Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dream had his first drink when George first came to Florida. That is, three months ago. Which explains why George isn’t expecting anything to happen when Sapnap warns him before they leave that they’re planning on getting wasted.

“Good luck convincing Dream of that,” he snorts, shaking his head. 

“It was his idea,” Sapnap replies, which makes George send him an unimpressed look before the door slams shut. He doesn’t believe that in the slightest. Dream has never shown any interest in alcohol, and the only drinks he’s had so far have been two cans of beer, which he didn’t even enjoy. The word wasted doesn’t even sound like something he’d say. 

He doesn’t get to ask Dream about it though, not when only seconds later he comes walking down the stairs in a rush. George tries not to stare too much, but fails miserably. It’s hard not to ogle at Dream when he never fails to look good. Maintaining eye contact is even worse—it was one thing to hear his already addictive voice through the phone, but combining that to his piercing eyes is almost impossible to bear. He thinks he does a good enough job at being subtle but sometimes—sometimes he prays Dream is as oblivious as he seems. 

For a moment he even considers ignoring the video he has to edit and going out with the both of them after all, if anything to continue staring at his best friend wearing those tight jeans and dark button down. He’s never even seen him wear this before. 

“Are you guys gonna be back late?” he asks before Dream gets to walk out, although he isn’t sure why he’s asking—maybe just to get to talk to him before he leaves. 

Dream didn’t even seem to notice he was in the living room as he turns his way, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh hey. Yeah, uh. I don’t know. Maybe?” he shrugs as he slips on his jacket. “I’ll text you, if you want.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll probably be hauled up in the office anyway.”

Dream’s gaze softens as he opens the door. “Remember to eat something,” he says before sending him one last smile and shutting the door. 

George exhales. He hopes he’ll be able to focus despite that obvious distraction. Where are they even going that they need to look that good? He was sure Sapnap only said they were going out for drinks. 

He does get a lot of work done during the time they are gone, though. He edits for three more hours before deciding to take a break and heading back outside. His eyes hurt from having been staring at the screen for too long and he’s pretty sure his back and legs are sore by now. It’s one a.m, and when he checks his phone he doesn’t find any texts from Dream. 

He exhales as he throws himself on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe they aren’t heading back yet. Or he really thought George didn’t actually care.

He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but a tiny part of him wonders if they went to a club or something like that. Sapnap definitely would want to get laid, find some girl who catches his eye—would Dream be interested, too? Would he flirt with some random stranger, maybe even bring them back here? He shudders at the idea. He’s glad at least his bedroom is on the opposite side of the house. 

He knows he’s lucky that Dream hasn’t dated anyone in so long, but it’s one of his worst fears. Before moving in he at least had the possibility of turning off his phone and pretending that Dream wasn’t dating anyone an ocean away.

Now that they live together though, he’s forced to see whoever he ends up dating. He’s forced to get to know them, to watch them hold hands, kiss, laugh while George is just…there. The best friend. 

What if Dream falls in love with someone else and wants to live with them instead? 

He runs a hand through his hair, annoyed. He’s clearly getting ahead of himself. Dream hasn’t shown any interest in anyone in a long time. But now that he’s done the face reveal and is able to leave the house, go anywhere he wants…

He’s saved from digging his own mind into an even bigger hole by the sound of the front door opening. He sits up on the couch, confused at the sight that greets him—Sapnap visibly struggling to hold up a very drunk Dream.

“What the hell—”

“George, fuck. Please, can you hold him for a minute—I think my arm is gonna die.”

He rushes to their side, shutting the door behind them before wrapping an arm around Dream’s waist. He seems so out of it he doesn’t even realize George is supporting half of his weight.

“What happened? What did you do to him?” he immediately asks, narrowing his eyes his friend’s way.

Sapnap glares at him as he rubs a hand over his now free arm. 

“What do you mean, idiot? I didn’t do anything. He drank so much I had to drag him back home.”

George sends one look at Dream as he continues staring off at the floor. He’s still able to hold himself up…mostly. He’s pretty sure he’d fall if he let go, though. 

“ What? He—why would he do that?”

His friend hesitates before replying, sending Dream a knowing look as he shakes his head. “Because he’s an idiot.”

He can tell there’s more to the story than that, but he won’t press. He’s aware that there’s a different friendship between the two of them. They’ve been living together and known each other for far longer than he has. He just wishes Dream would confide in him that way, too.

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I’m not his dad! Also, he can be really scary when he wants to be.”

George sighs. “I can’t believe you are the sober one.”

“Well, someone had to drive. Take him to his room. I’m gonna shower.”

“Wait—”

“It’s your turn!” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. George glares at his retreating back. The asshole.

He sends another tentative look Dream’s way, trying to catch his eye. He’s never seen him like this, none of them have. This is the first time he’s ever been drunk—he doesn’t know what to expect.

“Dream, hey can you hear me?”

The younger looks at him then, his green eyes only slightly less intimidating now that he seems so confused and sleepy. He doesn’t reply for a moment, just staring at him before he sighs and wraps his arms around George, making him freeze.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he hears him mumble into his neck. 

“Do what? Dream—you’re scaring me,” he whispers, but when he gets no reply he carefully steps away, trying to gently guide him to the nearest seat. He can’t believe Sapnap really just walked off and left him. What is he supposed to do? “Let’s lie you down for a bit, come here.”

Dream thankfully follows his words—or maybe he just falls when George lets go of him. But either way, he ends up lying on the sofa and that’s enough for him. 

“You want some water?”

The younger stares at him, and he looks so sad that George wants to do anything in his capacity to make him feel better. Is Dream going through something he didn’t know about? What kind of friend is he?

He looked fine before they both left. He thinks back to the previous days, trying to remember any sign of anything that might have upsetted him, but he comes up empty-handed. 

“Don’t leave me,” he hears him say.

George nods, immediately rushing to his side instead and sitting on the floor by the couch. The eye contact really is much easier this way. Dream probably won’t even remember any of this, so he can allow himself to be as unsubtle as he wishes.

“You feeling okay?” he mumbles out, but Dream doesn’t seem to hear him as he continues staring at him, eyes unfocused. 

“Mm…you’re pretty,” he says, almost in awe before letting out a giggle. 

George almost chokes as he looks away, ignoring the rising heat to his face. 

He’s drunk he’s drunk he’s drunk, he repeats to himself. He’s making no sense and probably doesn’t even know where he is, let alone what the hell is coming out of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles out all the same. “You—you, too.”

Dream smiles. “I’m…pretty?”

George nods, but the younger quickly seems to forget about the entire conversation as he glances away and sighs. 

“Ugh—” he suddenly groans then, before he even gets to fully process the compliment he just threw his way. He watches him cover his face with both hands and whine against them. 

“Hey, hey. Careful,” George chastises as he realizes he’s applying too much pressure with his hands. He tries to take them away to no avail. Even when drunk he’s still stupidly strong compared to him. “What’s wrong?”

He shudders. 

George holds onto his wrists, rubbing circles there trying to calm him down. 

“I just love him so much—”

“Dream, who? What?”

“I can’t keep doing it, I can’t.”

George finally manages to pry his hands away from his face, but the minute he realizes Dream has tears in his eyes and that’s what he was covering all along, his heart breaks inside his chest. He’s never seen him cry before. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s still holding his face until the younger leans into his touch, closing his eyes as he nuzzles one of his palms. It’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen, despite the tears clinging to his eyelines. 

“Dream—please just…tell me what to do.”

“It’s not your fault, Sap.”

George frowns. Sap? Wait…does he. Does he think he’s Sapnap?

“I’m not—”

“I’ll move on, it’s fine,” he whispers out, but he looks so miserable that George thinks he’s going to end up crying, too. He sends another glance down the hallway, wishing Sapnap would just come here and help. Dream doesn’t even seem to have realized he’s home and Sapnap has left a long time ago. He probably knows the right things to say and do and George is just so lost—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sorry,” he says, deciding to run his fingers through Dream’s hair instead, since he at least seems to be enjoying George’s gentle touches. He’s relieved when Dream shuts his eyes again, looking a bit more at ease for a moment. “I wish I could help.”

He continues playing with his hair for what feels like minutes, watching him carefully as he tries to come up with some sort of plan. Shouldn’t he be getting him to his room like Sapnap said? But he looks so comfortable here—and what about water? He should be getting him water but if he leaves then he’ll start crying again. He’s never had to deal with someone drunk before. The friends he had in college would pass out on their beds or not return to the dorm at all. Even if they would, George would’ve never found himself patiently reassuring them and caressing their faces. 

But for Dream—well, he would do anything. Even moving across the continent without even caring about seeing his face before or not. 

He is started from his thoughts as a whimper abandons Dream’s mouth. He freezes, hand halting on its movements as he watches him. 

He’s crying again. He looks so small and defenseless—George has never felt more useless than he does now, sitting by his side unable to help. Whenever Dream has been worried about something, stressed or anxious, they’d talk on the phone and figure it out. George has been good at that, at supporting him, at being there whenever he needed him. It was the reason his calls have always gone through when no one else’s did.

And now he’s here, inches away and completely lost.

“Darling, what’s wrong? What is it? What can I do?” he doesn’t even realize he’s just used a pet name until Dream opens his eyes and stares at him, almost in awe. His eyes are rimmed with red, eyelashes wet. He still manages to look beautiful.

“I don’t think I can move—move on.“

“Move on? From what?”

“He’s so pretty,” he hears him mumble to himself, his attention diverted once more as he stares at the ceiling.

you’re pretty.

he’s so pretty.

He shakes his head, not letting his mind wander to dangerous places. Not now. He needs to focus, he needs to help him.

“Wanna go to bed, Dream? Mm? Doesn’t that sound good?” he asks, trying to distract him.

It works.

“If you come with me.”

George smiles, something soft and tender and sad. “Of course. I’m not leaving you.”

And he doesn’t. He helps Dream up the stairs, glad he seems able to stand upright with little help. He only stumbles twice and both times George catches him, at least relieved that Dream finds it funny and giggles to himself.

“Sorry—”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing great,” George reassures him the second time, smiling when Dream laughs while he guides him down the hallway and to his door. “Dream, you need to let go so I can open your door.”

The younger wraps an arm around his waist from behind and buries his nose on his neck, making his entire body burn. “You smell like George.”

“I am George,” he laughs, hoping he can’t hear the choked way it comes out. Dream freezes for a moment and he fears he might let go of him, but instead he holds onto him even tighter than before. “ Dream. Seriously, I can’t move like this.”

“Good, stay,” he mumbles out.

“I’m gonna stay, I promise. But I don’t wanna sleep in the hallway,” he explains. “Let’s go to bed, yes?”

“Okay.”

George finally gets to open the door, but as soon as he shuts it Dream is pulling him to bed and they’re both falling down until their backs hit the mattress. 

He hasn’t been in Dream’s bedroom many times since moving in here—maybe two or three. It’s weirdly intimidating and he never dares to knock or walk inside unannounced, as much as he’s joked about it in the past. It smells like his cologne and his bed is much bigger than his own.

George kind of wants to bury his face in his pillow but that’d be weird. 

“Dream. That was rude,” he says instead. 

The younger wraps both arms around his waist and pulls him close.

“You can’t leave, you promised.”

He’s so endeared by him that he thinks there won’t be any hope for him after tonight. Dream is adorable. He wants to keep him forever. 

“I’m not leaving!” he laughs, but despite the amusement in his voice, Dream seems to believe him as he visibly relaxes beside him. 

“Okay.”

He doesn’t think they’ve ever been this close before. They’ve hugged a couple of times, but not like this. Dream is holding him as if he was scared he’d slip away the minute he let go. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” he says, voice soft. “You smell good.”

He chuckles, rubbing a gentle hand down his back. “I showered.”

It’s quiet then, for long enough that George wonders if he’s fallen asleep. But then Dream is twisting around to face him, one arm still caged around him. 

“I’m sorry.”

George looks at him, reaching until he can run soothing knuckles down his cheek. “Why are you sorry, baby?”

Dream’s eyes widen. He can’t see him as well as he wishes. He hasn’t turned on the light and the only thing providing any clarity is the moonlight filtering through the open window. But even with only the moon kissing his face, he can still see the shock in Dream’s face. 

It’s weird, being jealous of the moon.

“I—did you just call me—”

George clears his throat. “Why are you sorry?”

Dream’s face falls again. He looks down, almost ashamed. “I want to move on—I will, I promise. For you.”

His heart hammers against his chest. He’s been acting foolish to everything Dream has said so far because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. It’s happened many times before— George reading between lines, wondering if Dream meant any of the flirty jokes he’d throw his way. But then he dated someone a few years back and all hope was lost. 

And now he’s been living here, under the same roof, for months. And nothing has changed. Nothing has even been remotely close to changing.

Until now.

“Move—move on from…from what?”

Dream looks miserable when he looks back at him and confesses, “You.”

You.

George ignores the skipping his heart does. He ignores how he struggles to breathe and his hand visibly trembles as he lowers it from Dream’s face. 

He shakes his head, refusing to follow the urge to kiss the pain away from his face. 

“...no, you—you’re drunk. It’s fine. Just. Get some sleep, o-okay?”

“I’m sorry, George. I tried. I really did. You’re just so—” he exhales, but whatever he is, he doesn’t get to find out as Dream falls asleep only moments later, face pressed against his chest. 

George glances out the window, watching the moon through blurry eyes.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was torture. Holding Dream until he fell asleep and then carefully leaving him—even after promising he wouldn’t. He didn’t think he’d remember any of it when he woke up, anyway. And spending a single second with his arms wrapped around the younger was going to drive him truly insane. He didn’t get a wink of sleep afterwards, either. How could he, when all he could hear as he shut his eyes were Dream’s words, repeated like a mantra hot-sealed into his brain? 

Dream might forget what he told him, might wake up and think he was just drunk on a crazy night out and that was it—but George will remember. George will have to live with the reminder of what he’s always wanted, teased right in front of his eyes only to be taken away from him again.

“Hey, sorry about last night,” is what Sapnap says to him when he walks inside the kitchen the next morning. He looks well rested. Someone has to be. “I was really exhausted from—oh. You…don’t look so good.”

George slams the bottle of milk against the counter as he glares at him.

“Oh, I wonder why that is. Wait, I think I know. You left me to deal with him by myself .”

Sapnap rolls his eyes as he opens the fridge. “Come on, it was just Dream. I told you to take him to bed. How could that have ruined your night?”

“Ruined my night?” George lets out a bitter laugh. “You ruined my existence. ”

The younger turns around, face a mix between confused and amused. If he makes fun of him, George will literally throw this bottle at him. 

“Okay, now. That’s dramatic.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Sapnap raises his eyebrows, now suddenly looking slightly concerned. “What the hell happened last night?”

George shakes his head. It’s not like he can tell him. Sapnap will just tell him to let it go, that Dream was visibly out of it and he shouldn’t read into it…which is exactly what he’s been telling himself all night long, but—

“Nothing, forget about it,” is what he says instead, walking out of the kitchen and ignoring as the younger yells at him to put the milk back in the fridge.

He’s glad at least Dream will be asleep for most of the day. He refuses to leave his bedroom long enough to find out, anyway. That’s why he went to get something to eat early. He wants to avoid any opportunities of seeing him. He doesn’t know what he’ll say or do, because even if Dream has no idea the mental turmoil he’s put him in, George is still suffering through it. 

And there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

His isolation doesn’t last too long. He spends the entire day holed up in his bedroom, ignoring how hungry he gets around the afternoon. He's even considering ordering food and having Sapnap bring it over but that would probably be even more suspicious.

It’s at seven p.m. when finally someone knocks on his door and he freezes. 

Sapnap never knocks, he just walks inside and then starts yelling if George has locked the door—to his own room , mind you. So then that means…

He isn’t ready. He hasn’t thought of what to say—even if Dream won’t think there’s anything going on with him…

“George? Can I come in?”

Fuck.

He sits up on his bed, locking his phone and quickly catching his reflection on the mirror by the bed. He doesn’t look great but hopefully Dream won’t notice the prominent bags under his eyes. 

“Yeah—yes.”

Dream opens the door and George hates him for not looking hungover at all. He looks fine. Like usual. Not like he’s been up until two a.m, having drunk enough to make it hard to stand on his own. His eyes aren’t even slightly bloated from crying. He looks fine and George looks like a mess and this is the exact thing he was sure would happen.

“You’re awake,” he stupidly points out. 

Dream nods. “Yeah uh. I woke up a few hours ago.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I had a headache but I took some advil…” he rubs a hand against his nape and George half wishes he didn’t know him as well as he does. Even if he isn’t used to studying his facial expressions just yet, he can read the tone of his voice better than anyone else’s. He’s uncomfortable and stalling for time. 

He remembers.

George freezes when Dream sits by the edge of his bed, the distance between their bodies the loudest it’s ever been. 

“George can we, can we talk?”

“Yeah, yes. Of course,” he clears his throat. He has no idea what Dream is about to say. He didn’t consider the possibility of him remembering…of him coming to talk about it. But of course he would. It’s what Dream does. He talks about things and fixes them. And George…he hides his feelings for five years and hopes they’ll disappear if he ignores them for long enough. You know, like a normal person. “What—is everything okay?”

Dream won’t meet his eyes. 

“It’s about last night…I—I remember a few things I said,” he starts. George’s eyes widen as the realization sinks in that if Dream remembers what he said then maybe he remembers what George said, too. How he called him pet names and held him to his chest and played with his hair. Oh. That’s what this conversation is. That’s why Dream can’t look at him. How more obvious could he have been? “Maybe. I’m not sure I dreamed it but—just in case, I want to—”

George stands up.

Dream glances at him, confused. 

“I forgot to…put the milk away. I mean. In the fridge,” he says. “I forgot to put the milk back in the fridge.”

The younger stares at him. “Uh, I—I didn’t see anything on the counter just now. Sapnap must’ve…put it back.”

George nods. Great. He probably should’ve used literally any other excuse.

“I should go check—”

Dream sees right through him. He watches him exhale. He looks exhausted all of the sudden, almost small in his soft hoodie and sweatpants. He wants to wrap him in his arms again. 

“George. I know…I know this isn’t a nice conversation to have. But please, it’s—it’s harder for me than for you.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. How can he say that? Rejecting someone is not worse than getting rejected.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Please, just. Sit down.”

George relents, defeated as he does what he’s told. Dream always knows best. If he thinks they need to talk about it—maybe it’s for the best. Perhaps George will get closure and finally be able to move on. But as he glances at Dream’s profile and studies the edge of his jaw, he feels tears pool into his eyes.

He’s never going to move on. Dream is his person. He’s always going to want more, always going to love him—and his feelings will always be too big for him to conceal. By now, it’s as if trying to stop himself from bleeding out by pressing a fragile finger over an open wound.

“I…I wanted to apologize,” Dream starts again.

George looks away. He really doesn’t want him to see him cry, he doesn’t want Dream to feel worse than he probably already does. 

“For what?”

“For…whatever I might have said that could’ve…made you uncomfortable,” he says. George frowns, glancing back at him. That’s not the apology he was expecting. He ignores the tiny flare of hope that blooms inside him, telling the voice inside his head to shut up. He’s been confused before. He doesn’t need that anymore. Hope isn’t a positive feeling when it always leads to heartbreak. 

And yet, he has to ask. 

“Did you mean any of those things?”

Dream pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t…don’t make me say it. We can just forget about it, okay? I promise, I won’t bring it up again. Or drink enough to get like that. It was terrible.”

Don’t make me say it.

George scoots closer to him across the bed. “Dream. What if—what if I don’t want to forget it?”

“You can’t let it ruin this, please. I’m gonna move on, I promise you—”

George reaches forward then, desperately taking Dream’s hands on his own, forcing his eyes to finally look at him.  

“ No. No, please don’t move on. Please. ”

The younger glances at their intertwined hands, confused. “What?”

“Don’t move on, ever. I won’t let you.”

Dream frowns, sliding his eyes back to him. He looks hurt. “That’s—that’s…why? Why do you want me to feel this way?”

George feels his lower lip wobble and bites it, willing it to stop. There’s a lump in his throat and he’s scared it might come loose at any second now.  “Because if you move on then—then what am I supposed to do?” he asks, voice merely a whisper.

“George…what are you saying right now?”

He shuts his eyes, squeezes Dream’s hands on his own. 

“I love you. I’m saying that I—I’m in love with you. That I have been for so long and I didn’t…I wasn’t sure…I never…you can’t move on, that wouldn’t be fair. I haven’t even done anything. We haven’t even—” he doesn’t get to keep talking though, his mess of words thankfully pushed back down his throat as Dream kisses him until his mouth goes completely numb under his touch. 

It’s a soft, tender thing, Dream cradling the side of his face with one of his hands and pulling him close, coaxing his lips to open under his own. They’re still holding hands as Dream rubs his thumb over George’s knuckle and he’s never felt this loved before, in his entire life. He kisses him as if he were the most important thing being held between his hands. 

“You’re in love with me?” he asks him when they break apart, eyes big with wonder.

“Yes. Yes. Why—what did you think these last five years were?” George laughs, and it comes out watery as the tears finally stream down his face. He can’t believe this is happening. 

“I never thought—I never even let myself think…”

“Dream,” he says. “I changed my entire life for you. I—I’ve loved you for years.”

Instead of making him feel good though, George’s words make Dream’s face fall. “Years? We lost years ?”

“It’s okay—”

Dream shakes his head, pressing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s done it as he continues talking, “No, I’m like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.”

George smiles, leaning forward to kiss him, too. He’s allowed now. He can take what he’s always wanted. He feels giddy, like a kid being told he can have all the candy he wants. How is he ever supposed to stop?

“Then I’m one, too.”

“God, Sapnap was right.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I—he knew about my feelings. He said you felt the same way but I wouldn’t hear him out. That’s why he agreed when I said I wanted to…get wasted,” he winces. “To distract myself, I guess. Didn’t quite work out.”

As the realization sinks in, George scoffs. “I bet that’s why he insisted I took care of you. He’s an idiot.”

Dream smiles. “Shut up, it’s thanks to him we figured it out.”

“I’m never thanking Sapnap,” he says, but he might apologize for yelling at him earlier today. He didn’t ruin his existence, after all—quite the opposite, really.

“Don’t be difficult,” Dream says, endlessly fond as he kisses his nose. He’s so in love. 

George is still holding one of his hands. He thinks he’ll go insane if he stops touching any part of him for longer than two seconds. 

“You don’t remember everything I said last night, then?”

Dream blushes, glancing away. “I thought I dreamed that part.”

“No, baby,” George grins, rejoicing in the color spreading down his neck and the way he melts at his words. “You didn’t.”

“Fuck, come here. I’m never letting go of you,” he promises, wrapping both arms around him. George goes pliant under his touch, leaning in until all he can feel is Dream. 

“Good. I don’t want you to.”

As he holds him he makes up his mind about something—he’s never going to make Dream cry about him the way he did last night. He’ll wake up every morning and remind him how much he loves him, and then whisper it against his skin right before they fall asleep, for good measure. 

He’s never going to doubt again, not when it comes to them.