unpack. A figurative sweat drop rolled down his temple. He finally unzipped his bag. 

Of course, no one else noticed his inner turmoil. It was only the end of the world to him alone. 

Dream was okay at Maths. This made the lesson slightly tolerable even if he despised the material. George was better though, and when Dream would get stuck on a question, he would usually turn to him for help, because he felt that calling the teacher over to his desk would be bothersome for everyone involved. He hoped he’d get through today’s work with less trouble to save himself from facing George unnecessarily, but alas, you cannot grow miraculously smarter overnight. So, Dream was inching away as the shorter one leant more in his space to correct his work. George's body radiated heat when it was close to him, as humans do, but Dream’s body was foolish enough to spontaneously mimic that heat in the form of an uncomfortable blush. Their fingers brushed once when shifting the papers, which really did not help him at all. Just when his insides were about to implode from all the unassuming whispers and touches, the bell rang, indicating his freedom at last. He bolted out the room leaving George behind with only a glance over his shoulder. 

He felt like he could finally breathe in the corridor. Dream thanked the universe for all the next classes he had without George. 

School again the next day, and the only class he had with George was study. Okay, he could do this. He could be normal this time. 

He intended on spending the hour doing Biology in the library, sprinkling in some conversation to satiate George to make sure he didn’t start anything that Dream would be unprepared for, because George was an unpredictable little fucker and it only ever ended badly for his heart. However, the brunet always found a way to put him in a stupid predicament. 

Dream let out a relieved sigh when he finished the last question in his textbook with a flourish. He glanced discreetly at George diagonally opposite him on the desk, noting how he was just scrolling on his phone. The light conversation of the hour to be determined by Dream’s mental spinning wheel of fortune was... He looked down at his book in hand,  Percy Jackson and The Battle of The Labyrinth,  and opened to the bookmarked page. After pretending to read a few pages, he got George’s attention and spoke quietly, “When Annabeth said ‘I’m always right’, it reminded me of you. But you’re usually wrong, L.” And put fingers in the shape of an ‘L’ on his forehead, just for emphasis. 

It was supposed to be a light-hearted jab, a funny poke to prompt George into bantering about how he was actually, in fact, always right. Instead of the scoff and kick to the shin Dream was expecting, George just looked at him. 

“You said you related most to the main character of that series, right?” he asked simply. 

Confused, and foolishly thinking he’d get to talk about his favourite book, Dream replied, “Yeah! Oh, my gosh, it’s crazy because I know I’d make almost the exact same decisions as him and—”  

“This is your millionth re-read too, isn’t it?” he interrupts. “Don’t Percy and Annabeth get together in the end?” 

“They do, actually.” Dream responds, surprised. “Have you read it?” 

“And you said I remind you of Annabeth.” George continues, seemingly ignoring his question. 

Dream’s ears reddened at the implication that George was alluding to, “Well, I mean— to be fair, yeah,” he stumbled trying to get a coherent word out, “You are kinda like her in a lot of ways, like— like how she’s smart, and calculating, and usually has the upper-hand, and... Everything, y’know.” 

All through that disaster of a sentence, George sat with his head resting on his palm, a small cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His glittering eyes bore into Dream’s. “I appreciate the compliments, Seaweed Brain.” Then he exited the library with his bag slung on one shoulder, a wink thrown over the other, and Dream all but evaporated on the spot. 

The week after their agreement for a break had been the most bizarre of them all. Did George realise what he was doing? Did he consider this to be any less than how they interacted before? Was George doing this on purpose? Like some sick test to make sure that Dream does the right thing? All the questions and worries and stress frazzled the blond man’s mind. He wasn’t sure what to think.  

Finally, his indecision allowed him to decide, and he sought out the brunet in the middle of the school day. It was tiring having to function on a constantly spiralling mind and he needed to put an end to it. Confrontation wasn’t usually his go-to, but the life he was living wasn’t exactly his go-to either. 

He swung around the edge of the open doorframe, “Hey, George,” and immediately started belatedly panicking because he didn’t even check if the classroom was empty before he so confidently crashed into what could have been a very important lesson, but thankfully it really was just George. He put a hand on his chest and let out a breath. 

George looked up from his work and his face comedically went from intense boredom to overly relieved, “Dream, hey!” 

“Hi,” he said again, awkwardly, taking a seat on top of the table next to him, “I just needed to see you.”  

An eyebrow raise and a delighted little smile, “You needed to see me?”  

“Well, I could’ve worded that better,” Dream hastily amended, “but yeah, I just... wanted to talk.” 

“About what?” He leant back to shift his weight to his chair’s hind legs and put his knee between him and the table. It was a simple enough movement, but it captured his attention anyway. It just screamed nonchalant confidence to Dream, and he felt himself warm slightly with awe, despite his currently muddied feelings, despite it being right now, despite everything. He hated himself for it. 

Willing the blush away, Dream tried to calm himself down. “We were supposed to have a break.” There was no warning for the serious conversation, but it was too late to think of a suitable segue now. 

A dip in George’s expression and energy. It wouldn’t have usually been picked up on, but Dream could tell, and he prided himself on it. Even now. 

George shrugged. “Yeah? And we are.” 

“In what way can the past few days ever be considered a ‘break’?” He said incredulously, “Were you even aware of what you were doing?” 

“Well, you were always the one that approached me.” He tried to counter. Not entirely correctly, if he might add. 

“Because I still wanted a sense of normality.” 

“Then why didn’t you ever initiate a conversation?” 

“I was just doing what you asked me to do.” Dream said, “Remember? I understood the stress I put you through, and tried to lessen it. I tried to distance myself and limit our interactions. But then you go and do,” he gestured aimlessly, “That. Just what is going through your mind, George? Because, god, fuck, you are unreadable.” 

He looked away and huffed. “You’re being an idiot.” 

Dream felt something snap inside him. He doesn’t know if it was from George’s dismissive attitude, or from the built-up uncertainty and confusion, or from the tears he’s been holding in for weeks, but he’s tired. It’s been so long, and he’s tired of it. Too many years of reaching, of yearning, of searching for something to make him feel alive. What has it amounted to? A pathetic love. A love that couldn’t be returned. It’s been years, how as he not found what he was after? How is it still not the end yet? He doesn’t quite know who he is anymore. He’s not sure if he ever did. 

“Alright,” Dream nodded slowly in spiteful defeat, “Maybe I am an idiot. Maybe I am at fault.” He looks at the brunet with something inside him he didn’t know he had. “But it’s not just me.”  

George could only stare. There was clearly something more in his eyes than what was being said, but Dream didn’t know. There’s a lot of things he didn’t know about George. 

“I’ll come back when you’ve figured your shit out.” 

And then Dream turned and left. 

Chapter Text

The first message Dream received from George after days of silence was really the last thing he expected. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since Dream left the brunet alone in the classroom, and they were unsure of how the other was coping with the distance and coldness. To answer this, both men were faring terribly. So, when George texted Dream a barely spell-checked message at 2:31am on a Tuesday night, it took everything in him to react normally. 

hi i know this is probably rlly wierd rn   

but [Redacted] jsut asked me who my crush was   

so i just paniced and said you   

felt like i needed to tell u even tho you probably wouldnt like it  

sorry  

Dream blinked down at his screen. No way this was happening. He checked the contact name, then the phone number, then his other chats, then came back to the messages that absolutely had to be fake in some way.  

um okay,  he types back. 

He sighed. Maybe he was over-reacting.  i hope you know ure an idiot btw  

yeah,  came the reply.  

It’s just a dumb little thing that George can smooth over, and then they won’t have to acknowledge it ever again, right? He could trust him to at least do that. It’ll be fine. He rolled over and went back to sleep. 

He could not trust him to at least do that. Apparently, [Redacted] believed him. What did this mean for the ill-fated main character and love interest? It meant they had to put up pretences. [Redacted] has always been an eager observer, and it was very clear their current subject of observation was these two. The pair couldn’t afford to be caught in a lie, the strain of the truth being revealed un-surreptitiously may be enough to break them completely, so they resorted to another lie. Mutuality.  

There had been no reconciliation. There had been no apology, no ‘My bad’, no nothing. It was an immediate dive into sitting together almost domestically, fingers ‘secretly’ intertwined, in the clear pathway of [Redacted]’s keen eyes, but just obscured enough that it didn’t look intentional. Dream didn’t know how he hadn’t erupted into flames yet at this absurd setting with this absurd person. It helped that George was also looking slightly flustered, even though he had no right to be, not with the way he so confidently marched up to Dream and hugged him. In hindsight it made sense, because it was so that he could whisper a warning in a way that his ‘crush’ wouldn’t be able to see, since they were already in the room with him when the lesson started, but, god, did it shock him to his core. Dream guesses that it would explain why they were smiling at him more than usual today. 

Several well-timed glances and warm touches later, the bell signalling lunch finally rang. While usually indicating freedom, today was simply an anomaly, because the moment Dream untangled himself from George, [Redacted] stopped him.‘It’s been a while since we’ve all done a lunchtime game, hasn’t it?’ they said, ‘I think we should play something,’  they said. Dread pooled at the bottom of his stomach, and he gained a headache when the rest of the class yelled in agreement. Any other day, he would’ve been all for the nostalgia of this moment, but right now, he needed distance. 

Someone started counting, and Dream just took off. He left before he felt any further happiness. He didn’t bother checking if anyone was following him, he didn’t care, he couldn’t care, because the glimpse into a future where George liked him back gave him something close to hope, and it was painful. His mind couldn’t stop replaying the kind eyes, the teasing pokes, the skin against skin of their bare knees in shorts from football earlier. He hated it. He wanted more. But the crash of reality continued to be unkind to those who just want to be loved. 

Accompanied by a sheen of unwept tears, Dream navigated his way to a random cloakroom, without direction or intention, just pure survival instinct guiding him through this game of hide and seek. His legs found their way to a bag locker. Short but deep; half-filled; functional handle. He ducked inside, mind still lagging and spiralling. Before he could shut the door, something yanked it back and then crawled inside with him. He blinked himself out of his own head to finally see that the something had a mess of brown hair and football attire. George closed the door and turned the handle, still not exactly acknowledging the blond. Dream realised he was staring again but didn’t have the energy to fix it. George had his knees drawn to his chest, the same as Dream, but his expression was one of ferocious determination, only it was directed at his shoes. They sat in a silence that felt like it was bubbling, like it, too, was apprehensive. 

“I should’ve been open from the start,” George breathed out. 

At the same time, Dream held his breath. 

“Just... It’s hard to. The truth never came easy to me, no matter how much I wanted it to. You somehow made it both easier and harder,” he smiled to himself, “Because you have so much inside you, and you always find a way to tell it or show it. It made me feel... Loved. And insecure. I wished I could be like that.”  

George was still looking at his shoes, but it felt like it was the first time he was looking into Dream’s soul. He’d never expected that he thought this deeply about any of this. Or that he’d ever find the words to say it. 

An uncertain breath in, “So when I sort-of rejected you and asked for a break, I thought I was safe again. I thought I gained some security back. I felt, for the first time, that I was allowed to be real. It brought out the nuisance in me, I’ve noticed.”  

“Yeah, kinda.” Dream muttered back. They both laughed silently at that. 

George wrapped his arms around his legs and placed his chin on his knees. “I was learning how to be genuine, and I’ve learnt that my genuine self kinda likes...” his eyes finally flick up to Dream, “You.”  

The whispered confession knocked the wind out of him. His lightly proud expression morphed into violent surprise, and his elbow unlocked from his tense position and knocked against the metal of the locker which gave off a wobbly noise of thunder. He sees George reach his hands out half-way as if to catch him only to realise there was nothing to catch.  

George lets out a laugh, “You alright, Dream?”  

No, he thinks, you like me back. I should be asking you that.   

“What about [Redacted]?” Dream says out loud instead.  

A pause, then a grimace, “I don’t think I even really liked them.”  

The light through the open lines in the locker door illuminate George’s eyes for a split second when he shifts in his seat.  

“I just chose someone safe to fawn over that wasn’t you,” he continued with his eyes averted, “It was less scary that way. I had a feeling I would lose myself completely if I let myself think about you.”  

With him sitting close enough for the tips of their shoes to touch but apart enough that he still feels whole, Dream can’t help but melt at how vulnerable Goerge was being right now, spilling the emotions he was so distraught about for them both to see and understand. It squeezes his heart in the loveliest way because it’s a finally and not a still not yet. There was an end, and Dream was content that it was a good one.  

He felt a slow smile spread across his face, “You’re really something, huh, George?”  

The brunet looked at him and scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean, idiot?”  

“Nothing,” His smile was now a full face-splitting grin, “I’m proud of you for saying that. It takes guts.”  

He laughs loudly, and George laughs louder. Then the locker doors are wrenched open, but the two are too far gone to care.