Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I stretch, blinking as a sharp buzzing cut through the peaceful night time silence. Beside me, on my desk, my phone is shuddering and glowing, announcing a call from George. I roll over, leaning forward slightly to see my digital clock mocking me with a fluorescent 2:45 AM.

I groan, holding up an arm to shield my face from the light, and clumsily accept the call. "Hello?"

"Dream!" George's distinct British accent echoes out of the phone, slightly muffled, as always. "Today's the day!"

I sit up, still groggy, as George's words begin to sink in. "W-what? Today? That's today?!" I laugh gleefully, kicking the sheets off my legs and springing forward, suddenly wide awake. "George!"

"You- you forgot, didn't you?" George snorts, and I picture him rolling his eyes at me, trademark smirk on his face.

"No! I didn't forget, I just-"

I forgot.

But he doesn't need to know that.

I stutter for a moment, running through different excuses in my mind before landing on one that seems remotely plausible. "I was just distracted. You know how I get, and my sleep schedule's been messed up lately."

"..."

I hold my breath, waiting for George to call my bluff and push me for a better explanation. I don't really have an excuse, so if he wants more details, I'll have to tell the truth. It's too early for me to deal with this, especially today.

"Okay," I hear a light shuffling on his end of the call, he must be moving around.

I feel my shoulders slump with relief. "Okay?" George's response was a gesture of peace, because we both knew my excuses were just that, excuses. He could have easily gotten mad or offended, but he didn't. It's an example of one of the reasons we were able to become such close friends despite the distance between us: George always had my back. He knew when to push me and when to leave me alone, and even by doing something as simple as not scolding me for forgetting how important today was, he was supporting me.

I'm lucky to have him.

“Yah. Okay. My flight leaves in four hours, and I don't have time for your nonsense." He chuckles as I fake a gasp, slipping easily into our usual rhythm of teasing each other.

"My nonsense?! You're the one calling me at two in the morning." I squint into the darkness around my room, contemplating my sleep schedule- or, more accurately, my complete lack of one. "Seriously, you couldn't just text me or something?"

"Nope," he says, enunciating the p with a loud pop. "You wouldn't have seen my messages until after the flight had left, and besides, it's more fun to make you up. And it's seven here, you're just behind. You and your stupid American time zones with no logic, just like you."

"George, don't lie to yourself. You love m- my logic." I smirk, imagining his blush at the remark. Soon, he'll be here, in person, and I won't just have to imagine his reactions to my teasing.

I'll be able to see his cheeks turn pink, his brown eyes narrowing, his breathtaking lips pursing with annoyance-

I catch myself, eyes widening as I realize what I had just thought to myself. Breathtaking? Where did that even come from? George's lips weren't breathtaking. Well, they weren't not breathtaking, but that wasn't the point. Why did I think that?

I was probably just overtired, and excited to be seeing George in person...

Which brings me to the problem at hand. I hadn't told George that I was an Encompassing Empath.

Being an Encompassing Empath was an incredibly rare side effect that stemmed from ADHD. Traditional ADHD affects four parts of the brain; the frontal cortex, the limbic system, the basal ganglia, and the reticular activating system. In my brain, however, the fusiform gyrus was also affected, causing me to feel and react to the emotional signals of those around me.

Out of the 2.8% of people who have ADHD, I'm part of the even rarer 0.96% of adults with ADHD, and beyond that, I'm in the 0.000005% of adults with ADHD who also have Encompassing Empathy.

In other words, I'm one in 304,347,826 million.

My condition is so rare that George probably doesn't know it exists, and even if he does, I'm certain he wouldn't know what it means. I didn't want George to think of me differently, or worse, abandon me completely.

My fears weren't unfounded. When I was in 6th grade, before my mom moved me to homeschool, I'd confided in my closest friend that I felt his emotions just as strongly as he did, and he... reacted badly, something that still affected me to this day.

I shiver slightly as I remember his face, screwed up in anger. "You mean, you've been reading my mind? What the hell?!" He had thought I was doing it on purpose, like I was spying on his feelings. Despite our long relationship, we had a fight (which he won, leaving me with a faint scar on my right arm, just above my elbow) and he ghosted me. I've dreaded telling people about my condition ever since.

I hate it, I can't control it, and it makes me miserable.

When I first confided in Sapnap about how hard it was to function with Encompassing Empathy, he thought I was joking. Who wouldn't? I had an ability that basically let me read minds. Except, my 'superpower' came from a brain disorder, and I didn't just read emotions, I felt them.

He realized the truth soon enough.

Over the years, I had gotten pretty good at hiding my condition for short periods of time in public. I learned to avoid people who were prone to strong feelings, how to see the signs that someone was about to become emotional, and the hardest part: how to cover up my reaction to the empathy.

That didn't mean I hadn't embarrassed myself plenty of times, though, because I definitely had. The most recent trip up was at the grocery store three weeks ago, when a mother carrying a screaming kid walked directly past me. The little kid was flailing around, and when one of his hands accidentally smacked me, I lost my focus. Suddenly, I was feeling the overwhelming rage and petty fury of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

It wasn't pretty.

Before I realized what was happening, I screamed and pushed my shopping cart into a shelf, causing several dozen cans to cascade to the ground.

Turns out, Walmart has a lifetime ban policy.

Anger was always a particularly difficult trigger to handle. It was usually so sudden, and if I was blindsided with someone's temper at the wrong moment, I was vulnerable. But then again, most emotional triggers were difficult, just in different ways. Although, there was one emotion in particular that wasn't just difficult, it was full on dangerous. I had realized that the hard way...

"Hellooo, Dream? Are you there?" I was so lost in my thoughts and memories that George's voice makes me jump, almost dropping my phone.

“Sorry, yah, what were you saying?"

George chuckles, and I feel a confused smile form on my face as I push down the instinct to laugh with him, not even knowing what's funny. "What's so funny?"

"You, Dream. You're funny."

He's obviously being sarcastic, but I can't help it as my small smile melts into a grin at the compliment and I feel the slightest hint of blush on my cheeks. "I- uh," I wince, glad that George couldn't see me. "Um."

His laugh, bright and full of energy, makes me yearn to put him on speakerphone, to hear his familiar voice fill my room. Just thinking about how soon he'll be here makes my heart beat faster. Soon, soon, I won't have to hear his voice through my phone. George, my George, will be in Florida, with me, and I'll get to see him face-to-face.

"Alright, I've gotta go. My car's outside. I just wanted to check in before I left." He interjects, halting our laughter. "Last I checked, my flight's still on schedule, so I should be seeing you soon."

I frown, knowing that I won't be able to talk to George for 13 hours, the approximate time of a flight from London to Orlando, plus four hours George will spend going through security and making his way to the gate. Technically, we'll be able to text until he has to board the plane, but it's not the same as hearing his voice.

I ruffle my hair, my gaze landing on the clock on my desk. 2:53, now. By the time his plane lands, it'll be four. Then, adding some time at customs... at the very earliest, five o'clock. Dammit. My face melts into a pout, and I scrunch my nose, taking satisfaction in the childish action even though there's no one with me to see it.

I sigh. "Okay, Georgie. I'll see you soon." I start to hang up, but hesitate as something occurs to me. "Make sure you drink plenty of water. And you should probably grab a jacket, in case the plane is cold. And, oh- did you remember to put batteries in your portable charger? Because I know last time-"

“Dream. I am a fully functioning adult, you do not need to remind me to drink water." George is annoyed, but I can hear the smile in his voice. After knowing him for so long, I don't need to see his face to know how he's feeling. I can read his emotions easily, without my empathy. This easy connection between us isn't because of some shitty ADHD side effect, it's because of our close relationship and how long we've known each other, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I smile slightly and rub my neck, standing up. Despite it being the middle of the night, there was no way I could fall asleep after this.

"Okay, okay. Just be safe. I can't wait to meet you." I hang up as he yells goodbye, sniggering slightly as I cut him off on accident. Oops.

Without George's presence, everything is strangely silent. The crickets and cicadas that usually fill the night are quiet, which is unusual. The new house has better insulation, and I'm still not accustomed to not hearing the familiar Florida insects chirping all night.
Despite having just stood up, I flop back onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Half of me is full of energy and wants to get up and run a marathon, while the other half just wants to lie here and do nothing. I settle for scrolling through Tik Tok on my phone, accomplishing the oxymoron of simultaneity being productive and completely wasting my time.

In less than 24 hours, he’ll be here.

My vision unfocuses from my phone, my mind caught up in thinking about everything that's happening. After considering for a moment, I make a resolution.

If I were to tell George, and my stupid condition messed up our friendship, I would never forgive myself. How could I? Even though encompassing empathy is something I was born with and have no control over, it's still my fault. I made friends, despite knowing full well how things could end. I never should have encouraged George to move to America, but I wanted to meet him so badly... it was beyond selfish of me to do that, but I couldn't help myself. If things between us got messed up now, because of me, it would be all because I wasn't strong enough to keep George at a safe distance, far enough away from me that he couldn't be hurt by my secrets.
So, I won't tell him. I'll be careful. Maybe I'll be able to control it, to keep myself from reacting too much. I've gotten much better at hiding it, haven't I?

I'm able to keep my reactions hidden for about an hour at a time, but it always leads to extreme exhaustion and emotional turmoil. I hate doing it, but I don't have a choice. Every time I go out in public, (which, admittedly, isn't often) I have to hide my empathy, or else I would seem like a nutcase. I should be able to hide my condition from George as long as I'm cautious and don't exert myself too much.
The reality of the situation sinks in abruptly. I'm meeting George. Holy shit, I'm meeting George. I've waited for this day for so long, and it's finally here. After all these years, I'm really meeting George... and face revealing...

Shit.

I shiver, suddenly cold despite the warm temperatures. Goosebumps trail down my arms, formed by the thought of the more than thirty million people who will be seeing my face today. My pre recorded video is scheduled to go live tonight, after George arrives, and will officially show my appearance to the entire internet.

After today, there will be no more going out in public without being recognized. No more hiding behind a screen.

After today, thirty million people will be able to see me, judge me, notice me. My mask will soon be a thing of the past, as hard as that is to believe.

It's not that I don't want to face reveal. I want to be able to meet fans, something that I've never done. I want to go to Vidcon and Twitchcon. I want to make irl videos, and take pictures with my friends, and not have to worry about my face being leaked online. I'm just... scared.

Who wouldn't be, in my shoes?

Focusing on the reveal will only make my thoughts start to spiral, and I don't want that to happen. Instead, I think about George, who never fails to cheer me up. George, who always has my back. George, who I will get to meet today.

And I'm not going to tell him about my condition.

And it'll be fine.

It has to be.

Right?

Chapter Text

"George, don't lie to yourself. You love m- my logic."

I replay Dream's words in my head, trying to make sense of them. He had stumbled, almost saying something very different than "you love my logic". It was a subtle stutter, one that I had almost completely missed. Even now, I wasn't entirely sure that I hadn't just imagined it. Maybe some part of me had wanted Dream to say something else, and I tricked myself into hearing it?

But then again. Maybe not. Maybe Dream really had been about to say "don't lie to yourself, you love me". 

Even if he was going to say that, it wasn't exactly a big deal. We were constantly joking around with each other, anything from basic teasing to full on flirting. 

But lately, things felt... different. 

Maybe it was the excitement I felt at our upcoming meetup- or maybe not. 

Dream's tone, full of protective concern as he reminded me to stay hydrated and bring a jacket. 

His voice, saying my name softly. His faltering stutter- "you know you love m-"

I shake myself slightly. I didn't need to be thinking about my (admittedly complicated) feelings for Dream. Not that I had feelings for Dream. I meant my general emotions. Nothing else. Right? Anyway, I had bigger things to worry about than a tiny stutter that was sure to mean nothing from my best friend. 

My plane was boarding in 10 minutes.

I was going to see Dream, touch him, breathe the same air as him. I couldn't believe it, and it was all I could do to keep myself from grinning like an idiot in the middle of an airport.

My phone buzzes, and I look down, seeing a text from Dream. I take back what I just said, because suddenly I couldn't stop the sunny grin from emerging on my face.

The woman next to me glances at my face, then cautiously grabs her bag and slides away. I don't  blame her, my unexplained maniacal smile was bound to be more than a bit alarming. I lift my right hand to cover my mouth before opening the message, knowing that my smile will only get bigger. 

Hey Gogs just checking in :)

Hey Dream im about to board

I shift in my seat, crossing my ankles against the cold tile floor of the airport. According to the electronic sign hanging over my gate, my row hadn't been called to board yet. I had been waiting for about two hours, so I was more than ready to board. Although, all things considered, moving from one uncomfortable chair to another wasn't that big of a difference. Somehow, my legs are already stiff, and I haven't even left England. I'm not looking forward to the torturously long flight. 

I return my attention to the phone in my hand as I feel it buzz, showing Dream's reply. 

Finalllllly I'll see you in 9 hours Georgie 

I chuckle slightly at his response, and am about to reply, when another text comes through. 

If I can wait that long 

I roll my eyes. Dramatic much ?

I'm excited too, idiot

I start suddenly, realizing that my row was called as an announcement echoes through the terminal. I jump to my feet, grinning once again, and practically skip over to the gate. The sight of the plane waiting outside the window fills me with too many emotions to name, joy, anticipation, longing- I eagerly scan my ticket with the gate attendant and step into the boarding ramp. 

Okay okay they called me to board I've got to go

I walk into the plane, carefully sliding into my window seat and placing my carry-on backpack at my feet. The plane is vibrating with activity. Crying children, chatty tourists, and a surprisingly large number of emotional support dogs surround me. Leaning back in my seat, I pull out my phone to toggle it into airplane mode, but another reply from Dream distracts me. 

Noooo don't go 

I start to type a response, but delete it. Then, second guessing myself, I type it out again and quickly press send. 

Aww are you gonna miss me Dream?

Yes

Have a good flight George 

I feel myself blushing slightly. Something about Dream's reply sliced through the pretense of flirting just to joke around. Maybe it was how quickly he responded, or how he didn't bother to put an emoji. He was going to miss me... even though it's only 9 hours. 

I try to push that thought away as I see the flight attendant stand up and begin the safety run through, pointing out the emergency exits and instructing the passengers on proper seat belt positioning. Micro-analyzing everything Dream had could wait until after the safety briefing. 

Once the instructions conclude, I activate airplane mode, feeling a twinge of regret at not being able to contact Dream for so long. With little else to do, I turn to look out of the window, waiting for takeoff while the final safety checks are completed. 

I still can't believe this is happening. It's been so long, and so many years- but it was happening. I was moving in with Dream. 

I was incredibly excited, obviously, but also a little nervous about it all. I would be in a new country, and a new house. With Dream, who I had never met in person. In fact, two weeks ago, I hadn't even seen his face. What if our friendship was different in person? What if I said something embarrassing, or chewed too loudly during meals, or he found my IRL presence annoying?

What if he flirted with me in person? 

Bloody hell, I could already see myself blushing.

After about ten minutes, the plane began to hum, signaling takeoff. I place my hand against the window, feeling the cool glass against my palm,

This is it. I'm leaving England.

In the window, my reflection grins at me, a blissfully happy British guy moving to America to meet his Dream.

***

The plane glides smoothly through the clouds, revealing a stunning view of the ocean,  crystal white beaches, and sprawling towns. A sunset, piercingly bright despite the lack of visible colors, makes the ocean glimmer and sparkle as the sun casts its rays over the sea. 

Florida is beautiful from 15,000 feet.

The shining light reflecting from the water is bright enough to make my eyes water and leave spots burned into my retinas that glow when I blink, but I can't tear my gaze away. The view is mesmerizing.

My heart beats rapidly, practically leaping out of my chest. We're landing in America . We're landing. In America. 

Holy shit, we're landing in America!

My right knee begins to bounce rapidly up and down, jumping out of my control. I've been sitting down for nearly 9 hours straight, and my muscles are tense and sore. On top of that, all my pent up energy is starting to bubble as adrenaline dashes through me. I feel giddy, like part of me wants to get up and start doing cartwheels down the aisle. 

My pulse picks up as I picture Dream waiting for me, picture his face. I've only ever seen him over FaceTime, starting when I got my Visa. According to Sapnap, he was taller than me. I had seen that his eyes were green, although to me they look yellow. His hair was dark blonde and wavy, with a texture that looked perfect for running your fingers through. 

Not that I'd thought about doing that.

His face was covered in stubble, and his cheekbones met in a strong chin. His lips were a soft shade of pink, and his face was dotted with almost invisible freckles that were clustered around his nose. His face was much softer than I had expected it to be, and his eyes were much kinder. 

And all of that was just from FaceTime. It was going to be breathtaking to see him in person, to finally match a tangible figure to the voice I've been hearing almost every day for years. It feels like something out of, well, a dream. 

The flight attendants make their final rounds and sit down, signaling that we are about to land. Right on cue, the pilot's smooth voice descends from the speakers around the plane. 

"Good evening, friends. I am happy to inform you that we will be landing shortly. Local time is approximately 4:17 pm, temperature 83 degrees Fahrenheit, or 28.3 degrees Celsius. To anyone flying into Orlando, we wish you a pleasant stay, and to anyone returning home, we welcome you back."

Thank god the recent hurricane had cleared up. A ton of flights were delayed or canceled during the storm, but luckily, mine was late enough that it was clear enough to fly. There was more turbulence than I would have preferred (flying is nerve wracking enough without jolting up and down randomly), but all other traces of the rainy weather left behind from the hurricane were gone.

I smile, thinking over what the pilot had just said. I was, technically, flying into Orlando for the first time, but it was already my home. Not just because of the Visa I had waited so long for, but because of everyone waiting for me- Dream, and Sapnap, and all my other friends in America. 

I bite my lip, trying to contain my mounting excitement as the landing strip comes into view. Seeing Sapnap again will be awesome, and Dream... Well, put it this way: meeting Dream was everything I'd wanted for the past three years. 

I grip the armrests of my seat tightly as we descend. The plane shakes violently as it connects with the ground, bouncing as the landing gear takes the brunt of the friction from the cabin. As the airplane rolls to a stop, I grab my carry-on backpack and pull it into my lap, already ready to leave the plane. 

It takes the ground crew about five minutes to taxi our plane to the terminal, and five more to connect us to the gate so we could disembark. Finally, the flight attendants give the all clear to exit the plane, and I join the mob rushing to the doors.

As I step off the boarding ramp, I am immediately slammed by a wave of humidity and blinded by the evening sunlight streaming in through the large windows in the airport. A huge crowd spans the room, everywhere I turn filled with bustling and chaotic energy. Hundreds of voices collide in the air, joining in a dull roar that fills the space. As my eyes adjust, I see three lines forming across the hall, waiting to go through the mandatory customs check. 

I step to the side of the crowds for a moment, unshouldering my backpack as I rifle for my passport and Visa papers. A small stamp at the bottom of my Visa, reading IV DOCS IN CCD , signifies that most of my paperwork has been transmitted to the Customs and Border Protection office digitally, and pre-approved. This means that all I have to do is register with the CBP agent, scan my fingerprints, and pass the security check, and I'll officially be registered in America. 

Holding my documents close to my chest, I step into the line marked "Primary Screening". I see a few familiar faces from the flight stepping into lines around me, joining the eager group of visitors and immigrants.

After a surprisingly short wait, I'm at the front of the line, and find myself facing a short officer with braided hair. 

"Um, hello. I'm George, George Davidson, here with my Visa?" My uncertainty makes my statement resemble a question, and the officer smiles slightly. 

"Hello Mr. Davidson. Welcome to America! Please press your fingertips onto this device while I file your passport." 

Her encouraging tone wasn't what I was expecting, but I'm glad for it. My worry that something will go wrong builds as I hand over my passport and Visa documents. What if something's changed, and I have to go back? What if there was some kind of mistake, and I'm undocumented? Head spinning, I press my palms face down on a screen that resembles an iPad, waiting until the officer directs me to remove my fingers before even daring to blink. 

I stand waiting, hesitantly, anxiously, until the officer looks up from my papers and smiles again. "Everything is in order, just head straight through that metal detector and an interview personnel will be with you momentarily."

My chin drops slightly, tension falling away quickly. There was nothing to worry about after all.

Of course there wasn't, George . I need to calm down, my anxiety is mostly unfounded and is making the situation much more stressful than it should be. 

I follow the officer's instructions and carefully step through the metal detector, walking past a drug detecting dog as I wait for my backpack to finish being x-rayed and screened. As soon as I have it back, I lean against a wall to wait. 

It doesn't take long for another officer to walk over to me, ready to interview me and make sure my answers match my Visa. He leads me into a lightly furnished office with a desk and chairs, and gestures for me to take a seat. Still somewhat nervous, I sit slowly, looking up at him and making awkward eye contact. 

"George Davidson, correct?" He is all business, his eyes scanning my face while he takes notes on a desktop computer. 

"Yah, er, yes sir." I wince internally at my fumbling reply. It was a yes or no question, how was it possible to mess it up?!

I guess I was just special that way.

He straightens his glasses. "When is your birthday?" 

This time, I only stumble a little over my response. "It's, ah, November 1st, 1996. Sir."

He makes note of my answer, nodding his head, before asking another question. "And why are you visiting the United States?" 

The sound of fingers on keys distracts me for a moment, but I bring my attention back to the officer quickly. "I'm moving to America for work and, uh- leisure purposes," I rasp, trying to sound professional but failing exceptionally. That answer, as dry as it might seem, is the one typed out on my Visa. Technically, YouTube and Twitch are work, and leisure is defined as "free time or enjoyment," so my answer works. 

The officer types a few more keys, then tilts his head at me. "Everything checks out, welcome to America." 

My eyebrows raise at his words. It's that easy? Just thirty minutes in customs, and "welcome to America"? I'm suddenly very thankful for my Visa, knowing my full immigration clearance must have sped up the typical interview process. 

My Visa took years, multiple references, hours of time and effort, and more emotional strain that should have been possible. To me, it was much more than a tiny slip of paper. It was the key to meeting Dream, the ticket to my new life in America. It was the most valuable thing in my possession, and I had painstakingly earned it over thousands of hours of working and planning and hoping. 

And... Dreaming , no pun intended. 

Alright, fine. Pun intended. 

"Th-thanks," I stand up, shifting my backpack on my shoulders and pushing the door open. "I appreciate it." I step outside the office and find myself inside one of the main halls of the airport. It's large, similar in size to a mall, with lots of glass and windows. To my right, there are more gates and rows of seats. To my left, bathrooms and a food court. I briefly consider stopping, but burgers can wait- meeting Dream is more important. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket and swipe onto Dream's contact. My fingers hover for a moment over the call icon, but I sigh and open our text messages instead. 

Me:

Hey Dream I just got done with customs, ready for me to go to baggage claim?

I stare at my phone as the message ticks read and wait while the typing bubbles appears on Dream's end. 

...

...

...

...

...

My teeth bite subconsciously into my cheek, suspense growing with every tantalizing "..." that pops up on screen. What could he be typing? 

Finally!!!!!!!!!!Me and Sapnap are at 3b see you soon hurry up

I chuckle slightly, earning a few odd looks from the people around me. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I scan the signs posted around the airport and begin to follow the arrows leading to baggage claim 3b. 

I start off walking, trying to keep my insurmountable excitement from bubbling over, but it's no use. The closer I get, the faster I begin walking, my legs picking up speed seemingly of their own will. The coiled up energy bursts out of me until I'm fast walking, then jogging, then running, then sprinting . I fly past crowds of travelers, my attention completely focused on the glowing sign for 3b about 200 feet, or 70 meters, away. 

I push past the swarm, feeling my surging excitement and desperation completely taking control. Common manners and courtesy are completely abandoned as I dive into the terminal, scanning the new space as I look for Dream. There are at least 500 people in the crowded space in front of me, and any one of them could be Dream. 

My hands are shaking as I continue to desperately shoulder past people, neck twisting almost painfully as I jerk my head around. There were just too many other people to see anything-

Where is he? 

Suddenly, a gap opens in the crowd, as if the universe itself knows how important this moment is. I come to a stop, looking across the room, and there- a flash of yellow that I know is green...

My heart skips a beat as a pair of piercing golden eyes find mine.  

Chapter Text

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" I tap my fingers anxiously on the wheel, eyes trained on Sapnap as he steps into the car. He had arrived back from North Carolina where he had been visiting Karl the night before, and was still settling into the new house. "We should have left ten minutes ago!"

Sapnap crosses his arms. "I know, I know. Let's go, before we're late!"

A flare of anger, and a hint of guilt. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment as feelings that aren't mine wash over me, false signals from my treacherous brain. Deep breath, in and out . 

Back under control, I open my eyes and start the car. Sapnap was feeling mildly annoyed and slightly guilty for the delay in leaving, but to me, the emotions were strong anger and remorse, amplified because of our close relationship. The more of a connection I have with someone, the more my subconscious picks up on their emotions, and the more I'm forced to feel. 

To put it simply, it sucks.

I pull out of the driveway. Thankfully, it isn't a long drive to the airport. We're more than ten minutes late as it is, and the last thing we need is a long commute. 

After a few minutes of driving, Sapnap breaks the silence, turning to face me with a light smirk. "So... George." His silence speaks volumes, and I know him well enough to read between the lines of his question. 

"What about him?" I play dumb, hoping to avoid answering him. 

Sapnap meets my gaze and lets out a small chuckle. "Heh." 

I glare, knitting my eyebrows. "Heh? There is no heh. Nothing is funny about this situation." On the contrary, I feel the overwhelming desire to laugh, but I know the sudden change of heart isn't mine. 

The brunette flicks up the volume control on the radio before redirecting his attention to me. "I don't know, this thing between you and George is pretty funny to me." 

I blush, but try to play it off. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

He snorts in disbelief, but chooses to drop it, leaving me in silence. 

Is there, as Sapnap so poetically put it, a "thing" between me and George? 

No. 

Right?

We've been best friends for so long. We bonded over Minecraft and coding, and before too long, had settled into a routine of late night calls, long daytime streams, and near constant texting. We were as close as two people could possibly be, yet I have never even seen George in person. But... does that matter?

George has always been there for me, supporting me through stressful times and just being by my side for the rest. He's my closest friend- but that was it. 

It's too dangerous to let my mind go any further down that line of thought. 

Sapnap fiddles with the radio again, flipping through different stations before settling on one that he likes. I glance over as I recognize the tune.  Is that- Ugh, Sapnap, now is not the time...

The Texan looks back with an innocent expression on his face, seemingly surprised to see me watching him. "What? This is a good song." He keeps his expression neutral, but it's pointless, because I can feel his (innocence free) humor. 

I know this song very well, and more to the point, I know the fan fiction written about it. The very same fan fiction that I would never admit to reading. 

Or crying over. 

There are, after all, some things that no one needs to know. Admitting to Sapnap, or anyone else, really, that I spent hours reading a story about my supposed love for George... would not end well. 

I didn't even want to read it in the first place. But everyone kept telling me it was good, and when I caved and read it, it definitely was... but something felt off about enjoying a story focused on the love and attraction between you and your best friend. 

But I'm sure it's nothing. I liked it because it was well written, nothing more. 

Though I'm still never going to tell Sapnap I read it. 

The familiar song plays in the background as I continue driving, craning my head to see the signs posted around the airport. George's plane is due to land in the next ten minutes, and by the time me and Sap park the car in the parking garage (or as George's British ass would call it, a car park) and walk all the way into the airport, he should be disembarked and heading through customs. 

The plan is to meet George in baggage claim, after he's cleared by customs. Pulling the car into the parking garage, I take a deep breath, imagining how it will feel when I finally see George. I picture myself running up to him, throwing my arms around him, pulling him in close and breathing in his smell-

I shiver. 

The euphoria I feel at the thought of meeting George is stifled by a pulsing anxiety, not Sapnap's, but mine. Parking the car, I start to open the door, but hesitate. 

The moment I step within around 100 feet, or 30 and a half meters, of George, my subconscious will begin to analyze everything about him, from his breathing rate, to his facial expressions, to his posture. Every visible cue George reveals will be picked up and cataloged by my brain, causing me to feel his emotions with unfailing accuracy. Encompassing empathy wasn't just my brain guessing the emotions of those around me and then relaying them for me to feel, it was literally my mind reading their emotions using body language so subtle even the best poker player in the world wouldn't be able to pick up on, and then generating the same chemical or hormone combinations to cause the same emotional response in me. 

The more time I spent around someone, the more my mind would be aware of their cues. I couldn't stop this from happening, it was completely out of my control- just like how when you see an ad several times, you start to anticipate little details. Now, the model will pick up the shampoo, or now, the buff dude will chug the drink. It's completely subconscious, tied into my ADHD, and only gets progressively worse. As my brain notices more about people's emotional tells, it starts to compile "profiles" for them, keeping track of what motions of habits signify what emotion. Soon, my mind will be so fixated on their emotions that I will begin to feel their moods stronger than they themselves do.

Another thing that builds "profiles" in my brain is the natural release of hormones, anything from dopamine to adrenaline can cause my psyche to pick up on emotions much faster and stronger than usual. 

For people I've known my whole life, like my parents and sister, any stimuli can send me spiraling. It's gotten so bad that my mom only visits about once a month, despite the short distance between us. Sapnap is difficult, too, because of the bond we have. His emotions hit me much harder than most, but he understands how difficult it is for me and does his best to keep his strong feelings contained around me. It's something I really appreciate, since I know firsthand how hard it is to keep your emotions bottled up inside. Except, I was almost constantly forcing myself to remain a blank slate whenever I was around anyone else, and Sapnap only had to control his emotions if we were in the same room or I had a clear view of him. He had only lost control a few times around me, once when he lost an MCC and once when he laughed so hard at something Karl said, he nearly choked. 

Both times, while not that serious, had affected me strongly. When he lost MCC, I was in the same room, and his amplified anger and disappointment were strong enough to cause me to have a panic attack. Sapnap had apologized profusely, even though it wasn't really his fault. I should have left the room sooner, as soon as I began to sense his rising emotions. 

The second incident was at dinner about three months ago. I was boiling water to make soup, while Sapnap was FaceTiming Karl. He must have said something funny, because my friend burst into uncontrollable laughter. I was just a couple of feet away, and the second Sapnap began laughing, I couldn't help but join in. I hadn't heard the joke, and I had no idea what was funny, but I couldn't stop laughing. Sap didn't realize that I was holding a pot of boiling water until I dropped it and fell to the floor, laughing hysterically until I felt dizzy. Luckily for both of us, the scalding water spilled away from where we were standing, or we could have been seriously hurt. 

My condition wasn't just difficult emotionally, causing me to be homeschooled as a kid and interact with the majority of my friends online where I couldn't feel their emotions, it had also put me in danger more times than one. 

Once, it had nearly killed me. 

Typical ADHD medicine can't help me, since the problem is in my basic brain chemistry. Since there are only 23 people currently alive on earth with encompassing empathy, finding a cure isn't exactly a priority. I just have to make do, and try to keep myself under control. 

I bite my lip, considering the possibilities as my worry grows. 

What if I'm different in person?

What if something happens with George? 

What if I can't cover up my responses to his emotions, and he finds out?

What if he hates living in Florida?

What if... what if he hates me ?

What ifs swirl around me as I feel my pulse quicken. 

And my breathing speed up. 

And my body start to shake. 

Shit , I cannot have a panic attack in the middle of the airport parking garage. I can't. I'll die of embarrassment, and be late to meet George, on top of everything else. My breathing shudders, the stale air of the garage filling my throat as I lean forward, my head bumping the top of the steering wheel. "S-sap?"

Sapnap is instantly alert, his hand flying to my shoulder. "Clay? What's wrong?"

"What if- I hunch my shoulders, pulling my arms around myself as I try to calm down. "What if something goes wrong, and he finds out?" I had told Sapnap about my plan to hide my condition from George earlier that day. He had thought it over, then said that it was my choice and he respected it, even though he doesn't think George would think of me any differently if I told him. 

I know he would, though. I know it . Everyone else had, except for Sapnap. But he was a special case. He had found out about my empathy three months after we started living together, and it wasn't... the happiest story. 

But I can't think about that day right now. I'm already on the brink of a panic attack, and memories of the day he found out will only make it worse. I try and push down the vivid flashbacks waiting in my mind-

-terrified screaming, bloody hands, shattered glass, falling-

- and force myself to concentrate on the present. 

Sapnap thinks for a second, his brows furrowed. "I'm not gonna say that's not a possibility, because it is. But even if George somehow finds out, I don't think it'll change anything between you guys."

I'm silent for a moment, feeling a dull ache starting to form behind my eyes. Sapnap's concern for me, though well meaning, isn't exactly helping my emotional state. I can feel his worry doubling on top of mine, pushing me to the edge of a panic attack. My mind flashes to the friend who ghosted me when I told him about my condition as my anxiety worsens. What if George does the same thing? 

What if- I say the words out loud without meaning to, the syllables drifting out of me without any real direction. "What if it makes him hate me?" 

I'm shocked by how vulnerable my voice is, how raw. My eyes burn as I consider the possibility of George hating me, both from a headache starting to build up and tears that threaten to form. I was being ridiculous, I know. George is my best friend, and he would never hate me. But even though my rational side knows that, the rest of me can't seem to take a hint. I gasp for air, trying to fight off my anxiety like a swimmer caught in a whirlpool. 

Sapnap rubs my arm comfortingly. "Hey, man. It's okay. George would never do that, and besides, he might not even find out." I can feel that he is doing his best to channel a sense of calm, probably hoping that the emotional input will help calm me down. 

How do I describe the feeling of someone else's emotions leaking into yours? It feels like- like trying to walk with shoes on the wrong feet. Like reading right to left, instead of left to right. Like knowing it isn't you who's sad, or angry, or joyful, it's the person next to you. It's like losing all sense of what's real, until everything is so mixed up that there's hardly a difference anymore. 

Sapnap's well meaning calm was at war with my anxiety. I was feeling both, my mind telling me that I couldn't breath and my hands shaking while waves of serenity tumble over me. I know that the calm isn't me, but I can't stop myself from feeling it. 

I put my hands on my head, gripping my hair tightly. This rarely happens, but there are times when my condition caused me to feel two conflicting emotions at the same time. Usually, this happened when I was with multiple people. When it's just me, I'm usually better at controlling my emotions, at keeping myself from getting smacked with opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. 

My head throbs, my mind struggling with the very mixed signals I'm receiving. I'm caught between the two feelings, and it's enough to cause me actual pain. 

I groan, letting my hands fall limp as I physically force myself to stop feeling anxious, cutting off the emotion at its source before my head splits in half. 

I know that (normally) it's unhealthy to block out your emotions, but I don't have a choice. I had no control over feeling Sapnap's emotions, but my own feelings were still under my power. It was painfully difficult, and required a lot of self control, but if the situation got dire enough I could force myself to just stop reacting, completely surrendering to the opposing emotions around me. 

I slump in my seat, my entire body leaning against the dash with my forehead on the wheel. My head is pounding, and I'm exhausted, but I feel calm- even though I shouldn't, and don't want to. 

Sapnap's voice, still forcefully calm, breaks the silence. "Clay? Are you okay? I was trying to help by calming down, did it work?"

I force my eyes open. "I- I'm fine." My voice shakes, but I pull myself back into a sitting position and open the car door. It wasn't Sapnap's fault that my brain was such a messed up piece of shit, and there's no reason to worry him now that I'm okay. "Let's go meet Gogy."

***

Hey Dream I just got done with customs, ready for me to go to baggage claim?

I choke, the water bottle I had been trying to drink slipping out of my fingers as I read George's text. George is here . We're going to meet. 

I fumble to type a response, but feel my mind go blank. 

Georgeeeeeeeee

Delete, to desperate sounding.

Hey we're at baggage claim 3b

Delete, not enough emotion. 

Finally!!!!!!!!!!Me and Sapnap are at 3b see you soon hurry up

Well, it wasn't Shakespeare, but it got the point across. 

"Sap, he's on his w-," my voice cracks, "way." I cringe at the nervous tinge in my voice, but ignore it. 

Sapnap grins and claps his hands. "Yesss! I can't wait to see George again, it feels like it's been forever."

Joy, joy, joy, radiating off Sapnap and into me. I smile, but wince as my headache makes its presence known once again. "I know. I can't wait to meet him." I stand up, drinking the rest of my water bottle and tossing the empty plastic into the recycling bin. I turn, Sapnap beside me, and walk closer to the 3b baggage claim. 

Because of my condition, I didn't exactly do well in crowds, and had been waiting (hiding) next to the bathrooms for the past fifteen minutes. As I enter the crowds, I feel the emotions crashing into me like rain in a thunderstorm. 

At first, it's not very noticeable. Just a few drops, here and there, the tiniest bit of water on your skin. Soon, though, the rain picks up, and you get soaked, the fabric of your clothes dampening and weighing you down. And then, before you can run or try and fight, the water starts to rise, murky and dark, pooling past your ankles and drenching your feet. You start to sink into the icy cold mud as the water pushes at your knees, knocking you off balance. Water shoots up your nose as you try to keep your head up, struggling frantically as the current smashes you under the water again and again. Before you can recover, waves are grasping your waist, clutching desperately at your chest, dragging your head deeper and deeper into the depths until your lungs are on fire and your eyes are stinging and everything is cold and empty as darkness engulfs you. 

I'm surrounded by a thunderstorm every day of my life, and am slowly drowning. 

Sapnap puts his hand on my shoulder again and does his best to stay unemotional, trying to give me an anchor. It's a kind gesture, but it doesn't work very well. Too many big emotions surge around me, tugging me in different directions. I can handle myself, though, as long as I stay as far away from the crowds as possible and keep myself under control. 

For a few seconds, I stand in the midst of the people, spinning around as I scan the room for George. Stupidly, I dare to think that maybe, everything will be fine. 

Life lesson: don't tempt fate. It never ends well.

 I stagger slightly, shocked as someone's shoulder rams into mine, triggering an unusually strong response of pounding anxiety as my mind focuses on them. What if George finds out, oh no, oh no-

When my empathy causes me to feel others emotions, it's different from what they are feeling. For example, if someone is mad that their basketball team lost a game, I'll just feel mad. The triggers for their emotions don't transfer, just the feelings themselves. So now, feeling a stranger's anxiety, I automatically connect it to a situation I'm already nervous about: George discovering my empathy. When I'm facing a replicated emotion, my brain will either connect it to a pre-existing situation I'm associating with that specific feeling, or just let me feel the emotion with no excuse or reason. Both scenarios are equally annoying and difficult, or even dangerous.  

I try to push off the foreign feelings and regain control, but then, before I can calm down, I see a pale boy across the terminal begin crying. I try to look away, but I'm too late, my subconscious already latching onto the boy's actions as he begins pleading with his partner as they argue or break up over the phone, it isn't clear which. His eyes are bloodshot, and tears flood down his cheeks. His voice is unregulated and loud. 

"No, wait! Jackie, please, long distance can work- don't do this, I love you-" and my heart, foolishly drawn to the strongest emotion in the room, breaks with his. The phone drops from his hands and smashes on the hard tile floor, and he slumps to his knees. And just like that, all of my mental barriers come crashing down- 

Please, no, please-

And then I'm laughing, echoing a young girl behind me, and as much as I try to regain composure, I can't, because I'm crying from the boy on the phone, and I hate this-

Gasping for air, shaking, because the crowd is so big and the mother next to me is calling the name of a wayward child.

There is too much, too many feelings to control. My body curls into itself, my arms covering my face and my shoulders hunching as so many conflicting emotions fly by me, triggering surges of panic, fear, joy, sadness, anger, regret, and what feels like thousands more. 

I suddenly sway on my feet, exhausted, and now I'm crouching down, head in my hands. I fight for control as their emotions slam into me, hijack me, leave me broken. 

Sapnap, eyes wide with concern, stands protectively over me, trying his best to keep people back. I close my eyes, hoping to slow the stem of emotional stimulation, but it doesn't work. Voices, yelling and laughing and crying, surround me, filling in the gaps my eyes cannot. 

And then, miraculously, the crowd starts to thin. 

A clear stretch opens up, leaving me free from the worst of the mass of people. I lie still for a moment while the noise fades, letting the unfamiliar emotions drain away. My shaking slows down, then stops, and my breathing slowly returns to normal. Unsteadily, I grip Sapnap's hand and let him tug me into a standing position, my pulse still racing. I stagger slightly, and he grabs my shoulders, steadying me before I can fall. 

I groan softly, my hands on my temples. And I thought my headache was bad before this... I hadn't reacted that badly to my condition in months, usually my mental barriers are strong enough to keep me protected, or at least mostly so. The emotional strain of the day, plus the crowd, must have been screwing with me more than I'd realized. 

I take a deep breath, then lift my head off of my chest as I turn to look at the gap in the crowd. My meltdown had distracted me from my original task, why I had stepped into the sea of people in the first place. As my pulse evens out, my focus returns, and I start to look around once more. 

"Holy fuck, Clay, are you okay?" Sapnap is still supporting my shoulders, because I am clearly not okay, but that doesn't matter, because there-

I feel the world shift. 

A flash of blue. Dark brown hair, and mahogany eyes.

He stands for a moment without seeing me, shoulders taunt as he searches the faces of the passer-bys. His hoodie sleeves are pulled up to his forearms, and his left shoe is untied, laces flopping limply onto the ground. 

He's perfect. 

I'm still frozen, unable to move. I open my mouth to call out, but before I can, as if drawn by date, he pulls his gaze up to mine. 

A pair of startled brown eyes slice into me.

My feet move forward on their own as I brush past Sapnap, ignoring my headache and dizziness and focusing on the feeling of my heart pounding in my chest. George is here . Suddenly, I'm racing forwards, my sneakers pounding on the floor. 

George mirrors my actions, throwing himself towards me. 

I'm desperate. After so long , the thought of so much as another minute without him feels like torture. For once, I'm not thinking about what might go wrong. All I care about in the world is hurtling towards me, and I don't stop running as I throw myself into the arms of the man I've dreamed of meeting for years . 

And everything collides at once, arms and tears and years of late night discord calls and daily streams and time zones and sleep schedules and thousands of fanfictions and artworks and visas and agonized waiting. We embrace tightly, and I spin him around, laughing breathlessly. "George- George, you're here! Holy shit, you're really here!" My eyes tear up as we jump around, arms intertwined.

"Dream! You're real! I can't believe this-"

I take in my friend's dark hair, shining eyes, pale face, and sharp features. I can't tear my eyes away from his face. All I want to do is drink in his presence, looking at him for hours. Our chaotic happiness takes over for a moment, but then the seriousness of the moment hits. 

"Believe it," I whisper, and wrap my arms around my best friend. 

George is warm, and he smells like the sky after it rains, something fresh and sweet and not quite discernible. I pull him closer, the fabric of his hoodie soft in my grip, and press my face into his soft hair, his head resting on my neck. His breathing shudders, warm and humid on my skin, and I gasp at the sensation. 

He feels so real , so alive. Every detail of him, from tiny freckles to the faint smile lines by his eyes, jumps out at me like words leaping off a page. 

We stand together for a minute, then two, breaths mingling in the air. I had never realized how well we would fit together. George's head comes up just past my jaw, the height difference between 6'3 and 5'9 (or 190.5 and 175.25 centimeters) making him the perfect size to fit against my chest, my chin on his head and his face pressed against my collar.

As George inhales, I gasp again, drunk on the sensation of his breath on my neck, his arms around me, his protective embrace pulling me closer-

Wait. These feelings aren't all mine... the senses of comfort and warmth are coming from George.

I step back, breaking our connection hurriedly. I blush, guilt seeping into me. Something about feeling George's emotions, even though I can't control it, feels deceitful. Like watching someone sleep, or eavesdropping on a private conversation. It's an invasion of his privacy. 

My heart sinks as I back away. I'd known it was coming, but a naive part of me had dared to hope that something would change, and my empathy wouldn't work on George. Stupid, Clay. You knew that this would happen.

George's eyes study me in concern, his hands coming forward to wrap around my arms. "Dream?" He steps closer, closing the gap between us once again. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I stay still, pushing down the feelings of guilt and keeping myself from pulling away. 

"H-hey," I swallow nervously, trying to play down my sudden mood shift. "How was the- um. How was the- uh, the-" suddenly, all I can think about is the feeling of George's fingers splayed across my forearms, and my cheeks flame red, blush spreading down my face and onto my neck as I completely forget how to form a basic sentence. "T-the, uh-"

"The flight?" He offers, a sarcastic smile already tugging on his lips. 

I stare down at him, my face still warm, my mind blank and completely mesmerized by the sight of him. "Yah."

He sighs, a faint noise that makes my stomach flip. "Long." His brown eyelashes flutter slightly, forming a stark contrast against his pale skin. "Can I- can I ask you something?" His voice is light, a gentle teasing bordering on flirting. 

I lower my chin, my hair falling across my forehead as I nod. "Anything." I intended the word to sound playful, to offset the tension, but the seriousness in my tone gives me away. 

George flinches slightly, and starts to respond. "Did you-" his voice catches slightly, and he licks his lips, smile dropping. His gaze is now intense and serious, all traces of playful teasing now gone. Things have escalated quickly, and I am not prepared. Is this fake flirting, or is it real? 

It feels real. God, it feels too real.

I'm so caught up in my confusion that I almost miss his breathy question, George's voice falling low and his accent lying heavily over his words. "Did you miss me?"

The space between us fills with tensity as I think about his question. Did I miss George, despite never having met him in person? Did I miss someone I never really had? 

I lift my right hand, and rest it gently on George's collarbone. When he doesn't move away, I lean closer, close enough to smell the hint of mint toothpaste on George's breath, watching as he relaxes into my touch. 

"Yes." My voice is raspy and low, almost a growl, heavy with the built up emotions between us. "Fuck, I did." And I did. I've been missing George for seven years.

George tilts his head forward, using the silence as an opportunity to study me. His eyes, a beautiful pair of chocolates, dance across my face, watching me with an air of infatuation. He makes eye contact, and holds it, the prolonged stare making me lightheaded. 

I feel like I'm in a trance as his hands pull me closer until his smaller frame is next to mine, practically no space between us. W-what are we doing? This isn't teasing, isn't fake. There is, for once, no one but me and George. 

My eyes widen at the intimacy of the position, at the sensation of George's heart beating against mine. I'd expected him to hug me, sure but this- this isn't- 

I don't have time to think as he lifts his head toward me, my gaze drifting to his lips and body on autopilot as I find myself leaning in, my nose brushing his, lashes fluttering dizzily closed. 

"GEORGE!!!" Sapnap's gleeful yell makes both of us flinch, jumping apart quickly. He runs up, pulling the shocked brunette into a tight embrace.

My mouth drops open, head spinning. What the hell? What the hell just- were we going to kiss? Was I about to kiss George?!

Sapnap ruffles George's hair, bouncing excitedly, completely oblivious to the situation. "Dude! You made it!"

George grins back, no sign of embarrassment on his face. How was he not melting into a blushing puddle? For a moment, I consider the possibility that he might not care enough to be embarrassed- and why should he? We were friends. That was all. 

Except... did friends usually try to kiss each other? I was pretty sure they didn't. 

Unless they were Karl. 

I run my hands through my hair, causing the curly mess of dark blonde hair to tangle. What am I supposed to do now?

Did I like George? If I was about to kiss him, did that mean I like him? Surely I didn't. We're friends, and that's all. 

But if that's all, why is my heart beating so damn quickly? 

My embarrassment and worry don't last long before being replaced by happiness from both George and Sapnap, generating a rush of serotonin. I flinch slightly as their emotions overwhelm mine, though there's nothing I can do but smile back at them. 

Sap grabs George's arm, tugging him towards the baggage claim. "Okay, Georgie! First, we get your suitcase. The billboard thing said that your plane would be unloaded here, so we can just wait till the bags come down." 

George laughs with Sapnap, then turns to grin at me over his shoulder. 

I smile back, but confusion eats away at me. Wasn't George just about to kiss me? How could he just act like everything was normal?

Had I missed something? 

I didn't exactly have much experience when it came to liking someone. Because of my condition, relationships were... difficult. Sure, I had dated a couple people, but I had never really been in love. 

Maybe the best thing to do would be to just act normal, and pretend nothing had happened. It was probably just a fluke, anyway. George wasn't into me, and I wasn't interested in him. 

But if I was being honest with myself... that wasn't the full truth. 

But that doesn't matter.

It can't matter. 

I can't let it matter. 

So I grin, and walk over to my two best friends, laughing along as George tells Sapnap about how the only foods the plane served were pretzels, biscuits, and packaged meals. I join the conversation, and smile, and pretend like everything is normal. I do what I do best-

Wear a mask, with a smile on my face.

Chapter Text

My stomach growls loudly, and Sapnap explodes into hysterical giggles. 

I glare him. "What?" I say defensively, crossing my arms. "I haven't eaten since breakfast. I'm allowed to be hungry." I walk faster, irritation giving me a boost of energy as I walk through the car park towards Sapnap's shiny grey Tesla. 

Dream starts to laugh with Sapnap, and I turn my death glare onto him as well. "Dream! You're meant to be on my side!"

He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, sorry. I just-" He doubles over, wheezing slightly. "I can't control it." For just a moment, his expression dulls, and I see a glimpse of something behind his eyes. Sadness? Guilt? Worry? 

His expression returns to normal in a millisecond, leaving me wondering if I'd imagined the momentary flash of emotion. 

Sapnap's guffaws fade slowly, and he pivots to face me. "Okay, okay. You're allowed to be hungry. Let's get burgers, or something." 

I nod excitedly, brimming with enthusiasm. "Oh, yes! Burgers are such an American food, and I do live here now. They'd be perfect, right, Dream?"

He sighs. "Well..."

I make my best puppy-dog-eyes, and push my lower lip out in a loose pout. "Please?" 

His eyes widen, taken aback by my expression. "I- uh-" He is obviously flustered, and the part of me that enjoys messing with him soaks up a hint of satisfaction in that fact that for once, I'm the one making him blush. 

"Pleeease?" I carefully drag out the vowels, and peer at him hopefully. 

"Ugh, fine. Burgers it is," he relents, rolling his eyes. 

Is it my imagination, or is Dream blushing? 

Sapnap scoffs. "Simp."

"Sapnap!"

"Well, you are!" He shrugs, like what else is there to say , and unlocks the car. 

Dream splutters. "I'm just being nice! It's George's first night here. And besides, you wanted burgers too." Grumbling under his breath, he slides into the drivers seat, gesturing for me to take the passenger side. In all honesty, I  had completely forgotten that American cars were flipped, and had been about to get in the drivers seat. 

"Oh come on, I called shotgun!" Sapnap pushes me out of the way, and we wrestle for a moment, both of us screaming wildly. "My car, my rules!"

Dream joins in, jumping out of the car and running over to us, the echoing peals of his laughter sounding lovely in the acoustics of the car park. Late evening sunlight catches the blonde in his hair, making it shine like gold. 

Shockingly, I find myself wanting to kiss him. 

But that would be embarrassing, especially after what just happened at the airport. I had gotten so carried away in the moment that I'd completely forgotten that Dream never means it when he flirts. The adrenaline rush from meeting him almost caused me to do something stupid, something that probably would have ruined our friendship. 

I was glad for Sapnap's interruption, even though it stung. Dream isn't interested in me, and even though I had almost kissed him, I'm sure I don't like him either. 

I turn away quickly, burying my feelings and backing away from Dream. 

His gleeful smiles slips, hurt visible on his face, and I feel an instant stab of guilt. 

Strangely enough, his features drop even further at my reaction, and his expression looks almost... guilty? Why?

He covers it up quickly, forcing a grin. He looks away from me, then back, then away again, his tired yellow eyes playing a quick one-sided game of ping pong before settling on the pavement at his feet. 

Great going, George. Embarrassed and guilty, I open the passenger door of the car and climb onto the seat. 

Dream paces back over to the driver's side, but hesitates and rubs the back of his head. I turn to watch him, filled with curiosity as Dream frowns and walks over to Sapnap, leaning in to mutter something quietly to him. I strain to hear the words of their conversation, but can't hear more than a few syllables. 

"Could you-" something, something, something, "George". 

I perk up, clearly distinguishing my name. Are they talking about me? Why would they be talking about me? 

Sapnap puts his hand on Dream's shoulder, then nods and moves to the driver's seat. I watch in confusion as Sapnap opens the door and stars the car, leaving Dream to take the back row. 

"Dream? What was that about? And why is Sapnap driving?" 

Dream bites his lip, which is more distracting than it should be. "I just- I have a headache today, and I think it would be safer if Sapnap drives. It's not a big deal."

"Oh. Alright, then." I'm sure my confusion is still obvious, as Dream's answer didn't seem to be entirely truthful. Why would he need to speak in private if he was just asking Sapnap to drive? And why would he say my name? And when had his headache gotten so bad, wasn't he smiling and laughing just a minute ago?

Dream slumps in his seat and I purse my lips, not wanting to see him unhappy. I know this is my fault somehow, either from pulling away earlier and hurting his feelings, or maybe what happened in the airport. 

A sudden idea comes to me, and I unbuckle my seatbelt before Sapnap can start to drive. I hop onto the pavement, wincing slightly as the jump jars my ankles, and open the door to the back row. 

I smile softly as I sit down next to Dream, his eyebrows raising. "Um, hi. I didn't want you to be alone back here, so..." My words trail off into an awkward silence. 

His inquiring stare thaws and his posture relaxes slightly. "Oh. Thanks." He returns my smile, but still seems hesitant. 

"So," I prompt, nudging his shoulder slightly. "Burgers?" 

His smile widens and becomes more real. "Yes. Burgers."

Sapnap drives us out of the airport, using his Siri to open and start a google map to the nearest McDonalds. It takes him several tries to achieve the correct result, due to his phone's inability to understand basic English instructions. 

"No, no, no. Siri, cancel. Direct to the nearest McDonalds ." He over-pronounces the word, making me and Dream laugh.

As the device struggles to deal with Sapnap's frustration, uttering a simple "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that" me and Dream roar with laughter, with Sapnap joining after a moment. Siri's miscommunication isn't really all that funny, but we aren't really laughing because of it. We're laughing because it's us, the Dream Team, all together. We're laughing because we're all idiots who are so happy to finally be with each other. 

It might have taken seven years, but we did it. 

***

After giving up on the GPS, Sap just asks Dream for directions. 

It doesn't take long to find a McDonalds, they seem to be everywhere in America. As we pull into the drive through, I feel my stomach start to grumble again, and I wrap my arms around my torso to try and muffle the sound. 

Grrrrrrwwwwwwlllllwwwwwww...

Dream turns his head at the faint rumble, and I stare at my feet to avoid eye contact. After a few seconds have passed, I peek at Dream, hoping that his attention will have moved elsewhere. Shit. This is beyond embarrassing, and Dream is still looking at me.

My face heats up slightly as I try to guess why he would still be fixing his gaze on me. Maybe there's something on my face? 

Self conscious, I brush my hair out with my fingers, pulling the dark brown strands onto my forehead. 

"Hi, I'd like three Big Macs, please. With fries." Sapnap turns to me and Dream, his eyebrows raising fractionally as he sees Dream still staring at me, and my face beet-red. "Uh... you guys want anything else, or is that good?"

I shake my head. "That sounds good to me. Dream?" 

He doesn't respond. 

"Dream?" I reach out my hand, and he flinches as it connects lightly with his knee. I remove my palm quickly as his head snaps up, startled by his reaction. 

"Wh-what? Uh, sorry- were you guys talking to me?" He blinks in surprise. 

I roll my eyes. "Yes, and you were staring at me for at least a minute straight." My cheeks are still warm, and I'm sure that the blush lingers on my face. 

He rubs his hand across his eyes regretfully. "Sorry. I was just- just zoned out, I guess. It's fine."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I'm slightly worried. Maybe his headache got worse? "Is your head still hurting?"

"It's not too bad." He shrugs it off, but I still have the feeling that something is wrong. 

My fixation on Dream is broken when Sapnap pays for the food and haphazardly tosses the bag into the backseat, spilling fries onto my hoodie. 

I jump, grabbing the greasy fries as fast as possible before they could stain my clothes. "SAPNAP!!! What the hell, this is my favorite shirt!!!"

"Burgers," he says, by way of explanation.

I shove a fistful of fries into my mouth and narrow my eyes at him. "Bumph es nok ad eplanatim."

"What?"

I swallow, then repeat: "'Burgers' is not an explanation."

Dream chuckles. "I don't know, seems like a pretty good excuse to me." He snatches the bag from me and grabs his burger, biting into it hungrily. "Mmmmmm." Then, out of nowhere, he licks his lips slowly, leaving them slightly pinker and glistening. 

I watch him, eyes wide, unable to tear my focus from his mouth. 

He notices my expression, laughing slightly to himself as he takes another bite. Payback , his devious grin conveys, for the puppy-dog-eyes .

My mouth drops open slightly, and I mentally scold myself for blushing. I busy myself with my food, trying to move past whatever the heck that was. What is wrong with me? First, I try to kiss him, then this?!

On the list of embarrassing things that could happen when I met Dream for the first time, being spotted watching my best friend lick his lips was definitely in the top ten. Even worse, I blushed. 

Though, to be fair, it was attractive.

Stop it, George. Stop making things weird. I don't even know why I tried to kiss him, or found myself staring at him. If anyone had asked me a few days ago, I would have told them that no, I definitely wasn't attracted to Dream. But, for some reason, I feel different today. Maybe I was overtired? Or was it the stress of moving to a new country? My mind runs through several possible explanations and quickly dismisses all of them, making my head spin as Sapnap starts to play music loudly. 

Whatever it is, I have to push it out of my mind. My friendship with Dream is too valuable to risk jeopardizing over a few stupid thoughts that were no doubt brought on by hormones and unusual circumstances. Whatever the shit is that's going inside my head, I can't let it change anything. 

Fingers crossed I wouldn't do anything else as stupid as instinctively trying to kiss my best friend who I'd never even met in person until today. 

I stare out of the window, studying the terrain as it passes by. Florida is much different from England. Tall and skinny palm trees line the roads, reaching for the bright sunlight above. Vast pine forests cover the flat swampland, to my surprise. I wouldn't have expected evergreens in Florida, since I've always associated the trees with cold weather. Contrary to my previous belief, though, there are just as many pine trees as palms, both typically having narrow trunks with most leaves or branches clustered at the top of the tree. The pine needles on these trees are a much different shade of green than typical evergreens- or at least, I think they are. The heat must affect the coloring.

Flowers, shrubs, and tropical bushes cover the ground, blanketing the tall grass that grows thickly. Occasional tangles of Kudzu or other vines climb the tree trunks, and eerie Spanish Moss dangles from the branches. 

Dream had once told me that according to local folklore, the straggly moss used to be the beard of a pirate who died somewhere in Florida, back when Spanish settlers still had dominion over the land. Supposedly, the story says that when the pirate died, his bones crumbled, but his beard took roots and turned into a creepy clump of grey moss that soon spread across Florida and still grows to this day. 

Obviously, I was weirded out by his story. Some dead guy's beard transforming into moss. What could be creepy about that? Dream had just laughed at my reaction, and reminded me that it was just a local legend. Still, it was strange, and the plant was unnerving. 

Lakes and ponds are shockingly common, every quarter mile or less I seem to spot a different body of water. Orland sprawls out into the distance, a strange but beautiful patchwork of residential areas, tourist attractions, and crisscrossing roadways. 

The earth is flat here, with very few hills. Instead of the ocean, I can see a huge lake. I wonder if it's filled with alligators? We're about an hour from the beach, give or take depending on traffic and time of day. 

I finish my food, tossing the wrapper into the bin and reclining in my seat, hands behind my head. We're close now, I can tell. It's obvious in how Sapnap sits up straighter, or in how Dream's hands clench and unclench every few seconds. I'm incomprehensibly excited to be seeing my new home. So much of my life has been building to this point, yet it still hasn't sunk in that I'm  here, really here , and I get to stay forever. This time, we really did it. It took years (evading a global pandemic and narrowly avoiding a hurricane in the process) but I made it. 

I grin to myself, and break the silence. "Hey, Dream. Guess what?"

He looks over questioningly. "What?" 

"I'm in Florida."

I watch as he stifles a smile of his own, clearly trying to control his reaction but still beaming obviously. "You're in Florida..." 

Hearing Dream say it somehow makes everything so much more real, and my joy explodes abruptly as I realize it's true. "I'm in Florida!" I yell, grabbing his arms excitedly and shaking him back and forth. "I'm in Florida!!!"

He matches my energy like my enthusiasm is contagious, throwing his head back and whooping. "Wooooo! You’re in Florida!!!"

Sapnap, in front of us, joins in. "Hell yah, bitches! George is in Florida! !!" He slams his fist onto the horn, honking loudly to enunciate his screaming cheers. The driver of the car next to us flips the bird in our direction, but we're too busy celebrating to care. Our chaotic happiness fills the evening, the car brimming with loud music and wide smiles and louder-than-necessary yells. 

Sapnap rolls down the windows, letting a wave of refreshingly warm evening air into the car. I lean out of the window a little, euphoric joy still overflowing, and let my hand slide into the flowing slipstream of air around the car. It's a cliche thing to do, sure, but I can't stop myself from enjoying it. The wind buffets my hand and slaps at my face, and it feels like freedom. Orange tinted light turns my pale skin darker, and rippling shadows from the sunset dance across my palm. 

Dream laughs at me, sticking my hand outside the window like a little kid. Just as childishly, I stick my tongue out at him. He snorts, but keeps laughing. 

"Don't laugh!" I have to raise my voice to be heard over the road noise. I smirk as I get an idea, and grab Dream's hand. "Try it!" I pull him towards my window, briefly unbuckling his seatbelt so he can sit closer. He yelps as I tug his hand to the window and push it out, planning on holding it there until he stops resisting. 

To be honest, the position we're in is more than a little awkward, with Dream practically sitting on my lap and reaching across me. I don't mind, even though the rational side of me knows that this probably isn't the best idea if I'm trying not to read too much into his flirting and avoid getting too close. 

My right hand is wrapped around his wrist, still holding his hand into the wind. I raise my eyebrows at him. "I'm gonna let go, don't move your hand. It's fun, trust me!" 

He huffs, but compiles. I withdraw my fingers from his arm and let my own hand return to the airflow, tendons tending to fight the strong current. Dream slowly lifts his hand next to mine, mirroring my movements. Watching his expression, I let my hand surf through the air, angling it back and forth. My American friend squints skeptically, but twists his hand to match me. Three thin gold rings shimmer on his slender fingers, catching the light and practically glowing. 

A smile breaks out on my face as I spot Dream's small smile, betraying the twinge of happiness he's feeling. "Told you so!" I say, and wiggle my fingers. 

"Whatever, George. Maybe this is a little fun, but only a little."

 I can tell he's not serious, and his grin is much more visible now. He's undeniably enjoying this, despite his noncommittal attempts to hide it. 

Getting into the wind surfing a little more, Dream reaches out, attempting to lean his head outside the car like I am but not being able to stretch far enough. He sways further, and the tips of his curly hair brush my face. When I inhale, the tropical scent of his shampoo fills my nose. It's so familiar, and yet so new at the same time.

I bite my lip as he reaches even farther, practically lying on my waist, until he suddenly loses his balance and slips sideways, falling across me completely. I gasp in surprise as he quickly tries to pull himself up and only succeeds in making it worse. After a moment of frantic flailing, he gulps and looks up at me awkwardly. 

"Uh, sorry..."

I don't respond, still working through what had just happened, and what was still happening. Dream, my Dream, is lying across my lap bridal style, the back of his head on the car door and his eyes wide. His face is red with embarrassment. As fast as possible, he sits up, blushing further as he finds himself upright but seated practically on my lap. 

I'm frozen, unable to say or do anything as a rush of adrenaline courses through my veins. My brain only starts to thaw when Dream starts to move away. Acting purely on instinct, I put my hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He whips around to stare at me, shocked, and I look away before speaking. 

"... you can stay. You'll be able to reach the window better if you sit closer, so..."

"Oh. Um. O-okay..." He replies, red faced. 

Fuck. I didn't mean to say that. I'm acting like I'm trying to win his attention, even though I'm not. I don't like Dream (at least, I think I don't), but if I keep acting like this, I'm going to give him the wrong impression. I'm not usually like this, but something about him makes me toss all reason away and discard my better judgment. 

Besides, it's too late to take the words back now. Dream has already relaxed, albeit, very awkwardly and cautiously into me, leaning against my chest until he's sitting with his legs on the seat to the left of me and his waist next to mine. His head rests lightly on my arm. 

Friends do this all the time, right?

Sighing internally, I give up on resisting and let one of my arms hug him from behind as we both lean back to the window. The breeze brushes my face soothingly, and despite the tension between us, I can't help but feel comfortable like this. 

I'm sure my heart rate is skyrocketing, but I try to ignore it as I feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. We're just friends , I remind myself. This means nothing to him. Or, you know, to me.

I attempt to switch my focus from Dream to the wind rushing past the window, but my efforts fail as I hear him speak softly. "You're right... I can reach the window a lot better like this," he says weakly, and shit , I'm shaking. 

"Th-that's good."

I look up and find Sapnap's gaze trained on mine in the rear view mirror, the brunette looking utterly flabbergasted by what was happening in the backseat. What is happening?! He mouths, and I shake my head subtly. 

Nothing. I say silently back. This isn't anything. He clearly doesn't believe me, but he looks away, pretending to be oblivious to the ongoing moment between me and Dream. Sapnap, despite his frequent jokes and taunting, knows when to keep quiet. 

I slowly let the stiffness in my shoulders drop, signing into Dream and breathing his scent. He's warm, and though I would never admit it to his face, I'd waited years to be able to hug my best friend and I cherished the sensation. Even though I know it's a bad idea to keep doing this, I don't want to stop. 

Somehow, I convince myself that it can't hurt to let myself indulge a little. I haven't been able to touch him in all the years I've known him, surely going overboard now is just making up for that?

We sit together for the rest of the drive, only separating when Dream clears his throat and gestures to the houses outside of the car. "Uh, we're almost home."

I straighten my spine and roll up the window, somehow managing to keep my calm facade. "Okay."

He flips a teasing smirk in my direction, much more confident now that there's more space between us. "What, that's it? We cuddle for the whole drive, and all you have to say is 'okay'?"

Normally, I'd be able to flirt back, delivering some savage comment that would level the playing field. But now, after being so close to him, and almost kissing him, and everything being so different, I'm unable to think of a single comeback. 

"Well- you, um-" My mind is blank. Shit. I settle for scoffing angrily. "Don't be an idiot, Dream."

"Hey, I'm not an idiot," he refutes. 

"You are." I try to look at him while I snip, but I can't hold eye contact. The intensity in his eyes burns away at me, turning my defenses to ash. "You're, like, the biggest idiot I know.

He shrugs offhandedly, unbothered by my weak comeback. "Whatever, I'm an idiot..." A grin. "But I'm your idiot." 

Mine... I blush.

"I- that's- ugh, you're such a-" I bury my head in my hands. "Can you just shut up?" 

"Alright, fine. We're here, anyway." 

My head snaps up as the Dream Team house comes into view.

Chapter Text

The car lurches to a stop in front of the house, then pulls into the driveway. George is ecstatic, I can feel his energy bouncing around in my skull. It definitely isn't helping my headache, which is starting to turn into a full on migraine, but I would hands down rather suffer with him here than be fine and miserable without him. 

Today was much harder than I'd hoped it would be. I'd had a panic attack, then lost control of my condition entirely, and then-

-then George had almost kissed me. 

That alone was enough to leave me dizzy, and when I look back at everything else that had happened, plus the fact that I have been hiding my reactions to the surging emotions of my best friends, it's a miracle I'm still standing. 

Hiding my condition is draining, mentally and physically. Having to continually stifle every emotion requires concentration, energy, and stamina. I've built up all three over time, but I still have trouble hiding my empathy, especially for long periods of time. Anything more than forty five minutes drained me so badly that I would begin to feel ill.

And today, I've been containing my empathy for over two hours. 

Despite my best efforts, my exhaustion is starting to become evident. On the drive over, George caught me staring into space, practically asleep with my eyes open for an embarrassingly long period of time. Even worse "space" was George's face, and he'd thought I was staring at him for all that time. 

It had gotten bad enough that I'd asked Sapnap to drive home from the airport, knowing that I wasn't nearly alert enough to safely operate the car. He understood, of course. Sapnap bears the responsibility of being the only person outside of my direct family to know about my condition, which leads to him always looking out for me and protecting me. He's a great friend, and as close to me as a brother. Unlike the friend who severed ties with me after learning about my condition, Sapnap stayed by my side. 

I just wish he could have found out about my empathy in a different way... something a little less life threatening would have been nice, I think wryly, trying not to dwell on the memories. 

I know that if I tell George, things won't end as well. It's not that I don't trust him, trust has nothing to do with it. Out of the two people in my life who I told (or, in Sapnap's case, found out) about my condition, one grew closer and supported me, while the other lashed out, ghosted me,  and left a scar on my right arm from a fight he initiated. 

If I told George, it would be a fifty-fifty flip of a coin, but fortune has never been on my side. 

I'm supposed to be George's best friend, supposed to tell him everything. How would he react if he found that the entire time he's known me, I've kept a secret this big from him? How will he feel, knowing that I've been able to feel his emotions ever since I saw him in the airport? 

His trust in me would be shattered, and that's the best outcome. 

It's also entirely possible, even likely, that he would hate me if he finds out. Losing George would tear me apart, so I don't plan to ever risk my luck by telling him or letting him find out. You can't lose if you never flip the coin, right?

But this isn't the time to think about that. Returning my focus to the moment, I push down my pain, both mental and physical. 

Moving to open the car door for him, I offer a teasingly chivalrous smile as George. Predictably, he rolls his eyes, but accepts the gesture. His pale skin glows enchantingly as he steps into the Florida moonlight, his hair almost back in the semi-darkness. I climb out after him, too busy admiring how he looks at night to notice an oncoming rush of lightheadedness, causing me to stumble as I stand up. 

George reacts before I can even think, his hands shooting out to push against my chest as I fall forwards. The steadying pressure works, and I recover my balance almost immediately. The dizzy feeling is fleeting, here one moment, and gone the next. 

"T-thanks..." I look down, feeling his palms burning against my ribs through my t-shirt. 

He pulls his hands away but remains near me, his face close enough to mine that if I were to lean forward, my forehead would press against his. "Dream, are you sure you're alright?" George asks, squinting through the dim lighting to survey my face. 

"I-" Unable to speak and overwhelmed by the feeling of intense concern emanating from him, I force myself to nod, although the jerking motion feels like iron spikes being driven through my brain. 

George opens his mouth to question me once again, but Sapnap, seeing my oncoming predicament, jumps in. "Hey, George! Are you ready for a tour of the house?"

His worry ebbs away as his attention shifts to Sapnap. "I would have been ready a minute ago, but Dream distracted me," he snipes jokingly. "Let's do it now!" He suddenly takes off, dashing toward the house. The twenty five year-old races up the lawn, sneakers thudding softly against the grass with a wide grin on his face. His shoe is still untied, and it's a miracle that he doesn't faceplant seven times on the way.

I love seeing him this way, so full of an almost childlike joy. Just like in the car, with his hand out the window, he runs across the yard with so much excitement and energy. It's not entirely out of character for George, but it's definitely a side of his personality that he doesn't demonstrate quite as much. To me, it's just as enduring as his accent, or his trademark cocky smirk. 

I follow him, Sapnap on my heels. As we reach the entrance, we see George stopped at the door, fingers hovering over the handle. His shoulders look tense...

"What are you waiting for?" Sapnap whines. "It's dark out here, and there's ice cream in  the freezer."

I feel the sudden change before I see it, my empathy giving me an early warning to the conflict stirring within George. My mouth drops open a little as I adjust to the onslaught of new reactions, grimacing as my head throbs. 

George stares at the doorknob, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once. The youthful happiness that I had remarked on a moment ago has faded, anxiety and the general feeling of being overwhelmed taking its place. "Yah. I, just... um." He swallows roughly. "I just- I can't believe I'm finally moving in with you guys. I've been waiting for this day for years. " His voice breaks slightly, and I feel his conflicting emotions. Longing, disbelief, joy, and even fear play through my head. 

Since I've only been around him for a few hours, my subconscious hasn't yet formed a strong enough profile of his emotional cues and signals to start amplifying the emotions I get from him. It usually takes at least a week before I start to feel emotions with more intensity than the person having those feelings, which is a relief. Right now, if his already powerful emotions were being strengthened, I wouldn't be able to control my reaction. As it is, I'm much weaker than I'd prefer, but at least I have some degree of control over my condition.

It hurts me to see him on the brink of tears, and not just because I literally feel the pain. I don't want George to be sad. 

Suddenly, feeling brave, I take his free hand in one of mine. It's bolder than I usually am, but I push my slight discomfort away and focus on comforting my best friend. "We've been waiting too, George." 

And we have, for years. It's been torture for all of us, in a multitude of different ways. Living across the ocean from your best friends hurt George just as much as it did us.

A tear tracks down his face, almost invisible in the darkness, and he turns away. His actions and emotions indicate that he's embarrassed to cry in front of us, even though it's nothing to be ashamed of. His usually snarky and sarcastic persona cracks slightly, letting some of his bottled emotions spill out. 

"It's okay. We're all together now, and nothing can change that." I feel my own eyes beginning to blur with tears, my treacherous mind mimicking George's pain. 

Abruptly, Sapnap pulls George in for a hug, then grabs me as well. "Love you guys," he says gruffly, voice muffled by the embrace. "Even if you do smell bad, George."

He scoffs, easily snapping back, but his comeback lacks its usual sting. "H-hey, I don't stink. Dream, back me up here."

I laugh weakly. "Okay, no comment." Truthfully, he smells wonderful, at least to me. I grin at Sapnap and return the hug, smirking ruefully as I look down at my two best friends ( sucks to suck, bitches, I'm the tallest-) before responding. "And yah, I love you guys too." 

George smiles, his face still pale but happiness and affection in his expression. "Same here, idiots." He throws his head back, before screaming "Dream team forever!"

I wince as his scream lands in my ears, but yell it back. "Dream team forever!!"

Sapnap, somehow, musters a yell louder than the both of us combined. "Dream team forever!!!" 

We all burst into laughter. It feels so good, because for the first time, the Dream Team is together. All of us, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm as the night sky begins to fill with stars. 

The hug lasts for a good five minutes, only breaking when George finally pulls away. His eyes are red, but he is no longer crying as he tugs on the door. I put my hand on his arm, and he smiles over his shoulder at me before stepping into his new home.

***

The tour doesn't take too long. I've gone over the basic layout of the house, pointing out the three bedrooms, movie room, kitchen, five bathrooms, living room, three soundproof office rooms, the garage, and the pool in the backyard. 

I saved the best part, George's new office/film-studio, for later. I spent weeks getting it ready, and I want it to be a proper surprise tomorrow when he's less distracted. It's truly something special, and I know he'll love it. 

Now, in the living room, George gushes about the house, darting around like a maniac. When he sees Patches poking her fluffy little head out from underneath the couch, he nearly screams with excitement. 

"Patches! I've heard so much about you!" She sniffs his outstretched hand cautiously, then backs away, retreating to her kitty lair to avoid socializing. George looks slightly disappointed at her quick departure, but it's not abnormal, Patches is very shy. Within ten minutes, though, she is back, nose twitching as she nervously allows him to pet her. 

George looks so at home, his presence already fitting in so well even when doing something as simple as laying on the couch and holding Patches. A beam of moonlight falls across his face, streaming down from the window and making his face glow a dusty silver. It's easy for me to imagine George's favorite foods filling our kitchen, his clothes in the bedroom, his gaming setup in the office. He fits, like the missing piece of our puzzle. 

Sapnap enters the living room, an ice cream sandwich in his fist. "So, guys, what should we do first? All night karaoke? Fireworks? Movie marathon?"

George yawns from his reclined position on the couch, with Patches on his lap and moonlight still on his face. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen, and it takes all of my restraint to keep from grabbing my phone and taking as many pictures as possible. "Maybe... we sleep first?"

"Oh, shit, sorry George. I forgot about the time difference." Even though it's only 8:30 or so, it feels like past one in the morning for George. Since he woke me up in the middle of the night last night, I've been up for as long as he has, but I don't mention that. 

He waves off my apology. "It's fine, Dream. I was too excited to sleep until now, anyway."

Must be nice , I think, just the tiniest bit bitter. Even with his and Sapnap's excitement coursing through me, I'm about to pass out. I've done so much today, and it wasn't even close to over yet. My face reveal is going to post this evening, and very soon. I had scheduled all upcoming social media posts, and even though there was no more work left to do, the fact that they would be uploading so soon fills me with surging anxiety. 

I do my best not to think about it as Sapnap grumbles something about karaoke, then disappears into his bedroom, still holding the ice cream. From inside the room, he yells a loud goodnight, "Lazy dumbasses, can't even stay up all night! Like what the heck, dude." then closes the door. His sentiment is crudely worded, but his tone is teasing. 

George stands up, stretching his shoulders as Patches slinks away, irritated at his movement that disturbed her nap. George seems relaxed, but I feel a tiny pulse of anxiety coming from him. I've always hated sleeping in a new place, he probably does too.

If our lives were a fanfiction, I'd make up some excuse for George to sleep in my bed, and then end up cuddling him. We would drift off to sleep in each other's arms, and everything would be perfect. 

Instead, I walk him upstairs, and gesture vaguely to his room. "Well, this one's yours. Down the hall there, that's mine, and you've already seen Sapnap's."

An awkward silence fills the space between us. 

"I-" we both start to say at the same time, cutting each other off. 

He blushed. "You go first," we say in sync again, and my eyes widen. 

"Umm... you can go ahead."

"Uh, right." George ruffles his hair, making it stand up in the back. I want to touch it, but I hold back. "I'm really glad I'm here with you, Dre-" He stops, then looks directly at me. "Clay." 

I shiver at the sound of my name on his lips, and find myself remembering what happened at the airport. Both of us had been avoiding thinking about it, obviously, but...

What if it wasn't just a mistake?

"Me too. I'm happy you're here, George." I take a pace forward, and when he doesn't back away, I step again. 

I think about the way he leaned toward me in the terminal, the way he let me sit close to him with his soft fingers grasping my hand. I think about the way he smiled at me, the way he blushed, the flustered way he watched me while I was eating. I think about everything I'd always joked about doing with him when he arrived, kissing him at the top of the list. 

This , this was different than I had expected it to be. I'd always been, well, infatuated with George. 68% in love with my best friend, right? But now, seeing him in person, having him return my affectionate gestures and glances...

Infatuation doesn't even begin to describe it.

Until now, I'd assumed that George would never love me. My condition made it nearly impossible to sustain a healthy relationship (trust me, I've tried) and I hadn't even shown him my face until two weeks ago. It was one thing to be best friends with someone when you didn't know what they looked like, it was quite another to be in love with them. 

Part of me, the more insecure side that I always tried to keep from surfacing, was sure that the main reason George had never actually been interested was because I had never shown him my face. After all, who could fall in love with a mask?

I made sure to keep myself from falling for him, and it was always easier because of the distance between us. But seeing him acting this way in person, dropping so many little hints, made it impossible to keep my repressed feelings for George from surfacing. 

Taking a deep breath, I pull George closer, until my chin rests lightly on his head. 

He gasps lightly, and all I can think about is the wavering emotions surging from him. I love this feeling, but I know that at the first hint of discomfort from George I'll back off. Nothing yet, though, and our embrace is as warm and comforting as it was in the airport, as perfect as I'd always imagined it would be. 

My arms cradle his shoulders, holding him against me. For a moment, he is frozen, but then he melts, hands gently grasping the fabric of my shirt and head on my shoulder.

I can feel his heartbeat.

I brush my tongue across my dry lips, feeling George's grip tighten on my shirt. His hands- are they trembling? I know mine are. 

I want to kiss him. 

He looks beautiful, dark hair and dark eyes and dark hoodie. He's really here, in my arms, and surely this is what he wants after everything today- Breath shuddering, I start to lean down, my fingers tilting his chin up gently. He lets me caress his face and lift his lips towards mine. I'm overwhelmingly happy, and a breathless laugh of disbelief slips out as we get closer, closer-

He pulls away. 

My face burns with embarrassment and guilt, and I hastily remove my hands from his face. "I- I'm sorry-" My voice breaks as I stutter out an apology, stung by the rejection and amazed by my own stupidity. What was I thinking? Why would someone as perfect as George ever want someone like me? "Oh, god. I'm sorry." Had I read too much into what happened earlier? I could have sworn he wanted me to kiss him. How could I have been so wrong? 

He stares at me, shocked. There are so many emotions in my head, his and mine and everything, and I feel dizzy. 

I suddenly become aware of how far past my limit I've pushed myself. The longest I'd hidden my empathy was four hours, and I slept for eighteen hours straight the next day. I hadn't exerted myself that badly for years, but now, I think I have. 

I'd know the toll containing my empathy would take on my body, but I hadn't expected that it would be so bad. My hands shake, my head hurts, and my vision swims. Lightheaded, I back away from George, desperately putting some space between us while stumbling into my own room. The near kiss and rejection from George has drained the last of my energy, pushing me over the edge. 

"I- I'm sorry." I say again. My back hits the doorframe, and I flinch at the unexpected impact. "I didn't- I mean, I wasn't- I just thought... fuck, please don't hate me." Hot tears threaten to form in my eyes and spill down my cheeks, and I swipe at my eyes to dissuade them.

"Dream, wait-" George starts to call after me, his face a wall of stone, but I escape to my room before he can reach me. His tension, guilt, and anxiety are leaching into my brain, making my thoughts sluggish and blurry.

" Fuck- " I hiss, and lean my weight against the now closed door. The tears fall before I can stop them, leaving a salty taste on my lips and a dampness on my face. 

I wait, crying quietly and hunched against the wooden entrance to my room, until I hear George's footsteps echo away and the distant click of his door shutting. I straighten and step towards my bed, the room spinning around me. My heart is pounding rapidly, and I can't breathe normally. Why, why, why did I have to do that? Now George is going to hate me, and-

My panicked thoughts cut off abruptly as I try and fail to get to my bed. I only make it two steps before my knees give out, my eyes rolling up in my head as I fall forwards. 

The last thing I see in my darkening vision is the corner of my dresser racing up to meet me, a sharp wooden edge I'm unable to stop myself from colliding with. A burning pain ignites as I crash into the cabinet, competing with the onset of numbness I'm facing. 

I'm unconscious before my head even hits the ground.

Chapter Text

I close my bedroom door, my back leaning against it as I slowly slide onto the floor. I slip down the door until I'm sitting on the cold wooden floor, knees bent in front of me. What just happened?

I had told Dream goodnight, and then-

He tried to kiss me.

And I pulled away. 

I regretted it immediately. The moment I pushed back, his face had dropped, showing a deep sadness and guilt. I didn't mean to hurt him again, I just- I sigh and bury my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. I never know when he's being serious. 

That's what made it so hard to have Dream as my best friend. On one hand, he was the most loyal, funny, and amazing person I'd ever met. On the other, though, he was a sarcastic flirt. 

Every time he would flirt with me (and believe me, he's flirted with me a lot over all the years I've known him), I'd freeze up a little, sometimes joking back and sometimes shutting him down. I'd never been able to tell when he was -or, if he was ever- serious. It was especially difficult without seeing his face, since the usual signals I relied on when reading someone, like blush or breaking eye contact, were all absent. 

Had he meant any of the things he's said over the years? Did he mean to almost kiss me? He could definitely take jokes a little too far, but would he joke about something as serious as kissing me?

I... don't know. I like to think he wouldn't, but... 

We had been close, so close , but when he laughed- I know it was an overreaction, but I couldn't stop myself from panicking and breaking contact. His laughter meant that he didn't care about me, that he thought it was funny to make me so vulnerable in front of him.

After seeing his pale face and apologetic expression, I felt awful, but I still wasn't sure if he had been genuine. Why would he have laughed if it was real? 

But... is it possible I had misinterpreted the situation? If had been making fun of me, why would he have sounded so heartbroken? I remember his teary eyes, how he turned away so quickly, as if he was trying to bury all signs of the vulnerability he had shown or hide a secret written on his face.

"I- I'm sorry... Fuck, please don't hate me... I just thought..."

The words I was recalling weren't what I would expect if he had been manipulating me. But then, if he was serious, why did he laugh ?

I flinch as I hear a loud crash from across the hall. Was that Dream? Maybe he... dropped something? To be honest, it sounded more like he drop-kicked something. What could have caused such a loud thud? 

For a moment, I consider going to check on him, but quickly disregard the thought. After pulling away from him in the hall, I'm the last thing he'd want to see right now. I haven't even been here a full day, yet I've already hurt him more than once. I'm a horrible friend.

Guilt burns a hole in my chest, what am I going to say to him tomorrow? "Sorry, Dream, I didn't mean to almost kiss you at the airport and then almost kiss you again and then pull away when you tried to kiss me, like the psychopath I am" ?

I'm getting mad at Dream because I never know when he's being serious and when he's just leading me on, but here I am, hypothetically trying to kiss him and pulling away when he returns the gesture.

Sighing weakly as I heave myself into a standing position, I survey the room. Sapnap had brought in my suitcase earlier, and it now lay sprawled on the dark blue bed sheets. There's one window, casting moonlight into the room and illuminating a bookshelf and small writing desk. In the corner is a beanbag, and the wooden floor is covered in places with a fluffy grey rug. There was a bathroom attached to the room, thank god, because I did not want to run into Dream in the hall. 

Unzipping my suitcase, I shuffle through my clothes until I find my favorite boxers and an oversized hoodie. All I want right now is a nice hot shower, to wash off the memories of everything that had happened and remove all traces of the harsh airplane smell still lingering on me. 

The bathroom is large, with a toilet and shower, and a mirror hanging over the sink. During the tour, I had seen that Dream's bathroom was the only one with a full sized tub. That was annoying, because I love taking baths, but there wasn't much I could do about it. Me and Sapnap had decided unanimously to give Dream the master bedroom. He'd protested at first, but we remained stubborn until he relented. It was only fair, after all. Dream picked out the house, going to countless sales meetings and traveling all across Orlando. He'd payed for most of the house upfront, way more than was necessary. He'd made sure that neither of us were uncomfortable with the amount he was spending for all of us, and that the deed to the house was registered to Sapnap and me, as well as him. And, on top of that, he needed the extra space for Patches' litter box and cat tree. 

After about five minutes, I see steam beginning to fog the mirror, and I undress and step into the shower. The water burns refreshingly against my skin, a little hotter than expected. I wince at the heat, watching as my pale skin reddens under the scalding water. It burns, but in a way that feels good. 

Soon, I'm used to the temperature, and I begin to wash my hair. It's two-in-one shampoo and conditioner tonight, as I'm too tired to bother with anything else. I run my hands through my tangle of dark brown hair, massaging the soap across my scalp and tugging out any knots I find. 

Washing my hair is a relaxing feeling, and since I'm already so tired, I find myself staring at the wall with an unfocused gaze as I blankly watch the water drip down the tile. After a few moments of drifting, I start to sway slightly, my eyes dropping closed. It's a cue that it might be time for me to move, before I fall asleep standing up, naked, and in the shower. 

Blearily, I force my eyelids to open and move my head under the water, rinsing out the last of the shampoo. The excess droplets trickle down my chin, reminding me that I'll need to shave tomorrow. Usually, I would just do it now, but I'm exhausted. I just want to stop thinking and sleep for a good eight hours. 

I grab a fresh bar of soap and scrub at my skin, letting the clean smelling bubbles coat my arms and shoulders. The lathered foam slides down my chest and into the drain, washed away in the swirl of warm water. 

Don't freak out. Don't overthink. Just shower, and go to sleep. I'll definitely have to deal with this shit in the morning, whatever this mess between me and Dream is, but until then, I don't want to think about it. 

I turn off the water and step onto the frigid tile floor, grimacing as the cold air bites at my skin and makes me shiver. The towel hanging next to the shower is a coarse cotton, in a color that might be... green? red? I can't tell. Stupid colorblindness. 

Deciding it doesn't really matter what color it is, I ruffle the water out of my hair, before swiping the towel over my body and drying off. After I've gotten rid of most of the water, I put on my boxers and hoodie, sinking into the comfort of my familiar clothes. 

I brush my teeth and squint at my reflection in the mirror, surveying my damp appearance. 

Pale skin, brown eyes, dark hair. Almost invisible freckles on my nose and spattered across my cheeks. My usually calm expression is a mess of eye bags and a worried frown. I lean forward, trying to inspect the circles under my eyes a little closer, but ram my forehead into the mirror in a grand demonstration of my terrible depth perception. Ow. 

Okay, time for bed, before I fall asleep right here. I shuffle across the floor, and flop onto the bed. 

The mattress is cold, but it feels good in the warm Florida air. I slide under the sheets, listening to the faint rustle of fabric as I get comfortable. I'm drained, and know I'll be asleep in seconds, despite my whirlwind of thoughts. 

I don't regret my decision to move to America, but I do find myself missing England. My familiar room, familiar bed, and familiar atmosphere would be welcome right now. 

Oh shit! Right now, as in, right now. Past nine. 

The face reveal has posted. 

More than thirty million subscribers, all across the world, will be tuning in to see Dream's face, all filled with expectations and standards and judgments. Millions -maybe even billions- of people will be seeing his face. It's a horrifying idea... 

Is Dream alright ? Were the fans reacting negatively? I'm sure they wouldn't, but there are always people who spread hate just because they can. 

Burning with a curiosity that keeps my drowsiness back, at least momentarily, I grab my phone from the charger on the desk and open YouTube. Eight million views already... that's a lot. He's all over Insta, and Tic Tok. 

What I see on Twitter makes my stomach lurch. 

Trending: He's ugly

Trending: Put the mask back on 

I drop my phone, the bright light suddenly lighting up the darkened room as it falls face up onto the bed. My hands shake a little as I retrieve the device and plug it into the charger. Shit. Why were they... why would anyone do that? To Dream? I'd expected a few negative comments, sure, but not to this scale... It hurts to think that Dream might be reading the hateful and mocking comments by himself right now, with no one to reassure him that they weren't true, no one to keep him from spiraling. 

Should I say something to him? Should I go see him? I consider crossing the hall to Dream's room and knocking on the door. I want to make sure he's alright. I very nearly swing my legs over the side of the bed and step onto the floor... but my common sense stops me. No, I shouldn't. I've hurt him enough for one day. I'm sure that he doesn't want to see me. I'll say something in the morning, instead. By then, he hopefully won't be mad at me. 

I lay back onto the bed and force my eyes to close, trying to focus on leaving my breathing. In and out, in and out, and again, and again. My thoughts are all over the place, but the breathing exercise helps. 

After about ten minutes of breathing deeply, I feel myself starting to slip, everything blurring at the edges as I sink into the soft blankets and cool pillows and sheets that smell like Dream's favorite brand of soap. 

I fall asleep thinking of him.

***

"George, tell me if I need to stop." He trails a hand up my arm, until its warmth rests on the back of my neck. He steps closer, and pulls me to him. "Is this okay?"

"Y-yes, I want this." I look up into his stunning eyes, golden and glowing. I remember, when I first realized I'd never be able to see Dream's actual eye color, that I was stupidly disappointed. Everyone always raved about green eyes being stunning, and I wouldn't be able to see them in their natural shade, which Dream jokingly referred to as "frosty jade". Now, though, I knew that my reaction was stupid. What were green eyes, compared to shining golden irises? Even though I was part of the 0.9% of the population with colorblindness, and would never see the real color of his eyes, it didn't matter. It turns out, they were beautiful in any color, and I was one of the few lucky ones that would get to see them like this. 

He meets my gaze, staring back into my dark brown eyes. "What are you thinking about, Georgie?" He breaths, the soft question accompanied with a gentle touch of his free hand to my face. Dream's fingertips trace invisible shapes across my skin, painting a picture only he can see. 

"I'm thinking... about how I can't see green, but I can see gold. And gold looks perfect on you." 

A faint blush spreads across his face, making his light feckless that can only be seen from close up more visible. "Perfect?" 

"Perfect," I echo, and grin. I'm not sure when it happened, but my hands are in his hair, brushing at his dark blonde waves before pulling him down to my height. "There. Now I'm taller." 

"George, I'm crouching," he chuckles. "It doesn't count." His breath is warm on my cheek, lips almost touching as he speaks. I love this, this feeling of him holding me close and speaking so warmly.

"Hmm, no." Instinctively, I press my lips against his, and speak the next words into his mouth. "It counts, I'm taller."

He inhales sharply, and kisses me back with dizzying passion. I can't think, can't stop, can't do anything but smile stupidly as we finally pull apart for air. "Fine, you're taller," he declares, "but not really, because you cheated." 

"Too bad. Deal with it, idiot."

He tries to glare at me, but it comes out more like a sad puppy dog look. "Ugh, fine." His frown melts into a fond smile, and he rests his chin on my shoulder, speaking into my ear. "But I'm your idiot."

Mine...

I pull him in for another kiss, never wanting this moment to end.

***

I yelp, jolting upright. My sweaty hands clutch the blankets as I adjust to my unfamiliar surroundings, heart pounding in my ears. At first, I don't know where I am, and it takes a good thirty seconds for me to become fully awake and stop panicking. When I'm able to adjust, I take a deep breath, trying to remember what had woken me up- 

Oh. Right.

I just had a dream... about Dream.

Fuck.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm down. The dark strands are still a little damp, not yet fully dry from the shower. What was that about? 

Best friends dreamed about each other all the time, right? Though, admittedly, not usually about trying to kiss each other. 

I flop back onto the mattress, my eyes wide open as I stare at the ceiling. My pulse is still racing, and the memory of the dream fills me with... longing? 

Longing. For Dream? Oh, no.

Surely I hadn't started to like Dream? Surely my heart hadn't been stupid enough to fall for Dream's joking flirts?

But what if I had? What if I was starting to... like Dream?

Good god. I sound like a teenager with a crush. As a twenty five year old, I consider this a concerning development.

We've known each other for so long online, but everything changed when we were in the same room. It had only taken me two minutes to try and kiss him , for fucks sake.

And then, he tried to kiss me back... but it wasn't real. Or was it? I don't know, and not knowing is eating me up inside.

I sigh, unable to keep my mind from returning to the dream, analyzing and treasuring every detail. "But I'm your idiot" , in particular, keeps circling in my head. He'd said that to me today. In real life, not just a dream. 

What would it feel like to have him kiss me? Would it be light and sweet, like in my dream, or would it be more... hungry? 

I thought I'd be better than this, but it was much harder in person. Online, Dream's flirting was always so difficult to remain indifferent to, but that was when I knew (or at least, strongly suspected) that it was fake. Standing face to face with him, though, as he called himself mine, or pulled me into a hug, or tried to kiss me? 

I was helpless against his charm, damn it. And if he was only teasing me with that almost kiss, I don't know what I'll do. I have to talk to him about it, have to be sure. If he was being serious, and I just misunderstood, then I'll feel like shit for making him think he overstepped. If he wasn't sincere, though, it's likely that I'll die of embarrassment. 

I can't deny it now. I want him to be serious, want him to kiss me. 

It seems that our entire relationship is a pile of dynamite about to explode, and I've lit the match...

Chapter Text

Cold hands slapping my face, shaking my shoulders, a terrified voice calling my name-

"Augh!" My eyes fly open, and I flinch. The wooden floor is hard and cold underneath my back, and Sapnap's worried face is hovering over mine. Morning sunlight streams through my window, the beams of light highlighting the dust particles in the air. 

Morning? Since when was it morning? 

"Clay! What the hell?! What happened to you?!"

"I- what?" I try to sit up, but groan and let myself go limp. My mind slowly spins as I remember what happened. "Shit. I think I... passed out?" My body feels clammy, and something's wrong... My head is throbbing, a different kind of pain than the headache last night, and something warm is on my cheek. 

Feeling a pulsing pain in my temple, I probe the side of my head gently, and my fingers come away faintly bloody. "S-shit."

Sapnap leans closer, studying my face. "Oh god. Bro, you're bleeding, like, a lot. Should you go to the hospital?!"

"What?!" The hospital is the last place I want to be, the intensity of the emotions there would make the situation much worse. "No, I'm okay. I think-" moving slowly, I bring myself into a sitting position, my legs sprawled in front of me. "I think I must have hit my head, or something, when I fainted last night."

"When you-? Fuck, you've been bleeding and unconscious on the floor all night!?"

I blink, feeling the stiffness in my neck. "I- yah. I think I have." 

Sapnap curses again, looking alarmed. "Was this because of yesterday? I know it's hard for you to hide your... condition , but I didn't know it was this taxing."

"I was just tired, and yesterday was... difficult." I reassure. I flash back to George pulling away from me as I leaned in to kiss him, and I feel embarrassed and guilty once again. I rest my head in my hands, careful not to touch the area around my right eye, which is throbbing painfully and seems to be the source of the bleeding. 

Unfortunately, the surging worry is back. Sapnap's fear echoes through me, and I feel my hands starting to shake as my mind amplifies his concern.

"Dude, you can't do this. You weren't even hiding it for three hours, and you were so tired that you passed out. How will you be able to do this all day, every day? You need to tell him, before you hurt yourself."

I ignore his words, too busy focusing on his emotions. Somewhat guiltily, I open my mouth, not wanting to offend my friend, but desperate for the worry to die down. "Sap, could you try to calm down? I'm sorry, it's just-"

He cuts me off quickly, noticing my shaking. "Don't be sorry, you can't control it. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I know better than to let myself lose control around you. I was just-" he rubs his face. "I was really scared when I tried to wake you up for breakfast, and you were unconscious on the floor, with your face covered in blood." He shudders. "To be honest, you looked dead. It was horrifying." 

My face pales slightly as I picture Sapnap coming to wake me, and finding me limp on the floor with a bloody gash beside my eye. "Damn." 

"Yah." He holds out a hand and helps me stand up, pulling me to my feet. He tugs a little harder than is necessary, and I stagger forward, my shoulder hitting the wall with a painfully loud crash as I lose my balance. 

I wince. Oops. That was really loud... Shit, Sapnap left my door open. I can only hope that the noise didn't wake George. 

Of course, half a second later, I hear George's bedroom door open. He hurries forward, his footsteps muffled by a pair of socks. "Sapnap? Dream? What's going on?" 

I tug my arm out of Sapnap's supporting grip, fighting down sickening waves of nausea as I force myself to stand on my own. "Nothing, everything's fine." The words come out in a hurried gasp, making it pretty obvious that everything is not fine. As the footsteps reach the door, I turn away quickly, making sure that George can't see the blood covering my face as he enters the room. Luckily, I'm wearing a hoodie, and I'm able to lift the hood to cover the worst of the injury just to the side of my right eye. 

George looks between me and Sapnap, eyes wide. "What happened? Why are you standing so weirdly?" 

Sapnap starts to answer, but I shoot a sharp glare in his direction, cutting him off before he can spill my secret. He sighs, but stays quiet, respecting my decision not to tell George. 

I take a moment to look at George, who stands with his arms crossed, still waiting for an answer. He's wearing an oversized Dream smiley face hoodie and boxers... with nothing else. 

I blush.

Embarrassingly, I'm still wearing the clothes I had on last night, and I have a cowl pulled up over the right side of my face. It's obvious that something is wrong, since my face is hidden and I'm turned away from George. 

George huffs, annoyed and worried by our strange behavior. "Something obviously happened, I heard a bang and Dream's acting like he just got punched in the face." His lips part in shock as something occurs to him. "You weren't fighting , were you?" 

"No!" I assure quickly. My voice is much louder than I intended it to be, and George recoils slightly, stung by my harsh tone. 

"O-okay. Fine. If you weren't fighting, then what the hell happened?" He tries to bite back, casual sarcasm surfacing, but his voice wavers. The unexpected tremble shows his surprise at my shout. It's out of character for me, especially with George. I only ever yell at him when we're both having fun, like during a manhunt or on the rare occasions when we're filming lore for the smp. I'd yell at Sapnap sometimes, like the time he'd left he garage door open and three chipmunks had seized the opportunity to move in, or when he killed the power to the whole house by overloading the circuits with 40,000 Christmas lights he'd gotten from Karl (Karl had gotten them from Mr Beast). But I never yelled at George when I was mad. Never... until now, that is, and the hurt on his face causes me physical pain. 

I feel bad immediately. I hadn't meant to yell, especially not at George, who was just concerned about me. My brain short circuits as I try to simultaneously apologize for yelling, keep my injury hidden, and not react to the worry, anger, and general hostility in the room. 

I trip over my words and my feet, displaying an impressive amount of incoordination. My heels collide, and I'm falling again, my eyes screwed shut as I brace myself-

George catches me. 

I flick my eyes open, gaze landing on familiar chocolate tipped hair and a jaw covered in stubble, needing a shave. His arms are wrapped around my lower ribs, his hands on my back. My own arms had instinctively embraced him back, and his chest was pressed directly against mine. He meets my eyes, looking just as surprised as I feel, and I get a good view of his bed head.

He looks hot with messy hair. 

"T-thanks... again." This made twice that George had kept me from face-planting, which wasn't awkward at all...

I pull away quickly, remembering last night's incident, but a hand on my shirt stops me.

"Dream?" His words are quiet, with a hint of uncertainty. George tugs on my arm until I'm facing him. 

He raises onto his tiptoes and leans closer, and I feel a sudden surge of hope. This means George changed his mind! He's about to kiss me-

George keeps moving forward, and my eyes flutter closed, heart racing. His hands, cool and dry, brush my cheekbones, and my breath catches. I wait for the sensation of lips on mine, but it never comes. 

Instead, gentle fingers touch my neck, tilting my head to the side. Distracted by the touch, I don't react in time, and can't stop George as he removes my hood. He sees my bloody cut, reacting with a heart wrenching gasp, and my stomach sinks. 

Immediately, terror crashes through me, my mind reading George's panic as he starts to hyperventilate. "Wh- Dream, what- what happened?" 

I can't answer, can't breathe, and Sapnap's anxiety on my behalf is colliding with the stabbing fear. I squeeze my eyes shut, my expression pleading for help. 

Sapnap, reading the situation perfectly, jumps in. He's loyal to a fault, always protecting me, and I'm beyond grateful. "He hit his head. Ju-just now. That's why I was in here. Clay fell and hit his head, and he didn't want to freak you out, so he told me not to say anything."

Sapnap's lie is perfect, believable enough with just the right amount of hidden truth. I know he hates lying, and I can feel how torn with guilt he is over lying to George. I loathe myself for making him do this. Why couldn't I just be normal?

The odds were literally one in 304,347,826. How is it fair that I’m this unlucky? 

"Uh, yah. I must have, um, sleepwalked, or something, and hit my head." I mutter, not making eye contact. 

Concerned brown eyes stare up into mine. "Dream, why didn't you just tell me the truth? You've been standing here, casually talking to me, while you're literally bleeding ! If you had just said something when I came in-" He tilts his head away from mine, looking dismayed. "Why didn't you just tell me? I could have helped..."

I speak without thinking, my unintentionally callous words piercing the air between us. "I didn't- I didn't think you'd want to. You know, after everything that happened last night..." God damn it, stop talking, Clay. 

George's face falls, sadness evident in every mesmerizing feature. He feels guilty, and so do I. I didn't mean to guilt trip him about what happened yesterday, and it was my fault for trying to kiss him and freaking him out. 

"I didn't mean it like that, George. I'm sorry. I just didn't want to freak you out, that's all." His guilt starts to ebb away, and I offer up a small smile of apology. "And I'm fine. It's not that bad, just a surface wound." I think it's just a surface wound, anyway.

He releases a pent up breath. "Fhww. First morning in Florida is off to a great start." 

I snort, but am glad to see his trademark sarcasm. "Ignore this. I'm gonna take care of the cut thing, and then we're all going to have some breakfast, and then we'll do something fun to celebrate your first day." I leave the bedroom, stepping between George and Sapnap. I make it into the connecting bathroom without getting dizzy, which is a good sign. Sapnap joins me for a moment, leaning in to whisper in my ear. 

"We have to talk about whatever is between you and George. Something obviously happened." I begin to interrupt, but he stops me. "No, shut up and listen. Something is wrong, and I have a right to know. I'm going to make us breakfast while you get ready, and then we're gonna have a serious conversation."

"...fine." He made a few good points, and it won't hurt to get another person's perspective about what had happened. Plus, Sapnap is my best friend, and he doesn't deserve to be kept in the dark. "Pancakes?" 

He rolls his eyes. " Fine. Pancakes for breakfast." He strides towards the kitchen, and soon the faint sound of clanging pans is audible. 

I step further into the bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind me, but hesitate, unsure of what to do. I couldn't see the wound unless I used a mirror, and I didn't know how I'd be able to clean the cut with both eyes closed. I was only able to wink my left eye, and since it was my right that was hurt, it would either be both eyes open or both eyes closed while I worked, and neither option seems particularly great. I suppose my best choice is to shower, and wash my face carefully. 

I frown at my reflection, taking in the dark circles under my eyes and pale face, along with the blood on my cheek. The gash on my face is about half an inch long, and will almost certainly leave a scar. Overall, I look like someone who spent the night unconscious on the floor. 

I guess my appearance is to be expected, given that I did spend the night unconscious on the floor. 

I tug off my hoodie and turn on the water, waiting outside of the shower while I wait for the water to warm up. Every time I blink, it causes a flash of pain to jolt through me, and I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. 

Unexpectedly, the door cracks open, and George's head pokes in. 

"Aaah! George, I'm not wearing a shirt!" I reflexively throw the towel I had been holding at him, and it smacks ineffectively against his face. 

He stares at me, shocked, blush spreading across his face. The towel flops lamely onto his feet, and he looks down at it. 

"Er, sorry-" He takes the hint and pivots away, his back to me and his hands over his eyes. "I just thought I'd see if you needed help cleaning your cut." 

I weigh his offer, surprised by the gesture. The idea of George's hands on my face gave me butterflies, but after everything that happened yesterday, was this something George would be comfortable with? In the end, the butterflies win, and I find myself sighing in acceptance. 

"Okay, but let me get a shirt on, first." I flip off the water, not wanting to waste it while George cleans my injury. 

The only shirt in the room is the dirty one from yesterday, and I don't want to put it back on. "George?" I ask timidly. "I, uh, need to walk past you to grab a clean shirt. Could you-"

"Don't worry, I'll keep my eyes closed," he assures. 

I nod, before remembering that he can't see me. "Okay." Moving quickly, I step past him, feeling the slightest brush of skin on mine as I accidentally graze against his shoulder. I ignore it, but my face is flaming red. Was it my imagination, or did I feel a hint of something similar to longing coming from George, amplified by the brief touch? 

I fumble for a shirt, tugging it on as fast as possible. As soon as it's on, I take a deep breath, and return to the bathroom. "You can look now." 

George's eyes open, and he surveys the bathroom. He grabs a washcloth, then fills the sink with warm water. "Do you have any rubbing alcohol, or sterilizing wipes?" 

I swallow tensely at the thought of the burning pain the rubbing alcohol would cause. Imagine the pain of hand sanitizer in a small cut... then imagine that pain doubled, and instead of a small cut, it's a deep gash. "Yah, under the sink," I force out, swallowing dryly. 

He grabs the bottle of rubbing alcohol, unscrewing the lid and placing it next to the washcloth. He also selects a small tube of Neosporin, an antibiotic that helps with pain and prevents infection, and a bandaid. 

"George?" 

He looks up, still holding the box of bandaids. "Yah?"

"I'm... I'm really sorry for shouting earlier. I didn't mean to, I was just stressed. That's not an excuse, but I wanted you to know that I'd never normally do that."

His focused stare softens, and he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Dream, I know you didn't mean it, but thank you for apologizing. It's not a big deal-"

"It is a big deal," I interrupt, not willing to let him forgive me so easily. "I yelled at you. I never yell at you. It was a shit thing to do."

George shook his head. "Maybe it was, but that doesn't really matter. I forgive you. You're good. Stop worrying so much." 

I scowl, and he laughs. "What, do you not want me to forgive you?" 

I hesitate, struggling to put my thoughts into words. "You shouldn't forgive me, just like that. I yelled at you."

He shrugs. "So? I yell at you all of the time. Drop it, idiot." 

I let out an exasperated huff, but relent. "Okay, fine." I fidget for a moment, before speaking again. "Thanks, George."

He shakes his head at me. "Anytime, idiot." He bites his lip, and looks over at the sink. "Are you ready? This might hurt..."

Chapter Text

"Are you ready? This might hurt..." 

Dream squares his shoulders. "Let's just get it over with." His voice trembles slightly, and he looks down, feeling guilty for reacting like anyone would in his place. I'd learned, through our years of close friendship, that Dream didn't like to show vulnerability, especially when the situation could negatively affect someone close to him. He would rather suffer in silence than admit to his feelings and cause anyone to worry. That was exactly what he had done last year, when he'd gotten so sick that he had to be temporarily hospitalized because he didn't want to bother anyone and get proper help. It was exactly what he had done when my first Visa was denied, putting on a brave face to help me deal with the crushing disappointment and loneliness of going even longer without meeting him. I'd been devastated, of course, but so had he, yet Dream never showed any sign of it. He hadn't wanted to make it worse for me by acting sad, so he bottled up everything.

I bite my lip, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how, or if he would even want my compassion. He's supported me so many times over the years. It's the least I can do to help him doctor his cut, though I'm not doing this out of obligation. I volunteered to help him because he was Dream , my best friend, and even with my feelings about him so complicated I would still do anything to help him.

Dream was one of the few people who had my complete trust and loyalty. I warm up to people and make new friends with relative ease, but it takes me years to trust, and even longer to feel a sense of devotion like I do for Dream. Sapnap and my family and pretty much the only others who I hold in the same regard, with the addition of Karl.

Unlike Dream, who shows his feelings through kind words and physical touch, as well as frequent gift giving, my love language has always leaned more towards quality time and acts of service. Maybe that's part of the reason why I didn't hesitate to open the bathroom door, and offer to help him. Was I subconsciously trying to show my love?

Love, where did that come from? I might have a crush on Dream, but I'm not in love with him. I probably just meant that I loved him, in a (somewhat) platonic way. I don't have to be in love with him to love him, after all. 

Dream shifts awkwardly, blinking away a trickle of blood making its way down his cheekbone. I feel a pang of sympathy for him, and can't help but let my brow furrow as I think about his situation.

How could he be this unlucky? Not only did he hit his head, he cut it open, and it looks like he hasn't slept at all. In fact, he was still wearing the clothes he had on yesterday, which was weird. 

I frown, remembering entering the bedroom after hearing a thump and finding Dream and Sapnap acting so oddly. I wouldn't have realized Dream was bleeding, but then he tripped, I had gotten a glimpse at something red (I was pretty sure it was red, anyway) on the side of his covered face. 

Returning my focus to the moment at hand and bracing myself for the worst, I lift myself onto the sink so I have a better view of his cut. Because of the height difference, I had to use the tall sink as a seat to properly see his face. The last thing I wanted was to be cleaning his injury on tip-toes. The marble is cold on my legs, and I shiver, berating my choice not to put on anything more than what I'd slept in last night.

I nod to him, signaling that I'm ready when he is. There's an awkward moment as he steps forward,  closing the gap between us with blush covering his face.

This may not be the time, but I couldn't help noticing the position we're in. I'm sitting on the sink, and Dream is standing loosely in between my open legs, facing me. The bare skin of my legs brushes his shirt... definitely not thinking about how I just saw him shirtless, I blush. I wish I had put on something more than just a hoodie and boxers before going to sleep last night, but it would have to do. At least the hoodie was long enough to cover most of my boxers. 

And, also, I enjoyed the feeling of being taller than him, just this once. It reminded me of my dream... but I didn't need to think about that right now.

I take a deep breath, regaining my concentration. "I'm going to start on the count of three, is that alright?" 

He inhales, his reply breathy and low with anxiety. "Y-yah." He tilts his head, and I get a clear view of the injury at his temple. 

"One," I dip the washcloth into the sink, then bring it to hover above Dream's soft skin. I try to keep my voice calm and collected, even though I'm worried that I'll hurt him on accident or do something wrong and make the cut worse. I'm pretty sure I watched a YouTube video about the proper way to clean a wound a few months back, and now I'm hoping that I'll retain some of that information.

"Two," I brush his dark blonde tangles out of the way, tucking the strands behind his ear and wincing at the blood. It was hard to believe that he'd only just gotten the cut. It looked at least a few hours old, part of the blood had dried on his face. I'm sure that it's just my imagination (I heard the crashing noise that must have been him falling over and hitting his head this morning, after all), but it seems like the appearance of the injury didn't match the timeframe of his story. 

Whatever, George. Worry about how he got the cut later, when he isn't wanting in suspense for you to start cleaning his face, I think to myself, and more forward.

"Three," He gasps as I gently but firmly dab at the gash, clearing away the blood for a better view of the cut. Warm water, stained pink by the blood, drips down his face, and my heart lurches. Fortunately, I'm not a squeamish person, and the blood doesn't do more than unsettle me a little. 

Luckily, it's not too deep, and shouldn't take more than a few weeks to heal completely. It seems no stitches are needed, thank god. Stupid America didn't have free healthcare, and an expensive trip to the hospital was probably not on Dream's agenda for my first day here. 

His breathing quickens as I finish my initial cleaning, he knows what comes next. I tilt the bottle of rubbing alcohol over the washcloth, pouring the sterilizer onto the fabric. My hands shake, but I keep all of my attention on Dream. "Tell me if I need to stop, okay?"

I brush the cloth onto his face, careful not to get any of the chemical in his eye, and he grimaces. "Ah-" He clamps his lips shut, stifling a pained cry, and I see reflex tears welling in his yellow (green) eyes. My stomach flips at his choked yelp, but I know that the gash needs to be cleaned. If we were going to have a doctor check it out, it would be different, but since it's just me I know this is the best method to be sure that no infection will form. Still, though, the thought of the acidic burning caused by the alcohol made my heart hurt. 

Slowly, cautiously, I brush over the cut, and his slight exclamation of pain makes me freeze. At the same time, his hands suddenly move to grasp my bare legs just above my knees, desperate for an anchor. 

My breathing shudders, the sensation horribly distracting. "H-hey, it's okay. I've got you." If he was anyone else, I wouldn't allow it, but this is Dream. He needs the contact, and he's the only one who I am willing to let this close to me. Even the others I trust as much as him, like my family, would never be permitted to touch me like this. I'm very guarded with my touches, unlike a certain Floridian I could name who would accept a hug from a stranger. 

I lift the cloth again, and he flinches as the burning liquid makes contact with his open wound. I pull back, scanning his face. "Dream, I'm almost done. Should I keep going?"

"Y-yeah." His eyes are closed, and his face is starkly pale. I'm worried, the blood loss and high stress of the situation could cause him to get lightheaded. 

"Okay, make sure to tell me if you feel dizzy, or anything." I wait until he dips his head in a nod, confirming that he'll let me know if something's wrong, before continuing.

Doing my best to keep my hands as steady as possible, I place my right hand (my non-dominant hand) on the back of his neck, letting my touch comfort him as I reapply the washcloth. 

He hisses through clenched teeth as I finish cleaning the gash, the sharp smell of chemicals in the air. I rub my thumb across his warm skin, feeling his tendons twitch under my hand and his neck tense. 

"Almost done. I'm just going to put some Neosporin on there so it heals faster." I fumble for the tube, unscrewing the cap with one hand. I gently squeeze some of the antibiotic paste onto his cheek, just under the cut. 

I take a breath, then lift my fingers, carefully spreading the medicine over the gash. He leans into my touch, shaking slightly. When I finish with the medicine, I clean my hand on the cloth, before picking up the bandaid. It's the kind specifically designed for smaller and deeper cuts, shaped like a tiny "X" and made to hold the wound closed while also keeping bacteria from collecting and not putting too much pressure on the injury. 

I open the bandaid and apply it to his face, making sure to move slowly and not use too much pressure. Once I'm sure it's completely on, I shift my hand from his face to his hair. I fight down the strangely protective urge to press a light kiss over the bandage. As much as I want to, doing so would only make matters worse. Things were complicated between us already. If I wanted to get over this crush I had on Dream, I couldn't just start kissing his face, even if it would be soft and warm and might make him feel better, and if I was being honest with myself I really wanted to kiss him-

George. No. I mentally slap myself, abandoning all thoughts of kissing him.

"It's okay, I finished. It's over," I find myself mumbling soothing things, my left hand brushing through his hair and my right on the back of his neck. 

Dream's shoulders slump, and he tilts his head back upright. 

His eyes meet mine. 

I feel a little dizzy, both from his piercing gaze and the prolonged contact between us. Dream's trust in me is almost tangible, and it makes me feel incredibly valued. Helping my best friend (who, it turns out, I had a crush on) bandage a gash on his face wasn't what I had expected to happen on my first day in Florida, but this was Dream. I should have known by now to expect the unexpected. I'm just glad it's not too bad of a cut. Knowing Dream, he was already feeling guilty for hurting himself, but it wasn't like he'd done it on purpose. It was an accident, and I wish he wouldn't beat himself up over it.

"Thank you, George." His hands leave my legs, and I find myself missing the sensation for a moment until they wrap around my ribs instead, pulling me into a hug. I smile as his head nestled into my hoodie, and let my stiff posture relax into him as I cross my ankles behind his back. This is... nice. Even with all my internal conflict over my crush on him, I still can't help but love the comfort and familiarity of his touch. "Thank you for doing that."

"Of course, Dream. Anytime." Behind my words lies an unspoken promise that I try to communicate to Dream. Anytime. As in, anytime you need me, I'll be there. As in, always. My eyes slide shut and my forehead lowers, connecting gently with Dream's. His eyes shine, the subtle sadness they always seemed to hide lessening, like he had somehow figured out what I was thinking and feeling. I know that's impossible, though, so I take the spark as a sign that he's feeling better.

We're very close to each other, close enough for me to feel his warm breath on my nose, making my head spin. Close enough for me to see every little detail of his face, like freckles that can only just be seen and expressive eyebrows that are constantly twitching, raising, or furrowing. 

He blinks at my scrutiny, then smiles somewhat shyly. "George? Is there... something on my face?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm allowed to look at you, Dream. And I want to. I want to know your face, like how you know mine." He's had the luxury of years of my face cam streams to watch, along with hundreds of selfies and TikToks. I've only had two weeks of FaceTime calls and less than a full day to study him. "It's only fair."

When he doesn't protest, I continue taking in everything about him. Wavy hair that he swears is blonde, but seems to be a little more brown. Soft eyes, matched by a warm smile. Cheeks that blush bright pink, and just a hint of stubble across his jaw. Somehow, my gaze settles on his lips, and I find myself staring at his mouth. His lips are chapped a little, but still look pink and soft. I instinctively brush a finger across his cheek, trailing across his lips and feeling their texture. I wait for him to laugh, or pull away, but he doesn't... It's enough to make me want to lean forward and bring his lips to mine, so I could feel that same soft texture on my mouth. I start to lower my head further, for once not letting myself overthink, slowly moving closer, and closer, my heart racing-

-And Sapnap, third wheeling as always, bursts into the room. "Yo, bitches! Pancakes are ready!" 

We jolt apart, Dream hurriedly removing his arms and jerking backwards. I startle at the yell from Sapnap and sudden movement from Dream, losing my balance as I recoil. As I start to fall sideways, I throw out a hand to catch myself, but it hits the damp washcloth, which provides no traction. 

With that, I fall over into the sink full of water, soaking the entire right side of my hoodie with a loud splash. 

"Aah! Damnit, Sapnap, what was that for?!" I jump back from the sink, my sock covered feet hitting the tile floor. 

Dream doesn't say anything, still too shocked to speak. 

Sapnap watches us, his general enthusiasm turning to suspicion as he sees the blush on our faces, the speed at which we leapt apart, and the embarrassing fact that I'm not wearing pants. "Wait, were you two- were you kissing?!?" 

" No ! We were not kissing, we were just-" I hesitate, fumbling for an answer. I widen my eyes at Dream, silently asking for help, but he just shrugs hopelessly. "Uh, we were just-"

"Just making out with the homies?" Sapnap supplies, eyebrows raised. 

I glare at him. "No. You're an idiot. I don't even like Dream," I lie. "We're friends, and that's it. Nothing else, and that's not gonna change." 

Beside me, Dream lets out  a quiet noise that reminds me of a small puppy being kicked, a sad little yelp of betrayal and sadness. I turn to look at him, realizing that I might have went a bit too far as I see his luminous eyes tilted to the floor, blinking rapidly. He looks... like he just got rejected. 

Shit. I'm an idiot. I didn't bother to think about what Dream's reaction to my words would be. I just assumed we were on the same page, and that whatever happened last night was a mistake. Was it-

Was it possible he'd meant it? 

It had certainly seemed possible a moment ago, when he'd let me catalog every minuscule detail of his face and touch his lips. 

Dream rubs his eyes, avoiding the bandaid, then nods in a poor attempt to be convincing. "Yah. Just-" He breaks eye contact, and his voice wavers. "Just friends, like George said." 

"...really? Like, are you sure?"

I growl at him, my guilt over accidentally friend-zoning Dream expressing itself through my anger at Sapnap. "Yes, I'm sure that I wasn't kissing Dream. Now fuck off."

Sapnap frowns dubiously, bored with the argument and definitely not convinced. "Whatever. Pancakes are gonna get cold." He waltzes out of the bathroom, but stops at the bedroom doorway. "And, fuckers, next time you try to kiss each other, lock the door or something. I don't need to see that."

And the wrecking ball that is Sapnap leaves the room, a trail of destruction in his wake. 

Dream shakes his head like a dog shaking off water, and when he stills, all evidence of the disappointment and sadness he was feeling just a moment ago is gone. He grins, then starts to laugh at me. "Ha, George! You're soaked. I can't believe you fell into the sink."

"Shut up!" I command, rolling my eyes. It's easy to pretend the awkward and unintentional rejection didn't happen, to ignore the memory, and that's what I do. "It's not my fault, Sapnap's the one who came barging in here like the house was on fire. And since he'd been cooking, I wouldn't have been too surprised if it was."

He laughs harder. "Wow, George, I'm gonna tell him you said that."

"Don't you dare." My eyes narrow. "If you tell him I said that, I'll tell him that- that, uh," I think for a moment. "Ah! I'll tell him that you're the one who made that scratch on his Tesla." He gulps, and I smirk evilly, confident in my blackmail. "Or, we could both agree not to say anything..."

"Fine, you win, idiot." He goes to touch his face, fingers hovering over the cut, but stops himself. "I'm gonna go eat breakfast, you coming?"

I shrug, torn between a hot meal or a hot shower. "I might shower first, or at least change. And I need to shave, too. I'll be down to eat in like ten minutes, so until then don't let Sapnap eat all of the pancakes."

He agrees, and I leave the room, doing my best not to think about how that had been the fourth time in 24 hours that one of us had nearly kissed the other. 

If our lives were a fanfiction, it would certainly be an interesting read.

Chapter Text

I enter the kitchen for breakfast, letting my emotions show completely for the first time since I entered the airport yesterday. Since Sapnap knows about my condition, there's no reason to keep myself so closely guarded.

Letting my condition fully manifest without having to be afraid of anyone finding out about it feels like stepping into a hot bath, or slipping into bed at the end of a long day. Like all of my worries have been washed away, even if just for a minute. 

I hope, for the sake of my sanity, that George takes his time getting dressed. 

I flop onto a chair at the table, my arms folding under my head as my posture worsens considerably. My head still aches, but George's careful application of the medicine was incredibly helpful. Whatever he had used on the cut (Neosporin I think) had worked. The stabbing pain I'd been feeling was replaced with the occasional dull throb, and now I didn't have to worry about getting an infection.

"Here," Sapnap sets a plate down in front of my face, displaying a tantalizing mountain of pancakes dripping with syrup. If there's one meal Sapnap really knows how to cook, it's breakfast. Although, I learned the hard way to never ask him for a smoothie. Sapnap and blenders did not get along well. 

I eagerly shove the food into my mouth, relishing the sugary taste. "Mmm, thanks."

He doesn't respond, too busy devouring his own pancakes. 

After a few minutes of scraping plates and clanging dishes, Sapnap broaches the subject hanging between us. "So. Spill, what exactly happened yesterday? And this morning, 'cause you guys looked like you were about to kiss."

I sigh, but begrudgingly start to explain, avoiding eye contact while I talk. "Alright, fine. You deserve to know, I guess. It all started when something weird happened at the airport..."

***

"And that's everything, I think." 

It takes me the better part of ten minutes to tell Sapnap about what happened. I leave out a few of the more private details, and do my best not to over-share George's emotions (those were meant to be private, after all). It's hard to talk about, but it also feels good. My face burns when I admit that we were (or at least, I think we were) about to kiss, until he walked in. Sapnap listens quietly, reminding me of a volcano about to explode, pent up words and comments soon to be exploding from his head. 

His face is blank as I wait for a reaction, features molded in an unreadable wall of stone. I don't sense any strong emotions, at least, not yet... 

Silence. I begin to worry, thinking I might have freaked him out. "Sap? You good?" 

Finally, his lips purse, and he meets my gaze. "Why," he asks, tilting his head, "am I always third-wheeling you MOTHER-FUCKING IDIOTS!?!"

I jump, flinching away from Sapnap's sudden yell. For a horrible second, I think he really is mad, until it hits me that no anger is coming from him, only a mild humor laced in annoyance, and an overbearing sense of "I-told-you-so".

Relieved, I close my eyes, listening as my best friend starts to grumble about the situation. 

"Unbelievable. Every damn time. I need new friends," his voice gets louder, "who aren't gay for each other. Like, what about me? Why is no one ever gay for me?" 

I snort. "Karl's gay for you. Go hang out with him."

George, of course, chooses that moment to enter the kitchen, his lilting British accent tinted with confusion. Luckily, he seemed to have missed most of the conversation, only picking up on what I'd just said. "Wait, Karl's gay for Sapnap? Since when?" 

Sapnap rolls his eyes, but- is he blushing ? "No. No one is gay for me, and that's the whole problem." He avoids eye contact, standing up from the table. "I'm gonna shower. While I'm gone,  brainstorm some fun stuff to do today!" He leans in to hug me, which isn't uncommon between us, but I'm not expecting him to whisper in my ear. 

"Clay, don't overthink things. You've got this," he says, before exiting the room. I think he's blushing..?

George watches him leave, oblivious to our near-silent exchange. "Geez, what's his problem?" He smiles ruefully, then grabs the remaining plate of pancakes and a glass of juice from the stovetop. He makes his way over to the table, but hesitates, looking at the chairs.

The wooden table has six chairs, and is shaped like a rectangle. There are two chairs on both of the longer sides, and one chair on each of the shorter sides. I was sitting at one of the longer sides, meaning that George could sit directly next to me, across from me, or at the complete opposite side of the table. 

I gesture to the seat next to me, smiling warmly. I feel much better now than when I first woke up, now that I've eaten and gotten a small break from hiding my empathy. 

Obviously, my break ended the moment George walked in, but I was happy to see him, so whatever. 

I wait for George to return my smile and sit down, but he doesn't move. After an awkward moment, he slides his plate down across from me. 

Oh. 

My heart clenches with tangled emotions, both mine and George's, and I do my best to ignore them. So he didn't want to sit next to me. It's not like I care-

Fine. 

I care. A lot.

His words to Sapnap come back to me, and I wince internally. "I don't even like Dream. We're friends, and that's it. Nothing else, and that's not gonna change." 

I know it's my fault for freaking him out last night. I never should have tried to kiss him. I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn't help but remember what had happened at the airport. I had also, apparently, completely misread the situation. Somehow, I had deluded myself into thinking that George would want to kiss me. Me, who he hadn't even met until that day. Me, who was so messed up mentally that I couldn't even go to the airport like a normal person without having a breakdown. Me, who always ends up hurting everyone I care about.

And now, George isn't comfortable sitting next to me. 

I need to fix this, before it gets any worse.

"Hey, George? I'm really sorry about last night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wasn't thinking, and I-" I picture his dark hair in the moonlight, his porcelain pale skin, his pink tinted lips curving in a dazzling smile that I know and love-

I clean my throat. "I, um, got carried away. In the moment. I didn't mean it. Can you forgive me, or pretend it never happened? 

George looks slightly shocked, but he nods. A surprising feeling of regret, mixed with an even more surprising feeling of intense sadness, rises up inside me. Before I can start to wonder if this is really what he wants (if it is, why is it making him so sad?) he speaks again, titling his head in recognition of my apology. "Okay. Let's- let's just move on." 

I agree, nodding with a bit more enthusiasm than is necessary at the prospect of putting this awkwardness behind us. The motion makes my head throb again- oops. 

I want to say something, start a conversation, but the quiet is too hard to crack. Desperate to distract myself from the tense silence, I lift a larger than usual bite into my mouth. I chew, but it feels like George is staring at me, and god I've been chewing for too long, he's gonna think I'm some weirdo , so I swallow, and promptly start to choke. 

I cough loudly, grabbing my glass of juice and trying my best to stop gasping for air and breath normally. My plan to use the liquid to stop my coughing backfires when I drop the glass, spilling juice all over the table. It starts to spread, dripping off the wood and onto me and the floor, but I'm too busy dying to do anything about it. 

"Dream, do you need some help?" George is doing his best to keep a straight face, but I can tell he's seconds away from losing his composure. Well, at least he isn't sad anymore.

I stare at him, covered in juice, still coughing, and completely mortified. First I get rejected, then I humiliate myself. Smooth, Clay. Real smooth. 

He breaks, snapping into laughter. I groan and cover my blushing face, wishing for a black hole to open up in the middle of the kitchen and swallow me whole. With any luck, my atoms would be so scattered that I would never reform, and wouldn't have to worry about my complete humiliation at the hands of pancakes. 

George laughs harder as he sees my expression, and I can't help but smile as I see his amusement. 

In fact, I can't help but chuckle.

And then laugh. 

And I wheeze, and gasp, and laugh hysterically. And I can't stop it, because it's not me finding the situation funny, it's my fucked up brain that can't stop itself from replicating the emotions around me. 

Abruptly, I stand up, knocking my wooden chair backwards. It crashes to the floor as I slam down my mental walls, blocking out my empathy to the best of my ability. The effort required doubles the pain in my head, but there's nothing I can do about that.

George jumps slightly at the noise, his cheerful laughter halting as he sees my expression. "You okay? I didn't mean to upset you by laughing..." He looks (and feels) confused and guilty.

"I'm fine." My voice is cold and hostile, and I'm torn. I feel justified in my frustration, but George doesn't deserve to take the brunt of my anger. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to-" I gesture at the chair. "I was just, um..."

"It's okay. Everyone gets upset sometimes, right?" George doesn't sound mad, just a little surprised, although I'm willing to bet that he thinks I'm bipolar or something by now. I can't really blame him, I did just knock a chair over out of the blue while I was laughing. 

"Want any help cleaning up?"

I shake my head, and start to dry the table with a paper towel. "I've got it. I've already been defeated by the pancakes, I don't want to surrender to the juice too." 

George grins, rolling his eyes. "'Surrender to the juice.' Dream, you're insane."

"Aw, but you love me anyway, right Georgie?" 

He blushed, looking away as he snips back sarcastically. "No. I don't love you. You're gross." 

"I'm not gross. Why would I be gross?"

"You're literally soaked in juice," he says. I look down, and George isn't wrong. "That seems pretty gross to me."

I huff. "Alright, fine. I'm gross. But you still love me. I know you do." I smirk, raising my eyebrows at him. 

Suddenly, I begin to feel a surge of unease, anger, sadness, and self doubt. It worsens rapidly, and I find myself on the brink of tears. What? Was this-

Was this coming from George?

When I glance over, his expression is frozen, and the teasing spark is gone from his wide brown eyes. I don't know exactly what I said, or how I worded it, but it must have hit a nerve. 

"S-sorry..." I stutter. 

"It's fine." 

It's not, but if doesn't want to talk about it, I won't push him. "Okay." I change the subject, trying to bring a smile back to his face. "So Gogy, what do you want to do today?"

I had already messed up so many parts of my life because of my stupid condition, but if it led me to lose George, I don't know how I would cope. 

I've been homeschooled since I finished elementary school, can't maintain a romantic relationship, and only have one (or two, now) friends that I've met in person. Sapnap and George are my family, and the best parts of my life... and George, George is special.

 Sapnap is as close as a brother to me, but he isn't George. The way I feel about Sap is different, much more platonic.

Not that my relationship with George isn't platonic. It's just... isn't the same as it is with Sapnap. The idea of kissing him makes me feel grossed out, like kissing my brother, but when I think about George, I can't deny the spark that I feel. 

In all honesty, I probably wouldn't be able to cope without him. George is my everything.

And I can't lose everything.

So, despite the throbbing pain in my head, despite all the rational parts of me screaming to just tell him and get it over with, despite Sapnap's advice, I keep my empathy hidden. 

And it hurts, of course. It always hurts, pushing down a part of yourself. Even though I hate my condition, I can't deny that it's a part of me. I can't just cut it out or ignore it. It may be a horrible curse that does its best to ruin my life, but I can't remember living without it. I was born like this, born with this incurable affliction that would always hold me back. 

Sapnap is the only person outside of my immediate family who's accepted my empathy. He doesn't care that I have a disorder, or that I can't live a normal life, or that he has to be extra carful around me. He's my friend, even with all of my problems. I can't even begin to describe how incredibly recognized he makes me feel. He stayed with me after I came out to him about my sexuality (I'm not comfortable with a label, but I know I'm not straight), after I went through my moody teenage years, and even after finding out about my condition. 

And the way he found out... even though it was almost a year ago, I still wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares about that day at least once a week. I still have scars on my hands. I still have scars on my heart, too, and I probably always will. Going to therapy would have probably been a smart idea offer what happened, but I never had the time. And, being honest with myself, it would be really hard for me to open up to a stranger. 

But I can't let myself think about what happened that day. I can't think about the time my empathy nearly made me k-

Shut up, stop it, don't think about it. Thinking about it never fails to trigger a panic attack, for understandable reasons. I'm sure that Sapnap is the same way. We've never really talked about it, but I know that what happened scarred both of us. Me more than him, probably, but he was definitely still affected. How could he not be, after what he witnessed? 

It was something that neither of us would ever be able to forget. 

But he stayed by my side through it all, which is more than I can say about anyone else. I wish that I could trust George- but no, that's not right. I do trust George, I do. I'd trust him with my life. I just wish I could tell him about my empathy without the fear that he'll hate me. 

I'm so afraid that our friendship could be ruined because of me. There's no way he won't be mad if he finds out. If I was in his place, I'd react the same way. I've been keeping a huge secret from him for seven years, been feeling his emotions and intruding on his privacy since we met in person, and I have no plans to ever tell him the truth. 

I'm a shitty best friend, but I still can't tell him. 

The logical part of me knows I can't keep this up forever- can't keep hiding from him for the rest of my life. But I push those thoughts deep down, turning my back on the inevitable future where George finds out the truth. I wasn't able to hide my condition from Sapnap, and I won't be able to hide it from George, but that doesn't mean that I won't try. I'll do everything I can to hide my condition, because I can't lose George. 

I can't. 

I can't.

Chapter Text

Dream is confusing. 

One minute, he's trusting and vulnerable, letting me clean a cut on his face. The next, it's like he's a different person, back to laughter and teasing and flirting. Then, just as fast, he's different again, knocking over a chair and glowering with an icy stare. His mood swings are driving me mad. 

When I imagined meeting him in person, I didn't expect him to be... like this. Maybe he's, like, bipolar, or something? I question to myself, before dismissing the idea. No, I don't think that's it. 

Something is off about him in person. Dream seems much sadder, his laughter is more subdued and quiet, and he always seems to be hurting. After seven years, I know him well enough to know when something is wrong- and something definitely is. I hope it's not my fault. I don't think it is... 

I'm a little worried, but I try not to dwell on it. He would tell me if there was something he needed help with, right? Right? 

I... don't know. 

Everything would be so much easier if I didn't care so much- but I do. Dream is my closest friend, my favorite person, and I lo- like him. I have a crush on him. 

Which is embarrassing, all things considered. It's embarrassing to fall in love with the one person you know would do anything for you. It's embarrassing to be the one to fall for the teasing and the meaningless flirting. It's embarrassing to find myself wanting to kiss him, just like in my dream. It's embarrassing-

-and it's devastating. It hurts. 

I sigh internally, remembering how he'd looked away from me, eyelashes brushing closed and face lowered in shame, or guilt, or maybe both. His words, saturated in regret, echo through my head. 

"I wasn't thinking..."

"...carried away..."

"....didn't mean it..."

And there was my answer. Dream had said it himself, he was just messing around when he tried to kiss me. Maybe he thought it'd be funny, or maybe he was just trying to get a reaction. It figures, I think bitterly, that Dream is one of  those . Of course he would be the type to think kissing someone is no big deal, something that can be done as a prank.

Well, it can't. Not like that.

To me, kissing has always been big. Any contact, really, but especially kissing. There's  something intimate about letting yourself be vulnerable, be touched, be held... In my mind, kissing is something that should only be done when you love someone, or are strongly attracted to them. It doesn't even have to be romantic. I've kissed Karl, but there was nothing sexually charged about it. He was just, you know, homie hopping. As he does. 

But with Dream, I want it to be different. I want my heart to race and my lips to tingle. I want him to mean it.

But he isn't in love with me. 

He doesn't really want to kiss me.

It's just like it has been, for seven years. Me, and Dream, and hundreds of unspoken words and feelings between us. 

I know I should stop thinking about him. I should forget about my dream and what almost happened between us. According to him, it was just a fluke. 

But still, my gullible heart wasn't ready to move past him.

It stings. I had done my best to keep my guard up, but somehow, I've ended up falling for Dream's flirty demeanor, stupidly mistaking joking remarks as a desire for a romantic connection. I don't even know when it happened. We've been jokingly flirting with each other for years, but the past few weeks did feel a little different... Something about the promise of finally meeting him must have messed with my self control, making me vulnerable to new feelings that I didn't want or have time for. It had all happened so slowly that I didn't even notice my growing attraction. 

That is, until I'd tried to kiss Dream in the middle of an airport. 

It doesn't matter, though. Most crushes fade quickly, and I'm sure this one won't be an exception. 

Why would it be? Dream didn't like me back, so there was no way this would ever be anything but one sided. 

"George? Is there anything special you want to do today?" I start at Dream's words, looking up. I hadn't realized how deep in thought I had gotten. 

"Hm? Oh, uh, not really. We should probably do a stream at some point today, then you need to plan the IRL manhunt, then I have some recording to do-"

"No, no, no. George, I meant fun things!" He ruffles his hair, avoiding his cut as he adjusts his dark blonde waves. "Like, go to Disney! Or get ice cream! Or play with Patches!"

I huff. I hate it when he makes me be the responsible one. I don't want to be the responsible one.  "Dream, we have actual work to do. Fun things can wait, just for a bit." 

"Ugh, please? Doing all of that would take forever. Maybe..." He grins, getting an idea. "Maybe we can compromise."

I raise my eyebrows, only mildly intrigued. "Compromise," I repeat dubiously, and he shakes his head at my doubtful attitude. 

"Yes, George, a compromise!" He says brightly. "We do one stream, just for you, and then we spend the rest of the day having fun."

I scowl. "Dream, we have responsibilities," I want to shudder at the word, but if I don't make him be productive, then neither of us will be getting anything done. "As fun as it would be to go galavanting around Florida, we have to do some work."

 He considers my words, and his expression shifts slightly. I study his face and find that when he's concentrating, his eyebrows knit together and he purses his lips tightly. After a moment of silence, he responds to me, sounding almost mournful. "George, we have responsibilities to live our lives, not just make our fans happy." He swallows, then rubs his face, removing all the lingering traces of sadness. "You know?"

I know that. Of course I know that. He's just being stupid. "I got that. Sure. But really, just one stream? That's a terrible idea. You'll probably regret it later."

He pops his shoulders, then shoots me a charming grin. "Probably. Let's do it anyway."

"Dreeeeeeam," I drag out the syllables in his name, making my exasperation obvious. "We can't just ditch our jobs."

"Fine, why don't we do some editing?" He raises a cocky eyebrow. 

Checkmate.

Fuck, I hate editing. Dream knows that mentioning editing is the best way to get rid of responsible-George. As much as I want to get some work out of the way, there is no scenario that  will make me spend my free time editing when I could be hanging with Dream and Sapnap. 

"So, my idea...?"

I groan and flop my elbows onto the wooden table. "No, Dream, no. Absolutely not. There is no way you're talking me into abandoning all of my work. Absolutely no way. Not gonna happen. Nope."

***

Ten minutes later, he had convinced me. 

"Ugh, I can't believe you talked me into this. You haven't even posted anything since the face reveal! The fans are already content starved, we could at least post a video. Don't you have one that's almost finished?"

"Nope! The fans will be fine, and we'll do a longish stream."

I hide my head in my hands as Dream tugs me towards my new office. From what he's told me, he's spent ages getting it ready. I'm excited to see it, despite my annoyance at Dream's lack of motivation. My office was the one room he'd left off of the tour, wanting to save it till later. Finally showing it to me was the tipping point that convinced me to give up most of the work I had planned so we could have some fun today instead. 

I stumble across the floor, doing my best not to face plant as I try to keep up with Dream. Maybe wearing socks on a hardwood floor wasn't the best idea. 

Dream braces my shoulders, stopping me from losing my balance, and gestures me towards a closed gray door. "Are you ready?" He sounds energetic, like he's the one about to get a new office. He's doing what he calls "excited hops", which consists of him jumping about an inch in the air every couple seconds. 

"Yes, I'm excited. Let me see it already!" I move to open the door after growing impatient waiting, but suddenly everything goes black as I feel a warm pair of hands cover my eyes. 

I may have gasped. 

"Dream! What are you doing?" My breathing catches as he steps closer, his elbows resting lightly on my shoulders as he stands directly behind me. 

"Shhh," he hushes. "I want it to be a surprise. That means no peeking until you're inside." I shiver, unable to think about anything other than his breath on my cheek and the warmth of his torso against mine as he guides me into the room, making sure to keep my eyes closed. His hands are soft and memorable, and I find myself flushing with the contact. 

"Can I look now?" 

In response, he lifts his hands away, and I instinctively open my eyes. 

I peer around the room, taking in the light gray wall covered in a soundproof insulator. There's a gaming chair, my setup, a desk, and a small window shrouded in black curtains. On the right wall is a bookshelf and mini fridge, already filled with my favorite snacks and drinks. It's sweet, and Dream has clearly spent a lot of time getting it ready, but the left wall is what takes my breath away. 

It's covered, floor to ceiling, in the best parts of my life and career. 

I gawk at the collection of fan art, letters, pictures, and more. Everything from hand painted canvases from fans to blurry screenshots of my streams or gameplay covers the wall completely. No trace of the gray soundproofing material is visible beneath the collage. 

It's incredible. There, a picture of me laughing with Sapnap from our first IRL stream after meeting up. My other friends are sprinkled around the gallery as well, and I catch the occasional beanie or anime T-shirt. To the left, I spot a heartwarming letter from a fan, one that I cried when reading for the first time. In the bottom corner, a hand drawn picture of me as a blob, next to blob Dream. The sheer amount of DNF featured on the wall is eye watering, more than half of the fan art is themed around our relationship (romantic or platonic). And damn it, Dream even put a picture of the crafting table incident. There is so much, too much to take in. I could stare at it for hours, yet I'd still find new artworks and photos that I had somehow missed. 

I step forward, mesmerized by the care Dream had taken in setting this up for me. How long did it take him to gather and print out the funniest photos? Or find the kindest and most inspirational fan letters? Or hang the most stunning fan arts? 

It's like everything I love about being a streamer and a YouTuber is gathered into one place, somehow condensing the best moments of the past seven years of my life and putting them in one place, the place where I need the most encouragement. Just looking at the variety of fan mail, pictures, and art makes me feel loved. Not just by the fans, but also by my friends. Even though I haven't met all of them in person, we still have incredible relationships, though I'm not as close to anyone online as I was to Dream. 

How long did he spend on this? How did he know it would mean so much to me? 

Shocked tears gather in my eyes, and I blink them away before turning to face Dream, who is watching my reaction anxiously from the doorway. 

"Do... Do you like it?" He questions, voice wavering, just slightly.

I let out a cross between a laugh and a sob, giving myself permission to enjoy this, to take joy from the time and effort and care that Dream has put into this room. I'm not usually vocal about my emotions, since I hate feeling vulnerable and don't want anyone to know what I'm feeling. But now, I can't stop myself from expressing how much this means to me. "Dream. Dream . I love this, thank you." 

I spin a little, taking in the stunning space as he glows in recognition of my fondness for the office he's worked so hard on.

 "This is- I don't know how you did this. It's absolutely fucking perfect, Dream. How did you know?" 

He shrugs, but smiles warmly as he watches me. "It's you, George. I know you."

I stop spinning and throw my arms around him in a hug. It's out of character for me and surprises us both. He stands stiffly for a moment, unsure how to react and surprised by the sudden contact, before relaxing and letting his own arms wrap securely around me. His chin brushes my head, and my face is tucked in the space between his jaw and his collarbone. 

And for five seconds, it's perfect, and warm, and safe, and everything. 

But then, I come to my senses and pull back. There's no point in torturing myself by pretending Dream likes me, and if I keep doing stupid shit like hugging him or trying to kiss him, my spontaneous crush will never go away. Don't be an idiot, George. Don't mess things up. He said to forget it, he said it was a mistake. Stop thinking about it. Just stop, before you get your heart broken. 

Dream slumps as I remove myself from his arms, but he doesn't let any sadness show on his face. "Uh, I'm glad you like it."

I smile timidly, mentally berating myself for hugging him. Even though we fit together like he was made for the sole purpose of holding me close, that didn't mean it was what he wanted. He doesn't want it. He said so, didn't he?

"It's amazing, really. How long did this take you?" I ask, once again looking at the collage of memories. 

He thinks for a moment, rubbing his left wrist with his right hand in a gesture that's so Dream of him, in a way I can't quite explain. "Um. Well, I started getting the pictures and art together about a month ago, but I didn't start hanging them up until I knew your VISA was approved. I'd say, overall, it took me-" He hesitates, ticking off days on his fingers. "Three, four weeks. Working about half and hour to two hours a day, probably." 

"Dream! What the hell, you didn't have to do all of that for me!" Shit, four weeks? He spent four weeks finding and hanging the photos and art?

He shrugs again, and I force myself to look away from the teasing brush of skin that's revealed at his waist as he moves. "George, I know I didn't have to. I wanted to. Because you're-" He rubs his face with one hand before changing track. "You're my best friend." 

Way to get friend-zoned, George. That hurt, but it's not unexpected or important. "Yah- yah. You too, Dream. Should we, uh, start setting up the stream?"

"One more thing, first," he interjects. He strides over to the desk and opens the top drawer, revealing a colored photo printer and fancy printing paper, and a small Polaroid camera. "This is one of those photography printers that they use professionally. With this, you can print out anything you want and hang it on the wall with the others. And this," he points to the Polaroid, "is a Polaroid, so you can take pictures and add them too, if you want."

I grin at the machines, already imagining the possibilities. "I love this, all of it. Thank you, Dream." I cautiously pick up the camera, holding it up to my eyes and studying the room through the lens. 

Abruptly, I get an idea, and I whirl to face Dream with an eager and scheming grin on my face. 

He chuckles. "George, what are you planning?"

"How did you know I was planning anything?"

"I told you already, stupid. I know you. Now, what is it that you want to do?" 

I huff, mildly disappointed that he had guessed my intentions, but still enthusiastic about my idea. "I think we should take a picture with the Polaroid, so I can have one of us to put on the wall." I hope he can tell that there's more I can't bring myself to say, like the collage shows the best parts of my life, and I want you to be there, and we've never taken a photo of us in person before, and I want the first picture we take to be mine. 

"Okay, let's do it," he agrees. The camera isn't difficult to operate, and in less than a minute I have my finger held over the shutter button, ready to take the picture. 

"Say cheese." I deadpan, and he rolls his eyes at me. 

" Cheese, idiot." We both start to laugh as I take the photo. The flash startles both of us, and I laugh harder as I fumble to catch the rapidly developing photo that prints almost immediately. I give it a few minutes to let the color (not that color matters much to me) bleed through, before looking at the image and showing it to Dream. 

It came out natural in a way that most selfies lack; with slightly blurry faces and wide smiles, captured laughter and affection in one small image. I'm looking at Dream, and he's looking at me, and we both look happy . 

I love this picture. 

"Want to hang it up?" He asks, holding out a roll of tape. I do, I want to immortalize this moment between us forever and place it somewhere that I will see every day. I take the tape, and with careful precision I stick the picture onto the mural in between a picture of me and Tommy feeding the ducks and a stunningly realistic charcoal drawing of me. Perfect. 

I'm glad I'm here, in Florida." I'm not sure where that sudden subject change came from, but I do know that I mean it. 

He lights up at my unexpected words, a shining smile illuminating his face. "Me too, George. Me too." And this time, when he hugs me, I'm not thinking about how he doesn't like me, or about how he's been acting strangely, or even about the almost-kisses we've shared. All I'm thinking about is Dream , my best friend, and how happy I am to finally be here with him.

Chapter Text

"Hey everyone! We're gonna wait a few minutes before starting to let the stream wind up, give everybody time to show up, and then we'll do some Minecraft."

I'm sitting in my own gaming chair that I brought in from my office and positioned next to George's desk. I smile, then lean over to nudge the older boy beside me. "And?"

He rolls his eyes, but continues. "And, I'm currently with Dream and Sapnap for our first IRL stream."

The chat explodes in cheering, screaming, and all around panic. 

Sapnap pops his head in, leaning into the doorway. "Yo, Gogy! Are you gonna do face cam? 'Cause if you are, let me know, I'll need to put on pants."

George frowns, considering. "Uh, maybe. Actually, yes, just give me a minute." I watch as he mutes, then turns to face me. "Dream, are you okay with me doing face cam? I know you only just face revealed, and you might not want to do a camera stream, so if you don't-" 

I shake my head, hurrying to put a hand on his arm and halt his worried rambling. George's concern for me was heartfelt and appreciated, but it hurt my head. I've already been hiding my condition for long enough to feel drained. I don't know how I'll be able to keep it up for a whole three hour stream. Just two and a half hours last night caused me to pass out and cut my head, who knows what might happen this time? It would be beyond embarrassing if I collapsed on stream, or in front of George. 

"No, it's okay. I want to put my face out there, and the fans'll love it. Especially since we aren't posting anything else today. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?" Besides thousands of people judging my appearance live, that is. I haven't looked online since the face reveal posted, and I don't want to. I don't want to be affected by the negative comments I'm sure are going around, and the best way to avoid them is to stay away from social media completely, at least for now. 

Warmth comes from George in a soft feeling I can't quite name, and he smiles encouragingly before reaching to unmute and activate the camera. "Okay. Ready?"

Surprisingly, my voice sounds calm. "Ready," I repeat, not letting the doubt I'm feeling creep into my tone. I can do this. I can handle this, I internally repeat, trying to force my anxiety away. I've already shown the world my face, what difference does this make? It shouldn't matter so much to me, but it does. 

The camera activates. 

The first thing I notice is that the blinking red light is bright. Since when was it so bright? I find myself drifting, lost in thought as I stare at it. Common, don't just stare at the camera! I make myself grin and wave, but it feels forced. I'm sure that my lack of confidence is obvious to anyone watching. 

Shit. They'll all know that I can't do this. What kind of streamer am I if I can't fucking stream? My hands start to shake as my self doubt worsens. 

What if they notice the bandaid on my face? Will they ask questions? The bandage is a peach colored material that blends in to my pale skin color, but it's still noticeable. I raise a hand to my face, wanting to cover the cut but not wanting to draw more attention to it.

What am I doing? What if I make a weird expression, or have something on my face? I bet I'm making a weird expression right now. Is this how I usually sit? Oh god, I think I just forgot how to breathe. I try to inhale, but overthink, and my instinctive breaths become intentional and unnatural.  Fuckfuckfuck, breath, you idiot. More than 40,000 people are watching me fall apart, and we haven't even been streaming for five minutes. This is going to be a disaster...

I'm still struggling to catch my breath as I look over to George. How can he be so calm? So many people are watching us, seeing everything. Seeing our faces. He's not freaking out, but I am. 

I know I shouldn't be embarrassed about my feelings, but I am. It's embarrassing to be afraid of showing people my face when my best friends do it almost every day on stream. Do they ever get hate comments? 

At that thought, my eyes instinctively dart over to the chat, stupidly drawn to the surge of messages prompted by my appearance. There is plenty of love and support, but not enough to drown out the intermittent negative comments. I wanted to keep myself away from all reactions to the face reveal, but now I can't tear my gaze from the screen. Despite our team of mods, there are a few hate messages that make it through, and my stomach drops further with each one. I'm usually pretty good at not letting myself get upset by the hate, but it's harder when I'm not in the best emotional state to begin with. The messages fly by, hardly giving me enough time to read them.

Dstan404: dream dream dream 

Crunchy: POGGERS

YepImAnAmerican: Message was removed by a moderator. 

Angielee: dnf?

Punchthecat: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Silver: George!!!

PatchesIsQueen: GEORGE IN FLORIDA AHHHHH

Trytryagain: streeeeaaam slay guys ;)

RobloxRules: Message was removed by a moderator. 

Drantiblob: I'm disappointed 

KARLNAP: Sapnapppppp

SapnapLovesKarl: hey KARLNAP we have like the same username lol 

Fundie4Life: damn that's a lot of antis getting through in chat, where are the mods?  

George'sSecretLover: so hot!!! Dream marry me pls

Fred: ghgjgjgngnjgjg IRL D TEAM STREAM 

Rolosmartas: you're uglyyyyyyyyy L

Ranboostolemygender: Dream is hot 

GregGregGreg: Message was removed by a moderator.

KARLNAP: where's Sapnap

CarryInTheCloset: guys did you see "he's ugly" trending on Twitter yesterday :( 

KARLNAP: sapnapppppp

Qwerty: I need dnf irl content please

TheRealTommyInnit: sup bitches 

Milkshakecoffee: omg d r e a m lol 

Amelia56Cat: Hi Dream and George!!!

KARLNAP: guyyyyyys where's Sapnap

Typing: Message was removed by a moderator. 

Emmanonbinary: kiss/smash/pass with D Team, go

ReallyNotJeff: I want cheese 

TheDNFwriter: irl DNF stream yasssssssssss

RedRylie: when is next lore stream?

Typing: WHY WAS MY MESSAGE REMOVED WTF DREAM

BeeDuoIsDead: DNFDNFDNF guuuuuuuys

dsmPERCY: I love your streams! I would donate but I'm broke AF

KARLNAP: fr where's Sapnap

DarthVaderIsMyFather: L 

Tmynt: fuck off and die, Dream

My forced smile slips as I try to focus, mentally spiraling. My mind feels simultaneously blank and too full, if that's even possible. "H-hey- uh, everyone..." Shit, I'm humiliating myself in front of 40,000- or, scratch that, 60,000 people. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

My panic builds, completely strangling my breathing. I hug my arms around my torso in an attempt to ground myself, knowing that I'll only get worse if I think about this being clipped. I'm sure that my obvious discomfort at facecam streaming will be all over the internet by tomorrow, but if I let myself worry about that, I won't be able to keep my already spiraling anxiety in check. 

I feel my pulse speed up, and I'm glad that this isn't a heart rate stream. But, even without a heart rate monitor, it's probably obvious that something's wrong. When was the last time I inhaled? Thirty seconds ago? More? 

Shit, I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? I turn to George, trying to keep the panic from registering on his face while also feeling his slightly worsening worry as he notices my behavior. He tries for an encouraging nod, but it doesn't accomplish much. "Uh, today on stream we're going to- um, we're gonna..." My mind is blank, what was I supposed to say? Nonono. I can't do this. 

A soft touch on my palm connects my disoriented consciousness back to reality, but I still can't seem to breath as soft skin unexpectedly brushes against mine. I look down, surprised, and find warm fingers tracing the lines of my hand, gently drawing calming circles that no one but George can see. George. He must be trying to calm me down, and-

-it's working? I wouldn't have expected this to work. But, my throat is a little less tight as he rubs my hand, allowing me to finally gasp in a breath. Luckily, George muted a moment before, so my loud and desperate inhale isn't registered with the stream. 

He keeps his hand on mine as he speaks, softly, as if I'm a wild animal that could spook at the smallest sounds. "Dream? Are you okay?" 

Am I okay? I don't know. I definitely wasn't a moment ago, but George's presence is helping. My heart is still pounding rapidly, and my breathing is even and rough, but I feel a little more in control. I know that George isn't big on physical touch, so it means a lot that he's doing this for me. Hell, he isn't a fan of any form of expressing his emotions. Physical touch freaks him out (but I suspect that he secretly likes it, just has issues warming up to people), he has a difficult time reciprocating phrases like "I love you", and quality time or acts of service have never been an option for us, since he was an ocean away. 

I want to read more into the gesture, but I know it's just my overactive imagination. Just because George cares for me doesn't mean he likes me, after all. 

Even with my inner turmoil, the feelings of comfort radiating from George are making me feel safe. Going live in front of an audience of now 70,000 people and doing my best to battle the exhaustion that comes with face revealing to millions of people and continually feeling my two best friends' emotions is certainly a different situation, but George makes it better. 

"I am now, I think." 

He smiles encouragingly, and it's just for me. I know that the camera can't see George rubbing my hand under the desk, just as the speakers can't hear the worry and compassion in his voice. "You sure? We can try again later, if you need." 

"No, I want to do this. I can do this." I assure him, still spinning but gradually returning to normal. 

"You can do this," he repeats, and squeezes my hand. The pressure is faint, but reassuring all the same. You're okay , his touch seems to communicate, I've got you.

What I wouldn't give for George to actually say those words out loud.

I take a deep breath, stabilizing my inhales and collecting myself before unmuting and starting again. This time, I don't look at the chat or camera. I keep my focus on George, talking to my best friend instead of letting myself overthink the stream. "Hi, everyone. We're gonna do some Minecraft today, for probably three hours or so. We'll see if I can beat the game with Sapnap bothering me. This is our first IRL stream, so we're really excited!" To my relief, I manage to deliver the speech I'd been planning without freaking out or embarrassing myself, and I relax a little.  

George chuckles. "This is going to be fun," he says evilly. "Sapnap, want to explain the game?"

Sapnap, who had been lurking in the hall for the past thirty seconds, makes his way into the room. One very enthusiastic Sapnap stan in the chat goes nuts, spamming his name in all caps repeatedly. "Sure, I'll tell them about it. Just let me- sit down." He pushes me out of the way, taking half of my chair and squashing me. 

"Saaaaaapnap. Get off," I complain. I feel a cold pit in my stomach as George withdraws his hand, but I don't say anything. 

Sapnap cackles. "Not a chance, Greenie. Guys!" He turns to the camera energetically. "Dream's gonna try and beat the game, and every time we hit a sub goal, we get to choose a random distraction to punish him with, like dumping slime on his head or feeding him a spoonful of spicy Mayonnaise." 

I shudder at the thought of Sapnap force-feeding me a spoonful of spicy Mayo. 

George jumps in. "Yep! First sub goal is pretty easy, we only need 50 subs. It'll go up by 50 every time we hit it, but don't worry, the punishments will get worse as the sub goal gets higher."

Chat goes crazy, and not even a minute later, we've hit the first sub goal. I groan as Sapnap runs off eagerly, and let my head bang forward onto the desk when he returns a moment later clutching a pair of fake cat ears on a headband.

"Oh Dreeeeeeeam," he cackles. He shows the ears to the camera. "Put these on, pissbaby." 

"No. Sapnap, no. It'll be clipped, like, a million times," I protest, trying to shove him away as he ignores my complaints and shoves the ears onto my head. I wince slightly as the fabric grazes my cut, but say nothing. 

George giggles hysterically as I sit there and glare at both of them, cat ears perched on my head. "Guys! You know what, fuck you. Chat, we're just gonna ignore them, got it? Let's play some Minecraft." 

The next sub goal takes three minutes, enough time for me to have established a little dirt hut and gotten a furnace built. I haven't gotten any iron yet, but it's only a matter of time. This time, for the punishment, George gets to choose, and he seems ready to take full advantage of the situation. 

"Hm, what should we do..." he mutters, tapping a finger on his lips. "Any ideas, chat?" He reads the screen for a few seconds, then his eyes light up as he notices an interesting suggestion. "Oh, I know! Dream, for my punishment, I choose to draw whatever I want on your face with this marker," he announces, a malicious smirk dancing across his lips. 

Dammit. At least it's a highlighter, instead of a sharpie or some permanent shit. Still, I'm dreading it, and I wouldn't put it past George to draw something inappropriate on my face and get me banned.

I try to keep my attention on the game, fighting off a pair of skeletons, but it's hard to concentrate when George's hands are on my face, tilting my chin to an angle he likes before uncapping the maker and starting to doodle on my cheeks. The highlighter smells strongly of chemicals, and feels weird on my skin. 

"George-" I start to complain, but he slaps a hand over my mouth, shutting me up. 

"Nope! Don't talk, or you'll ruin my masterpiece." 

I sit there in silence, rolling my eyes as George refuses to move his hand. The mobs I was fighting lose interest as I run away and burrow into a hole, knowing that I can't focus like this and will only end up dying. "Hrmph, Georph," I mumble, the hand over my mouth muffling my words. 

He giggles, and the happy sound warms me up, my annoyance fading. "I'm almost done, hold on. Sapnap, look," he commands, and Sapnap leans closer. 

"George! What- what is that?" He explodes into laughter, and I scoff, my voice still trapped. I angle my head towards the stream cameras, trying to catch my reflection. I can't see the designs, and it's driving me crazy. The marker traces across my face one last time, leaving a trail of cold and pungent ink in its wake.

After what feels like years, George removes his hand, and I fake a gasp. "George, you could have killed me! I need to breathe, you know. Now, show me what you drew. I need to see it." 

"No, I don't think so." He shakes his head cockily. "You'll just have to live in suspense. Now, keep playing! You can't stay in that hole forever." 

Beside us, Sapnap chokes. "Ha! George, that's what she said," and he's laughing again. It's not long before me and George join in, and soon all of us are rolling around on the floor, laughing hysterically. 

***

Three hours, countless subs, and $452 dollars in donations later, we start to wind down the (very successful) stream. I'm soaking wet, thanks to Sapnap pouring a glass of ice water on my head and distracting me right when I was about to kill the Ender Dragon. My face is still covered in marker, credit going to George. On top of that, and much more, both of my shoes are covered in raw egg. And honestly, I have no idea which of the two gremlins I call my best friends was responsible for that. 

The stream was fun, the best one I've done in a while, but I'm still so tired that it hurts to breathe. Despite my best efforts to hide it, Sapnap knows, or at least suspects, because he finally declares the last sub goal after glancing at the dark circles under my eyes. 

"Okay, okay. One last sub goal punishment, then we've got to go. George, what'll it be?"

George, who had planned this out, holds up my phone. I cringe, knowing what's coming. "Dream, for your last punishment, you have to FaceTime TommyInnit and let him say whatever he wants for thirty seconds." He snickers gleefully. Normally, I would glare at him playfully, but that would take too much energy. His mischievous humor feels out of place in my head, contrasting with my natural emotions. 

My hands quiver as I dial Tommy, but I try to hide it. "It's calling him."

A click, then Tommy's face fills the screen. "Big D!" A pause, then words start to flood out of him. "Are you- are you wearing fake cat ears? What the hell man?" I blush, but he continues before I can say anything in my defense. "And why are you covered in marker? It's not a good look, trust me here. So, Big D, what's up?" 

I sigh at the mildly inappropriate nickname, too tired to deal with the blonde firework I've come to know so well over the years. He's gone from a stranger to one of my closest friends, despite his youth."Tommy-"

Paying me no heed, he resumes talking as he notices the cut on my face, not even aware that I'm streaming. "Is that a bandaid? Are you injured? You lost a fight, didn't you!" 

"No, I didn't lose a fight-"

He continues, speaking over me. "I would have thought you'd win, since you're tall and shit, but I guess you're just weak or something. Hey, is that Gogy? George! Wilbur misses you, George."

George waves. "Hey, Tommy, we're live-"He tries to inform the teenager, but he keeps going, unaware of our attempts to communicate. 

"Hey, Sapnap, hello! Dream, look at that! You aren't lonely anymore! Must be nice, ha. All I've got is Tubbo." He laughs at his own joke. "Not really, though, I'm never alone with all the women who are constantly trying to be with me-"

"Tommy!" I yell, finally getting his attention. "I'm streaming, but because we hit a sub goal, you can say whatever you want on stream for thirty seconds, starting..." I look at the call time. "Fifteen seconds ago." 

Tommy gasps excitedly. "Holy shit, this is awesome! Uh, let's see- Tubbo is poggers! Sub to me, TommyInnit! Women! Dream sucks dick! Uh-"

"Five seconds!" Sapnap hollers. 

"Shit, this is stressful! Uh, uh, DNF forever, bitches!"

"Tommy!" I hang up, then bury my head in my hands as Sapnap laughs wildly. George makes a scoffing noise, but blushes. 

Sapnap's loud laughter rolls in my head, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from mimicking him. 

The effort in takes to stay non responsive almost drains the last of my energy. Suddenly, it sinks in that I've been doing this for three hours . My body feels heavy, and it's all I can do to keep my empathy under control. I'm nauseous, and the room is suddenly tilting. I have to end, before this gets worse-

Dizzily, I lean forward, facing the camera. "Uh, I think that'll be all for today. Bye guys! Love you all!" Message fill the chat, but my vision won't focus enough to read them. I muster a weak smile as I abruptly end the stream, hardly giving George and Sapnap any time to say their goodbyes before the blinking red light beside the camera disappears. 

The moment I'm sure it's gone, I excuse myself, not bothering to wait for my friends to respond before I run from the room. I feel their confusion and alarm for a moment, before I put enough distance between us and can no longer feel their emotions. I know my departure is sudden, but it can't be helped. Any longer, and I would have either collapsed or revealed my empathy to George. 

I feel lightheaded as I stagger down the hall, as if I'm about to pass out. I've been hiding my condition for a long time today, so I wouldn't be surprised if I am. 

My shoes, still disgustingly covered in bits of raw egg and eggshell, squeak on the floor. I throw them off, vaguely attempting to toss them into the nearest trash can. 

I reach my room and dive through the door way, feeling disconnected from my body. I'm dizzy, and I want to curl up onto my bed and take a nap, but I don't think I can make it that far. As far as I'm concerned, it's a miracle that I was able to get to my room in the first place. I lean against the wall, unable to stand unsupported.

My hands are tingling, fingers numb, which is probably a bad sign. 

Wait, wait, close the door. I slam the door closed, fingers fumbling clumsily on the handle. If either of my friends decide to follow me, I don't want them finding me in this state.

The door locks with a click, and I let myself sink to the floor, lowering into my knees before slumping into a fetal position. I locked the door. No one can get in. It felt like the right thing to do, securing my privacy, but now I'm doubting it. What if I get hurt, like last time? What if something happens, and I need help? 

You fucking idiot. Why did you lock the door? 

"I don't know," I whisper, surprised to hear my voice break the silence. It's hard to breath again, and I wish I wasn't alone. If only George was here, he'd be able to help me like he did during the stream.  But he isn't here. I'm all alone.

And it's my own fault.

Just for a second, I consider yelling for help. Calling for George and Sapnap to help me, to make sure I'm okay, make sure there's nothing seriously wrong. But I can't, I can't. If I ask for help, George will find out, and I can't let him know. He'll hate me, just like everyone else who I've told. Everyone except Sapnap, that is. But, even including Sapnap, something horrible has happened every time I've told anyone the truth. The friend who ghosted me got physically confrontational, resulting in a fight that left a scar on my right arm. When Sapnap figured it out, "horrible" doesn't even begin to describe the severity of the situation. Deadly , maybe, or life ruining . 

Thinking about that day only makes everything worse, harsh flashback threatening to break through my mental barriers. 

Screaming, so much screaming, from me and Sapnap and everyone watching-

Blood on my clothes-

A hand desperately clutching mine, as if my life depended on it-

"No, no. Please," I beg to no one, trying to stop the memories. Fighting them off drains the last of my strength. 

My vision blurs again, and I close my eyes, head throbbing and body aching. Yah, there's no way I can make it to the bed. I feel like I'm floating away, and I find myself starting to laugh irrationally.

My voice is bubbling in my head, and around me. Dizzy, spinning-

Was I speaking out loud? I don't know, and don't care. I gasp for breath, trying to keep myself awake. "No, no- get control-" I slap my face, hard, channeling the stinging pain.

My effort accomplishes little, because my eyes flutter and everything starts to go black. 

This time, when I pass out, I make sure not to hit my head. 

Chapter Text

I stare after Dream, shocked by his sudden exit. What could have caused it? I rack my brain, analyzing his behavior this morning in search of clues I might have missed. 

He hasn't been looking great for the past hour of streaming. When he ended stream, his face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed exhausted. Maybe he was sick? Or could it be some kind of concussion from hitting his head earlier? Or was it just a side effect of the anxiety he experienced from streaming with the camera on? 

I tilt my head towards Sapnap, deciding that I needed a second opinion. "Hey, Sap. Do you know what that was about?"

"Uh. No," he says unconvincingly, eyes glued to his phone. 

"Sapnap, I'm serious," I grumble, and wait till he looks up before continuing. "Don't try to avoid the question by acting like you can't look away from your phone. Something's been wrong with Dream. Do you know anything about it?"

His eyes widen slightly, but he tries to play it down. "Do I- what? No, no, I don't." He shakes his head, acting as if he hadn't just told the worst lie in the history of humanity, as if he isn't wearing an immensely guilty expression and refusing to make eye contact. 

"Sapnap. Cut the bullshit, and tell me what you know." I demand, eyes narrowing. He knows something. I'm sure of it.

"What?"

The obvious denial and refusal to acknowledge my question crumbles my remaining self restraint. " You heard what I said, " I growl, fed up with the feeling that he and Dream have been keeping secrets from me, that something is wrong with Dream and no one will tell me what it is, and that everyone's been acting differently since I arrived. I'm more worried about Dream than anything else, though, and my worry is just pissing me off even more. 

Sapnap looks surprised at the intensity of my tone, but his own instinctive hostility fades as he looks at me, seeing the concern I'm covering with anger. He starts to deny knowing anything, but stops, reconsidering. His mouth pulls into a burdened frown, and he puts a hand on my shoulder. I don't push him off, but I don't soften my glare, either. 

"George, it's not my secret to tell you. It's Dream's. When he's ready, you'll know what it is, I promise. But you can't force him to tell you, and I don't want you to ask me about it again."

"But," I splutter, "what if he needs my help? Whatever this thing is- it's why he's been upset, right? Why can't I know? I want to help! He's my best friend, too. He doesn't need to keep things secret from me!" When have I ever made him feel like he can't tell me something? I've always listened to his secrets, and I've never once judged him or reacted in a negative way. I'm willing to tell him anything... 

But he isn't willing to tell me.

That thought stings. It's born out of my own growing self doubt, worsening as my over-thinking mind begins to spiral, focusing more on reading between the lines of what Sapnap has said rather than actually listening to him.

When he speaks again, Sapnap looks tired, and even a little sad. "I'm sorry, George. If it was up to me, I'd tell you. I know that this is putting you in a weird position, but I don't want to cross his boundaries. Please don't push him to tell you before he's ready."

What could Dream be hiding that's big enough to make Sapnap so worried? I want to ask more, to protest, to demand that he tell me, but I know that he won't answer, and I'll just make Sapnap uncomfortable. He's still waiting for a response, so I focus on that instead of my practically overflowing curiosity. 

"Fine. I don't love this, though. I don't like being the only one not to know. I'm gonna leave it be,"  for now, I add silently, "because I respect Dream's privacy." And I do... but if things get worse, all bets are off. No secret is worth risking his health. To me, nothing is. 

"Good," he exhales, relieved. "Let's talk about something else. Sapnap yawns, then laughs, successfully lighting the heavy and somber mood that has settled over us. "I can't believe Tommy. He's such an idiot sometimes."

I roll my eyes at the memory. "I know. 'DNF forever'. Who says that? Well, besides the millions of shippers."

"Yah, and you totally blushed when he said it." He grins slyly at me, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. 

"What?! I did not." I rest my chin on my palm, thinking back. There's no way I blushed, right? 

Shit, I think I did. 

Did Dream notice?

Sapnap chuckles. "You know, that's totally gonna get clipped. Tommy makes a DNF joke, Dream ends stream almost immediately after, and you just sit there turning into a tomato. 

I stare at him, and he starts to elaborate, mistaking my expression for confusion. "You know, because tomatoes are red. And when you blush, your face turns red. Plus, tomatoes are kinda shaped like tiny human heads, so there's lots of resemblance-"

"Sapnap, for the love of god, stop describing my physical similarities to a tomato. Seriously, do you think that Dream was upset because of what Tommy said?"

He snorts. "When has he ever been weirded out by a DNF joke? Usually, he's the one making them." 

Sapnap does have a point. 

Still, I have the feeling that something is wrong. "Maybe I should go check on him," I suggest, glancing at the door. "He might need help, or something." 

"I don't know. He kinda likes to be left alone when he's tired." 

"Really?" I would have guessed the opposite, since Dream and I had a habit of always calling each other before bed. Even if we just made small talk, or didn't speak at all, it was a comforting part of our routine, and I just assumed he liked it as much as I did. There were times when we both fell asleep talking, waking up hours later still on call, being with the other as much as possible despite the ocean between us. I thought that Dream would be the same in person, wanting to talk and spend time with me before bed. 

To be honest, I've always liked the idea of staying up late chatting with Dream when we finally met up, the sky outside dark as we talked for hours before eventually falling asleep together. It sounds even more appealing now, in person, being able to see and know and touch the boy I'm talking with. 

Last night, though. He hadn't called me. We hadn't talked in person. True, everything was awkward because of the almost-kiss that I agreed to forget about, but still. 

Maybe Sapnap is right. Maybe he does like to be left alone. 

Maybe I don't know him as well as I think I do. 

The thought spirals in my mind for a moment, but I don't want to spend my first day in Florida worrying and overthinking. At least, not any more than I already am. So, I settle for telling myself that I'll have to fix that , and resolving to spend as much time as possible with Dream and getting to know him in real life, like Sapnap does. I'll have to learn him as Clay , not just as Dream. It's a weird thought, but I know it's true. 

Everyone is a slightly altered version of themselves with different people and situations, right? It's only logical that someone I've only ever known online would be at least a little different in person. I'm sure he interacts differently with the people he's close to, like his family or Sapnap. He probably reacts differently to most situations. But, despite all of that, he's still my best friend. 

Although, I can't help but wonder if I seem different to him, too. 

My fingers trail across the desk as I think, and I smile slightly, remembering back to a few hours ago when I mirrored the same touches on Dream's hands. The gesture was for him, to help calm him down, but I can't deny a spark of selfishness that enjoyed holding his hand, even though he's made it clear that there are no feelings between us (or at least, none on his end). 

Even counting his initial anxiety, Dream had done really well for his first time streaming with a camera, and I know that it's more than a little stressful. Especially at first, and for someone who had only just face revealed. Dream was brave, doing that, and I'm proud of him. 

I love being a streamer, and I love my fans, but there are times when I find myself seriously considering if it's worth it. Seeing the hate directed towards Dream after his face reveal was one of those times. People can be such bastards, like telling my hot ass best friend that he was unattractive just to boost their own self esteem. Even if he wasn't physically attractive (although, he really is) there would be no reason for people to say cruel things about his appearance. 

I had asked the moderators before stream to block every account that said negative or hate-driven things about Dream, but I know that there will always be more. There would be the ones that were missed by the mods, the ones that came back with new accounts just to insult Dream, and the ones who posed an actual threat, like the fan who sent a genuine death threat to Dream a few months ago. Luckily, the nut case was intercepted by the FBI, but it was still scary. 

I remember that when he called me to tell me about what had happened with the threat, I was in the supermarket, but I abandoned my almost full cart immediately when I heard his voice. He tried to make light of the situation, like he always did, hiding his own pain. But I could see through his act by then, and I'd known that he was terrified. He'd said something that really freaked me out, because it made too much sense. 

***

"So, they got the guy. Um, the one that sent the threat, the one I told you about earlier. I'm okay now, so you don't need to worry." His voice was shaky, and his worry was obvious even through my phone's puny speakers.

"Are you sure? That's not exactly an everyday thing, Dream. Where's Sapnap, is he home? I think you should be with someone right now." It hurt to think about Dream being on his own after going through something like that. 

"No, I'm okay. Just a little freaked, I guess." He quiets, but it's clear that something's on his mind, so I stay silent, leaving him space to talk. After a moment, he does, sounding apprehensive.

" I mean, think about it. One out of every one hundred people is a sociopath, right? Well, if I have 30 million subscribers, that means there are, like, 300,000 people that watch my content who are actually insane. Who could... who might... uh, yah. Sorry, that was dark."

I swallowed, letting his words sink in. Oh god. I have 10.5 million subscribers. That's not as many as Dream, but right now, that number feels like a threat, a target, rather than an achievement that I've spent so much time, money, and effort on. I can only imagine how Dream must be feeling, with more than double my subscribers.

"No, you're okay. And yah, that's terrifying to think about. Dream, you should go find Sapnap, or visit your mom. I don't want you to be alone right now."

When he spoke again, the fear was gone from his voice, but I couldn't tell if he was actually feeling better, or if he was just hiding his real emotions."George, I'm not alone. I'm with you!"

God, I wished that was true. I wished I was with him, right that minute, in Florida. If I was there, I'd be able to hug him for as long as I want, make sure he's okay, and see him for the first time.

But I wasn't. I was in England, on the other side of the world from America. Almost as far away from my best friend as possible. I couldn't see him, couldn't hug him, couldn't help him or make sure that he was okay.

I won't be able to do any of that. At least, not until... not until the VISA arrives. I winced as I tried not to think about the agonizingly long waiting period between applying for a VISA and getting the results back. Some days, the wait seemed bearable, like something I could have stomached easily. Others, though- 

On other days, it felt like hell on Earth.

And not being able to help my best friend when he needed it most was enough to make that day one of those. 

Before the VISA arrived, before I moved to America, I had a lot of  those days. 

***

It made scary sense then, and still does now. 1% of the people who watch our content have the statistical probability to develop para-social relationships, and maybe even act on them. And when that's millions of people... well, suddenly that 1% doesn't feel so small anymore. 

Most of the antis are probably full of hot air, making big threats they would never be able to follow through on. Still, you never know. 

I want to scream at each and every person who insulted Dream just to cause him suffering, but I know that the best thing to do is ignore them. Those kinds of people want a reaction, and I don't want to justify them with one. They aren't worth a moment of my thoughts, or of Dream's. 

But still, fuck them. 

I remember what we were talking about when Sapnap grabs his phone, laughing as he scrolls through pictures he took of Dream wearing the cat ears. "Oh, I'm keeping these." He tents his fingers like a supervillain before fake chuckling evilly. "Hehehe, blackmail."His evil laugh isn't even remotely convincing, in fact, I think C!Dream could do better in his sleep.

I scoff, and grab the phone. "I wanna see." 

I look at the screen, and there it is- Dream, glaring at the camera, fluffy ears perched on his head. His eyes are narrowed, and he's blushing slightly. The dark brown ears contrast his lighter hair, and despite his obvious annoyance, his yellow (green) eyes sparkle. 

It's adorable. 

I gape at the picture, then airdrop it to my phone discreetly. Sapnap would never let me live it down if I asked him to send me the picture, but I still want it. After I feel the notification come through on my own phone, I hand his phone back over, trying not to look too guilty. 

"So, Gogy, now that we finished streaming for the day, what do you want to do?" He questions, sliding the phone into his pocket.

I shrug. "I don't know. Dream is the one who made plans." I purse my lips, thinking. "Maybe we go swimming later? And I want to see an alligator. Oh, and Disney world!" My semi-bored tone collapses under my growing enthusiasm, and I abandon all pretenses of being disinterested.

My brunette friend laughs at me. "Okay, I get wanting to go swimming, and Disney, but alligators ? Why would you ever want to spend money just to see a scaly lizard-dinosaur-frog with big teeth and creepy eyes?"

I shrug again, unabashed. "I don't know, they're just cool, I guess. Is it true that they can get into pools and stuff sometimes?" I had heard, back in England, that Florida had a bit of an alligator problem...

So, naturally, I wanted to go and find one. 

Sapnap shudders. "Yeah, that's true. I mean, it's never happened to us, but technically, it could..." He casts a wary glance at the pool outside the window. 

I snicker. "What, are you afraid of alligators?" 

"No," he refutes, looking away. "I just, you know. I don't like them."

Don't like them, eh? That sounds like being afraid of them to me. "Sapnap, the state mascot is a literal alligator! This is too good!" I cackle somewhat maliciously as I look at his paler than usual face. Sapnap doesn't mind horror movies, he has nothing against most bugs, I've never seen him get scared of heights, and he wasn't too freaked out by the paranormal. Seeing him this alarmed over a theoretical alligator was as unusual as it is hilarious.

"I know that. I don't mind a cartoon alligator, stupid. I just don't like the ones that could tear me limb from limb." Subconsciously, he puts a hand on his elbow, as if making sure his limbs were still attached. 

I'm laughing so hard, I can barely breathe. "Y-y-you just- just- just grabbed your elbow!" I wheeze, sounding like Dream. "Were you making sure a 'gator hadn't gotten you?" 

"I was not!" Sapnap glares, arms crossed. "I'm not even afraid of them."

My hysterical giggles continue, escalating until I give up and slide out of my chair, slumping onto the floor as I try to catch my breath. Sapnap watches me with the icy pride of an offended lion, looking torn between insulting me or just using the silent treatment. 

" George , cut it out. We have a day to plan. Besides, it wasn't even that funny."

I nod in recognition of his words, still laughing too hard to speak. "Haha- fine, just- ha, give me a minute."

He waits until my giggles subside, still looking slightly offended. "Alright. Aside from alligators ,"he sniffs scornfully, "what should we do today? I know Dream also wanted to go swimming, and Karl let me borrow this first class karaoke machine that would be totally awesome."

Karaoke and swimming, two normal activities that most people wouldn't find earth shaking. But when you've lived on a different continent than your two closest friends for years , mundane things like splashing in the cool water, singing my heart out, and just hanging out might as well be attending the Oscars or going skydiving. Especially with Dream. 

Everything seems more vibrant with Dream.

Suddenly, I realize something. "Oh, I don't have a bathing suit!"

Sapnap's mouth drops open. "What do you mean you don't have a bathing suit?! George, you moved to Florida. This place is surrounded on three sides by water, covered in swamps and lakes, one out of every five houses has a pool, and there are literally hundreds of water parks. How could you possibly have forgotten to bring a bathing suit?!"

I hold out my hands apologetically, palms up. "I'm sorry! I didn't really need one in England, since I don't usually swim a lot and it's a lot cooler most of the year. And when I was sorting through my clothes to pack, I just forgot that I would need one... do you think I'd be able to buy one?"

Sapnap shakes his head. "George, it's past the usual swimming season. Most stores won't have any being sold at this time of year, and if they do, they'll either be sold out or a cheap brand. Trust me, all of the swimsuits are picked up by tourists who forgot to pack properly." He surveys me, then raises an eyebrow. "Although, I guess that's what you are."

I groan. "Sapnap, that's not helpful. Do you think you've got an extra pair of trunks I could borrow?"

He rubs the back of his neck, considering. "I don't know if any of my swimsuits would fit you, George. Why don't you just ask Clay to borrow a pair?"

My face flames bright red at the thought of asking Dream to borrow a pair of swim trunks... that he would have worn... with nothing underneath...

Nope, that's definitely not an option. 

"No, I don't think his would fit me either." In all honesty, they probably would, but I would die of embarrassment before if I put them on. "Can you just see if you have an extra pair I can try on? And if you don't, worse case is I just wear some exercise shorts. They'd be close enough, I guess."

"Okay. That works. Let's go check my closet." 

I follow my friend to his room. As we walk down the hall, I glance over at Dream's room, and see that the door is closed. I consider knocking to ask if he's alright, but I don't want to ditch Sapnap or make Dream uncomfortable.  If something was wrong, he would have told me, right? Why wouldn't he?

Pushing Dream out of my mind, I enter the room behind Sapnap and plop myself down at his desk while I wait. Sapnap rummages through his drawers, tossing random articles of clothing around as he does. A shirt flies by my head, a sock lands at my feet, and a familiar hoodie smacks me in the face. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that he was throwing clothes at me on purpose. 

Pulling the hoodie off my head, I stare at it. Is this- is this Karl's hoodie? Why does Sapnap have Karl's hoodie? 

"Sap, is this Karl's?"

He freezes, then turns back to me, still digging through his closet. "W-what?" He pivots quickly and snatched the hoodie, holding it protectively away from me. "It's um- uh, how did this get here?"

I study him as he tries to cover up the hoodie, stuttering something about mistaking it for his. His face is pink with embarrassment, and he isn't looking at me. 

"Hey, Sapnap, you don't have to hide anything from me. I mean, if you don't want to tell me anything, that's fine, but you can if you want to. Is there... is there something between you and Karl?"

He hesitates for a moment, standing tensely. I wait, and after a minute or so he sighs quietly, relaxing.

"It's- well, it's complicated. He means a lot to me, though. I think we're still working things out. Neither of us want to move too fast, or anything. But, um... last time I was in North Carolina, just before you got here, I was staying with Karl. And, um. We might have- well, we- uh, he kissed me." Sapnap confesses, wringing his hands. His expression is bashful, but happy. Really, really happy. 

Is that what I look like when I talk about Dream?

I smile at my friend. "I knew it! Ah, this is great! I'm super happy for you guys." And I am. Sapnap is brave, energetic, and kind. Karl is sweet, funny, and passionate. They're both amazing people, and they deserve each other. I can't think of anyone who'd make a better couple. And as much as Dream teased Sapnap, I know that he'll be just as thrilled. 

He blushed. "Um. Thanks? Fuck, this is awkward."

I'm not sure how to respond to that, so I just nod. Unsure of how to respond, he nods as well, and soon we're both bobbing our heads stupidly.

We stare at each other for a moment too long, then burst into laughter. When our breathing finally settles, I grin at him. "So, do you have a bathing suit for me, or not?" 

He turns, then spins back, brandishing a pair of dark blue trunks. "I do! You got lucky, I bought these a year ago but I haven't worn them because they aren't the right size. They should fit you, though."

I smile thankfully. "Thanks, Pandas. I owe you one." 

His mouth twists scornfully, but a twinkle in his eyes gives him away. "Anytime, Gogy. And, you know, the same thing goes for you."

"Hm?" I'm not sure what he means. "The same thing?" 

He fidgets awkwardly. "Um, from earlier. You can tell me anything, if you need to. Or, want to, I guess. About you and Dream. I promise I won't tell him anything you say, if that's an issue. But the same thing goes for you, I can't repeat anything he tells me."

Oh... right.

"Thanks, but it's okay. There's really nothing going on with us." Except , I think to myself, that I have a crush on my best friend who isn't actually interested in me and only likes to flirt, I almost kissed him multiple times, I pulled away when he tried to kiss me, and now everything is about to go up in flames...

Sapnap nods readily, accepting my decision not to tell him anything. "That's fine, man. Just wanted you to know that I'm here if you need advice, or just something to listen while you talk."

His support really does mean a lot to me, even if I don't show it. Over the years, Sapnap has become my closest friend (apart from Dream, of course), and sometimes I forget how much he does for me. He may be an idiot from time to time, but I couldn't function without him. 

"Thanks, Sapnap." My face communicates more than my words ever could, expressing my intense gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you here."

He's stiff for half a second, before tugging me into a hug. "Shut up."

I laugh, and squirm away from him. "Sap, what was that for?"

"I'm... we'll, I'm glad you finally got your stupid British ass to Florida, even if it took three years."

And I'm glad too. When I was younger, I never expected to meet someone who lived on the other side of the globe, let alone become his best friend. I never expected to spend years trying to get a VISA, then getting denied and having to try again. I never expected to leave behind my life and family in England for my new life and family in America. And I definitely never expected to find myself crushing on the green Florida man the world knows as Dream. 

My life has always been full of surprises.

Chapter Text

I stir slightly, feeling a chill wash over me. I groan and shift positions, fingers grasping for my blanket. It must have fallen off the bed... But wait, I'm not on the bed. I'm lying on a hard surface, knees pulled up to my chest and side pressed against the ground. What? Why am I on the floor?

I gasp, waking up fully, and jolt upright. My sudden movement startles Patches, who had been resting by my side. She meows worriedly and nuzzles up against me as I come to my senses.

"P-patches- what?" I rub my eyes and shake my head like a dog would to get rid of water. "Damn it, I must have fainted again." I feel like some Victorian princess, swooning twice in twenty four hours. To be honest, though, I do feel better with the forced sleep in my system. My body had needed the rest. This is what happens, I guess, when you push yourself to the limit and leave yourself exhausted.

Being alone for however long I had been unconscious was also incredibly refreshing. My empathy doesn't work on animals (the fusiform gyrus, or the part of my brain that triggers my empathy, doesn't recognize animal expressions, so my condition has no cues to reference when duplicating emotions), so Patches' presence is always a comfort, rather than a burden. As much as I love my two best friends, being around them can be exhausting.

I scratch Patches' fur lightly, trying to calm her down. She must have been in my room when I locked the door, and I didn't notice. Poor thing, she was stuck in here for... I hesitate, realizing I have no idea how much time has passed. 

Patches was still concerned about me, by my comforting touch soothed her enough for her tail to stop thrashing and her paws to start kneading my shirt from her position on my stomach. "Shh, it's okay, Sweetie. I'm okay, don't worry." I meow softly at her, and her fluffy ears twitch in response as I lift her to my chest and stand up, supporting her carefully with both hands. My joints ache, but there's not much I can do about that.

I stretch, then glance at the time. The clock on my desk reads 3:04, to my surprise. Three hours?! I had been asleep -or, more accurately, unconscious- for three hours. 

My stomach knots as I imagine what George must be thinking. His first full day here, and I disappear into my bedroom for hours, without any warning or explanation. After I had worked so hard this morning to convince him to spend the day having fun, no less. I'm more than a little bitter that I squandered most of our free time together, and even a little mournful. 

My empathy has cast a shadow over my whole life, even my happiest memories. My first day with George, and it was already overcast by me cutting my face and passing out after streaming.

I set Patches down lightly on my bed, making sure she's comfortable before leaving the room. I poke my head into the hall, expecting to see George or Sapnap, but there's no sign of them.

"Hello? Guys? Are you in here?" I call, voice echoing around the vacant house. 

Nothing. 

Frowning slightly, I make my way through the house, my confusion and mild worry growing with every empty room I pass. I know there's no reason to be concerned, but still. I'm the type of person who starts to worry when his family is out of sight.

A vague memory of mentioning my desire to go swimming pulls itself to the forefront of my mind, and I jog out to the pool. Loud music, laughing, and a slightly melodic screeching that might be an attempt at singing meets my ears, and I grin, relieved. 

"There you guys are! I was worried, the whole house was empty! You can't just... disappear... l-like that..."

My words trail off as I step outside, and the pool comes into view. Sapnap is sitting on the edge of the pool, legs in the water, crooning into the microphone attachment of a Karaoke machine. He's beaming, practically glowing as he belts out a Dua Lipa song as loud as humanly possible. His favorite hat is perched on his head, since he stubbornly refuses to take it off, even when we're going swimming. 

And George... 

George is in the water, reclining easily on a pool noodle he's holding under his arms and behind his back. His floating legs are crossed at the ankles, everything about him relaxed and cool. He's smiling, somewhat sarcastically, at Sapnap's singing, and nodding his head to the music. 

And, most noticeably, he's shirtless. 

I halt completely, staring open-mouthed at George. The water distorts most of his bare torso, but his upper chest and shoulders are completely visible. His skin is stunningly pale, and there- Oh god. Where those-? Surely not. Hadn't he once denied having any sort of abs? 

But things must have changed, because the muscles are faintly visible. It's nothing unusual, nothing extraordinary, just a light toning on his stomach, but it's as unexpected as it is hot. 

All things considered, I shouldn't be surprised. With George's build and athletic hobbies, it only makes sense for him to be lean with just a touch of muscle. And, to add to that, I'd heard him talk about conditioning for the Sidemen charity soccer match, although I hadn't known that his training would lead to... Anyway, I wasn't expecting to see George shirtless, and I certainly wasn't expecting for him to be this-

Ahem, not that it matters, of course, if a person is physically attractive, especially if that person is your best friend who you are not  allowed to be interested in. 

But dammit, I'd be lying if I said George wasn't the hottest guy I've ever laid eyes on. 

After a long moment of obvious staring, the hot tile of the patio begins to burn my feet, and I sidestep awkwardly to avoid the scorching heat on the bare soles of my feet. Breaking my concentration on George, I come to my senses and realize that I'm still standing slack-jawed by the pool, gawking at my shirtless best friend. Quickly, I avert my gaze, but the damage is done. 

"Clay?" Sapnap questions, pausing the song. "Uh, what are you doing?"

I blush vividly. "W-what? I'm not doing anything. I just, um, was looking for you guys. Because you weren't, uh... inside. And I found you. Well, obviously I found you, because I'm talking to you. Both of you. N- not just one of you. Uh... yah." I want to slap a hand over my mouth to prevent my nervous rambling from escaping, but I'm too late to stop this train wreck. "So, hi..." I finish lamely, unable to make eye contact with Sapnap or George.

I force myself to stare at the ground instead, anticipating the accusatory glare that will surely be on George's face. He'd just caught me staring at him like a creep, after all. Why wouldn't he be mad?

After a tense moment, Sapnap rolls his eyes and breaks the silence. "God, Dream. You're such an idiot, all I wanted to know was why you were just standing there watching us instead of saying hello or anything. You didn't have to give me your life's story."

I exhale, half relieved that he wasn't irritated and half embarrassed by my stupidity. "Oh, sorry. How long have you guys been out here?"

George shrugs, and my eyes instinctively widen as the action exposes more of his stomach. "An hour or two, I'd say. After the stream, we made some food and then went out here." Miraculously, he doesn't seem to be angry with me for staring. Maybe he didn't notice?

He drops the pool noodle and kicks over to the edge, grabbing onto the ledge and lifting himself out of the water.

I can't stop myself from gasping audibly as he moves to stand directly in front of me, hair wet and messy, chest completely bare. He's close, only about a yard or, in the metric system, a meter in front of me. 

Fuck. 

I'm glad I'm wearing loose pants and a long hoodie, for a completely unrelated reason than my reaction to seeing George like this. I'm usually more PG-13, but I can't help it. Something about his hair, all tangled and ruffled and a much darker color than usual because of the water, makes him even more attractive than normal. And the way he's staring at me- his brown eyes are mapping my face, taking in every detail of my features with a rapt attention I've never felt before. 

It's hot.

If things weren't so awkward between us, and we hadn't just agreed that it was best to forget about the almost-kiss and move on, I might just make a move. I can picture saying something smooth like "Hey, George? Want to go on a date? And did I mention, you look fantastic with your hair like that?" and George would be all, "Oh, sure thing, Dream, I've secretly had a crush on you for years and was waiting for this moment!" And then we'd live happily ever after, etc, etc.

As stupid as it is, I really do like him. I'd messed it all up, though, by moving too quickly and trying to kiss him yesterday. As much as I wanted to kiss him, and still do, I would never, ever , do anything that George isn't comfortable with, so that's the end of that fantasy. Too bad, DNF shippers, including me.

A relationship between us would never work, anyway. Not with my empathy, or all of the secrets I'm keeping. It hurts, but it's true.

Funny how it's all my fault, in the end. I seem to hurt everyone I've ever befriended. Someone like me doesn't deserve friends like George and Sapnap. Sapnap especially has gone through so much because of me, yet he still stays by my side.  There are times when I think about leaving, since I'm sure he'd be better off without me, but I can't bring myself to do it. I love my friends, and selfishly want to be with them, even though I know that when they end up hurting it'll be all because of me.

"Er, Dream?" George's voice snaps me out of my day dreams, bringing me back to the hot Florida sun and sparkling pool reflecting the light into thousands of tiny diamonds on the water.

"W-what?"

He raises an eyebrow at my red face, finding my embarrassment more than a little funny. "Did you just come out here to watch us, or are you going to swim too? We've also got this karaoke thing, if you'd rather do that. His small chuckles leave me smiling, but not because I'm cheerful. I'm not unhappy, to clarify, it's just not me smiling. It's this feeling from George, of humor and happiness. It's nice, but still alien, and an invasion of his privacy to be feeling it. 

"Oh. Oh! Right, yah, I'll swim with you guys. I've just got to put on my swimsuit, and... take care of something really quick." I awkwardly back towards the house, trying to maintain eye contact but stumbling over the uneven ground and almost face-planting. Abandoning my efforts to act smooth, I turn and walk to the door. "I'll be right back," I call over my shoulder, and enter the house.

***

About fifteen minutes later, I’ve changed into my bathing suit, a gray waterproof T-shirt and dull green trunks. When I was getting dressed, I considered going shirtless, but couldn't bring myself to do it. There's something about the idea of being shirtless in front of George that makes me feel vulnerable. I'm... not ready to cross that line, not yet. 

I'm excited to swim with George and Sapnap, and karaoke sounds really fun. I've always liked singing, and I'm not bad at it, so singing along to one of my favorite songs in front of my friends sounds fun, rather than embarrassing. 

"Dream! You're here!" George grins, and throws an inflatable beach ball at me. "Think fast!"

I return his smile and jump for the ball, somehow managing to catch it. "Got it, ha! In your face, Gogy!"

He rolls his eyes, but there's no malice behind the gesture. "It was all because of my incredible throwing skills, idiot."

Sapnap, from the karaoke machine, yells to both of us. "Yo, bitches! What song should I pick?"

George scoffs and ruffles his wet hair into a different style, and it's so distracting I almost miss his next words. "Don't hog the karaoke, Sap. What if I want to sing something? Or Dream, what about him?"

George knows me well, knows how I'm dying to try out Karl's fancy karaoke machine. In fact, I already have a few songs in mind.

He shrugs, uncaring. "You'll both get a turn later."

I groan. "Saaaapnap. No fair. I was literally gone all afternoon." George glances in my direction and I wince a little, waiting for him to use the opportunity to ask why I'd disappeared for half of the day, but he says nothing. I'm not sure whether to feel relieved or worried at the silence, and his expression isn't helping. 

"Nope."

George tilts his head. "Okay, what if I tell Dream about that... thing I found out this morning?" He threatens, arms crossed defiantly.

"About me and Karl kissing? No. I want him to know about that," Sapnap says to George, before belatedly turning to me. "Clay, Karl kissed me, and we're sorta together now." 

I blink, and stare at him. Honestly, the news about Karl and Sapnap isn't unexpected, but it's definitely surprising that Sapnap told George before me. 

I realize that he's still waiting for me to respond, his happiness tingling slightly with nerves that leave a sour taste in my mouth. "Sapnap! Oh my god, that's awesome! I'm so happy for you guys!" His anxiety calms at the assurance of my support for his new relationship, though I feel bad for accidentally making him worry in the first place by taking so long to say something. 

The youngest member of the Dream Team grins at me, his familiar smile wide. "Thanks! Yah, we aren't really telling anyone yet, but I made an exception for you guys."

"Well, you've got my congratulations too, but that isn't what I was talking about." George's statement catches our attention, and we both swivel to face him as he treads water in the pool. 

"Wait, what?" Sapnap asks. George smirks, then makes an exaggerated motion of grabbing his elbow. I'm confused, but Sapnap must have understood the gesture, because he blushes and glares at the brunette. " George . No. Absolutely not."

George's expression is cocky, confident, and just a tiny bit evil as he smiles at Sapnap. "I'll tell him, if you don't surrender the karaoke machine to Dream."

"To... Dream ?" Sapnap repeats, glancing at me. I'm just as taken aback, I thought George was the one who wanted it. I didn't know he was doing it for me.

"Yah, stupid, to Dream. He's been staring at the karaoke thing for, like, three minutes without blinking. He obviously wants to do it."

"Fine," Sapnap grumbles, and holds the microphone out. George swims to the edge of the pool and climbs out, combing his wet hair behind his ears before grabbing the mic. 

"Here, Dream." I walk over and reach for the microphone, holding my breath as my fingers brush against George's. He's right there , in front of me, and still shirtless. 

He stays close, even though there's no need to now that I've gotten the mic. "There. I got you the karaoke machine. Now you have to sing me a song." 

"I- what?" I ask, my brain lagging as I desperately try and keep myself from looking at George. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he huffs, "that I got Sapnap to go away, so now you owe me something. And since we're both already here, and you want to anyway, you should sing for me." He leans forward, and a trickle of water slides down his jaw. "Dream, sing me a song." 

I shiver.

I try to school my face and remain expressionless, but god, it's near impossible. George just asked me to sing him a song. What the hell? This is simultaneously a dream come true, and one of my worst nightmares.   

Sapnap looks at me, then at George, then at me again. I can feel his subtle confusion, probably due to the fact that I'd told him everything that had happened between me and George at breakfast, and he knew that George wasn't interested in me. Or at least, he acted like he wasn't.

I'm just as confused. If George isn't interested in me, why does he keep dropping hints, like when he touched my hand during the stream or blushed after Tommy's DNF joke? And asking me to sing for him? 

It was a strange thing to do if you'd just agreed you didn't like someone and wanted to pretend the almost-kiss between you hadn't happened. 

"I- uh," I stammer, not knowing what to say. Should I flirt back? Was that even flirting? George is never this forward. And he doesn't like me, right? 

But if he doesn't like me, then why is he asking me to sing him a song? It's not something that screams "homies". I have to say no. This feels too much like I'm reading too much into nothing, and encouraging feelings that aren't really there. I'm going to say no, as much as I don't want to. I have to say no...

"Uh, sure! I'll sing a song for you, George."

I'm a goddamn simp.

Fuck, I can't believe I just said that. And now, it's too late to back out. 

"Perfect," he grins. "What song are you picking?"

I frown, considering. "Good question... uh, do you have anything in mind?"

George snorts. "I'll google it." A brief pause, and then he begins to scroll through a list of suggestions. "Uh, what about something Disney?"

"Unless it's from Moana or Frozen , no." 

"Uh, okay. Adele?"

"George, do you think I can sing like Adele?" 

"Right, right. You could always sing one of the songs that you wrote?"

"No, that's cliché, and you've already heard me sing those songs. It's not gonna be impressive if you've heard it a hundred times."

"Unchained Melody?"

"No, that one's way too sad..." 

"How are you at rap?"

"...um."

"Dream," he complains. "Just pick something already. I've given you, like, twenty suggestions."

My mind is still blank, but a sudden inspiration comes to me. "Oh! What about something by OneRepublic? They're my favorite band."

"Fine, whatever. Just hurry it up." 

I groan lazily. "Fine, fine, fine. I hate you."

"You don't."

I look up, startled by the sudden seriousness in his tone. George's dark brown eyes are trained on me, and his stare is intense. "You don't hate me," he reinforces.

"...no, I don't." I admit, forced to relent under his forceful gaze.

"Then hurry."

The exchange between us is heavy, coated in things left unsaid. I'm not sure how to feel, and based on what I'm sensing from George, he isn't either. 

Doing as he says, I mess with the machine, pulling up one of my favorite songs. The lyrics appear on the screen as my heart races. It's not quite stage fright, more the anxiety that comes from signing in front of people. Specifically singing for people. Knowing that if my voice cracks, or if I forget a lyric, that specific person might be... disappointed. 

It's odd, because I've sung in front of Sapnap hundreds of times. Why should George be any different? I've also sung in front of George before, over discord. Hell, I've even released two songs, both of which have millions of views. This isn't new to me, so I have no excuse for what I'm feeling. But yet, here I am, feeling it anyway.

The opening bars of the song start to play, and I raise the microphone to my lips. 

"I was writing,

Thinking with my long hand.

Flippin'  the paper,

Everything was sinking, 

In start to wonder

How you gonna handle me?

When I'm under,

Swimming in the dark sea."

I glance at George's face as the backing vocals chime in, singing the next few lines and giving me time to survey his reactions. He's watching, leaning against the wall of the house, with a faint flush on his cheeks. He widens his eyes at me, as if to tell me to keep going, and I do. 

" Can you feel all the love?

Can you feel all the love?

Can you feel all the love?

Can you feel all the love?

Like it was made for you!

Like it was made for you, 

Like it was made for you, 

It was made for you."

I bob my head a little, letting myself relax as I focus on the music. I've sung this song hundreds of times, and I don't even need to look at the lyrics. My newfound confidence helps my performance, and I hear the change in my voice as the nervous tremble leaves and I begin to belt the lines. 

" Tell me something,

Something that can move me.

Don't tell me lies,

I swear you're gonna lose me.

Big like an ocean,

Jealous of the fish it feeds, 

Your devotion, 

Swimming inside of me."

I shimmy a little, grinning as my stupid dancing makes George smile. His face is still red. From the heat, maybe? I'm sure he's not blushing... 

Right?

Is he blushing? If he is, is it because of my singing? I know it's idiotic, but I hope that's the case. I'm doing this for him, after all. George did just say he wanted to leave it as it was, and agreed to forget what had almost happened last night, but he's been acting... strange . Not a bad strange, just different.

It makes me wonder, though. 

"Can you feel all the love?

Can you feel all the love?

Can you feel all the love?

Can you feel all the love?"

There's no doubt about it, now. George is blushing. I decide to give the rest of the song my all, and make this the best performance I've ever given. And, if I decide to change up the lyrics a little, then no one else will ever know. 

"Like I was made for you!

Like I was made for you,

Like I was made for you,

I was made for you."

The piano takes over for a minute, and I look up to see if George noticed my change in the lyrics. To my surprise, he's staring at me with... awe? As if my performance was something amazing, rather than just me trying my best to impress him with a borrowed karaoke machine. 

I take a deep breath before the next lines, knowing that they're in falsetto, and the last note needs to be held for a good few seconds. 

" Can you feel?

Can you feel?

Can you feel?"

I break, gasping for breath but smiling as the line ends. I've never been able to hit that note, or hold it for so long. Something about trying to show off for George is giving me an edge, boosting my determination and focus. It's cheesy of me, sure, but what part of this isn't? I'm singing one of my favorite songs for my best friend who I'm secretly... um, we'll say infatuated, with. It feels like something straight out of a DNF fanfiction, or something.

The backing vocals jump in with the next part of the song, leaving me to repeat the can you feel verse layered on top. I hit the high note once again, and beaming with satisfaction, finish the song.

The music dies to a halt, and the machine's lights dim. I take a few deep breaths, then look around, remembering my surroundings. Oh, right. Sapnap. Not gonna lie, I forgot he was there.

My friends burst into applause, and I laugh. "Thanks, guys." 

That was, by far, my best performance of that song, maybe even my best performance ever . I hit all the notes, my voice didn't crack, and I didn't stumble over any lyrics. I feel faintly euphoric, the glow from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. 

I peek over at George, and quickly look away when I make eye contact. Wait, no. Dream, you aren't a middle schooler, don't flinch away from eye contact. I make myself look back, and offer him an embarrassed smile. "So, that was something, huh?"

"Something?" He questions, sounding annoyed. "Dream, that was amazing, don't sell yourself short." 

I blush, not expecting the compliment. George is cautious with his heart, he always has been. From refusing to say "I love you" unless he's absolutely sure he means it, to typically shying away from hugs, to having a hard time returning compliments, he guards his affection. It's not that he doesn't care, in fact, it's the opposite. It's how much he cares. He's scared to show it, at least in the ways that most people perceive. 

George's affection shines through in other ways, like when he stayed up till three in the morning countless times so we could have more time to talk, or when he didn't hesitate to drop everything he was doing to comfort me when I called him crying after a bad day. George's love is quiet, and hidden, but real. 

And compliments from him are always a welcome surprise, because I know he won't say it unless he means it. 

"T-thanks, George. I'm glad... uh, I'm glad you liked it." And I am. I was trying to impress him, after all. 

There's an awkward silence between us for a moment, only broken when George gestures towards the pool. "So, were you gonna swim?"

"Oh, right! Uh, yah. I'm gonna swim, I'm just gonna be careful about my bandage not getting wet. So, like, don't dunk me, or anything." As long as I keep my cut above the water, I should be fine. I smile at my friends, then grab the beach ball and run towards the water.

***

Three hours later, all of us are tired, soaked, and absolutely the happiest we've ever been. Sapnap calls to order us a pizza (margarita, at George's request), and while we wait for it to arrive, we split up and shower. Each of our rooms has an adjoining bathroom, so none of us has to wait for the bathroom. I'm careful to remove the bandage as I shower, then apply a duplicate to my cut. It's already looking better, whatever George did this morning helped a lot.

 About twenty minutes after we get out of the pool, the pizza arrives.

"Wait, what is with this pizza? It's got, like, tomatoes."

I stare at George, who's picking the tomatoes off of his pizza with careful precision. "Um, it's margarita pizza."

"Yah, but why does it have tomatoes?"

"George, margarita pizza comes with tomatoes. If you wanted it without them, you should have ordered cheese ."

He scoffs at my logic. "'Cheese', ugh. I forgot about you Americans calling margarita pizza 'cheese'. In England, cheese was margarita."

I blink at him. "But if margarita was cheese, what was margarita?"

"... you're an idiot."

We both laugh, and Sapnap joins in. "George, just shut up and eat your tomatoes." 

He makes a face in response, and tosses one of the discarded tomatoes at Sapnap. "Ew, no. You eat it, if you love tomatoes so much."

 Sapnap shrieks as the tomato lands threateningly close to his hoodie. "George! Tomatoes stain clothes, and I'm borrowing this shirt!" I look closer, and sure enough- he's wearing one of Karl's oversized hoodies, with a graphic of one of their favorite animes on the sleeves and back. 

I smirk, more than ready to tease my best friend like I would a younger brother. "Oooh, wouldn't want to get Karl's hoodie dirty, would we?" I say, before threateningly grabbing a tomato slice and faking throwing it. 

"Clay! Fuck off," he growls, laughing as he retaliates by holding up his own slice. "Don't make me throw this at you. I'll do it, I swear I will."

George rolls his eyes at us. "As long as no one's making me eat them, then we're good. Dream, weren't you gonna put on a movie, or something?"

I nod, remembering my earlier suggestion and dropping my culinary projectile. "Right! I forgot, sorry. What movie should we watch?"

George shrugs. "Something classic. And it needs to be good."

"Okay... how about Rio ?"

" Rio? Dream, what the hell kind of a choice is that. I said a classic, and you suggest an animated movie about birds."

I fake a gasp, ready to jump to the defense of what I consider to be a great movie. "Hey! Don't shit on Rio . It's not just about birds, it's about love, and freedom, and learning to trust yourself and embrace who you are. All of those are valuable life lessons, George. And, it's funny as hell, and has good songs." 

"Fine, whatever," George coincides, and flops onto the couch, leaving his rejected pizza slice on a paper plate. "Just put the movie on already, then. And grab me some crisps. Oh, and I want a bottle of water."

I grumble, but do as he says, retrieving his snacks before activating the TV.  

After all, what's the harm in simping for my best friend? I've been doing it for years online, so I'm sure there's no difference in person. 

None at all. 

Damn it, I'm bad at lying to myself.

Chapter Text

I sigh, and shift on the couch, painfully aware of Dream's shoulder brushing mine. We're three movies into what was promised to be an all night marathon that we'll all regret tomorrow, and I can't stop blushing. It's almost impossible to act normal after all that's happened today.

 First, Dream had needed me to bandage his cut, acting shockingly vulnerable. Then, we'd almost kissed (again), only for him to suggest moments later that it was meaningless and we should just move on. 

Being an idiot and a coward, I'd agreed, not strong enough to push for what I really wanted. What I still want, even though I might have ruined things. 

Then, he'd shown me my new office, and the vulnerability was back. It's strange, how quickly his walls go up. It's like he's purposely being this guarded, although I don't know why. When we were streaming, the same cracks in his armor were visible. But after the stream, well, who knows. Dream still hasn't given me any sort of an explanation as to why he ran off so suddenly, and didn't come back till hours later. 

At the pool, then, he was acting weird. All stiff and shy. Except, that changed when he started singing...

God, his singing. I'm probably going to see that in my dreams for the rest of my life. His tangled and curled hair glowing in the afternoon sun, his easy smile as he relaxed and poured himself into the music, and the confidence that beamed from him. Even though he was singing for an audience of just two people, I would have believed that he was in a stadium performing for thousands.

 I'd always known he was a good singer, but it was different in person. In person, I could see how his chest heaved for breath after holding a note, how his eyes filled with tears at the strong emotion of the song, how he sang with a familiar voice that suddenly sounded stunningly human and so, so real . 

It was breathtaking to watch. He was -and is- breathtaking. 

And now, I'm expected to sit here, so close to him, and do nothing. I have to continually force myself not to lunge forward and kiss him. It's difficult when I can feel Dream on my skin, his warm breath brushing my ear far more entertaining that any movie. 

I wonder, though, how he would react if I did kiss him. Would he pull away, or would he go with it? Would he think I was joking, or would he be able to read me easily, to see the feelings I keep hidden away?

Would he love me?

Shut up, George. I think to myself. Why would he love you as anything more than a friend? It's all a game to him. When he tried to kiss you, it wasn't even real. 

I frown, just slightly. I'm overthinking again ( what else is new) but I don't want to bother the others, so I keep my expression almost neutral. I'm sure they won't notice, not with the movie and the dimness of the living room, due to it being 10:30 at night. The jet lag I'm feeling is hitting me pretty hard, but a steady supply of energy drinks and candy is keeping me awake and energized. 

I bite my cheek as Dream yawns beside me, stopping myself from mirroring the yawn. As I stare blankly at the screen, not really watching the film, I'm filled with contradictions. I'm tired, but I don't want to sleep. I'm hungry, but I don't want to get up and eat. I want to kiss Dream, but I don't want to ruin our friendship over a stupid crush. I want to tell him how wonderful his singing was, but I don't want to embarrass myself. I want to simply let myself go, and be able to show affection to him as I please, but I don't want to let down my guard.

I want a lot of things.

It's painful how far so many of them are out of my reach.

"Hey, George," Dream's voice next to my ear is low and unexpected, but not unwanted.

"Hey, Dream,"I reply on autopilot, still zoned out.

Dream tilts his head towards me, brows crinkled, startling me out of my thoughts. "George? Are you, um... are you alright?" He whispers, careful not to alert Sapnap to our hushed conversation. 

I recoil slightly, shocked by the question. How- how did he know? I'm certain that there was no visible sign of my inner turmoil on my face. My posture is relaxed, and my cheeks aren't flushed. There's no clue on me that something is wrong, and yet, Dream realized that something was wrong.

"Um. Yes, thanks. I'm fine."

"You sure?" He questions, stark yellow (green) eyes boring into me. "You seemed a little... sad. Worried. Upset, I don't know."

He's right, I am all of those three things. But I can't just admit it, because that would lead to him asking why, and that would surely lead to crossing a line that, as of this morning, we've both agreed not to disturb. 

It's unnerving, how he was able to tell something was wrong with me. I'm sure that my expression was completely blank. I know that we've always been close friends, but this level of understanding seems... off. 

I certainly can't claim to know the same about him. I can tell when Dream's upset, but only if he lets it show. And he's a good actor, good at hiding his emotions. It's not a common skill, and I find it equal parts impressive and confusing. I just don't know why he bothers spending his energy on keeping a poker face up around just me and Sapnap. If we were in public, it would be different, but we aren't. We're alone, in our house, and there's no reason that I can think of that would explain his constant guarded behavior. 

He's still waiting for a response, so I just nod silently, trying not to be obvious in my lie.

The movie ends as I let myself drift into my thoughts, spacing out a little as the credits roll. I only snap back to the moment at hand when Sapnap turns off the TV and jumps to his feet, addressing both me and Dream.

"Okay, this isn't gonna work! George, it's only your second night here, and you're practically asleep already."

"I can't help it," I complain. "We were busy all day, and now I'm exhausted. Plus, I'm still adjusting to American time. My body wanted me to go to sleep five hours ago."

He crinkles his eyebrows at me, not buying my excuses. "That's not important right now, George. What's important is spending time with your best friends, and having fun." He's right, sure, but still. I'm tired.

Dream shakes his head at us, sitting up a little and turning on the lamp. "Sapnap, do we have any more energy drinks? If you expect George to stay up all night, you at least have to give him some caffeine."

Sapnap frowns. "Uh... I don't think we do. He drank the last one, like, an hour ago. But I'll go check the fridge, maybe there's one in the back." He leaves the room, and the minute he's gone, Dream turns to face me.

"George, are you sure you're okay? You're really quiet tonight. And you just- you're acting differently, I guess." His expression displays concern, and his brows are furrowed, as if he's the one feeling my ruffled emotions. 

I sigh, and flop my head back, too foggy to deal with Dream's mildly invasive, but well meaning questions. "I'm great. Fine. Abso-fucking-lutely fantastic." Sarcasm is my go-to shield, and I'm sniping at him before I realize how harsh my tone is. 

"... Sorry. That was a bit much. I'm just tired, or whatever." I'm genuinely sorry, since I didn't mean to speak so sharply.  "You don't need to worry about me, Dream. Really, I'm fine."

He smiles thinly, still looking stressed. "Uh, right." I'm sure that he doesn't believe me, but I think he's done with asking questions, at least for now. 

"I'm back, bitches!" Sapnap enters the living room, his arms full of drink cans. "I couldn't find any energy drinks, but I did find this beer that I bought and never drank!" Dream gives him a look, and I raise my eyebrows. 

"Are we drinking now?" I question, not actually opposed to the idea but wanting to give my friend a hard time, like always. 

The brunette shrugs, and sets the cans onto the foot rest at the base of the couch. "I mean, you guys don't have to, but I think it'll be fun. First time drinking with just the three of us, you know? We could make it into something fun, like twenty questions or truth or dare."

"Oh, truth or dare! Dream, let's do that one," I say, and Sapnap grins at my enthusiasm. 

"See, George? I knew you'd want to." He passes me a can, wet with condensation, before grabbing one for himself and selecting another for Dream, offering it to him with an excited smile. "Clay, do you want to play? I know you don't really drink-"

"No, I want to," he interrupts, and takes the drink. "It's a special occasion."

"Sure, sure. It's nothing to do with George asking you to do it. Definitely not." Sapnap says, then coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like simp . 

Dream just laughs, and rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Sapnap."

"Yah, Surpnurp. You heard him. Shut up!" I say gleefully, seizing the opportunity to bother him. I'm tired, and grumpy, and confused, so I'm taking some of my annoyance out on Sapnap. I won't lie, it makes me feel a little better to mess with my best friends when I'm upset. They both know this, just like they know that I never really mean the things I say. 

Sapnap scoffs at me. "Oh, great, now you're ganging up on me. Well, too bad for you, because I'm about to destroy you both in truth or dare." 

Dream frowns a little. "Uh, what? Sapnap, you can't really win truth or dare." 

"Maybe you can't, but I can," he refutes, no hesitation in his cocky reply. "Just watch me, losers." 

To be fair, if anyone was going to be able to win a game that didn't even have a designated winner, it would be Sapnap. He grins competitively at me and Dream as he opens his drink, before cracking his neck, his gaze tracing across the room to settle on Dream. 

"Clay. Truth or dare?"

And the game begins.

***

"Okay, George. Truth or dare?"

I think for a moment, my brain moving slower than usual due to the alcohol we've been drinking for the past half hour. I'm not drunk, or at least not yet, but I'm definitely tipsy. "Uh, uh... truth." 

Sapnap chuckles, shaking his head at me. "George, you always pick truth! Ugh, so predictable. Okay, um... how many members of the SMP have you kissed IRL?" 

I groan and bury my head in my hands, thinking back. "Oh, shit. Um, okay, let's see." Karl made one, and there was that time with Wilbur, and... well, I'll just say that there was a third one, and leave it at that. I look over at Dream, considering adding him to the list, before deciding that whatever happened between us didn't quite count. 

I don't really want to answer, but I've already dodged two embarrassing questions. The punishment for refusing to answer or complete the dare is to chug a beer, and I'm not willing to be the first to get drunk, so I'll suck it up and answer the question.

"Three." 

Sapnap guffaws. "Three? Wow, George, you're gonna make Dream jealous."

As Sapnap had guessed, Dream is staring at me, his eyes wide. "Thr- three ? George," he says, unable to get any more words out.

 I blush. "Well, none of them were serious, or anything. I was drunk for two of them, anyway. It's not a big deal." He's still staring, and I'm sure my embarrassment is obvious. "Uh," I clear my throat, turning the attention of my friends away from who I've kissed and back to the game. "Dream. Truth or dare?" 

He considers. "Hm, truth." While I was the type of player to only choose truth, and Sapnap the type to only choose dare, Dream seemed to alternate interchangeably between both. 

"Right. Um, why didn't you want me to film a meetup vlog?"

His relaxed posture suddenly stiffens. "Uh-" Dream looks to Sapnap, then back to me. "I didn't want to put our private moment out there? Like, with millions of people seeing it?" He says, but it sounds more like a question. It's a blatant lie, but he seems uncomfortable answering, so I'll leave it. When I don't prod him for any more details, he visibly relaxes, before turning to Sapnap.

"Sap, truth or dare?"

"Dare, duh," he says, and takes a long sip of his drink. 

Dream smirks. "Okay, deal. I dare you to open Twitter and type out 'Karl Jacobs is' and use autocorrect to fill in five more words. And you've got to post it, too." 

"Damn it, Clay," Sapnap grumbles. "Can it be on my alt?" 

Dream gives him permission, and we both watch as Sapnap posts a slightly nonsensical but still sweet message that confuses fans and Karl alike. In fact, he gets a call from Karl just a minute later. 

"Hey, Karlll!" He slurs slightly, more influenced than me and Dream. "No, I'm not drunk. I've just been drinking. Okay, well, four beers isn't that much." His one sided conversation over the phone is easy to follow, and I'm almost in tears laughing as Karl tries to get an explanation out of a very tipsy Sapnap. When he finally hangs up, he's smiling too. 

"Okay, George. Truth or dare?" 

"Truth," I say predictably. 

Sapnap rolls his eyes. "Again? Common, man. Okay, this is gonna be a hard one, then, to make up for your refusal to choose a dare. Were you really thinking about marrying Dream for the VISA?" 

Well, shit. I definitely wasn't joking when I'd brought it up to Dream all those months ago, but I wasn't fully serious, either. It was around the time when I'd felt the most strangled by the ocean separating me from everything that made my life worth living. I was willing to do anything to get to them, including marrying Dream. He'd shot my idea down fairly quickly, though, thinking I was messing with him, so I'd let it be. It probably wouldn't have worked, anyway.

Although, I can't help but wonder, what if I had? What if, instead of waiting for months and months longer, we'd simply gotten married? Imagining myself married to Dream makes me feel... complicated. My heart leaps at the idea, but at the same time, I feel guilty even considering the possibility. Dream had practically laughed in my face when I mentioned getting married, and then he'd talked about it on stream. He wasn't interested, in the possibility of ever getting married, or in me. 

Looking back, my crush on Dream that surfaced so intensely after meeting him in person isn't entirely new. I can see it in the way I would always blush after he flirted with me, in the way I didn't -and still don't- hesitate to drop anything and everything for him, in the way I was so willing to move to another country. I had hidden from the truth for so long, though, pushing my feelings deep underneath my surface until I hadn't even realized their true extent. 

Meeting my best friend for the first time changed everything. None of my defenses against him were made for real interactions, and my hidden feelings rushed to the surface almost immediately. Until just now, I'd assumed what I was feeling was a basic crush, just from meeting Dream and adjusting to his flirting. 

But I was wrong. 

And that terrifies me.

Because of this , this thing that I'm feeling, isn't just a crush, then...

I don't want to think about the implications this has, so I distract myself by grabbing an unopened can. "I'm skipping this one," I say, before draining the drink. When I resurface, Dream and Sapnap are both staring at me, and I glare defensively. "What?"

"George, that's your third beer in thirty minutes. You're gonna be blackout drunk in an hour, if you keep it up."

I snort, laughing a little at Sapnap's accusation. "That's rich, coming from you." He's already had four, and is more than halfway through a fifth. 

He starts to snap back, but Dream steps in to play peacekeeper. "Okay, okay, guys. No one's gonna be blackout drunk." Going back to the game, he gestures in my direction. "George, it's your turn to ask."

"Sapnap. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you... to post a picture of your feet on insta, and no socks," I decree, already laughing. 

He narrows his eyes at me. "No, no way. I'm not doing that, I'd probably get canceled or something."

I snicker. "Do it or drink, Sappy."

"Ugh, fine. I'll skip," Sapnap decides, and promptly chugs a beer. When he sets it down, he shakes his head like a dog, grimacing as the five and a half drinks really begin to set in. "Take that George, who's drunk now?"

"Um, you. You're drunk."

He crosses his arms, brows furrowed. "You know what, George? You've really been asking for it tonight. Just give me a reason, and I'll fight you. Really, give me a reason." 

I gawk at him, trying to discern if he's serious or not. As far as I can tell, he is, cheeks flushed red and eyes bleary from the alcohol. 

Usually, if one of my drunk friends was acting this way, I'd just try and keep the situation calm, doing my best not to start a fight. But tonight, I'm in the mood to cause a little chaos. Maybe it's because of the beer, or maybe it's my exhaustion making me irritated, or the general situation with Dream. Whatever the case, I don't hesitate to stand up and mirror Sapnap's expression. 

"You want a reason, Sapnap?" 

He practically growls, his flimsy drunken anger not really targeted at me. "I'll fight you, George. I swear I'll do it. Just give me a reason," he repeats, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

Dream looks mildly panicked, and is trying to push between us. "Woah, Sapnap, don't do anything stupid-" 

I cut him off. "Dream, don't let him do anything."

 He looks confused, but gently grabs Sapnap's shoulders, keeping him back. "Okay, but why-"

Showtime. "Sapnap, do it!" I challenge, and step up to meet him. 

Things happen very quickly after that. I hear Dream yelping, and at the same time, feel Sapnap's open hand slap my face and knock me sideways. A stinging numbness that quickly fades into a painful warmth covers my left cheek and jaw, and I stagger sideways, off balance. I try to regain my footing, but the combined efforts of the alcohol and the slap make it impossible, and I crash backwards onto the floor, landing jarringly on my ass and catching myself with my palms. 

"Ow! Sapnap, what the hell?!" 

Sapnap grins, satisfied, while Dream just stares at me in horror. 

"George- you just- why would you do that?" He splutters, hands pressed against his closed eyes. "Fuck, that was mean. How was I supposed to stop that?" Dream extends a hand, and pulls me to my feet. I expect him to let go of my hand the moment I'm standing, but he doesn't. In fact, he tugs me a little closer, looking worried. "Is your face alright? How hard did he hit you?"

I start to answer, but before I can force any words out, I feel his free hand on my chin, gently tilting my head so he can see the slap mark that's surely left on my face. He sucks in a sharp breath as he sees the red handprint across my cheek, and traces his own fingers over it. 

The closeness is killing me, and hurts much more than the slap. All I can think about is Dream, Dream, Dream , about warm hands and soft touches and no space between us.

 He must notice something in my expression, though, because he lets go and backs away far too soon. I almost call him back, but then I remember the situation, the stinging bruise already forming on my face, and Sapnap, who's watching us clearly. 

I clear my throat, and look down. "Uh. I'm fine. It wasn't that bad, and I kinda asked for it." I touch the throbbing mark gingerly, tracing the outline of Dream's touch. 

Sapnap blinks, as if he's just now realizing what's happened, then gasps unprompted and randomly. "Wait! George, shit, I just slapped you. Now you have to hit me back, or else it won't be even." 

"Um, I'm alright." I don't really want to hit him, though I'm not opposed to a little revenge. 

"No, you have to!" He insists, looking guilty. 

I hesitate for a moment, then relent. "Well, since you insisted..." I stride up, pull back my arm, and slap him across the face, feeling the burn in my hand as he recoils from the contact. "There, now we're even." It's been a while since I've slapped someone, but I think I did a pretty good job. 

Dream just stares at us. "I- you two- what the hell, guys? Why would you do that?"

It's a fair question. Oddly enough, I don't think either of us really knows, but I do know that there wasn't any malice behind the fighting. Me and Sapnap, despite how much we purposely annoy each other, will always be close friends. 

So, I just laugh in response to his question, throwing back my head and letting my smile break through freely, because I'm happy, despite my exhaustion, and earlier worry, and the stinging slap mark on my face. 

And when my best friends join in, our combined laughter is better than any music I've ever heard.

Chapter Text

I haven't been to Disney in nearly a decade, and for a good reason. My empathy makes dealing with the vast crowds and hordes of people nearly impossible, and last time I was there, when I was fourteen, ended with me hiding in the bathroom with my eyes screwed shut and my hands over my ears, trying to stop the torrential flood of emotions from every side. 

My last visit to Disney was meant to celebrate my fourteenth birthday, at my request. I had wanted to do something normal, something that other kids did for their birthdays. I wanted to fit in, for once. I was already the weird kid who was homeschooled, with no friends besides Sapnap, since I didn't meet George until I was sixteen, two years later. The experience was more frightening than fun, especially when a janitor found me at the end of the day when he tried to lock up the bathrooms. Humiliatingly, I was sitting with my ears still covered and eyes tightly closed, tears running down my cheeks, on the floor of the handicap stall.

I'd done my best to act sane and have a normal birthday, but it was a pointless effort. There were just too many people, and at fourteen, I couldn't keep myself safe and control my reactions like I can now. 

Although, all things considered, I'm still not fantastic at it now. Out of the twenty three people alive on Earth who have encompassing empathy like me, seventeen of us are registered with a specialist in Oklahoma who we each check in with every 6-12 months, to contribute to learning more about our condition. I've never actually met any of the others, but I know we all come from vastly different backgrounds. All different ages, genders, and races- we're united by this rare affliction we share. 

The specialist, Dr. Lambert, has told me a little about some of the others, without breaching their privacy or personal information. I know that the youngest is only four years old, and that he will have to grow up with this condition just like I did. The oldest is a woman of ninety three, an impressively old age that proves my condition doesn't affect life expectancy, thankfully. 

Out of this group, I'm far from the most skilled at controlling my emotions. Part of our annual research includes undergoing a variety of tests, and a doctor monitors our results and skills compared to each other. A man in his late thirties is the best at maintaining composure, but from what I've heard, the old woman isn't bad either. Out of the seventeen people who actively monitor their condition, I'm ranked tenth at controlling my empathy, and twelfth at hiding it. 

I've worked for years developing these skills, but I'm still not where I want to be. I know that it comes easier to some than others, like the ten year old in fourth place at hiding her empathy. Despite fighting tooth and nail for as much control as I can get, I'm still barred from living a regular life, and even interacting normally with other people. 

For me, there's no hope of ever getting a job where I'd have to work in person with others, though luckily, I don't need one with my YouTube and Twitch career as a popular content creator. I know that I'll never be able to walk through a crowd without having to brace myself and don my best poker face like netherite armor against the ender dragon. I can't have a close in-person relationship without ruining things, like I'm sure I will with George and Sapnap. At this point, it seems inevitable that I'll doom our friendship one way or another, just like I have with others in the past. 

No matter what I do, or how hard I work, or how many nights I spend longing to be like everyone else, my empathy will always stay with me. It's a curse that's ingrained into my brain itself and is as much a part of me as my physical features.

 I learned this the hard way when I turned fourteen, losing my hope for ever getting rid of my condition in a place that was meant to inspire magic and happiness. 

After that disaster, I'd vowed to never return to Disney World, but here I am- driving through the parking lot at the Magic Kingdom, eyes peeled for a parking spot amidst the crowded pavement.

I'd refused going to Disney when my mom asked three years ago, claiming that it wasn't safe for me. And, truthfully, it wasn't- isn't .

I'd refused going to Disney when my little sister begged me to take her for her fourteenth birthday, though I'd apologized excessively. She understood, and forgave me, but still. I didn't say no because I had no care for her disappointment at my refusal, I said no because I didn't want to ruin her birthday like I'd ruined mine. 

But, when George asked if we could take a trip to Disney three days ago, my answer was different. I found myself unable to turn him down, like the simp I am. Although, it's more than my inability to deny him what he wants. It's that we've always talked about going to Disney, and even though I carried a suspicion that I wouldn't be able to go, I still promised him. I'd told George that I would take him to Disney, so now, I have to. 

"Dream, this is exciting! Just look at all of the people, wow. What should we do first?" George is practically buzzing in the passenger seat next to me, a smile already on his face. A beam of sunlight is illuminating his dark hair and jawline, sending traces of morning glow dancing across his features. His excitement is contagious, literally , and I find myself smiling back without really meaning to. I'm sure, though, that even without my empathy, I'd still be smiling at George. 

It's been five days since I met George in person, five days since my face reveal on October second, today being the seventh. It's officially been five days since I got to hug my favorite person for the first time, five days since I realized how I really feel about him. 

It's been five days of equally balanced joy and exhaustion. 

I'm not used to hiding my empathy for long periods of time, or shielding myself from two different people's emotions constantly. By some miracle, I haven't revealed my condition to George, although there have been a few close calls. Yesterday, for example, I'd walked into the living room while George was watching Avengers: Infinity War , and his tear streaked face had me crying before I could realize the situation. When George had asked what I was doing, I'd made up some excuse about how devastating that movie always was, and how I couldn't help but cry whenever I watched it. My lie would have been a little more believable if I'd been watching for more than ten seconds, though. 

Fortune has been on my side for the past few days, because I haven't passed out again, either. Aside from the day we went swimming, I've been able to keep myself awake and upright, although the strain of managing my empathy all day is affecting me strongly. 

The cut in my face is also healing quickly, and I only have to wear a small bandaid over the nearly-healed wound. I think it'll scar, but if that's the worst that comes out of it, then I'm lucky. 

I'm worried for today, though. Hordes of people, raging emotions, and no Sapnap to help me hide my condition. He's currently at Twitchcon, although he hated to leave so soon after George got here. 

Lucky bastard . I'm a little envious of him, despite trying my best not to be. I just wish that I could meet my fans in person, or host a panel, or get to have fun with all of my online friends in person, the ones that I've never met. 

But that'll never happen. I know it won't. With my condition, it's just not possible for me to do all those things, as much as I want to. Something as simple as attending Twitchcon would risk my condition being leaked, or even something more serious, like my physical and mental safety. 

Sapnap was disappointed to leave me behind, but not nearly as disappointed as I was- and am. Already, pictures of Sapnap and several SMP members are flooding Twitter and Insta, his arm around Karl's shoulders in almost every picture. I'm happy for him, happy that he's having fun, but a bitter sting of jealousy lingers in my mind. 

George could have gone to Twitchcon with Sapnap, but he'd decided to stay with me. At least there's one good thing out of Sapnap being gone for three days- extra time with George. As much as I would have loved having the house to myself for a couple of days, I would have been crushingly lonely by myself. 

It's stupid, really. My condition makes it physically painful to be around others, but my personality craves their presence. I'm a walking contradiction, and no matter what I do, it seems like I've chosen wrong. 

But the past three days with Sapnap and George, and the day we've had so far just between me and George are the happiest I can remember. Even though things are... complicated with George, I love being with him in person. 

He hasn't spoken anymore about what I suggested a few mornings ago after he'd denied feeling anything for me when Sapnap had asked. I'm not sure what to think, since I can feel his turmoil from time to time. I've realized that he doesn't like the idea of the agreement I voiced for him, since he gets upset every time it's mentioned, which isn't often. 

My condition is useless at times like these. I know what George is feeling, but not why . Is it because he wants more distance? Less? Is it possible he likes me back, and wants to forget our agreement not to mention the almost-kiss?

Nah, I know that last one's not possible. George has made it abundantly clear that he's not interested. It stings, how many times he's broken eye contact over the past few days or turned away from me without justification. It feels like he's holding himself back, and the only explanation I can think of is that he doesn't return my affections, and is trying to distance himself from me. 

And it hurts, because all I want to do is hold him close, because he's George , Georgenotfound, my best friend, and I haven't been able to hold him for more than seven years. 

But George has never been big on physical touch, especially not with me, it seems. And since he doesn't feel anything for me, maybe him keeping his distance is for the best, but it still feels like he's twisting a knife in my stomach whenever he flinches away from me or avoids contact. 

But now isn't the time to get distracted by thoughts of George, because I've found a parking spot, and we're about to exit the car. I can already see several people nearby, all of them close enough to trigger my empathy. 

I bite my lip discreetly as I feel around a dozen new emotions crash into me, knowing that it'll only get worse when we enter the crowded park. 

Part of me, my logical side, knows that this is a bad idea, that I should have made up an excuse before I agreed to take George to Disney. But now, I've promised, so I can't take that back. And George looks so excited. 

"Okay, George. Here we are..." I announce, and open the car door. The bright Florida sunlight brings a wave of heat and humidity, already more than eighty degrees Fahrenheit, or 26 degrees Celsius. I'm used to the heat, and am fine in jeans and a t-shirt, but George, accustomed to England's typically cooler weather, has to wear shorts to avoid overheating. He rarely wears shorts, and I won't lie, they look good on him. 

George scoffs jokingly at me, jumping out of the car on his side. "Wow, Dream, it's like I didn't know that." I roll my eyes at him, and he rolls his right back. 

"Alright, common. The earlier we get inside, the cooler the temperature will be." I say, knowing that the heat will only increase as the day goes on. 

At my words, George squints up at the sun, a scrunched frown on his face. "Ugh, stupid Florida. How can it be this hot, at like, nine in the morning?" I laugh at him, and we fall into an easy bickering that helps distract me as we make our way to the park entrance, although I can feel my face go pale when I see the swarm of people already inside. 

This... might have been a bad idea.

***

By lunchtime, I can barely keep my eyes open. It's not unexpected, even Sapnap called it. I remember his concerned face leaning in to whisper to me before he left for Twitchcon, eyebrows furrowed with worry. 

"Dream, are you sure about this? There are, like, 50,000 people a day in the parks. Seriously, I googled it, and that's the average number. How are you gonna handle this? What if you pass out again, or the same thing that happened at the airport happens again? George won't know how to help, and I won't be there to make sure you're okay."

In the end, I'd convinced him that I'd be fine- although, I googled it, and the average number of people to visit Magic Kingdom per day is 50,000. 

And now, I'm paying the price. While George happily munches on a spring roll and a churro (who knew they sold spring rolls at Disney?) and relaxes at a shady and somewhat secluded  table, I'm struggling to hold my head up and keep my breathing even. 

There's so many emotions all around me, but luckily, I'm in a much better emotional state than I was at the airport. In the terminal, I was overwhelmed by my recent panic attack, the prospect of meeting George, and my fear of him discovering my empathy. The emotions of everyone around me could easily attach to those emotions, and make everything much worse. 

It's complicated, how my empathy works. If I'm sad, and I feel someone sad as well, it'll be like my own emotions get worse. But, if I'm happy and I feel someone who's sad, it'll be different, and I'll feel their emotions separately from mine. Basically, if I get an emotion from someone that I'm already feeling, it'll just add to my already present emotional response, and won't feel as foreign. It's a lot harder to separate from my real emotions when that happens, which is why I was so vulnerable at the airport.

Today, though, I'm not feeling any major emotions, and my shields are much stronger. I haven't had a breakdown, and so far, I've been able to control my empathy. 

It's taking a serious toll on me, though. I can feel my pulse thudding in my head, my vision is slightly blurry, and I'm about two minutes from falling asleep in the middle of the Magic Kingdom. Way to go, Clay. The last thing you want to do is fall asleep in front of George, that would be ridiculously suspicious.

But George hasn't noticed anything, which is the most important thing. I'm good at hiding it, or at least good enough that George hasn't realized anything is wrong. I'm determined that he have a good time, that his first trip to Disney World is nothing but amazing. 

"Hey, Dream, are you sure you don't want any?" He asks, offering up his food. The sweet cinnamon of the churro smells delicious, and the spring rolls are practically making my mouth water, but I don't trust myself to eat with my stomach so uncertain. I'm not even sure I could hold down something as simple as water, in my state. 

"I'm good, thanks, though," I say, declining his offer as politely as I can while hardly being able to speak. George doesn't like to share his food, in fact, he went as far as putting a bike lock on the spare fridge to guard his food after I ate his soup that he'd apparently been saving two days ago. It's a kind gesture from him, something rare. Usually, I'd take full advantage of it and relish in the extra attention and free food, but I'm too drained to care properly. 

He shrugs, and takes another bite. "Kay', if you're sure. What should we do next?"

Go home , my mind begs silently. God, I just want to go home. But I don't voice those thoughts, not willing to let myself disappoint him. "Um, we could do that thing... park hopping, I think it's called? Where you take the bus to one of the other parks, and you don't have to pay for an extra ticket as long as it's the same day your original is for." 

George lights up, grinning excitedly. "Ooh, we should do that. What do you think about Hollywood Studios? I've heard good things about Epcot, too, though. Oh! Have you seen the animals they have at Animal Kingdom? I heard they have elephants, and a baby rhino, and these cute little monkey things that look like they've got a beard or something-" 

George chatters for a minute, and I zone out, lost in the familiar sound of his voice. Seeing him this happy makes me smile, and not just because I can feel his energy in my brain. Seeing him happy makes me happy, because he's my best friend, and I-

I almost gasp out loud, realizing how my mind was about to finish that thought. And, it's true.

I love him. 

And I don't think it's in the way best friends are supposed to love each other. 

Shit, I knew this was coming. How could I not have known? As much as I tried to avoid thinking about my feelings, or pretend they weren't as serious, I was bound to realize the truth eventually. 

I'm in love with George. 

I'm not even sure how long I've secretly felt this way- all the dots I never connected are scattered throughout the years we've known each other. Is it possible that I've loved him for years? 

When I think about it, truly think about it, and don't hold back, the evidence is all there.

The warm feeling I got every time his contact would pop up on my phone, and the happiness that I felt just from hearing his voice each day.

The way my heart leapt when he told me he'd finally gotten his VISA, and was ready to see my face. 

How hard I cried when his first VISA was denied, even though we'd both thought it was perfect, fearing that I'd never get to have him here with me.

How he could always make me laugh harder than anyone else.

How I didn't even get mad when he roasted me, just responded with teasing of my own.

How easy it was to flirt with him, how much I enjoyed seeing him blush. 

How we'd become the closest of friends, despite our differences.

How happy it made me when George had difficulty expressing his emotions, but still made an effort for me.

How I would do anything for him.

God, I love him. I'm in love with my best friend, and I don't think it's new. 

For a moment, just a moment, I'm overjoyed at my epiphany, feeling like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I want to laugh, and scream it to the world; I'm in love with George! 

And there's no one else I'd rather love, no one else I'd rather lavish my attention and affection on. It feels meant to be, perfect. And I'm ridiculously happy...

...But then I remember. George doesn't like me, and from what we've talked about, he has no interest in a relationship with me. 

It feels like a literal punch to the gut, almost knocking the wind out of me. I'm in love with George, but he doesn't love me back. 

I'm in love with George, but I don't have a chance. 

I dig my nails into my palm, trying to keep myself from overreacting. I've known that he doesn't like me, so why is it hitting me so suddenly? I don't know, but it feels like a burning in my chest, and tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I interrupt George's musings over which park we should go to, and excuse myself, walking towards the nearest bathroom. I step inside, maintaining my composure until I'm in a stall, locking the door behind me.

I laugh, a painfully choked and bitter sound that tears at my throat. 

It's not funny, but I'm laughing anyway, because George will never love me back. How stupid am I, falling for my best friend and jeopardizing our whole relationship? It's one thing to admit I find him attractive, and entirely another to admit I'm in love with him.

And I'm laughing with tears trickling down my face, because it's my second time crying in a bathroom at Disney world. 

Laughter shouldn't hurt this much, but it does.

Chapter Text

In the end, I decided that we should go to Hollywood Studios, like I'd first suggested. Dream doesn't seem to care either way, he had just nodded mutely as I listed each of the parks in turn.

His reaction was unusual, especially for him. Dream is usually so excited and bubbly, especially when the matter in question relates to me. It's not like I think he likes me better than Sapnap... but then again, that's exactly what I think. 

But I don't think it's because he likes me back.

The hopeful side of me wistfully expects Dream to share my feelings. When two people share a bond like we do, how could they not fall for each other?

It seems impossible, but here we are.

It's been hard, these past few days, trying to keep myself from making my crush obvious. I've kept myself from holding eye contact too long, or from holding his hand, or from hugging him, even though it hurts. It's easy for me to hide my lack of physical affection as a general aversion to touching people, but really, it's because I know the moment I let myself touch him I won't be able to stop. 

It's funny, almost ironic, that I'm the one crushing on Dream when he was always the one to flirt so openly with me. It worked better than he'd meant it to, I suppose. 

But no, it wasn't the flirting and joking between us that turned into this crush. It was how Dream treated me; prioritizing me over everything and everyone. It's an incredible feeling, to know that there's someone who would do anything for you. How could you not fall for that kind of devotion, even if it wasn't born out of a romantic relationship? 

Dream always makes sure I'm happy, even when it hurts him, and I'm afraid that's what he's doing now. 

I'm slightly worried about him. Dream seemed fine this morning, but then he skipped lunch, and when he emerged from the bathroom earlier, his eyes were puffy. They also had a slight discoloration which I can assume meant they were bloodshot, even though I couldn't discern the red. I'd asked him about it, but he'd just mumbled something about allergies, and changed the subject. Ever since then, he's been... off. It's nothing big, just several little things that are adding up.

His eyes droop closed whenever we stand still for a moment, like he's about to fall asleep. He's responding way slower than usual, and with much shorter replies. And, on top of that, he's been avoiding eye contact with me. 

I don't know what's wrong with him, but I want to fix it. If he has the idea in his head that telling me something's up and he doesn't feel like continuing our day at Disney will disappoint me, I know he'll avoid telling me at all costs. I'm guessing this might be the case, since I've tried asking him, figuring it out on my own, and offering to buy him more food (he did skip lunch, after all), but nothing has gotten him to tell me what's wrong. That only leaves me one option: force the truth out of him.

"So, Dream, are you sure you're feeling okay?"

He blinks, jerking his head up and realizing with a start that he was about to walk into a metal street lamp decorating the sidewalk. "Uh, what? Oh. Yah, um, I'm great!" Dream says, mustering an obviously false cheeriness. 

Well, no one can deny that he's stubborn, I think to myself, rolling my eyes when he steps away from the street lamp and directly into a palm tree. I snort, but make sure he's regained his balance before walking forward. Stubborn and an idiot, that is. 

"Right... great. " 

I gave him one last chance to tell me, and it didn't work. Time for my backup plan. "So, if you're feeling alright, you won't have anything against ridding the Tower of Terror?" I ask innocently, like I hadn't just proposed that we ride a drop tower shaped like an elevator box that plunges nearly two hundred feet with the doors open at speeds up to 63 kilometers (39 miles) per hour.

Dream swallows, and looks away. "No, I think that sounds... great." 

It clearly doesn't sound great, but he still isn't communicating with me. Dream is too altruistic for his own good, and even though something is clearly hurting him, he won't voice it, even when faced with a drop coaster that I'm sure he loathes the idea of. 

I squint at him. Shit, I was sure that would work. I don't actually want to ride that death trap. Maybe if we actually get in the cue, he'll change his mind and tell me what's wrong so he doesn't have to ride? 

"Great," I nod. "Let's get in line, then."

***

This was a bad idea.

Today has been a good day. We've only been recognized three or four times, and the fans were all friendly and courteous. That alone is a miracle, since we didn't bother to wear disguises. The weather, while a touch too warm for my liking, isn't nearly as hot as it could be. There's no sign of rain, and the humidity is low. 

At least, it was a good day until I decided to ride the Tower of Terror.

The restraints are in rows, and I'm seated next to Dream. I was so sure that he would back out of this, but here we are, about to start the ride. The ride attendants dressed as bellhops are making their way down the seats, making sure all the belts and safety bars are in place. 

Stupid Dream, I think, not actually angry but not willing to admit that maybe, just maybe, this is my fault. If he had just admitted something is wrong, we wouldn't be here.

The ride attendant checks my seatbelt one final time, before stepping clear of the simulated elevator. I look over at Dream, noting his slightly pale face and the worried twist to his expression. Neither of us want to ride this stupid thing, and if he could just tell me the truth, we could avoid this. 

"Dream, are you sure you feel okay? If you want to go home, you can tell me," I say, sure that he'll concede and tell me what's been bothering him. 

His yellow (green) eyes meet mine, and he forces a tired smile onto his face. "No, I'm fine! Let's do this!" 

Idiot.

I groan internally, and roll my eyes. How is it possible that he's this dense? I've done everything I could think of to get him to tell me, and none of it worked. I guess I'm riding this thing.

Then, with the thrill of eerie music dancing in our ears, the lights flicker off, and the ride begins. I'm a little uneasy as the attraction moves through the "hotel", displaying ghosts and time travel, but I'm not truly scared. While I don't love rides, especially ones that have a large drop, I'm not as anxious as some people get. A young boy in the seat in front of me, for example, looks positively terrified, clutching onto his mother's arm as though he could fall into the darkness around us if he let go.

Then, suddenly, fake lighting strikes, and the room is filled with tiny pinpricks of light that reminds me of the night sky. There's a loud crash, and the narrator begins speaking, explaining the backstory for the ride. The poor kid, who I'm sure can't be more than eight or nine, yelps loudly as the track leads our vehicle through the hotel, past flashing lights and spooky visuals. 

I glance at Dream as we pass a faint blue eye, expecting him to comment on it, but am met with an unexpected sight. Dream looks... worried. Not just a little nervous, but something closer to real panic. 

Is he afraid of roller coasters? Maybe heights? I'm not sure which it is, but I instantly feel guilty for making him do this. Dream has never mentioned having any problems with this sort of thing before, right? It seems like the sort of thing that you'd mention before agreeing to ride a drop tower. 

His hands are clenched tightly around the armrests, knuckles white. It reminds me of the grip the younger kid seated with us has on his mom's arm. I bite my lip, considering, before deciding to grab one of his hands as we plunge deeper into the darkness with a sound effect that reminds me of a nether portal. 

The moment our hands make contact, he whips his head to face me. "G-George? Um. What are you..."

 I blush, knowing that there's no explanation that wouldn't embarrass me. "You just looked a little freaked out. I wanted-" I wanted to let you know that I'm here, that I'm sorry for making you ride this stupid thing in the first place. "Um, I wanted to give you something to hold onto." 

He relaxes, just a little, at my words, until the narrator chimes in again and we lurch up.

The kid in front of us screams, and it's like the boy's panic makes it worse for Dream, because in his eyes is real fear. 

I don't have time to question why, but even as the cart continues to climb in elevation, I notice that something's off. Dream doesn't look scared about the ride, he just looks... worried. It's like he's irrationally afraid, wincing as the little kid yells louder. I briefly wonder if that's a thing, being affected by someone else's fear -it seems like the sort of thing that isn't real, but something is wrong with Dream- before harsh sunlight pierces my vision and distracts me.

I squeeze his hand as I feel him start shaking, and we get a brief glimpse of the park from above before the cart drops, leaving my stomach behind as we free fall towards the ground. 

The little kid's screams mingle with those from the others in our group, including Dream. He clamps his other hand over his mouth and screws his eyes shut, trying to hold in his genuine terror. I don't scream, but I do gasp, shying instinctively closer to Dream as the elevator shudders and plunges down again, then up, then down. 

After a few agonizing bounces, a screen in front of us illuminates, and the ride continues to play. It's still too dark to see anything, but I hear the kid sobbing, and I feel a stab of pity for him. As the lights flicker back on, I scrutinize Dream's face, almost gasping again when I see tear-filled eyes turned away from me.

What the fuck? 

I don't let go of his hand as we exit the ride, practically dragging him away from the seats as fast as possible. The moment we're off the ride, I hurry him to the side of the hallway and out of the crowd. 

"Dream, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were afraid of drops." I brush my hands across his face, probing to make sure he's alright. His skin is warm under my fingertips, and I can feel a few places where the tears did fall. 

"I wouldn't- I don't-" He huffs, looking a mixture of embarrassed and frustrated. "I'm not scared of drops, or rides. I wouldn't usually freak out like that.  It was... something else."

Something else? What else could have driven him to tears? Is it the same thing that's been bothering him all day?

"We're going home now, I can tell something is wrong," I say, my tone making it clear that it's not up for negotiation.

I feel terrible for not realizing the intensity of his fear, for suggesting we ride it in the first place. I just want to get him home, since he won't tell me what's wrong but clearly is hurting. Dream, who loves communication and emotional honesty, can't bring himself to share his pain when he thinks it'll affect someone else. If it wasn't so sweet, I'd be more mad. As it is, I'm just frustrated, wanting to help him but not knowing how.

But I do know that the last thing he needs is to force himself to stay at Disney and have "fun" just to make me happy, and I'm taking him home, whether he likes it or not. 

He sighs into my touch, and I flinch a little as I feel his warm breath on my hands. "Yah, okay. I'm sorry."

I'm so caught up in the feeling of being so close to him that it takes me a moment to register his words, a moment for me to realize that he's just agreed to go home. I want to celebrate my victory, but it's impossible to be triumphant when Dream looks so sad.

"You don't need to be sorry , idiot. Not about this," I reassure. 

Usually, Dream is the one who has his arm around my shoulders, but today, I think it's time to change things up a little. As we walk out of the ride and back towards the park exit, I let my right arm wrap around his waist and back, until I'm holding him protectively. Gestures of affection, especially ones that are so public, are out of character for me, but I feel that this is necessary. Whatever is wrong with Dream, it seems to be worse, and he looks close to falling asleep on my shoulder. 

When we finally make it to the parking lot, thankfully without being recognized, Dream goes to open the driver's side door of the car, but my hand on his shoulder stops him. It takes me a minute to collect my thoughts as he turns to meet my eyes, the sudden attention causing my face to flush. I clear my throat, then speak.

"Dream, are you sure you're okay to drive? You don't seem well." If he can't drive, we'll be in a bit of a situation, since I don't have a license and have never driven, and Sapnap isn't here to be a backup driver. 

He considers the question, but shakes his head. "No, I'm okay, I think. I can make it home, it's not too far." 

I nod, but frown slightly as something occurs to me. "Can you tell me what's wrong? If it's serious, I want to help. Was it all the roller coaster, or is there something else? Are you sick? Did you and Sapnap get into a fight?"

He shakes his head, denying my suggestions, and looks away. "George..."

"Tell me, please. You can trust me."

"I know, it's just-" Dream cuts himself off. "I can't tell you." His words are heavy, like boulders crushing down on me. 

Oh. 

"You can't, or you won't?" I ask, knowing that his answer will tear me apart. "Dre- Clay, please. I can help. I want to help, with whatever it is."

"I... I'm sorry," he breaths, and I hear his unspoken admissions. 

I won't tell you. 

You can't help.

I don't trust you. 

"...right." I mutter, forcing a fake expression of neutrality on my face to hide the shattering feeling inside of me. "Okay. That's... that's fine. Let's go home, then." I drop the conversation, and move to step away, insides feeling like I swallowed broken glass. 

Oddly enough, Dream reacts like I didn't bother to use my best poker face, biting his lip guilty and holding out a hand, like he's torn between reaching for me or pulling back. It's a confusing gesture, and half a second later, he's retracting his hand and sliding into the car. 

I mimic his action on the passenger side, shutting the door behind me and feeling the cool brush of air conditioning on my face as the car activates. 

I'm not angry. It wouldn't be fair for me to be angry, not over this. But I can't deny that I'm hurt, upset in other ways. I don't blame him for not trusting me- I've been lying to him and to myself about my feelings ever since we met in person, and even longer, if I'm being honest with myself. 

Without another word, Dream backs out of the parking spot and directs the vehicle onto the road, beginning our short drive home. I turn my head to the right, keeping my gaze away from Dream. I know, if I look over, my eyes will give away my hurt. 

For me, something Dream finds easy, like talking about his feelings and opening up to people, is as difficult as walking backwards with my eyes closed. It elicits the same response from me as Patches when you rub her fur in the wrong direction. Being vulnerable around other people doesn't come naturally to me, so when I let down my guard and am met with dismissal, it hurts. 

Like when I try to help Dream, only to find out that he doesn't trust me. 

My favorite person, the one I trust the most, doesn't trust me. 

I keep my head turned, and try to think about other things, but it's impossible. My mind goes back to Dream, his presence as clear and evident as the salty taste on my lips is from the unbidden tear that just slipped down my face.

I have feelings for someone who doesn't like me back, or trust me.

Chapter Text

I'm a shit human being. A sentient pile of sludge. A walking trash can. 

How could I have messed up so badly? I feel my throat burn with unshed tears, mentally slapping myself. First, I'd let my sudden realization that I'm in love with George (something I'm still not used to thinking) weaken my mental barriers and make me more susceptible to my empathy. That had caused me to unintentionally mimic a kid's fear while riding the Tower of Terror, leaving me on the verge of tears and more exhausted than ever. Then, I'd ignored all of George's attempts to find out was wrong, and flat out refused to tell him. The car ride home was filled with an unsteady silence, and George's pulsating guilt, worry, and sadness. 

What kind of person lets their best friend, the one they love most, break silently while they do nothing? All because I can't- I won't- tell him about my condition. 

The worst part? If not for my empathy, I wouldn't have even known that George was hurting. His poker face was expressionless, giving nothing away. To me, though, his unspoken and hidden pain was as obvious as the thin golden chain he was wearing, a welcome home present from Sapnap he'd been given the day before our friend left for Twitchcon. 

Because of my condition, I felt George's insecurity after I refused to tell him what was wrong, and his betrayal when he thought I didn't trust him. It was a horrible mix, and all I wanted to do was drop to my knees and apologize, beg him for forgiveness that I'm sure I wouldn't deserve.

My insecurity, my fear of what will happen if George finds out about my ability to pick up on everyone's emotions, is strong enough that I still refuse to tell him. I can't. 

If he knew, it would ruin everything. He'd find out that I've been keeping secrets, and feeling his emotions, and that all of his secret feelings aren't as hidden as he believes. I would shatter his trust in me. He'd hate me. I shudder at the thought, the idea bile in my mind. I can't even stomach the idea of George hating me. If it ever happened in reality, I don't know how I would cope.  

I'd gotten back from Disney with George seven hours ago, and had avoided him over since. I wanted to give him space, give him time away from me (after all, I'm the one that caused this), but when I entered my room and moved to close the door, I'd felt a wave of bitter sorrow and loneliness.

I'd shut the door anyway. I built the barrier between us, literally and metaphorically. If I had just told George about my empathy from the beginning, when we'd first met, this wouldn't be a problem. Then again, he might not be in my life at all, if I'd told him. Almost everyone- everyone except for Sapnap and my family- had left. Who would want to be friends with someone who could practically read minds, someone who would know what they were feeling twenty four-seven?

Sapnap was the exception. Logically, George would be an exception as well, but... he and Sap are different. I love George more than anyone else on Earth, but his personality is sharper and more distant where Sapnap's is easily trusting and loyal. 

Keeping myself away from George caused a physical ache in my stomach, crowing the stack of problems hiding my empathy all morning had caused. I've been sitting on my bed, blankets upturned and sitting upright, for the past couple hours. My head is pounding, my hands are shaking, and the isolation isn't helping. What I need is sleep, but giving in to my exhaustion and giving my body the rest it craves feels like an indulgence that I haven't earned. Why should I sleep, after how badly I fucked up?

I sigh, but it cuts off into a strangled rasp. I can't relax, not with the knowledge that George is miserable and no doubt blaming himself for issues that are my fault. I just don't know what to do, or how to fix this. 

God, I'm a mess. 

Suddenly, my phone rings, breaking the heavy silence that's settled over my room. I fumble for my pocket, before producing the device and reading the tag flashing on the screen. 

Sapnap, it's Sapnap calling. I answer before I can think better of it, not considering how rough my voice must sound after not speaking for hours or how my conflict will surely seep into my tone.

"Hello?" I croak, my free hand twisting my gold ring on and off my finger. 

"Clay! Hey, brother! I'm here with Karl, say hi!"

I swallow. "Uh, hi. Hi, Karl! How's it going?" I force myself to sound more alert, and it partially works. I'm on the brink of collapse, but I'm used to that by now.

"Dream!" A familiarly light and joyful laugh reverberates through the phone, spilling out of the speakers and into the air around me. Karl's easy smile and laughter are contagious, even when my empathy can't take hold, and I find myself mustering a small grin that he can't even see. "Hey, man! Twitchcon's been great, but so crazy. You wouldn't believe the party we through in Punz's room, it was nuts!"

Sapnap's voice is back, in the background as he yells something about "hogging the phone". I hear a few scuffs, and then he speaks with a volume and clearness that implies he took his phone back from Karl. "So, Dream! Twitchcon is going well, but how are you? I know you were planning to go to Disney, are you okay?"

I take a deep breath, and hold it. "Um. It... wasn't terrible?" I try, knowing that my answer is far from believable. "I'm okay, anyway."

Sapnap groans. "Oh, dude, I knew that was a bad idea. What happened?" He switches from excitement to worry in half a second, and I hear faint footsteps as he mumbles something to Karl about needing privacy, for a minute. 

His concern is somehow a comfort and a burden at the same time. Funny, how it's always that way for me. Why can't I just take the comfort, without forcing a downside?

"I just- I, uh, realized something. And it kinda messed me up. And I said something to George, and it upset him." I rub at my eyes as I remember the way my eyes had welled up with tears on the way home, meaning that George was almost surely crying. The memory makes my heart clench, guilt churning.

"Wait, go back. You don't have to tell me the whole story, but I need more than that to know what you're talking about, and how to help." 

I do as he asks and start from the beginning. "Okay. Well, it all started when I realized that... I'm in love with him." I gulp, waiting for an I knew it , but there's only a soft " go on". Sapnap must know that I'm not in the mood to celebrate my feelings, and he's sparing me the gloating he's entitled to. 

Forcing myself to keep talking, I retell the events of the morning and early afternoon, feeling my voice tremor when I reach the part about George's emotions, his guilt and self doubt that I directly caused. When I finish the story, I blink repeatedly, doing my best to keep myself from breaking down. 

"And, um. I've been in my room since then, trying to give him space."

Sapnap exhales. "Shit. Dream, you need to tell him..."

I shake my head violently. "No! I can't. I can't. I'll lose him, Sap." My voice cracks, displaying my desperation. 

"I know you're scared, but this isn't fair to him, or yourself. You've been on eggshells for days, and it's hurting you. You need to try and tell him." Before I can protest again, he continues. "You don't have to tell him now. You can wait until you're ready, but it's probably best to have privacy, and I am going to be gone the next few days. The sooner the better, because it's not healthy to keep your empathy hidden, and it'll only get worse the longer you keep this up."

"... okay," I breathe, feeling a spike of panic jolt through me at my words. Did I just agree to tell him? No, no. I can't. 

"Okay," Sapnap echos. "Promise? Tell him before... well, before you do anything stupid, like tell him you love him. He needs to know before you tell him how you feel, okay? Otherwise, it'd be even worse."

"... I promise, I will." I say, heart pounding in my ears.

"Good," he exhales, relieved. "Now, go find George, and make sure he's okay. Knowing him, he's probably off spiraling in his room. He needs you, so stop punishing yourself by staying away. It's only making things worse for him, and you."

"Okay," I say again, frowning a little on the overuse of the word. Go find George. I can do that. "Thanks, Sap. I- I don't know what I'd do without you. Seriously, I appreciate you."

Sapnap laughs, but it's the kind of laugh that means you don't need to thank me, because I'd do this for you any day of the year, no hesitation. "No problem, Dream. Love you."

"You too," I say, smiling at the rare expression of brotherly love. I'd never admit this to anyone, but I'm closer to Sapnap, my brother, than my real birth sister. 

I swing my legs over the bed, ending the call as I stumble to the hall, determined to apologize and make things right.

***

After a stop in the kitchen, I shuffle my way to George's room, arms full of freshly cooked grilled cheese, chopped fruit, and George's favorite apple juice. 

"George? Are you there? I'm really sorry about today. I glance at the time displayed on my phone screen, wincing when I see the 9:05. It's nighttime already, for all I know, he could be asleep. Nine is early, but George likes napping, especially when he's upset. 

"I wasn't sure if you'd eaten, so I made this, but it's fine if you don't want-" I'm interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing a familiar face with fluffy brown hair and frighteningly puffy eyes. He's been crying... George isn't a cryer, so that makes everything worse. He refuses to give into emotions unless he's staggeringly overwhelmed, pushing his feelings away until he has no choice but to face them.

"Dream? Did you... why did you make me a sandwich at nine o'clock at night?" 

I stutter for a moment. "U-uh. Because- well, because I'm sorry, George. I was a jerk earlier. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell you what was wrong, but it's something really personal." Truth. "It's a family thing, you don't need to worry." Lie. "I don't really have the other person's permission to talk about it, but I can tell you that it's not a big deal, and you don't need to worry, or anything." Lie. "I'm so sorry for not saying something earlier." Truth. 

George stares at me, wide brown eyes taking in my rambling explanation. "Oh. Wait, so-" he huffs, trying to project an angry front, but I can feel his relief at my statement. "You idiot, I thought-" his voice softens a little, giving me an even clearer glimpse of what he's feeling. "I thought you didn't- didn't trust me enough to tell me what was wrong. You never said it was private." He stalks forward, punching my chest before swiping the food.

"I know, I'm sorry. Are we okay?" I can tell that there's more to it than that, insecurities that brought him to tears after our earlier interaction, but I don't want to push. I'm already intruding by feeling his emotions, but I can't control that. I'll just take his forgiveness, and leave the rest in the past. All he feels now is relief and happiness, so I don't want to dwell on the pain I caused.

"Yes, you idiot. We're okay." He pivots to face me from inside his room, already stuffing the grilled cheese into his mouth. "Dr'm, you c'n come 'n." 

I chuckle, his relief affecting me despite my crushing exhaustion. "Okay. Make sure you chew that before swallowing, I don't want you to choke." He rolls his eyes, but does as I request, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting the spot beside him.

"Here, sit. We can do, like, an irl sleep call. If you want." He suggests, grinning. I return his smile, and sit next to him.

"Yah? Like, a sleepover?" I question, excitement bubbling.

Geortgr scoffs. "When you say it like that, it sounds stupid. What, are we about to start building a blanket fort?"

I tilt my head, seriously considering it. "Do you want to?"

He stares at me, raising his eyebrows. "Do I want to... build a blanket fort?" I nod, perhaps a little too eagerly, and he snorts. "You know what, fine. Let's build a blanket fort. But you're doing all the work."

I empty his closet of the extra blankets while George moves things around, and we work together to create a makeshift canopy of blankets spanning from the foot of his bed to the wall, where we clip them to the curtains using a mixture of duct tape, chip bag clips, and desperation. The end result, while unsteady and threatening to collapse, isn't actually that bad.

I drag the beanbag across the carpeted floor, positioning it carefully under the fort before crawling into the tent. George is already inside, nestled against a pile of pillows. I flop down next to him, rolling onto my side so I can face him. 

"So-o," I bite down a yawn, still fighting the draining effects of hiding my empathy all morning, and continuing to do so now. "What should we do next?"

***

When I check the clock next, it's two in the morning. Me and George have been up for hours, chatting and laughing together about a million little things. Our fort collapsed ages ago, but we're still on the floor, bundled up in a nest of blankets and pillows. It's the first time we've had a "sleep call" in person, something I'd missed doing ever since George moved in. 

I'd have given up the world to get George to Florida, but our routine sleep calls were a painful sacrifice I hadn't expected. It was harder to drift off to your best friend's voice knowing that they're right down the hall, that you could be doing that very same thing with them , in their space. It was a hurdle neither of us seemed able to jump, as the calls had stopped on George's first night here.

I missed them, but this is a better substitute by far. I know it's just for tonight, though. Why would George want me in his space every night? Not for the reasons I want him with me, surely. I doubt love is part of the equation, for him. No, I know it isn't. 

Loving your best friend is normal, but being in love isn't. I've accepted that I'm the only one who feels this way, but that doesn't make it hurt less. If I wasn't the only one, wouldn't I be able to feel his attraction?

I haven't felt anything like that from him. No love, no attraction. 

In other words, no hope for me.

"No, George, we have enough blankets. There's already, like, four. Why would you want another?"

George grumbles, and semi-coherently throws a pillow at me. It misses by a long shot, his accuracy suffering from his sleep deprivation. He's on the brink of sleep, but has been demanding that I grab another blanket for him since the floor is, as he calls it, unnaturally cold . I haven't gotten yet for many reasons, most notably that we already have a sizable pile of blankets, and that my vision keeps dissolving into dark spots, and I might fall over if I stand up. 

I've hidden my empathy from the moment I woke up this morning until around two in the afternoon, then went right back to hiding it after no rest from nine till now, so around eleven hours. I'm exhausted, and it's a miracle that I've been able to stay up this late.

"Dream, please," he whines, flopping his arms out to the sides like an over dramatic starfish. "I'm freezing. Get me a blanket. Oh, or get me one of your hoodies. That works too." He's half asleep, but the request still makes me blush, imagining George in my hoodie. Cute , is a word that comes to mind, right next to hot and perfect . 

"George," I whisper, hand on his arm, shaking him a little to wake him up. "Are you actually cold? If you are, I'll get up." 

He nods sleepily. "Feel my hands, they're practically ice cubes." Without any more warning, he places his hands on my neck, causing me to gasp at both the intimacy of the gesture, and the piercing cold radiating from him. 

"George! Don't do that, " I complain, pulling myself into a standing position. The movement stirs danger, but I keep moving anyway.

My vision swims alarmingly, but I already told George I would get him a blanket, so I take a step forwards, disregarding the dizziness. I'm used to it now, right? There's no way I'll pass out, not again. 

Wrong. 

Moving is a bad idea, because the next thing I know, I'm falling. 

Oh, oh no. Vaguely, I hear George jolting forwards to catch me, but I'm already slamming into the ground, eyes rolling up into my head. The black spots in front of my eyes dance and spread, turning my whole line of sight into darkness as I slip into a lightheaded feeling that's not quite unconsciousness. 

George's frightened yells pierce the fog less than ten seconds later, causing me to jolt back to reality. My eyes fly open, and I find myself lying where I fell, George kneeling next to me. The first thing I'm struck with is a wave of panic that makes my hands shake and breathing quicken. George's panic. 

"Dream! Dream, oh my god, Dream! Can you hear me? Dream!" His voice is shaky and raw, pure terror pulsing through him. 

I groan weakly in response, pulling myself into an unsteady sitting position. "I- I'm alright, I'm okay." 

George doesn't believe me, as he moves closer and traces my face with his fingertips, feeling my forehead for a fever and checking the pulse at my neck. "Fuck, Dream. You don't have a fever, but your pulse is elevated, I think. We should take you to a hospital. Let me- my phone. Where's my phone? Oh, god." His hands tremble as he brushes them across my face, reminding me of earlier today at Disney. 

George's concern manifests through his desire to touch, to feel for himself that whatever is happening isn't as serious as he believes it to be. It's fairly different from my usual reactions, which typically are either to hover like a worried mother and do as much as I can to help, or move as far away as possible to give them space. 

"No, no hospital."

"Are you kidding?" He gasps. "No, absolutely not. You just, like, passed out! You weren't answering, and y-you couldn't hear me or anything."

 "I'm fine. I just got dizzy, and stood up too fast. You know that feeling, right? I haven't eaten much today, either. It's probably just that, you don't need to worry." Lying to George isn't easy. It's painful, with a weight tied to it of lying to my best friend, my love. It's not a stranger I'm manipulating, but George, my favorite person. 

"Are- are you sure?" He asks, the waver in his voice clear. "Dream, you just... are you sure?" He repeats, face pale.

I grab his hands, lifting them away from my face gently. I'm not alright, in fact, I'm exhausted and on the brink of passing out again, but he doesn't need to know that. "George, I just got dizzy. It happens, you know? I think I'll go to bed now, though." It's abrupt, but I can't hide my empathy any longer.

 Sapnap is right, this is hurting me. Keeping my empathy contained like this isn't something I can sustain long term, not without causing myself irreversible harm. But I can't tell George... 

I'm the living definition of "between a rock and a hard place". 

He looks at his hands, then back at me, fingers brushing the air. "Oh. Okay, yah. Just- call me if you get dizzy again?" He requests, sounding a little less panicked as my reassurances start to sink in. 

"Of course," I say, despite knowing that I won't, that I can't. "Goodnight, George." I stand up and bite my tongue as I walk to the door, feeling the instant surge of lightheadedness return. I fight it off as I turn and smile gently at him, then enter my room and close the door as quickly as possible.

I flop onto my bed, too tired to bother with the blankets. Guilt, worry, and countless obligations swim in my mind, but I'm asleep in seconds.

Chapter Text

"I'm cold," I complain, poking Dream's shoulder. "I need another blanket." Dream, to my chagrin, doesn't answer, so I poke him again. " Dream , please." 

"No, George, we have enough blankets. There's already, like, four. Why would you want another?"

I glare at him, no real malice behind the look, and mumble something about "ice floors" and "not proper simp behavior" before halfheartedly throwing a pillow in Dream's direction. I don't keep my focus long enough to see if it hits him, eyes drooping closed.

We've been up for hours, talking inside of a messy blanket fort that collapsed almost immediately. It's something I've missed doing with him, and even though it's simple, it makes me smile. 

I shiver a little as I yawn, twisting the thin blanket I was already holding further around myself. It's not enough, and doesn't do much against the chill. 

"Dream, please," I say, falling backwards and letting my arms go limp. "I'm freezing. Get me a blanket. Oh, or get me one of your hoodies. That works too." The late hour is catching up to me, and I'm semi-delirious. Normally, I'd never be brave enough to outright ask Dream for his hoodie. 

The thought of a familiar hoodie, warm and familiar smelling, is enough to make me blush a little. If only , I think ruefully, knowing that there's no possibility of that happening.

I sigh, and let my eyes closed, drifting for a moment before a gentle shaking of my shoulders makes me perk up a little, just enough to be coherent. "Hm?" I ask sleepily, looking around. The room is dark, with a faint glow from the window and a fancy night light that glows when it detects darkness, and can be switched to white, yellow, or blue light. Dream was the one who bought it for me, although there's no surprises there.

"George, are you actually cold?" Dream questions, voice low and distractingly close to my ear. "If you are, I'll get up." 

I blink a few times, trying to keep myself awake, before nodding. "Feel my hands, they're practically ice cubes." I press my hands to his neck, which is again something that I wouldn't even consider doing when I was awake and alert. It was just another action that blurred the line between friends and something more, although by now the "line" was more of a hazy shadow. 

For me, at least. 

He yells at the frigid touch, gasping away from the contact. "George! Don't do that." 

I laugh lightly as he pulls himself to his feet, not really paying attention as he steps forward until he hesitates, swaying slightly. 

"Dream?" I say, sitting up enough to see him more clearly. Is his face pale? "What's wrong?" 

He doesn't answer, only takes another step, and then he's falling . " Dream! " I rush to catch him, sudden adrenaline shocking me awake, but I'm too late. He hits the ground hard, and I feel tendrils of panic wind around my throat. 

I practically throw myself to his side, kneeling next to him and frantically shaking him. 

For about five seconds, there's no response, and I can't breathe. After what feels like a lifetime, his eyes flutter, and I exhale sharply. "Dream! Dream, oh my god, Dream! Can you hear me? Dream!" My voice is taught with desperation. Is he sick? Shit, what do I do? My thoughts are a mess of fear, only worsening as Dream's nose scrunches up and he groans faintly, eyes flickering open. 

"I- I'm alright, I'm okay." Dream sits up, swaying unsteadily. He's clearly not alright, and I brush my hands across his face, trying to determine what happened. My heartbeat is too loud, thudding in my ears and reflected in my ragged breathing. I press down gently on his neck, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood as I feel the fast pace of his pulse. 

"Fuck, Dream. You don't have a fever, but your pulse is elevated, I think." I think, I think. I don't know what to do, I'm not trained for this. I'd never thought about taking a first aid class, but now, I could slap my previous self for not bothering to learn basic medical skills. "We should take you to a hospital. Let me- my phone." 

I should call 911. Or his mom. Or Sapnap. Wait, no. 911. " Where's my phone? Oh, god." It's not in my pocket, or on the floor next to me. Is it on the bed? 

Dream's strained words break my focus on finding my phone, and my gaze is instantly on his face as he speaks. "No, no hospital."

My mouth drops open. "Are you kidding? No, absolutely not. You just, like, passed out! You weren't answering, and y-you couldn't hear me or anything." I wince a little at the obvious tremble in my tone. 

He smiles reassuringly, but it looks forced. "I'm fine. I just got dizzy, and stood up too fast. You know that feeling, right? I haven't eaten much today, either. It's probably just that, you don't need to worry."

His logic makes sense, but it doesn't do anything to stop the concern racing through my bloodstream alongside adrenaline and fear. "Are- are you sure? Dream, you just..." I swallow, unable to finish verbalizing the thought. "...are you sure?" 

My thumbs brush over his eyes, and graze slightly at his eyelashes. We're close, and I'm not expecting it when he wraps his fingers around my wrists and moves them away from his face. I'm sure he didn't mean it to be an act of pushing me away, not directly, but it still feels like one.

"George, I just got dizzy. It happens, you know? I think I'll go to bed now, though." 

I'm  a little thrown off by the sudden dismissal. The combined acts of moving my hands and suddenly announcing his desire to leave makes it clear that my presence isn't wanted, or needed. I can hardly blame him, though. 

I look down, feeling how cold my hands are without the feeling of warm skin soft against mine, then back at Dream. "Oh. Okay, yah. Just- call me if you get dizzy again?" It's a request, rather than a demand. My frantic heartbeat is finally starting to slow back down, although it's still considerably more erratic than usual. 

"Of course," he assures, not meeting my eyes. "Goodnight, George." 

I watch him closely as he leaves the room, sending one last painful smile in my direction before closing the door. I wait until I hear the door of his room close down the hall before I move. 

The moment he's gone, I stagger to my feet, fumbling for my phone. It's lying on the nightstand, with a charge of only ten percent. Shit. 

I walk into the bathroom in a daze, flipping on the light and finding my reflection in the mirror. I look pale and terrified, as if I was the one who collapsed. My hair is messy and disheveled, and my lip is bleeding a little from where I bit it earlier. 

I'm a mess. But what else when I was expecting, when Dream just passed out like that? Anyone who cared about him in the ways I do would react the same.

I turn on the tap, and splash water onto my face, watching as the cold droplets trail down my face. The stream of water that hits my lips shifts to a pale pink color as it washes away the blood, leaving a faint sting in its place. 

I'm burning with the need to do something, anything. Dream doesn't want my help, but I can't escape the feeling that something's wrong. 

I think back to Sapnap's offer to always be there to talk, and before I can reconsider, I'm in his contact, pressing the call button. 

The phone rings once, twice, and then he's answering. 

"George? What the fuck, man? It's, like, the middle of the night. And both of you, on the same night? Did you really miss me that much already?"

I'm not sure what he's talking about, but his familiar and comforting voice breaks down the last of my restraint, and I have to blink hard to force away tears. "Sap- "

"Woah, George? Are you okay?" He's immediately aware that something's wrong. "Did he- did he tell you?"

"Wh-what?" I ask, still fighting a losing battle with the lump in my throat and the tears building in my eyes. "Tell me what?" 

Sapnap huffs tiredly. "So he didn't tell you. You'd know if he did. Okay, shit, what happened?" 

I shake my head. "I don't know. I don't know, Sapnap, but something's wrong. Dream's been acting weird all day, and just a few minutes ago, he... collapsed, or something. He's fine now, and said he was just dizzy, but I don't-" 

I have to stop to force back a sob. I'm not fond of expressing my emotions, so when I do let myself cry, it's not pretty, filled with repressed feelings. 

"Something's wrong," I repeat. "Sap, his secret, whatever it is- does it have something to do with this? I need to know." 

"He- he passed out? Damn it, Clay, " he mutters, not addressing my question. "I told him not to do this..."

I feel like I'm going crazy, not listening as Sapnap rambles on, hardly audible. Dream's "family problem" or whatever his explanation was for acting oddly couldn't be related to what happened, could it? But it was too big to be a coincidence. The two things don't fit together, unless...

Wait. 

Would he... would he lie to me? 

Surely not. Dream is the one person who I trust unconditionally. He goes through my do not disturb, is registered as an emergency contact in my phone, and knows me better than I know myself. I moved across the fucking ocean for him without ever having met him in person. 

But...

"He told me he was acting weird because of something private. He said it was a family issue, and that there was some other person involved. But that's- that's a lie, isn't it?" 

"..."

Sapnap's silence tells me everything I need to know, and this time, I can't bite back the shuddering gasp that escapes me as another tear slips down my face. That answers my question.

Dream lied to me.

Dream's hiding things from me.

Dream doesn't trust me.

"Gonna hang up," I mumble, thinking of Sapnap, still on the call. "Bye." 

"Fuck. George, I'm sorry- okay, I'll be back in, like, two days. Twitchcon will be over soon. I know he can be a lot when he gets like this, but he doesn't mean to. It's- it's not on purpose, okay?"

"Mm," I hum noncommittally. "Have fun." My voice is flat, rough and strained.

I hang up, leaving myself alone with my thoughts, which is not a place I want to be. I wish I could call him back, but I can't bring myself to redial. Plus, my phone is almost dead. 

So I sit alone, instead, and let myself cry. 

***

Dream lied to me. I can't get it out of my head. Why? What could be so secret that he couldn't tell me, that he lied to cover it up? I don't know, but I find myself hating the thing between us- whatever it is. 

Even now, as I sit at the table, eating a late lunch of crisps and an unhealthy snack cake that I couldn't care less about, his voice is still in my mind. 

Dream's been in his room all day, and I haven't spoken to him or confronted him about the lie. After thinking about it, I decided that I wouldn't bring it up. 

How could I? How could I bring myself to ask if Dream lied, when I know he did? If he denied it, it would be another lie, another crack in the once impenetrable shield of trust I have for him. And if he admits it, would it make anything better?

No, it wouldn't. 

So I'll do what I can, and ignore it. There's still a possibility that I'm wrong, or that Dream has a reason that somehow justifies the hell I've been feeling.

Although, I can't imagine any reason that would compel him to do all of this.

I pause, crisp lifted up to my mouth, and suddenly find that I've lost my appetite. I stand up, depositing the unopened cake into the cabinet and tossing the crisps into the bin. 

I should probably eat something, or drink water, but I don't feel like it. I haven't eaten since last night, but I can't muster an appetite. I'm in that horrible in-between of desperately wanting to do something and simultaneously not having the motivation or energy. 

So I wind up back in my room, lying on the bed with my head hanging upside down off the side. It's a stupid position, but I don't feel like moving, and the rush of blood to my head is at least something to distract me from the numbness creeping through me. My phone is in my hand, some cheesy TikTok playing, but my mind isn't on it. Patches has made her way into the room, and is purring against my chest, but my focus isn't on her either. 

I googled Dream's symptoms yesterday, and... nothing. Well, unless you count the article about- what was it called? Encompassing energy? Whatever it was called, the paper described a mind reading side effect of ADHD that I'm sure was made up.

There's no point in dwelling  on the impossible, so I look back at TikTok.

I scroll forward. The next one is a Dream edit, which makes me smile a little, despite the turmoil inside me. It's a mix of irl pictures and Minecraft screenshots, bringing a sharp twist of nostalgia into the present. 

My mind drifts as I stare at the screen, eyes losing focus. Clip after clip plays, until the audio of one catches my attention." Think of the person you trust the most, someone you love." I've already skipped the video, but I can't stop myself from thinking of Dream. His face, soft and captivating, slips to the forefront of my mind, and his voice echoes in my ears. 

Someone I love. 

I love him, don't I?

I love him.

It's not even surprising. 

Of course I'd fall in love with him. I don't know how long I've felt this way, but I know it isn't new. When I admitted to myself that I had a crush on him, I was hiding from the obvious truth- 

It was never a crush. 

This thing between us, for me, has never been a crush. When I ran into Dream's arms in the airport, instinctively trying to kiss him, it wasn't because of hormones or infatuation. No, it was so much more, and I hid the truth from myself.

 I can't pinpoint when this started, but I have my suspicions. Maybe I was in love with him when I applied for the VISA. Maybe I was in love with him when I was given a crystal pink elephant. Maybe I was in love with him when he asked me to meet up with him for the first time, more than three years ago. 

I'm in love with Dream, and I have been for a while. 

I sit up, feeling numb at my realization. Patches mews in protest as I scoop her onto my lap, wanting the familiar comfort of her small and furry form. 

Loving Dream could never be a bad thing, but the sting of unrequited love and lies still hurts. My stupid plan to let my crush die off isn't going to work anymore, because I'm certain that a love like this isn't the kind of thing that can fade. Dream is my favorite person and my best friend, and this love only builds on that.

Shit, I think, and run a hand through my hair. There's no chance he feels the same. 

If he did, why would he lie to me? Why would he keep secrets? Why wouldn't he trust me?

The answer is simple, yet it burns a hole in my heart. Dream doesn't feel the same. 

Somehow, that hurts more than the discovery that he lied to me. It's ironic to me, how everyone that shipped our relationship always assumed that Dream would be the one pinning for me, not vice versa. 

It's not regret that I feel, I could never regret falling in love with him and moving to Florida. Being here is a dream come true for me (literally, a Dream) , and the unexpected intensity of my feelings won't ever change that. Even if I'm doomed to spend the years we live together loving him from a distance, I'd put up with it. 

Loving him like this hurts, but it's a million times better than not loving him at all. 

And no matter what, it always will be. 

A knock at my bedroom door snaps me out of my thoughts, causing me to startle and lurch sideways, hitting my head on the wall. There's only one person that could be...

"Ow!" I yelp, before wincing at my unintentional yell as Patches digs her claws into my skin and poofs up her fur. "Uh, you can come in, if you want."

A familiar face appears at the door, wearing a wide smile- the smile that always makes me feel warmer, even when it's tangled in secrets and complicated feelings. 

"Hey, George!" He bounces forward, clearly excited to tell me something, but hesitates when he sees Patches. "Um, are you alright? Isn't she hurting you with her claws like that?"

"Oh, she is," I agree. "What do you need?"

He snorts a laugh, easing the tension I've been feeling since he entered the room. "I don't need anything, I was just wondering if you wanted to go get sushi together? I know it's one of your favorites."

I light up at the idea. "Wait, that's actually a great idea!" I wasn't hungry until Dream mentioned sushi, but now I'm starving. And since I've already decided not to bring up the so-called "family problem", I'm jumping at the opportunity to spend time with him. I was hurt by the lying, obviously, but that doesn't mean I'm going to shut out my best friend. 

"Yah?" He asks, grinning cheerfully. "Okay, let's do it! I know a really good place, and it's pretty close by. It's a sit down place, but not too formal or anything."

"Sounds good," I say, returning his smile. Patches (rather painfully) unhooks her claws from my clothes and skin, giving me freedom to move as she slinks off of the bed and over to Dream, tail wrapping fondly around his leg. "It'll be a sushi da-" I stop, realizing what I almost just said, and blush bright red. "Uh, a sushi d-day outing." 

Wow, George. Outstanding cover up, not obvious at all. 

Dream looks surprised, easily picking up on what I had almost said. "A sushi... day outing, you said? That works, but-" He looks down, fingers twirling one of his loose rings. "Maybe... maybe a sushi date would be more fun?" 

I gap at him, my brain practically moving in slow motion as I struggle to process what he just said. "Uh, right-" My usually calm and unaffected demeanor is gone, replaced with stuttering and a very noticeable blush. "O-okay, it's a date then. I guess. If you want it to be." 

He laughs, but it's not mocking, only happy. "Okay. Meet me in fifteen?"

"Deal," I stammer, trying and failing to regain composure. Dream pauses to give Patches an affectionate scratch behind the ears, before leaving my room with a predictably awkward wave.

I'm left stunned, still sitting in my bed.

What the hell just happened?

Did Dream just... ask me on a date?

No fucking way.

Chapter Text

George wanted to go on a date with me. Me and George are actually going on a date. Does this mean..? 

I shake my head to myself, scowling at my reflection in the mirror as I pull on a new (and better) shirt. I must have misunderstood something. There's no way George actually wanted this to be a date . Like, a romantic date? No chance. 

Right? 

I don't fucking know anymore. All of George's mixed signals are starting to add up, leaving me a mess of confusion and a glimmer of unrealistic hope. 

I sigh, giving myself one final once over in the mirror, and walk downstairs. My phone's in my pocket, no new messages since a strongly worded text from Sapnap late last night to call me as soon as you see this message or I'll beat your ass . 

Apparently, George called him after I passed out. I'm not mad, and besides, I can't blame him. Sapnap was probably going to find out eventually, it was just poor timing that it was only a few ours after our talk about how my empathy was hurting me. 

I'd called Sapnap right away, as instructed, and had received a berating monologue about how what I was doing was bad for my health. He was right, of course, but I loathed admitting it. I know I need to tell George, but at the same time, part of me still thinks I can live happily in denial, without him ever finding out.

I know it's unrealistic. I'd thought that way when Sapnap first moved in, too, and look where that ended up! 

I wince a little as I recall the day Sapnap found out. Don't, don't, don't think about it. Thinking about it never ends well-

Sapnap screaming my name...

Blood on the cement...

Crushing hopelessness...

"Don't think about it!" I gasp, slapping myself out of my thoughts. 

My face stings where I slapped my cheek, but at least I'm not spiraling into the memories of that day.

On our call, Sapnap had also hinted that George was upset, although he refused to elaborate when I asked. I felt guilty, and still do, as I'm sure it has something to do with me. 

God, am I a shit friend, or what? I think to myself, sighing internally. At least I didn't feel any anger coming from George, which was a good sign that I could make it up to him. One lunch together isn't enough to excuse my secret keeping and unintentionally hurtful behavior, but it's a good start. 

Although, it's not just lunch. It's a date . 

I glare at the floor, wondering how it's possible for one simple word to have so many different meanings and implications. A date can be serious or casual, romantic or platonic, a sign of attraction or just a flippant term. There's no telling which one George was referring to, though I know which one I hope it is. 

What I wouldn't give to be able to take George on a proper date, one with flowers and romance and returned feelings. One where I could kiss him without worrying if he feels the same, or if my empathy is about to fuck everything up. 

There's no hope for that scenario, though. My empathy is a permanent fixture in my life, and makes it almost impossibly to date. Even if George did like me back, our relationship would never be able to work. 

And he doesn't. 

Or at least, I think he doesn't. 

I would have felt something from him if he did feel the same, right? Surely there's be some sign of attraction. But I haven't felt anything even remotely close to that. 

But... thinking back to the (limited) experience I've had with romantic partners, I can't recall feeling love or attraction from them either, but I'd just assumed I was unlovable, or at the very least just unloved.

That sounds way more depressing than I thought it would.

I snort to myself. There's no point in wallowing in self pity, especially when I have a sneaking suspicion that I could be wrong about something- very wrong. 

Something that could change everything.

After scanning the stairs for any sign of George (nothing yet), I grab my phone, and quickly type in a google search. 

Is love an emotion, or a state of being? 

The responses are mixed, but one text blurb stands out, making my breath catch and my heart beat faster. 

Emotion is a subjective state of mind, while love is something vastly different. Love does not increase or decrease in response to its environment, and is centered around objects, people, or other concepts that one can be "in love" with. It is not an emotion, and doesn't behave like one. Similarly, attraction doesn't fall into the category of an emotion, being similar to a sense like hunger or fatigue. Chemical responses do influence love and attraction, but in a starkly different way than typical emotions.

What, I gasp silently, does this mean? I'm not able to feel a person's state of being- anything like pain, hunger, or exhaustion simply doesn't register with my empathy. 

Could this mean what I think it means? 

If it does, then George could have had feelings for me this whole time, without me ever knowing. All of his hints, all of the gestures and words that haven't left my mind (none of which were strikingly platonic), could have been signs that he returns my feelings?

It's nothing definite, but it gives me more hope that I had before. George might not love me, or even like me back, but now I know that it's not a solid no- there's still a chance he has feelings that I didn't notice, that my empathy couldn't pick up on.

I'm still gawking, trying to wrap my head around my earth shaking discovery, when George enters the room, shoes echoing lightly on our dark wooden staircase as he makes his way into the living room. 

I didn't think it would be possible, but seeing him makes my jaw drop even further. George is dressed simply, all things considering, but seeing him in those dark jeans and that hoodie? It's enough to make my head spin. 

"Is that, uh," I clear my throat, blushing profusely. "Is that my hoodie? Not mine, I mean, but the one I sent you?"

He smirks a little at my reaction, but his cheeks are tinted lightly pink. "It is, yah."

"... cool," I say, unable to form coherent thoughts. "I- um, I-" I rack my brain for any suggestion of what to say next, but it's just as useless as the rest of me. "Um."

"Sushi?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Oh, right. Sushi. 

"Yep!" I yelp, perhaps a little to enthusiastically. "Sushi!" I awkwardly gesture for him to go ahead of me, and be the first one outside and to the car. We're both standing in the living room, in the center of the hallway, and that just adds to the awkwardness of the moment. If we were at a doorway, I might have an excuse, but that's not the case.

George just stares at me, looking weirded out by the unnecessary chivalry. "Uh, you go first."

"No, it's fine! You go first," I stammer. 

Dammit, Clay. Why would you make it this awkward?

"Uh, no, you go first." 

"You should go first, I'm the one taking you to lunch!"

"Okay, but it's your house!"

"It's our house, and you should go first."

George huffs, looking exasperated. "Dream! Stop being weird. Let's just go at the same time, you idiot." 

I grin at his easy solution, laughing a little at myself. "Oh, right. Good idea." We both walk out to the car, still awkwardly, but less so. 

I open the car door for George, earning an eye roll, but it's accompanied with a quiet thank you. 

Doing things like this for him aren't unusual for me (I am a George simp, after all), but this still feels different. I think it's the combination of George calling our outing a date and my discovery that it's possible he has feelings for me, giving me hope for requited feelings and making me feel bolder. 

And why shouldn't I act more blatantly about my feelings? When me and George agreed it was best not to be anything more than platonic, I'd had an inkling that he wasn't content with that. Now, I'm almost sure, after his behavior and subtle statements. Now that I know I can't sense his romantic feelings, the only way to find out if he feels the same is to do something obvious- like make my feelings clear, or directly ask him.

Confronting him directly seems too blunt, though. George reminds me of a cat, in the way that he spooks at sudden changes; anything from loud noises to emotional conflict can freak him out. And the last thing I want to do is scare him away.

That leaves me with one option, which is to make my own feelings as easy to pick up on as possible. If he reciprocates, or even takes my affection in stride, it's a sure sign that he feels the same, or at least is willing to give us a chance. If he shuts me down, I'll know I was wrong, and drop it. Sure, it'll hurt, but if I find out for certain that George doesn't love (or even like) me back,  I won't push him. 

If he doesn't love me, I can hardly blame him. I'm a mess, and he can see it. He just doesn't know why.

I should tell him...

But not yet. Not today. I can't loose him. If this is something that's going to break our friendship, then I'm going to cherish every fucking minute I spend with him until I confess the truth about my condition.

***

The drive to the sushi restaurant didn't take long, just under fifteen minutes with light traffic. It's a nice day out, with a few light clouds occasionally shielding the sun from view. George picked out a table in the back of the room, next to a window and some kind of flowering fern.

"Dream, which one should I get?" George asks, pointing to the menu as a waiter stands next to our table, pen and notepad in his hands as he waits for our orders. "I want to try this one, but the roll version looks so good ."

I hum. "Well, why don't you get the rolls, and I get the other one? Then we can just share."

George looks up, eyes wide. "Oh. Like, share our food?" His tone is borderline shocked.

I nod, suddenly feeling self conscious. "I mean, only if you want to. We already kinda share everything, but if you don't want to-"

"No!" George interjects, cutting me off with a surprising intensity. "Uh, no. I want to share, that sounds good."

I smile widely, and listen as he relays our orders to the server. The waiter soon returns with our drinks, and places them on the table with a friendly smile.

I open my straw and take a sip of my drink, thoughts of don't spill soda on yourself, for the love of god running through my mind. 

It's cold," George states, staring at the clear liquid in his own glass like he's never experienced ice water. I can't help but smile. George has a way of interacting with the world, an innocence and peculiarity, that's both enduring and bewildering. It shines in his semi-random word association, or in his tendency to collect tchotchkes and trinkets just like a sentimental magpie, or in the fond curiosity he expresses with objects and sensations. 

I remember watching one of Tommy's vlogs about a year ago, the military training one, and seeing how George reacted to the noise of wind in the trees. I almost believed that he'd never heard the noise a gust makes when it blows through a forest, his rapt attention and wonder making the everyday occurrence seem rare and wonderful. He'd said something in an awed tone about how the wind was a sign (of what, I have no idea) while the others just laughed and jokingly asked if George had ever been in a forest before.

I know about George's collection box, a bundle of objects most would consider meaningless, like a single US dollar that's survived two trips across the ocean or a random white rock that George liked the look of, mixed with items of considerably more value (to others, at least) like an MCC coin or one of my chain necklaces that he'd "borrowed". 

On the same note, his habit of seeing a word and connecting it to another -seemingly random- word or phrase is familiar and comforting, in a strange way. It slips into everyday conversations, everything from Snapchat being changed to Sapnap to someone saying imagine being hungry and George immediately interjecting Imagine Dragons .

I adore him, and his quirky mannerisms.

"Yes," I chuckle. "Ice water tends to be cold, Georgie."

I see and feel a flash of confusion, before he school his features. George wasn't expecting the nickname, but from what I can tell, he liked it. 

And I can tell quite a lot. Being able to sense emotions tends to leave you with more information than you asked for, or ever wanted to know, but it still has its occasional uses. 

Despite its rare usefulness, though, that doesn't change the guilt I feel from reading George's, or anyone else's, emotions.

Our sushi arrives quickly, and George looks thrilled. Sushi has always been one of his favorites, and he eagerly picks up the chopsticks and eats the food with a dexterity I always struggle with when eating with chopsticks. After my third attempt to get food to my mouth and dropping it, I give up, and just use one of the forks. George just laughs, and continues to show off his ease at using the foreign utensils.

"Wait, I like yours better!" He informs me, after trying both dishes. "I'm taking it, you can have the rest of mine." 

I scoff, but take the offered plate without protest. "Fine, but only because I'm the one who offered to take you out to lunch. What kind of date would this be if I didn't give you all the best sushi, and then pay for it?" I'm mostly kidding, and let him know with an easy smile.

George, oddly, doesn't snipe back. He just looks down, then changes the subject, lifting another piece of sushi to his mouth. It's confusing, but that's ordinary for him. I'd probably be worried if he started making perfect sense.

***

When we finish eating, I pay for the meal, as promised. The sushi restaurant is conveniently located next to a public park with a small lake, a perfect place for a walk. George seems suspicious when I pointed it out, but I claim that that it's just a coincidence, and definitely not something I'd planned in advance. It's partially true, since I knew about the lake but wasn't sure if George would want to walk with me.

When I offer, he accepts, although I can feel a lingering hesitancy coming from him. It's not, I think, that he doesn't want to walk with me, rather that he's nervous and a little unsure. 

"George, check this out! This lake has a boardwalk, and a pier in the middle!"

George stares at me, eyebrows raised. "Dream, you'd better not be suggesting we go swimming. I will not get into that water, not for anything."

I shake my head, laughing. "George, that's not what I meant! I was just pointing it out. We can walk along the pier if you want.  I wouldn't recommend swimming in here, unless you want to get attacked by snakes and alligators." As picturesque as the body of water is, it's definitely not safe.

George squints at the water, as if he could peer right down to the bottom and see the lurking wildlife. "You know," he recalls, an evil smirk spreading across his face, "Sapnap's afraid of alligators.

I blink, surprised. "Wait, really? No way."

His maniacal grin grows. "He is! It's actually hilarious, he got all pale when I brought them up a few days ago."

"He never told me!"

"Well, he didn't exactly tell me, it's more like I figured it out."

"Figured it out, or bullied the truth out of him?"

"...both?" 

We dissolve into hysterics, the kind of giggling laughter reserved for only the people closest to you. 

George smiles at me, still struggling to catch his breath, and starts to run along the pier towards the middle of the lake. "Dream, common!" He throws out his arms, spinning gleefully to a stop at the end of the wood, about fifty feet into the lake. I've never been more glad to be in a place without other people, making this moment ours, and ours alone.  

I follow him, relishing the feeling of the breeze and the wooden planks under my sneakers as I race to meet him in the middle of the large pond.

The sound of our combined laughter echos around the lake, brightening the atmosphere both figuratively and literally as the sun emerges from behind a cloud, dazzling beams suddenly reflecting off of the water and making the blue-green surface sparkle and blink. 

I'm suddenly filled with a surging, inexplicable sense of joy. It's a rare feeling, born of the moments when all you can do is appreciate the beauty of the world around you and think I'm lucky to be here . The best part of the feeling is that it's not just mine, George is feeling it too. Both of us, together, hearts bearing in sync with happiness and the feeling of finally being together, without an ocean between us. There's no more barriers keeping us apart.

I love you, I'm thinking, as I watch the sun illuminate his perfect features and gleaming brown eyes. I love you .

I'm not thinking as I step forward, one hand reaching to rest on his shoulder as he faces away from me and looks out at the lake. I let my fingers dance across his skin, brushing the fabric of the hoodie and tracing swirling patterns onto his sleeve. He flinches at the contact, and I almost pull back, but he relaxes into the touch before I can. Emboldened by the motion, I lean forward, leaning gently on him in a hug from behind. My chin brushes his shoulder. 

For a moment, I let myself breath in his smell, still glowingly happy. 

"Dream-" He breaths, a soft question breaking the peace. "Why-?" The rest of his question goes unspoken, but I know him well enough to fill in the gaps. Why are you hugging me like this? Why are you holding me like I'll disappear if you let go?

"Because you're here," I whisper into his shoulder. It's just loud enough to be heard. "Because you're here, George, and I can finally do this. Because you deserve to be held like you're the most important person in the world, and to me, you are." 

He shivers.

"Dream, you can't- you can't just say things like that. Not if you don't mean it." His voice breaks a little, achingly vulnerable as he stiffens.

"Who says I don't mean it? I'm serious, George. I mean every word." I trace my hand up past his shoulder, letting it hover faintly over his heart. " God," I murmur. "I can feel your heart beating. You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you here."

"Stop!"He says suddenly, pushing himself away. 

 I instantly comply, stumbling back with a lurch in my stomach. Fuck, did I go to far? He doesn't feel the same, does he? Did I just ruin everything?

If I just destroyed our friendship before I even mentioned my empathy, I won't be able to live with myself. 

"George?" I ask, feeling my hands shake and my breathing shudder. 

His face is flushed, and his hands are balled into fists. "You can't," He yells, voice raised. "You can't act like that, Dream. Not if it's all a joke. You can't touch me like you love me if you don't."

"I- I do," I respond, feeling my head swim with all of the emotions electrifying the air between us. "I do."

"Not-" He cuts himself off, and I see that he's on the verge of tears. "Not like a friend. Not like a brother. I'm not talking about that kind of love, Dream."

"Neither am I-" I start to say, but he speaks over me. 

"It hurts when you act like that, and don't mean it."

"George," I blurt. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, I'm so-"

"Don't say sorry!" He cries. "I don't want you to apologize, I know you wouldn't ever try to hurt me. I just want you to know that I can't deal with jokes like this anymore, not when... Not when I'm..."

"You're..?" I prompt, balancing on the edge of a knife. One word, and George could cut my heart open, spilling my hidden feelings and affection like blood. One word, and I won't have to hide how I care for him.

"I'm in love with you," he admits, and everything falls into place.

George is in love with me.

Before he can say anything else, or start to spiral, I stagger forward, hugging him. "George," I gasp. "You're serious? You're in love with me, too?" I'm almost in disbelief that he really said what I think he did, the sudden confession making my head spin. George loves me? 

"Too?" He repeats, pushing me an arms length away, nothing but shock in his expression. "Wait, you-"

"I love you!" I grin, feeling like the weight of a mountain has been lifted off of my chest. "I'm in love with you!" 

He starts to smile, a rushing relief daring to overtake him, but held back by his lingering doubt. "Really? No jokes, no lies? You're really-?"

"I am," I assure, feeling like the world finally makes perfect sense. "I'm in love with you." There is no hint of a joke in my tone, only earnest affection and adoration.

Like the cloud moving away from the sun, George's smile overtakes the worry on his face. "You fucking idiot , Dream!"

"Hey," I protest weakly. "We're both idiots." 

He grumbles, but I pull him back into an embrace and his complaints are muffled against me. He returns the hug, and it feels like I'm where I'm meant to be- with George.

When he looks up and pulls me into a kiss, I'm not expecting it. My eyes are already closed, but they flutter in surprise as I feel the jolting sensation of his lips brushing mine. The contact is brief, and gentle, and feels like everything a first kiss should be. There aren't fireworks, or sparkles, but it's no less magical.

"George," I stammer, as he pulls away. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

In response, he just laughs, the sounds like shinning relief and happiness. 

"Is that a yes?" I question, tilting my head. 

George kisses me again, effectively shutting me up. "It's a yes, you idiot," he snips, but the smile on his face is the widest I've ever seen. 

"Good," I say against his lips. "I love you."

I love you. 

Chapter Text

Before I moved to Florida, I would fantasize about what it would be like. I considered hundreds of scenarios in my mind, yet somehow, what actually happened is as far from my imagination as possible. 

I never expected that I'd try and kiss Dream the first time I saw him in person. 

I never expected that Dream would try and kiss me back, and I would end up pulling away.

I never expected that my first morning in Florida would stat with Dream somehow getting a cut on his face, and letting me clean it.

I never expected to almost kiss him again, yet be interrupted by Sapnap.

I never expected to see Dream singing, just for me.

I never expected our trip to Disney ending in disaster. 

I never expected Dream to pass out in front of me, or to realize that he'd lied about what was going on. 

But most of all, I never expected that Dream taking me out to lunch would end with us realizing our feelings for each other, and kissing for the first time.

But I certainly can't say I'm disappointed with reality. Having Dream as my boyfriend surpasses every hope I had for Florida, even though it's only been a day and a half since our date. Technically, we've only been dating for less than 36 hours, but it feels like a lifetime. Being best friends with each other for seven years, and in love for ages, is probably the cause of our easy chemistry.

"George, trust me! Florida sunsets are beautiful, and you haven't seen one properly yet."

I frown skeptically,  surveying Dream's face, which is pulled into a (adorable) pout. "Dream, we can see the sunset just fine from our house." Technically, that's true, even though the only windows that face the west are obscured by trees. Dream is all to aware of that, though, and is quick to voice his disagreement.

"No," He complains. "We can't, George. I know this perfect park by a lake, and it's walking distance from here. It's really pretty there, and usually super private. Please? We can have a picnic, if you want?"

I mull his offer, before letting out a defeated sigh, giving in to his pleading.

 "... fine." 

Dream whoops in celebration, jumping up from his relaxed position on the couch and bouncing around excitedly, while I just smile ruefully and roll my eyes.

A few days ago, I might have put up more of a fight about something like this, but now... well, how can I say no, when my  boyfriend is asking so nicely? 

I smirk to myself, letting the word bounce through my head. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. 

"Okay, George! Let's go, before you change your mind!" 

I look up and meet his gaze, and for a moment, I think to myself with complete seriousness. I will never change my mind, not about you. 

The unspoken admission makes me blush, but I cover it up by scoffing at him. Things like this are... difficult. I've never been the best at voicing my feelings, or communicating effectively. Usually, I bury any deep feelings, in an effort to keep myself safe. 

This time, though, things are different, at least for me. I don't feel the need to lie to myself, to pretend I don't care as much as I do, because it's Dream I'm feeling for. Dream, who's loved me for seven years, platonically or otherwise. Dream, who prioritizes me above everything else. Dream, who I love.

When I think about forever with him, it's easy. It's not scary, or intimidating. It's just us, the way we were always destined to be. Even when we didn't have our shit together, before we knew about our feelings for each other, we had always planned to spend our lives together. It's always been Dream, for me. He's the one person who I would have moved across the ocean for, the one person who I can always go to for help, the one person who knows me as well -if not better- than I know myself. 

Snapping out of my thoughts, I take Dream's outstretched hand, letting him tug me into the kitchen to pack a picnic for the two of us. After stuffing a backpack full of crisps, cold pizza, soda cans, and an unhealthy amount of snack cookies, we're ready to leave, and Dream, as always, opens the door for me. 

"Ah! Fuck, Dream, why is it still so humid? It's, like, eighty degrees out here." The dimming evening sunlight does little to stifle the heat, and a new wave of moisture coats the air. 

He chuckles, closing the door behind us and moving to walk besides me. "Well, technically, it is eighty degrees... Fareinheight." 

"Ugh, I don't even know what that is in Celsius. All I know is that it's too hot to be walking outdoors. How far away is the lake, again?" I grumble, a mixture of complaining and questioning. 

"Just ten minutes, don't worry." He turns, beanie flopping to the side a little as he gives me his full attention. "Worst case, if you get too tired, I can just carry you," He says, winking at me in a shockingly smooth motion. 

I'm torn between surprise at the unexpected flirting, attraction to the wink (I won't ever tell Dream, but it was hot, even as a joke), or jealously over his winking skills. Whenever I try it, my face ends up all scrunched, and my other eye usually ends up blinking as well.

I settle on jealousy... but not really, because my scowl slips away the moment Dream's back is turned, transitioning into a fond smile as the sunbeams form a halo around his hair.

He rambles about a variety of topics while we walk to the lake, ranging from the newest things he's been gifted in the PO box to ideas for a new video. I zone out on the way, content to let his familiar voice echo around me. The high temperature and humidity, while abrasive and jarring at first, have seemed to mellow; heat fading as the sun sets, maybe, or perhaps I'm just getting used to the warmth. 

After a few minutes of following a path through the neighborhood and forest, Dream and I reach the lake. It's small, as far as lakes go, but the water is deep and clear. The sunlight shines across the water, and the grass around us slopes up to a hill on the right, cresting in a rock that juts out over the water. 

It's beautiful, I think, but I don't voice my thoughts. If I admit to Dream that I'm enjoying our outing, it'll end with him gloating about being right, and looking all stupidly smug. 

To be fair, though, he was right. There is no one else around, and the hill provides a perfect view of the sunset. The lake is stunning, and when Dream lays out the blanket and snacks, they look delicious. 

Dream must sense my growing admiration for our impromptu date, because he grins and tilts his head towards me. "So, George, what do you think?"

"It's... nice," I say, feigning disinterest. My acting is fooling no one, I'm sure, since I can hardly stop a smile from breaking out across my face. "Can we eat now?"

Dream laughs, and gestures to the food. "Be my guest, Georgie."

"Ha, be my guest ! Like the song!" I remark, grabbing a handful of snacks and settling myself on the blanket. Dream smiles and sits down next to me, and I let my head flop down onto his shoulder. The height difference between us makes the togetherness even more perfect, me leaning on his shoulder and his own head resting gently on mine. 

Above us, the sky bleeds gold, fiery orange clouds covering the pink and blue sky. Dream describes the colors to me in detail, since I can't see them, not really. Any other time, I might be annoyed or disappointed that my colorblindness is messing with me seeing something beautiful, but here, I think that hearing Dream's voice is better than seeing the colors he's speaking about. 

"-and it's got a light pink tint, closer to the sun." He finishes his description, and tilts his head away so he can meet my gaze. He bites his lip a little, thinking something over, before he speaks, sounding a little sad.

"... I wish you could see it."

I sigh wistfully. "Yah, me too. But... you can see it, right? And I can see you. So, that's close enough for me." 

Dream's eyes widen, and he stares at me. I'm not one to give false compliments or assurances, or even voice truthful ones, so he knows that I mean what I said.

"Oh my- George ," he breaths, blush spreading across his face. "You can't just say that ."

I grin teasingly. "Why not, Dream? I meant it, didn't I?"

"I know that," he replies, "but if you say stuff like that, I'm going to kiss you."

Kiss me,  I want to say, but instead, I make a face at him. "So? Why wouldn't you?" It's flirting, but it allows me to keep some of my dignity, as I hope that Dream can't tell how much I want him to kiss me. 

Dream flushes even more, breaking eye contact as he stammers and tries to come up with a smooth reply. "I- uh, yah- um..." 

I chuckle, and flop back against him.  He gives up on trying to force a flirtatious response, and wraps his arms around me, a soft hug from behind. 

I love this. 

I love him. 

***

"Dream?"

"Yeah?"

"How deep is this lake?"

Dream blinks, surprised by my seemingly random question. "Uh, it's like, ten feet deep over the outcrop we're on, and probably gets to, like, twenty feet in the deepest bit."

"Hm. Are there rocks, or anything?"

 "No, it's clear. Why?"

"What would happen if we just... went swimming?" 

He gawks at me. "George, what?! What happened to yesterday, Mr. 'You'd-better-not-be-suggesting-we-go-swimming-because-you-can't-pay-me-to-get-in-that-lake?' We have a literal swimming pool at home. There could be alligators, or water snakes. And it's getting dark. Going swimming right now would be a very stupid thing to do."

I nod, acknowledging his words. There's a beat of silence between us, before I suddenly return to the topic, a daring grin flashing across my face. "So, if we were to jump into the water from the rock, would that be any better?"

" No," Dream complains. "George, no. No way. We aren't doing that."

I shrug. "I just think it sounds fun. Besides, I googled some stuff. Apparently, only seven people get bitten by alligators a year in Florida, and most of those are at lake Jessup, the big one by the other airport. I checked a bunch of websites, and according to them, it's fine to go swimming, especially if you have a buddy," I poke his shoulder for emphasis, "and if you don't see any signs of alligators."

" George," he splutters, burying his face in his hands. "What-? Why is this something you want to do? Are you actually serious? We don't even have swimsuits"

I shrug again. "I think it'll be fun. And I want to. And we're here, so why not? And we don't need swimsuits, we can just take off our shirts and shoes."

Dream looks around, as if searching for someone else to talk sense into me, but we're alone. After a long moment, he groans defeatedly, and stands up. "Okay, George. But just once. We jump into the water, and then get out of the water as fast as fucking possible before something eats us ." 

Wait, what? He's actually gonna do it? "Yes!" I shout, and laugh wildly. "Okay, okay, let's do it!" I grab his arm before he can change his mind, and pull him over to the edge of the rock. 

Dream follows me, albeit reluctantly, discarding his shirt, shoes, and socks as he walks and tossing it into the picnic blanket. I copy his motions, and do my best to look anywhere but his now exposed chest. If I look, I'm sure I won't be able to stop staring. 

The sunlight, so golden just ten minutes ago, has faded to a dim color tinging the sky that Dream told me is red. It's not dark yet, but it is getting steadily harder to see. The water's sparkling has faded to a dull gleam.

"Dusk," I whisper. "Dusk, dust, dirt." I'm smiling for no real reason. "The words mush." 

Dream's expression, when I turn to look, is so scorchingly fond that I wonder how I didn't notice sooner.

Do I look at him like that?

"Okay, let's get this over with," he says, stepping closer to the edge. "Together?"

"Together," I affirm, and grab his hand. 

Dream chances one last glance around us, and into the water not too far below. "Last chance to change your mind."

"Dream," I snort. "Let's go."

"Fine. Count of three?"

I squeeze his hand. 

"Three," and we're stepping closer to the edge, looking down into the water about eight or nine feet below us.

"Two," and I'm grinning, feeling the breeze kick up behind us, smelling the sweet Florida wind that smells of summer and nature and warmth. Dream's eyes, green to the world and yellow to me, shine beautifully as he looks at me, face full of love and happiness. 

"One!"

We both take off, running forward until the rock turns to air beneath our feet. Then, I'm falling, an excited shout tearing from my throat. I keep my eyes open, and the sight waiting for me is the most incredible thing I've ever seen. Dream, face screwed up in an adorable yelp, is just a second in front of me, the remaining light catching the blonde in his hair and the reflection in the water. Everything about him is gold, gold, gold, with this red light outlining his features and his perfect smile that not even gravity, nor free fall, nor the setting sun itself can dim.

And then we plunge into the water. 

A cool shock dances through me as I sink into the lake, nose burning and eyes blinking rapidly to clear the haze distorting my vision. I'm disoriented at first, but it fades after a second, and I properly look around. 

Woah.

The fading sunlight filters down into the lake, casting faint glimmers along the muddy patches of  water grass and reeds that cover the bottom of the lake. Tiny fish dart around, and my hair floats around my face as bubbles flow upwards. 

Then, barely five seconds later, I break the surface of the water with a gasp. 

The air, so warm just a few seconds ago, now feels cold on my skin as Dream tugs me out of the water. We clamber back onto the grass, and I laugh breathlessly as we stagger back to the picnic blanket. 

" Dream, Dream. " I gasp, still trying to catch my breath. "That was epic." I beam at him. 

"Yah, it was," he admits. "But let's not do it again, I don't want to push our luck."

I scoff at him, chuckling still. The combination of the light breeze and the water on my skin is making me shiver, goosebumps trailing down my arms. I scoop up my shirt and pull it on, trying to glean some warmth from the material. I'm still cold, as the shirt didn't have much of an effect, but I'm still glad we jumped into the lake. 

How many people can say that they've jumped into a lake in Florida, at sunset, with the person they love the most in the world? 

Not many, I'm sure.

Before I can say anything, Dream notices my shivering and lifts the picnic blanket around me, protectively wrapping me in the clean side of the soft fabric. I smile my thanks, and lean softly against his side as he dons his own shirt and reties his shoelaces. 

"Dream," I say, just for the sake of saying his name. 

He looks up, mistaking my noise as a question. "Yeah?"

"Nothing," I murmur. "I was just saying your name."

Dream blushes, a quiet smile brushing across his lips. "Okay... George. Why are you saying my name?"

I roll my eyes fondly. "Because I want to, idiot. Because we're dating, so I'm allowed to say your name as much as I feel like it. Because I like how you sound in my voice." The intimately honest words are veiled thinly under a teasing tone.

"Dream," I say again, for emphasis, and I can't hide the tiny grin that forms when the familiar syllables meet the Florida air, my voice echoing away into nothing in the darkening sky.

This time, Dream doesn't stop himself from kissing me, and I couldn't be happier as his lips find mine.

Chapter Text

"George," I breathe, breaking our kiss and pulling him into a hug. "Oh my god, I still can't believe this is real."

George grins at me, a wide smile causing his brown eyes to wrinkle. "Believe it, Dream."

I laugh lightly, and bury my face in his chocolate hair, the lingering dampness from the lake tinting the color an even darker brown than usual. He smells like Florida, like fading summertime, like October sunsets after the world has shifted.

This, I think, is perfect. This is the best I've ever been. Loving George makes me better. I'm happy with him, and want this forever.

... So why haven't I told him?

There's no good answer. No excuses, no explanations. There's only the truth, plain and simple; I've been lying to George for years, and I'm keeping a secret that could tear us apart. 

George deserves better. My empathy, my ability to feel his emotions, is something he deserves to know the truth about. I need to tell him about my empathy, before-

Before what? Before he falls in love with you? Before you kiss? Before you start dating and promise to stop keeping secrets? 

I'm too late for that.

 I should have told George about my empathy when we first met, when I tried to get his help coding something after BadBoyHalo introduced us. 

"His name is George, he might be able to help you with coding. Try reaching out to him! He's the smartest muffin I know!"  

I should have told him when he agreed to start streaming and making videos with me, agreeing to tie his career and his future in with mine, forever. 

"Wait, really? You'll do it?! You'll make a channel with me? Holy shit, George! I- I don't- ha, I don't even know what to say!"

I should have told him when I bought him a quartz elephant, a sign of affection I tried to convince myself was nothing more than platonic, not knowing that he would carry the gift with him when he moved into a new apartment, and even when he moved to America.

"One and a half inches..? Dream."

 I should have told him when he applied for a VISA, a promise to move across the world for someone he'd never met in person, or even seen.

"So, they said it would take longer for a permanent green card, but all the paperwork is done. Now we just... wait. But I'm sure it'll work, and I'll get to move in with you. Maybe we can make it in time for a Dream Team Christmas!"

 I should have told him when we won Minecraft Championship, when we were both screaming like maniacs and all I could think about was how happy I was, and how proud I was of George.

" George! George, we won! You're- you're fucking amazing, George!"

I should have told him when I took the "Am I In love With My Best Friend" test, the day I realized that my general obsession with George was a borderline crush... or something more.

"We've talked about... like, wether..."

I should have told him when the first VISA was denied, when it felt like he was going to collapse under the constant weight of loneliness, and both our hearts were broken.

" Dream, what went wrong? I filled out the application just like they wanted, I went to the interviews, I even- I even wore a suit, Dream! But it still got denied! I- I just- I don't know why..."

I should have told him on one of the countless nights when we stayed up late, spilling secrets and blurring the lines of our friendship. 

"Don't go. Just... stay, with me. Stay on call while you sleep. This way, it's like we're in the same room."

I should have told him when he called to tell me the VISA was finally approved, and that he would be moving to Florida, to me. 

"Wait, are you memeing me? You're actually serious right now?! George!!"

I should have told him when he called me before his flight, anxiety and excitement clashing in equal parts. 

"You forgot, didn't you?"

There are thousands of moments where I should have admitted the truth, spanning the course of our long friendship. Thousands of times where I could have told him about my empathy, before we'd met. 

As those moments passed, it wasn't that I didn't realize the opportunities to tell George about my condition. The truth is, I was scared, and still am. I was -and am- afraid of what he'll think, or say, or do. 

Nothing good has ever come from telling anyone about my condition. When I told my best friend in school, years ago, he'd accused me of reading his mind intentionally and started a fight. When I told Sapnap (although, I didn't exactly tell him. More accurately, he guessed and I confirmed his suspicions) it was the result of an... incident, one that nearly ended in fatality. Thanks to Sapnap, I survived, but was left scarred mentally and physically.

Would George lash out at me, like my old friend? Would telling him end in disaster, just like with Sapnap? 

I can't hide the truth from him any longer, but I want to keep living in denial. Right now, with George in my arms and the stars starting to glow above us, I'm content, and happy. This is all I've wanted, for years. 

I don't want to give it up. 

I don't want to lose him. 

But I owe George the truth. 

If telling him about my encompassing empathy means that he'll want to move out, or go back to England, or stop dating me, or even cut me off entirely, I still have to tell him. I already know that it'll be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do, but I'm going to do it anyway, because George deserves to know. 

You need to tell him.

I inhale sharply, hugging him tighter and nosing his collarbone. If this is the last time he's going to let me hold him, then I want to be able to remember it, forever. 

"George-" I start, fully prepared to tell him the truth and obliterate the protective wall of lies and secrets that I'd built around myself, when he cuts me off, speaking first. 

"Dream, I'm cold. And it's dark out, now. We should go home. Patches probably misses us, and I need a warm bath."

"O-oh," I stammer, switching tracks to follow the new line of conversation. "Okay, we should go. Do you have your shoes on?"

He snorts. "No, my feet are all muddy. If I put my shoes on, they'll get all gross."

I shake my head, a fond grin on my face as the unspoken confession slips from my mind. "How are you gonna get home, then?"

George just shrugs, indifferent. "You could carry me, like, on your back. Or something. Just don't make me walk."

I stare at him. "George, no."

He pouts, looking at me with heart-tugging puppy dog eyes that chip away quickly at my restraint. 

"...fine." 

Brown eyes glimmer as he laughs victoriously, scooping the remnants of our picnic into the backpack and lifting it into his shoulders. "Dream, you're a simp."

I sigh in exasperation, although there's no use denying it. "So? We're dating. I'm allowed to simp for you." I squint at him as a thought occurs to me. "George, if I'm carrying you home, the least you could do is be nice to me."

"Hm... no." He concludes, tossing a flirtatious grin over his shoulder as he starts to walk to the nearest bench. "Okay, I'm going to stand on this, whilst you come over here and don't move."

Bossy , I think, but the wide smile never leaves my face. I'm quick to do as he says, getting into the instructed position and waiting for his weight to fall on my shoulders and back. George takes a moment to clamber onto the bench, then grabs my shoulders and hefts himself onto my back. 

" Oof, George," I chuckle, adjusting his balance. "A little warning next time, geez."

" Geez," he mocks, but I can hear the fond smile in his voice as he rests his chin on the joint of my shoulder and neck. "What are you, seventy years old?"

"Hey! You're older than me, George."

"Well, yes, technically-"

Our lighthearted bickering echos off the palm trees as we walk home, George on my back. His weight is just heavy enough to be familiar, his embrace like a thick blanket wrapping around me. 

I could get used to this.

I want to get used to this. 

I want this forever.

***

"George, Sapnap's coming home tomorrow afternoon, and the house is a mess. We can't just go to sleep without cleaning anything. Plus, we jumped in the lake, so we have to shower."

George groans, hiding his face in his hands. "No. Dream, I'm tired . Let me go to sleep." 

I sigh, and tug an unwilling George to his feet. We're in my room, since George flopped down onto the carpet and refused to move as soon as I stepped in to grab a change of clothes. "Common, George. You have to shower, or take a bath or something first." He stumbles as I pull him upright, and towards my bathroom. My room is the only one with an en-suite bathroom containing both a shower and a bathtub, and George doesn't seem willing to walk downstairs to the spare bathroom just for a bath.

"Shower or bath?" I ask, kneeling in front of the bathtub while I turn on the water, letting it warm up. 

"Bath," he mumbles, leaning heavily against the wall. 

I hum in response, plugging the drain and selecting a mini-bathbomb to drop into the water- not one that sends color dancing through the water, rather, a faint rose water smell and bubbles. The subtle bathbombs are hard to find, and usually, I guard them strictly, never sharing with Sapnap. 

George, though, is different. The sweet smelling bubbles are simple, but they make me happier. So, I'm letting George use them, because I want to make him smile in a million little ways. 

'I want to make him smile in a million little ways,' I repeat in my head. Is that what love is?  Overwhelming devotion? 

For me, I think it is. 

I shut off the water, testing to make sure the temperature is right before stepping back. It is, and a thin layer of foam covers the water from the bath bomb. "Okay, the water seems perfect."

George starts to step forward, but stops, blushing. "Uh. Thanks..." He stands hesitantly for another moment, as if waiting for me to do something. I just smile (albeit, stupidly) at him, not comprehending his implications.

I feel embarrassment rush through him, and he huffs, exasperated. "Dream, this is the part where I take off my clothes. So, unless you're just going to stand there watching..."

"Oh!" Wow, I'm an idiot. "Right, yah- I'll, um, leave, if you want." Now my own cheeks are red, and it's not just because of my empathy mimicking his embarrassment. I start to hurry towards the doorway, but a shy voice stops me.

"Dream, that's not what I said. You don't have to... leave . Just turn around."

My mouth drops open at his words. "Wait, what? You want me to stay? In here?"

"Yes, stupid. You can look away while I get in, but the water is like, full of bubbles." He's not wrong, the pink and white foam is thick enough to block anything under the water. "So, you can just stay here, and keep me company. Make sure I don't fall asleep in the bath, or something." 

Oh , I think, because this is a level of trust that I can barely fathom. George trusts me to stay with him. No matter who you are, it requires a level of connection and trust to let yourself be naked in front of someone else, even if they aren't looking. 

I love you , I think. "Okay," is what comes out instead. 

"Yah?"

"Yah," I affirm, shifting to face away from him and closing my eyes. After a few moments, the sound of shuffling fabric fades, and is replaced with splashes.

Quiet grows again, only broken when George's voice, softer than usual, comes from behind me. "You can turn around, Dream."

I open my eyes and comply, blinking at the change in light and letting my eyes re-focus. When my vision clears, I feel blush dance across my face at the sight of George leaning against the wall of the tub, water up to his chest and bubbles lingering on his skin. He's smirking at me, but underneath the teasing grin is a glow of affection. 

"Uh, hi," I breath, stumbling awkwardly to sit on the floor next to the tub. The tile floor is sharp and painful, but I ignore the discomfort in favor of being closer to George. "Do you need anything?"

"Wash my hair?" It's phrased as a request, not a command, George leaving the choice to me. I'm nodding before the question even sinks in, scooting closer and rising to my knees for a better reach. 

"Turn around, please," I murmur, selecting my favorite shampoo bottle and grabbing the detachable shower head, flipping the water onto a low setting. Once George is settled, I bring the shower head closer, letting the warm stream of water plaster his hair down. Soap is next, and I pour out a generous amount into my palm before I begin to massage it into his scalp. 

A warm silence fills the room, the only sounds in the steamy air being the subtle splash of bath water and soft breathing. My empathy, as strong as ever, pulses with George's happiness and contentment, bringing a smile to my face. 

Even something as horrible as my empathy can be a good thing, when it comes to George. 

Wait-

My empathy. 

Shit, I meant to tell him earlier. I exhale, doing my best to keep the breath from turning into a weary sigh. I fucked up. I can't tell him now, with his trust overwhelming me and vulnerability lingering in his actions. It wouldn't be fair to George.

But... it's not fair to keep hiding my empathy from him, either. 

Tomorrow, I resolve, ignoring the spiraling feeling of terror that the thought ignites. I'll tell him tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll stop lying, and keeping secrets, and covering my empathy. Tomorrow.

I still have tonight.

"George," I whisper, letting my hands dip into the water to rinse off the excess soap. "I'm gonna rinse the shampoo out, okay?" 

He yawns, sliding further into the warm water. "M'kay. Don't get soap in my eyes."

"I won't." I promise, far to sincere for the simple request. My adoration for George is as obvious as it always has been, visible enough to turn millions of our fans into DNF shippers before I'd even figured out the true depth of my feelings. Hell, a lot of the shipping started before I even knew the truth about my sexuality. How George didn't notice the love in every syllable of my voice is beyond me. 

Even Sapnap knew I liked him before I did, which is saying something. 

I finish the rinse, replacing the shower head the the wall and reaching for the conditioner. George says nothing as I liberally apply the conditioner to his hair, rubbing over his faint curls and spreading the gel evenly across his scalp and hair. George leans into the touch, and I brush my thumbs in gentle circles over the nape of his neck, soothing the tension I find. 

"Dream, you're good at this. Why are you good at this?" The question is a sleepy mutter, almost low enough to miss. 

I shrug, even though he isn't facing me and misses the movement. "I don't know. I haven't- haven't done this, with anyone. Not like this, anyway." I've never washed anyone's hair for them, and especially not like this, love and care stifling the basic task until it's something special, something to be remembered. 

George deserves special things. I'd give him everything he asks for, if it would make him happy.

It's a simp thing to say, but it's true.

He yawns again, blinking tiredly as I rinse out the conditioner. My free hand instinctively cups his jaw, fingers fluttering over his cheekbones as I tilt his face away from the water. 

"There," I say, smiling at him as I finish the conditioner. "Perfect."

"Oh, I'm 'perfect' now, am I?" George mimics, lips sliding into a teasing grin.

"Well..." George, you are. Perfect, perfect, perfect. My lack of a further response is as incriminating as my unspoken thoughts would have been if voiced, springing blush to my face. 

George laughs, and it sounds like years of dreaming, finally come true. I know he's laughing at me, but I can't force myself to be embarrassed, not when he sounds so joyous. Tilting my head down until my forehead rests on his bare upper back, I sigh, letting the smell of rose bubbles fill my nose. 

I zone out a little, caught up in the feeling of George's chest rising and falling with every breath. I only snap back to reality when he calls my name.

"Dream!"

"Hm?" I ask, lifting myself back upright and blinking rapidly, trying to wake myself back up. It partially works, as I'm able to comprehend his next words.

"I'm gonna get out now, could you get me a change of clothes?"

Oh, right. Clothes. "Uh. Right, sure. Your clothes, or mine?" 

He smirks, knowing full well the affect his next words will have on me. "Yours."

Ten minutes later, George is dressed in my favorite hoodie, a pair of loose shorts, and a cat beanie. Some one had sent the woolen accessory to our PO Box, and I loved it immediately. Seeing George in my clothes is... 

"Wow."

He just chuckles, sliding onto my bed and wrapping himself in blankets, eyes fluttering closed. "Go shower, idiot."

Idiot, from George, is the equivalent of a fond pet name. It's lovely, and something he's always reserved for me.  Hearing it now, after seeing him in my room, and my clothes, and my bed, makes me feel a little crazy. 

"Okay. I'll be back soon, but you'll probably be asleep."

"Won't," he slurs, already half-asleep. "I'll be awake." 

He looks unbelievably soft, and I can't help myself as I press a soft kiss to his cheek before stepping into the bathroom. I might only have one more last night with George, but I don't plan to spend it dreading tomorrow. Instead, I let myself think about George, something that always makes me smile. 

Tomorrow, for better or worse, I'm telling him the truth.

Chapter Text

"Hey, George, can we talk?"

I glance up from my phone, diverting my attention to Dream for a second before looking back down. "Sure, what's up?"

"Um, it's... important. It's something important."His voice cracks, thinly veiled desperation in his tone making me focus on him. He's not meeting my eyes, which is unusual.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, curls flopping sideways. "I don't- nothing's wrong, I just... I need to tell you something."

I sit up fully from my bed, concern growing as I take in Dream's pale face and shaking hands. "Dream, you're trembling." I grab his hands in mine, cupping them worriedly. "Seriously, what's up?"

"I-"

The sudden ringing of two phones interrupts our conversation, Sapnap's name flashing across both of our phones as he FaceTimes the group chat.

I look at Dream, then at the incoming call, waiting for his cue to hang up or answer. If whatever he wants to tell me is important, I'll call Sapnap back later. 

Dream sighs, but answers the call, and I exhale a little, relived. Good. Nothing that important, nothing that couldn't wait. 

"Hey, guys!" Sapnap yells as the call connects, waving towards the camera. "My flight just landed, so I'm gonna grab an Uber and meet you at the house." 

We let out a chorus of cheers, although Dream's excitement seems a little forced. I don't point it out, but I let one of my hands rub his back, hoping to help with whatever is stressing him out. He leans into the touch, a motion unseen by Sapnap, and I smile at him. 

I love you , for me, is hard to say with words. Only three words, three little syllables, but they burn my throat. Instead of verbalizing the sentiment, I prefer to communicate it through actions and gestures; Letting someone wash my hair, for example, or massaging soothing touches onto their back... just like I've done with Dream. 

Whether I say it or not, I love him.

***

"I'm home, bitches!"

"Sapnap!" I shriek, running forwards and tackling my friend in a hug before he even steps all the way inside of the house. On stream, I refused to show him affection, but when no audience is watching, I'm more relaxed. And besides, I missed the idiot. 

Sapnap yells as I throw the bulk of my weight onto him, not expecting the sudden movement and stumbling backwards. "George! What the fuck, bro!" 

I cackle, feeling malicious and overall lighter. Sapnap is home, Dream loves me, and Patches slept in my bed last night. To be honest, I've never been happier. 

"Dream," Sapnap complains, shoving me off. "What did you do to George? He, like, never hugs anyone, especially me."

Dream, who is watching us wrestle from a safe distance away, snorts in response. "I wouldn't call that a hug. Attempted murder, maybe. Aggravated assault."  

"Hey, I can hug you if I feel like it," I snipe, still smiling widely. "You were gone forever ."

He shakes his head, baseball cap dislodging slightly from it's near-permanent position. "George, I was only gone for three days, four if you count traveling."

Was that only four days? It feels like longer. Going to Disney, the sushi date, confessing my feelings, watching the sunset- it's impossible to believe that everything happened in such a short period of time. I haven't even been in Florida for two weeks, yet it seems like I've lived here for years. 

Dream echos my thoughts, whistling softly. "Four days? Wow, I'd have expected it to be longer." The mystified tone in his voice is obvious, making it clear that we had a reason to think the time was more. 

Sapnap picks up on the unusual inflection, squinting slightly while looking from me to Dream. "Right... so, what exactly have you guys been up to while I was gone?"

I frown a little, recalling that the last Sapnap had heard from me I was crying over the phone to him, after our disaster of a Disney trip and Dream's weird behavior led to him collapsing. 

Thinking back, Dream never told me the real reason he was so upset... 

But that's not important. 

... Well, that's not exactly true. Obviously, it's important, but it could lead to answers I don't want. I'm happy now, with everything as it is, and if letting Dream keep his secrets means nothing changes, I'm more than content with that trade. 

"We went to Disney," Dream supplies, answering Sapnap's question. 

"It was mid," I say, flopping onto the couch next to Dream and instinctively leaning my head onto his shoulder. "We built a blanket fort afterwards, though, and that was fun."

Sapnap nods and makes a gesture to say go on .

"Uh, we got sushi," I mumble, blushing at the memory of our first kiss that followed. 

Dream smirks. "That was fun. Ten out of ten... sushi. " 

I smack his arm, and Sapnap looks even more confused than before.

"What else... Oh, we walked to this lake thing, and jumped in! And we didn't even get eaten by an alligator," I tease, raising my eyebrows at Sapnap. 

He scoffs. "Haha, very funny."

There's a beat of silence, while he stares at us, as if expecting more. Neither of us says anything, and the awkwardness grows. 

"So, nothing else happened while I was gone? Nothing at all?" He presses, looking at me in particular. 

Did he already guess that we're dating? Or... is there something else? 

"Nothing else happened," Dream breaths, and it sounds like a confession. 

Why does he sound guilty? And why does Sapnap look... disappointed?

"I was hoping to hear something different," he says, talking solely to Dream.

Dream looks down, not making eye contact. "I know," he says, sounding like a scolded kid. "I- I meant to, I swear. We've just... been busy."

I gawk at both of them, trying to make sense of their conversation. It's like they're talking over me, unaware that I'm still right here and listening to every word with growing bewilderment. 

"Excuse me, what? Did I miss something?"

"Yes-"

"No-" 

The simultaneous and conflicting answers make me roll my eyes, huffing in exasperation. "You're both idiots. If no one's going to tell me what the heck is happening, then I'm going to make lunch."

"I'll come with you," Dream volunteers, jumping to his feet. I scowl, correctly interpreting the action as an excuse to not be left alone with Sapnap and whatever weird tension is between them. 

"Fine, but only if you make me food."

Dream complains, but follows me anyway. I pretend not to notice as he looks back at Sapnap, biting his lip nervously. The moment we're in the kitchen, I plant my feet, and put my hands in my hips. 

"Right, no more of this. Tell me what's going on. You were being weird earlier, and now Sapnap's acting funny. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," he mumbles, still worrying his lip between his teeth. 

"... okay, then tell me what you were going to say before Sapnap called," I challenge, calling his bluff. 

Dream's eyes widen and he visibly pales, clenching his lip hard enough to draw a dot of blood. "Oh."

" 'Oh? '" I repeat questioningly. What is he hiding? 

Whatever it is, I don't think I want to know. It has to be something big, if it's making him this worried. My mind is quick to flood with worst case scenarios, some so outlandish that I can't help but feel stupid.

"Do you..." He hesitates, rephrasing the question. "Do you want me to tell you now? You're right, but- well, there's something-"

"Stop." 

He obeys, shutting up instantly. 

"Give- give me a minute," I stutter, taken aback by his sudden willingness to tell me the truth. I've been asking for him to tell me, but do I really want that? 

I don't know.

I could end up regretting asking. Whatever he has to tell me looms threateningly, promising to pop the peaceful bubble we've created. But, at the same time, I know for sure that I'm going to find out sooner or later. 

"Okay," I exhale, trying to keep my pulse from jumping up in anticipating panic. "Okay, tell me."

He whispers something that sounds like don't hate me , and opens his mouth to reveal the truth. "I-"

I wait, heart pounding in my ears. 

"I... George, I-"

He swallows harshly, and I struggle to breath through the tension. Every second he waits, it feels like I'm trapped in the base of an hourglass as sand begins to suffocate me.  

"I have- or, I- uh." He blinks, eyes watering, and shakes his head, unable to continue. "Sorry."

I watch with increasing concern and anxiety as he struggles to speak, words refusing to come.

"I," he gasps weakly, "I can't, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He breaks, and brings his hands to cover his face, tears falling. 

Oh, Dream. I step forward, pulling him into a hug. "Don't cry," I murmur, letting him hide his face in my shoulder. "Don't- don't cry." 

"I'm sorry," he whispers again, muffled by my hoodie. 

I'm confused, and scared, but I don't want to worry him further, so I do my best to hide it. "It's okay. It's okay, you're okay. You can try again later, if you want. It's your secret to tell, Dream, and if you don't want me to know you- you don't have to say anything." If he truly doesn't want to tell me, I won't push him, but I can't help the hole that not knowing causes in my chest. It's not idle curiosity, but real concern for him. 

He sniffles, but it turns into a painfully choked laugh. "God, George. I don't deserve you."

"Don't be stupid," I retort. "As far as I'm concerned, we both deserve each other, and to be happy. So, don't say things like that."

The quiet hum he responds with could be in agreement or disagreement, but I can't tell. 

I love you , I communicate through quiet affection, hoping Dream understands the significance behind my actions. It's hard to say it, but I mean it. I love you.

I hold onto him for seconds that stretch slowly into minutes, time slipping past us until I'm sure that his tears have dried, that his breathing has returned to normal, that his heart has slowed to its usual tempo. 

"Dream," I tease, trying to make him smile. "You said you were going to make me food. Where's my sandwich?" It works, and he chuckles, albeit weakly. 

"Okay, okay. Give me a sec, and I'll have the best sandwich you'll ever eat ready."

I stay by his side, practically clinging to his arm as he shuffles around the kitchen. "No tomato," I remind him, although I'm sure he knows. 

"I know," he affirms, voicing my thoughts. 

"I know," I mimic, voice softer than I intended. "Hurry up, Dreamie. I'm hungry."

***

"Do you think we should tell him?" I ask, unprompted and randomly. I'm leaning against Dream's chest, a movie neither of us are really watching playing in the background. 

"What?" He questions, sitting up a little. "Tell who?"

I sigh, unimpressed with his mind reading skills. " Sapnap . Should we tell Sapnap?"

Dream rubs his eyes sleepily, trying to orient himself with the conversation. "Tell Sapnap what exactly?"

I nuzzle into the blanket draped over us, getting comfortable before speaking. "You know. That we're dating . It seems unfair to keep it from him. I mean, we share a house with him. So."

"We can tell him," Dream agrees, tilting his head to look at me a little better, a surprised smile on his face. "Was that you caring about Sapnap I heard, George?"

"No." I grumble. "I'm just being a good housemate."

He pokes my shoulder lightly. "And a good friend."

I glare at him, feeling caught. "Alright, fine. Yes. I don't want to lie to Sapnap or hide things from him. Maybe because friendship, or whatever. Maybe not." 

"I'll tell him you said that," Dream threatens through his gleeful snickering. 

"Don't you dare," I threaten, and lean back into his warmth. "Now call him, or something."

"Oh, you want to tell him now? Like, now ?" 

I snort. "Yes, idiot."

"Okay, okay. Just asking," he defends, shooting Sapnap a quick text and waiting for his reply. "He said he'll be in here in a minute. We should probably get up before he gets here, though."

Groaning reluctantly, I slide to my feet, rubbing my eyes as Dream turns off the TV and flips the blankets back up on the bed. A few seconds later, Sapnap's familiar knock (two regular knocks and a thud) echos from the door, and he steps into the room. 

"Uh, hey, guys. What's up?" He looks at Dream. "Did you-"

"No." Dream cuts him off. "Not yet. This is about something else."

I grin. "Yep! And it's a good thing! Or, at least, it's good to us. It means you'll be stuck third wheeling, but you kind of already are, so."

Sapnap, bewildered, blinks in confusion. "So this isn't about the thing. What is it, then? And why would I be..?" He trails off, waiting for an answer.

Neither of us says anything, opting instead to slot our hands together in a silent explanation. I hold our clasped hands up to eye level, swinging our arms a bit with a gleeful smile. 

"No way. Now way, no fucking way!" He cries, jaw dropping as the truth sinks in. "You guys are actually- you're actually dating? Like, together?" 

"Yep," Dream confirms, blushing furiously. 

"No memes? You two actually figured out your shit?" 

Dream nods, and squeezes my hand. "Took us long enough, I know."

Sapnap gawks at him, clearly not believing his word as he turns to me a second later. "George. Are you actually?"

"We are!" I announce, unable to keep the happiness out of my voice. I look to Sapnap, expecting to see the same cheerfulness, with maybe a bit of annoyance that we'd waited so long to tell him, but to my surprise, his wide and disbelieving smile is fading into something that looks like shock, and anger. 

"What the hell?" 

His words, icy sharp and startlingly jarring, fling into the air like a swarm of bees. I feel something akin to a knife twist in my stomach, the excitement I felt at telling my brother about me and Dream bleeding out. I stare at him, but he's not looking back- his gaze is fixated on Dream. 

He takes a step forward, and Dream takes one back, dropping my hand. My fingertips brush at the air, missing the comforting warmth as the sudden tension in the room rises.

 Sapnap's next words are accusatory, directing his emotion at Dream."Dream, you haven't told him. You haven't told him, and you're-"

"I know." Dream's complexion looks ashy, and he cowers into himself, despite being half a foot taller than Sapnap. "I know, I know. I'm going to, I swear. I tried, but I- I'm sorry..."

"You should be," he spits. "It's not fair to him, Dream. It's selfish, and will only end up hurting you both."

"Stop," I breathe. "Sapnap, I thought- I thought you'd be happy for us.  What-" my voice cracks, unable to speak past the dam of unshed tears building in my throat. I shake my head helplessly. 

Sapnap halts his threatening stare on Dream to look back at me, hearing the vulnerability and overwhelming confusion in my words. His anger breaks like a wave on the shore, crashing away to reveal guilt, concern, and a fierce protectiveness. "I'm sorry. George, I didn't mean to freak you out, I just..." His words fade into whispered apologies, genuine conflict in his eyes. "I don't want you to be hurt because of him. I love you both, and want you to be happy. You're my brothers, but I can't be happy for you when I know that what Dream's not telling you could ruin everything."

Ruin everything? 

Sapnap turns back to Dream, but lifts a comforting hand to my shoulder and lets it linger there. The gesture is just as confusing as his words, filled with a protectiveness towards me. I look between him and Dream, feeling horribly torn as both of my best friends regard each other with varying degrees of hostility. 

What does he have to protect me from?

The youngest of us, yet always the most energetic and bright, looks tired and clouded, expression drawn tight in regret, blame, sadness, anger- the list goes on.

Dream looks terrified and guilt ridden, hands gripping his arms hard enough to leave bruises. 

"Sapnap, I-" he starts, but is cut off harshly. 

"No. I don't want to hear it, Dream. You should be apologizing to George, not me. This isn't about me, at all... it never is ." Blue-green eyes narrow, and hands clench into fists.

"I know," Dream shivers. "I know, I know. But, please- right now, I can't-" He lifts a hand to his mouth, doubling over. "Sap, please. With you, it's multiplied."

The words make no sense to me ( what exactly is being multiplied, and why is it making Dream so upset?) but Sapnap understands, his building emotion fading like paper in the rain. 

"You can't ask this of me, not every time. Not now. I'm doing this because I love you, but I love George too, and I won't just drop this argument because you felt too much." Sapnap's words slice into Dream visibly, yet his tone is free of malice, only pain and concern. 

Dream ' felt too much'? What does that mean? 

"Sapnap... you don't have to do this for me. It's fine, we're fine. Dream's going to tell me whatever it is as soon as he's ready, he promised." I interject, desperately trying to stop the fight (could this even be called a fight?) between the two. 

"That's funny, because he promised me that he'd tell you before he told you he loved you. And he didn't. It's not fine, George." Dream flinches at Sapnap's admission, but doesn't deny it, or say anything in his defense. The worst part is that Sapnap doesn't even sound mad, just desperate.

"Dream, we have to talk. Now ." Sapnap's order is calm, but his expression is anything but. "George, could you give us a minute?"

I'm stunned, unable to think or react. "W-what?"

Sapnap pulls me into a hug, and I startle a little at the sudden action. "It's okay. We're... we're okay, I just need to talk to him, alone." I'm not reassured, as I can feel Sapnap's trembling through the hug. We never argue, never fight, never like this, and it's terrifying. 

"Okay," I mutter shakily. "I'll- I'll wait in the living room." I'm out of character, but it feels like all of us are. Dream isn't meant to be guilty, and on the verge of tears. Sapnap isn't meant to be trying to protect me from our best friend. I'm not meant to be scared and devastatingly quiet. 

None of this is right. 

I extract myself from Sapnap's hug, watching both of them with wide eyes as I stagger out of Dream's room. There's nothing I can do, and I hate the feeling of helplessness.

Ignoring the burning in my eyes, I pick up Patches from her favorite spot on the couch, and hold her to my chest. 

You're fine. You're fine. This isn't a big thing, everything will be fine. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry, don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry-

Patches meows as my chest shakes, flicking away a tear that slides down my jaw and onto her fur.

Chapter Text

Sapnap waits until George closes the door before rounding on me, condensed emotion building back up rapidly, evident in the color on his cheeks and the flash in his eyes. "Dream! You promised me you'd tell him. You're dating, he trusts you more than anyone- how is he going to feel when he finds out that you've been lying to him?!"

"I know, I know," I groan, fisting my hands in my hair and tugging to try and expel my panic. "I tried to tell him, I swear-"

"Don't swear. Don't promise. Not when you don't mean it." His tone is as accusatory as it is levelheaded, and I wince. 

I've broken promises to Sapnap, and George, and myself. 

"I do mean it!" I didn't mean to yell, but my voice shattered the bubble around our hushed conversation, making everything seem much more real. "I did- I do, I mean it. I tried, but I just couldn't."

Sapnap matches my volume, arms crossed protectively over his chest as if the stance could hide the paleness to his face, or the shaking of his hands. "You couldn't, or you didn't? Dream, you can't do this. You can't lie to him anymore. You need to tell him the truth, and right now." 

Right now..?

My heart races at the thought of confessing to George, something that seems to have been looking over me for quite some time. I'm scared, and my fear shows itself in anger, raising my voice and sharpening my sentences. "You know what, Sapnap? I tried. I tried to tell him, and I failed. I will eventually, but it's up to me, in the end. I don't have to listen to you. It's my choice when I tell him about my empathy."

He stares at me, looking shocked by my sudden turn from guilty to defensive. I'm just as surprised. We've argued before, but never over anything that matters. Never anything like this. 

Never anything serious. 

"It's not just about you, Dream! It's about George, too. He loves you! Don't you trust him?" The question is painful, both to hear and to speak. I can feel Sapnap's internal recoil from the challenge, his worry about what I might answer.

"Of course I do!" I feel like my brain is melting under the combined onslaught of Sapnap's amplified emotions and my own surging feelings, and I can barely form coherent sentences. "I fucking love him, and I trust him more than anything! But I- I can't."

I can't, I can't, I can't. He'll hate me. He'll leave. I just got him here, and he'll already be gone. 

Sapnap looks on the verge of tears. "Why the hell not?! You're hurting him with this, you have to have noticed!"

I'm hurting him? That's not true, is it? I know he's upset but... 

The truth is, there's no 'but' in this situation, and I know it. If I acknowledge it, if I admit that my secret keeping is harming George, then I will break, and I won't be able to pick up the pieces. The only other option is to keep yelling, words forming a useless dam against a flooding tide of accountability that is bound to crash into me sooner rather than later. 

So I swallow against a stinging throat, and force harsh words past dry lips. "Sapnap, this isn't your problem. It's my empathy, my condition, and my boyfriend."

He shakes his head disbelievingly, like he can't believe I just said that. Anger swells, in both of us- his, justified, mine, an unreasonable front spurred on by an echo.  "Are you being serious? ' Your boyfriend'? What about my best friend? You don't have some monopoly over George, and if you think you do, you're an idiot. George is his own person, and when your actions start affecting him, it's not just a you problem anymore."

I pace back and forth, frustration obvious. Sapnap doesn't flinch at my loud footfalls, but he does keep his eyes trained on me warily. "I know he's his own person. I'm not trying to-" I fling my hands up helplessly, unable to communicate my meaning and not even entirely sure what my argument is. "I don't know! The point is, it's my condition, and I'm the one who has to deal with it."

As he starts to interject, I talk over him. "Don't fucking say that it doesn't change anything, because it does. I can't go anywhere because of it. The airport was nearly a disaster, Disney was horrible, and Twitchcon wasn't even an option for me."

I usually hate thinking about my empathy's limitations on my life, but right now, I need to rant. Perhaps venting all of my frustration onto Sapnap in an argument isn't healthy, but I'm too furious to care. 

"I can't meet with any fans! I can't visit our friends, or meetup with anyone I've only ever known online! I can barely visit my family anymore, since my empathy's gotten so strong around them!" My eyes sting at the thought of my mom, and my little sister. I love them, and I make an effort to call them regularly, but the last time I saw them in person was on my birthday, in August. 

It's not fair. I'm desperate to blame someone, and Sapnap is right there, in front of me. My next words are unfair, and unprompted, but I don't care.

"And you aren't helping, not at all. Right now, your damn anger is about to make me punch you in the face, and it's not even me feeling it!"

To his credit, Sapnap doesn't back away. "Okay, Dream. Calm the fuck down, now, before you do something stupid."

"Something stupid, like what?" I challenge, feeling a foreign temper smoldering inside. 

Sapnap doesn't rise to my bait. He only glares at me, before speaking again, tone harsh and sharp like a knife on metal. "God, you can be so hard to deal with. Sometimes I wish I'd accepted Karl's invitation to move in with him, I bet it would be better than this."

Something inside of me cracks at his admission, but I don't let it show. "Fine, then! Go move in with your stupid boyfriend, I'd be better off without you here. You're irritating, and selfish, and need to just fuck off and mind your own business. 

Seeing his mouth drop open and angry tears rush to his eyes doesn't bring me any satisfaction, and I regret the shortsighted words the moment they leave my mouth.

"Karl is not stupid," he hisses through gritted teeth, "Although you are. You realize, you just told the one person who loves you despite your shitty condition, who doesn't care that you can always tell what I'm feeling, who always has your back and is willing to lie to friends and family for you, to leave you?! That I'm selfish and irritating, just for caring about you and George?! How can you say that? Is that what you really believe?"

He's right. He's been right, the whole argument, but the idea of giving in terrifies me. It means admitting that I've hurt George, and Sapnap, and myself. I can't stomach handling the responsibility and blame, so like a coward, I lash out again.

"Shut up," I rasp. "You don't know what it's like. You don't know how hard it is to live like this, what I've gone through. You don't know what I've sacrificed-"

"Sacrificed?" He laughs, sounding wildly close to his breaking point. "Dream, you're the one who doesn't know what I've sacrificed . I love you, and I love being your friend, but everything is so much harder because of your empathy. And you don't see it, you never see it, you're too busy seeing yourself and your own problems. You didn't see that George was in love with you, you didn't see that this is hurting him, and you sure as hell didn't see when he called me in a panic after you fainted that night. He was scared, and crying, and blaming himself- just like I'm sure he is right now."

George... George called Sapnap that night? Why didn't he tell me he was that upset? My head spins, and I suck in gasping breaths, trying to wrap my head around the influx of new information. Did I scare him that badly? I knew he was worried about me, but I didn't think...

"You shouldn't have let that happen to him, Dream. Not when you say you care about him. And-" Sapnap shakes his head violently, accusatory gaze burning through me. "And what about me? I do so fucking much for you, and you never even notice. Did you ever realize that I never invite Karl over, because he doesn't know about your empathy and you don't want to hide more than necessary? Not once. Not ever. Even when he thought I just didn't want him here, because why else would I be so adamant that I'm the one who goes to North Carolina, every single fucking time? "

"Oh," I mumble, because what else is there to say?

"What about all of my other friends? What about my family? They want to visit, you know, but I always turn them down. I hate flying, it terrifies me, but I do it at least three times a year just to see them, because they can't come here."

I feel guilt sweeping inside me, matched with my empathy reflecting and multiplying Sapnap's sadness and repressed anger. I didn't know his family wanted to visit... just like how I didn't know flying bothered Sapnap that much. I'm a shit person.

Sapnap continues, tears building up in his eyes as he uncovers hidden turmoils I never suspected. "What about George? I lied to him for you. I kept your secret, even when he begged me to tell him. Even when he was crying over the phone, I didn't tell him. You made me choose between the two of you, which is something I never wanted to do."

He scrubs a hand over his face, brushing away the few tears before they drip past his nose. "And- and every time I'm upset, every time I feel some strong emotion, I have to remember to keep myself in check, because it'll hurt you! And I don't want to hurt you, Dream, so I bottle up my feelings. Hell, I'm even doing it right now!"

I don't know what to say, what to think. I can't fathom that Sapnap's been condensing his emotions for- what, months? longer? -just to make my condition easier to handle. I couldn't even tell, not with the already increased strength of his emotions due to our long bond. How bad would it be if he wasn't controlling his feelings?

I'm still struggling to comprehend as he resumes speaking. "I know that they're amplified for you, and that it's not your fault, but it still hurts that you don't care. In your head, it's just you. You're the only one who has to hide your emotions. Well, guess-fucking-what! I do the exact same thing for you."

He takes a raw breath before barreling forward, words landing like punches on my skin. "You only hide around other people, or around George, right? For me, it's all the time. Whenever I'm in the same room as you, I'm always trying to tone it down. Even when I'm so- so fucking tired, I do it anyway."

I... I never realized Sapnap did all of  that for me.

I'm an awful friend.

"And what about the time I- the time I saved your life? I know it was terrible for you, but did you ever think about what it was like for me? I thought I was going to lose you. I thought it was going to be my fault. I thought- I thought your hand was gonna slip, I could see it- and then it didn't, and you were okay, but I still..." He turns away, breaking eye contact.

 "You were bleeding, and I was scared. And your blood was on my hands... literally. And it always is. I'm always the one who has to be responsible. I have to do the shopping, because going to the grocery store could end like it did at Walmart. You're still banned after that one outburst, remember! I have to go to Twitchcon, because our fans want to meet at least one of us and I owe them that. I have to cover for you, and make sure you're safe, because everywhere we go is dangerous to someone with encompassing empathy."

He's crying silently now, but keeps his shoulders squared and held high. He looks... he looks mature, and grown up.

I'm the one being childish here. I'm the one cracking under the weight of the responsibilities that Sapnap hefts everyday. It's starkly obvious, and I fold under the contrast. 

"... I'm sorry," I whisper, anger draining away to be replaced with guilt and accountability. "I didn't realize."

"No, you didn't!" Sapnap says, arms hugging his torso in an effort to shield himself from our conflict. "You didn't ever realize. You just think I'm- I'm irritating, and nosy, and- what else was it? Oh, right. Selfish. You think I'm selfish."

He takes a step closer, and I take one back. "Do you still think I'm selfish, Dream? After everything I do for you? After everything I give, do you really think that?"

I shake my head vehemently. "I didn't mean that, I promise-"

"Stop saying that!" He cries. "Just stop, Dream! You break your promises, and you don't care. You say you're sorry, then you turn right around and do the same thing again. Your word means nothing."

If there was a list for the worst things for the worst things you can hear from your best friend, that would be at the top of the list. 

My word means nothing.

I start to back away, and don't stop until my back hits the door. You don't deserve to feel cornered, my mind screams. You don't deserve to cry, or to leave. You deserve to be screamed at, and to feel guilty, and to have your horrible heart ripped out and stomped on.

"Sapnap, I-" I try, but am interrupted once again. 

"I don't want to hear it, Dream! I don't want your meaningless apologies, or your fake promises, or your excuses. I want you to fix this! Tell George about your empathy, please." He pauses to draw breath, hands still balled into fists. "At this point, you don't deserve my begging, but here I am. Dream, please, tell George about your condition, before this tears us apart."

"I-"

I want to tell him that I will. I want to tell him that I'll do as he so desperately asks, but I can't. 

I can't, because that would be a lie, and I've lied to Sapnap too much already. 

"I can't," I confess, almost too quiet to be heard. "I can't."

Anger and desperation flash back across his face, dashing through me just as rapidly. "W-what? No, Dream. No. 'Can't' isn't an option here. This isn't something that you can avoid. George needs to know, and you need to tell him. You don't get to hide, or run away, or try and forget about this."

I can't speak past the fire in my throat, so I just shake my head wordlessly.

It's cowardly, and weak, but my hand sneaks around and clutches the door handle. Before I can stop myself, and half subconsciously, I've opened the door and shrunk into the hall, still facing Sapnap through the now open door. 

"What the hell!" He calls, following me. "Dream, get back in here, we're trying not to freak George out anymore than we already have! And don't even think about running off to your room, we aren't done with this."

I need space, or air, or something, I say, or try to say, as no sound comes out. I think I'm panicking, but I'm not sure- that in itself is a bad sign, for me. I stutter something meaningless, before stumbling towards the stairs. 

"Dream! Stop running away, you fucking coward! I swear to god, if you don't tell him right now, then I will. You can't keep dragging this on!" Sapnap's yells are piercing, the first time his desperation has slipped into real anger. 

I garble out some unintelligible answer, and continue forwards, practically throwing myself down the staircase and staggering into the banister at the bottom. 

At the commotion, George looks up, and I feel my heart drop at the sight of the dried tear tracks heavily evident on his face and the redness around his eyes. Patches, who was curled beside him, leaps to her feet at the yelling and dashes underneath the couch. 

"Dream?" He questions, looking shocked and more than a little scared. "What-"

I don't answer, focusing all my efforts on remembering to force air into my lungs as I step desperately towards the front door, wanting nothing more than the Floridian sun on my face for just a minute, just so I can breathe. 

"Dream, if you don't get your ass back here, I'm telling him!"

I snap, hackles raising as I snarl at him. "Sapnap, give me a goddamn minute!! I need to fucking breath, and you're not helping! I'm trying, I'm trying, but I can't tell him anything if I can't breathe!!"

Even to my own ears, my voice sounds cracked and painful. Sapnap must hear the desperation in my tone, because he freezes halfway down the stairs, face paler than I've ever seen it, except for the time I nearly died in front of him, and he saved my life. 

He doesn't stop me as I wrench open the door. I spare one last glance over my shoulder, wincing at the fear in George's expression and the frigid anger blended with lingering concern in Sapnap's as I pull the heavy wood shut behind me. The moment the barrier is in place, I practically collapse onto the lawn, but maneuver myself into a sitting position on the stairs instead. 

I frantically fill my lungs with sea swept air, trying not to think. Don't think, don't think. Don't think, just breathe. Don't think about how Sapnap's pain is still in your head. Don't think about the tears on George's face. Don't think about how you've fucked up everything with the best people you know, your best friends- both of whom you love, in different ways.

Don't think.

Chapter Text

Faint yelling filters into the living room, I don't know the closed bedroom door is a blessing or a curse. Would it be better if I knew what my best friends were screaming at each other, instead of sitting here clueless and terrified? 

In all honesty, it would probably be worse, but I don't want to think about that.

Cries of selfish and sacrifice and stop echo down the staircase, and I curl my knees to my chest. Patches buts her head against my shoulder in an innocent gesture of concern that makes me want nothing more than to dissolve into a weepy puddle- but I just managed to stop crying, so I blink back the blurriness. 

This is fine. We'll be fine. It's just an argument, friends argue all of the time. 

I don't quite believe my fragile reassurances, and a loud noise from upstairs makes my stomach twist. 

Then, the sound of a door flying open, and the yelling voices double in volume. 

"What the hell! Dream, get back in here, we're trying not to freak George out anymore than we already have!" I flinch at my name, very aware that part of the reason for the argument is me. I don't know enough of the details to figure out why, exactly, but I know it regards the secret Dream is so afraid to tell me. 

"And don't even think about running off to your room, we aren't done with this." Sapnap's voice is scarier than I've ever heard it, sharp and loud. His faint southern accent always shows more when he's upset, and right now, he sounds like he just flew in from Austin. 

If Dream answers, I can't hear it. The next sounds are loud footfalls on the stairs, and wrap my arms protectively around myself. Why are they coming downstairs? I thought they wanted to be away from me..?

"Dream! Stop running away, you fucking coward! I swear to god, if you don't tell him right now, then I will. You can't keep dragging this on!"

Dream stumbles into the staircase, but recovers his footing and practically dives for the front door.

"Dream? What-" What the hell is happening? What are you running from? What could be so horrible that hiding it from me could cause this?!

He doesn't answer, only sparing me a quick glance. His eyes, usually so golden and glimmering, are a dull yellow. His hair is disheveled, like he's been running his hands through it, and his familiar cat beanie is missing. His face, from what I can tell, is pale. His hands fumble clumsily for the latch, and Sapnap appears at the top of the stairs.

I didn't think it would be possible, but Sapnap looks even worse than Dream. He looks as if he's been crying, and he's noticeably shaking. I'm sure he's on the brink of a full blown breakdown, something that simultaneously making me worried for my friend and for myself. If he starts panicking, what do I do? Who do I help, Sapnap or Dream?

Or myself , I think belatedly. But I've never been very good at that, have I?

"Dream, if you don't get your ass back here, I'm telling him!" Sapnap threatens, chasing Dream down the stairs. 

Dream curls into himself, but there's only so much he can give before he breaks- and when he breaks, he doesn't do it quietly. 

"Sapnap, give me a goddamn minute !! I need to fucking breathe, and you're not helping! I'm trying, I'm trying, but I can't tell him anything if I can't breathe!!"

Neither Sapnap or I move to stop him as he slams the door closed.

" What," I whisper, "did you do?" It's more accusatory than I intended, but I'm not exactly sorry. 

Sapnap shakes his head, wringing his hands tightly. "No, I didn't- I didn't do anything, I didn't mean to do anything. He just- he needs to tell you,George. I was trying to help."

I groan weakly. "What could possibly be so big, so mysterious, so earth shatteringly important that it could make both of you fight like this?  What could possibly be this much?"

When Sapnap closes his eyes and slumps onto the couch, I'm expecting him to tell me, but he stays silent. "I... I can't, George. I know I said I would, but- I don't think Dream would forgive me if I did."

"Would it be better if we just drop it?" I ask genuinely. "Just- I don't know, forget all of this happened, and don't make Dream tell me the thing."

"We can't. It's too big to ignore. And, the worst part, is that now, it's something that affects you too. I told that fucking idiot to tell you before you moved, but I think he was too scared you would decide to stay in England."

I feel a chill chase through my veins. When I was in London, the only thing keeping me going was the prospect of moving to Florida, of finally meeting Dream. Dream knew that, and if he thought there was a risk telling me would make me stay away from my- 

Well. My dream, no pun intended. 

The point being, if he thought his secret was big enough to make me stay in England, than it's much worse than anything I imagined. 

Well, there was something... something I read. An article about ADHD side effects. But I'm convinced that the article was fake, or exaggerated. Mind reading isn't possible, after all. 

"What, is he a secret serial killer?" I joke weakly, trying for a humorous exit to the tense situation. 

Sapnap doesn't laugh, and neither do I. 

"Sorry..." I mutter. "Not funny, I know. I'm just- I'm afraid, Sap. This thing- if it's as bad as both of you are implying, what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know." He answers honestly. "I don't know what you'll do, or how you'll react. Whatever happens, I'll be here for you. But- try not to judge him too harshly, okay?"

I want to tear my hair out by its roots. "Judge him for what ?!"

"Maybe... maybe go talk to him," Sapnap suggests cautiously. "He needs to tell you, now. I'll stay in the living room, close enough that if either of you need me I'll be here, but far enough away for privacy, or whatever."

"...right." Go talk to him. Go talk to Dream, who's been hiding something from you that's bigger than you ever imagined. 

"Do you think-" I start, but cut myself off. I'm not sure what I was going to say, but now it's swallowed up by the tangled mass of worry, confusion, and general turmoil inside of my head. 

Sapnap blinks helplessly at me, just as unsure as I am. Seeing his lack of direction is just as worrying as Dream's behavior.

Even though he's the youngest member of the Dream team, Sapnap typically acts the oldest. Sapnap's the responsible one, the loyal one, the one who's always had his priorities and dreams in order. He established his career, and his friends, and his home before he was even old enough to legally drink, something that very few people can claim to have done. 

Unlike Sapnap, Dream gets bogged down by the weight of the world and isolates himself, turning his pain inwards. I do the opposite, ignoring my own feelings and taking my anger out on everyone around me. Sure, our friend is affected just as strongly, but he's better at coping than both of us put together. 

So seeing him worn down and teary eyed is jarring.

"Okay." I swallow, rising to my feet determinedly. "Okay. Don't worry, Sap. It'll be fine, I'm sure." Comforting him is out of our usual dynamic, typically he's the one reassuring me, but right now I think he needs to see a brave face. Inside, I'm shaking, and crumbling, and falling to pieces, but I keep the chaos to a dull roar for him.

Because we're best friends- more than best friends. Brothers. And this is what we do for each other, like the family we are. Dream and Sapnap share the same bond, and Dream and I share one just as close, although far less platonic. 

It took me moving across the world to find my real family, and I'm not about to let them go over some stupid secret. 

Steeling myself, I open the door and step onto the porch. The dense wood closes behind me with a note of ominous finality, but I ignore it. Dream is sitting, shoulders slumped and head in his hands, on the stairs. He doesn't look up as I sit next to him, but he does flinch when I press my knee against his.

"Hey, Dream. Are you okay?" I ask, leaning into him slightly. His breathing is fast and loud, and I'm sure there are tears on his covered face. 

"Skip the small talk, George." 

I recoil, taken back by his harsh tone. "Oh. Um, yah. Okay." I fumble for a moment, gathering my thoughts, before I speak again. "Sapnap says I need to know what this secret is. You told me earlier that you'd tell me. So, please, Dream, would you-"

He's shaking his head before I'm even finished asking. "I can't. I tried earlier, and I'm only worse off in my head now."

I move my leg away from Dream's, giving myself space. "Yah."My voice is flat, cold. I'm not angry, but I am crushingly disappointed. "Okay. You know, I'm not stupid. I've noticed a lot while I've been here. I didn't want to guess, or make assumptions, but I think I have to."

"The first morning I was here, you fell and hit your head. You just happened to 'fall' at our sleepover the other night too, so there's probably some correlation there."

Dream widens his eyes, but stays silent, which is its own kind of confirmation.

"You hide in your room after more than two hours of socializing, every time. I thought you were just shy or something, but..."

I don't miss it when his hands start to shake.

"When we rode the Tower of Terror, you only reacted when some little kid started freaking out. In all honesty, I had no idea what to make of that at first, but I've done some thinking."

By 'some thinking' I mean panicked googling after we got back from Disney and Dream was acting so oddly. I hadn't been able to find anything I thought was real, but I did find an article published as part of an ADHD study... I thought the article was a prank, or a gag, but things were starting to line up a little too closely to what I'd previously dismissed.

"And you're always saying things like 'feel too much', or other confusingly vague shit."

Dream hasn't spoken at all during my rant. He just sits silently, gnawing on his lip and not making eye contact. 

I grimace as my theory begins to form, even though I'd rather not face it. "Dream, I'm gonna ask you a few things, and I want you to be honest with me. Please."

"Okay," he whispers, and begins to shred a blade of grass between his fingers.

"Does the thing you've been keeping from me have to do with ADHD?"

Shoulders tremor under the weight of invisible boulders as Dream nods.

Oh, I spiral. Oh, no. No, no, no. Surely it's a coincidence.

"Is it... dangerous?"

He shrugs blankly. "Yes. No. It's circumstantial, really."

Oh god.

"I read something about- um, encompassing something? ADHD influenced... Dream, is this- do you have-"

I can't finish the sentence. I close my eyes as I brace for the answer, knowing what he's going to say before he opens his mouth.

"Y-yes."

No.

That means-

No. 

This has to be a joke. Dream can't- can't read minds, or whatever the fuck he's implying right now. 

"Are you being serious?" I question, voice trembling. "Like, you can- you can do that mind thing? Where you know what I'm feeling just by looking at me? Is that even- is that even fucking possible? How is it possible?"

I've never seen anyone look more guilty in my life as he nods a simple yes, shattering my rose colored lenses.

"What," I seethe, "does this mean."

Dream struggles to draw breath, but I'm not exactly overwhelmed with sympathy. "Um. Basically, I feel everyone's emotions, sometimes stronger than they do. It only works in person, and has a few other limitations."

He can read my emotions?

Why... Why wouldn't he have told me sooner?

"Dream, we've known each other for seven years. How long have you been using this from me?" I question, feeling my fleeting anger shifting into crushing betrayal. 

"The... the whole time. George, I'm sorry. I meant to tell you, I swear, but I- well. I couldn't."

I shake my head back and forth so quickly my vision blurs, or maybe that's just the tears welling in my eyes. "Couldn't' isn't a good enough excuse, Dream! You've been, what, snooping in my hidden feelings the whole time I've been here?! I told you I loved you!" I gasp as the realization sends the pain of a knife through my heart and burning agony through my veins. "But you never needed to hear me say it, did you? You knew from the beginning how I felt, and you were just toying with me."

I'm on my feet, and yelling. When did that happen?

Dream is mirroring me, and now desperate tears are streaking down his face. "No!" He pleads. "I can't feel love or attraction with my empathy. It doesn't work like that! Please, George, what can I do to fix this?"

"Fix this'?!" I repeat incredulously. "I just found out you've been lying to my face for years, and secretly reading my emotions, and you think you can just 'fix it'?! For someone who can read minds , you sure are clueless about how I'm feeling." I hiss, splintering apart before his eyes.

He grimaces at the barb. "Wait, no. I can't read minds, I can't hear your thoughts, or anything!"

I'm struck with the irrational desire to laugh, but I refrain, knowing that if I were to give in I would sound absolutely insane. "Oh, and that's just so much better now, isn't it?!"

Dream starts to interject again, but I cut him off, tears now falling freely. "Do you want to know something fucked up? I'm more upset that you lied to me than that you've been secretly reading my emotions. Funny, right?" 

My choked inhale is more of a broken sob, but I ignore it.

"I wasn't trying to lie to you!" Dream defends desperately. "It was just a bad decision I made years ago!"

I glare at him, trying to force myself to be mad. If I'm mad, and screaming, then I can't be crying, and my heart will stop breaking. "So, you didn't care enough about me to tell me the truth in all of seven years? What about when I applied for the VISA, did you even consider that this was something I deserved to know?"

"George, no!" He cries. "It wasn't about how much I care about you. I love you , George. This was my fault, and my problem. I fucking hate myself because of this condition, and I didn't want you to hate me too."

Drowning in heartbreak and mistrust, I say something I know I'll regret.

"I don't believe you."

It's callous, and cold, and not even true, but I want him to sting just a little in retribution for the burning embers igniting my heart. Trust, to me, isn't easily given, and to find out that the one person I trusted the longest, and above anyone else, was lying to me for our whole lives together is devastating. 

I gave my heart to someone who has been breaking my trust for every moment I've known him. Every lie, every omission, every secret added to the ever growing mass feels like a shard of glass embedded in my stomach. 

When I agreed to move across the ocean for him, did he even think about telling me? When we hugged in the airport, did it cross his mind that I deserved to know? When we kissed, was he even the slightest bit guilty?

Before, I would have confidently told anyone who asked that Dream would never lie to me, never hide things from me, never manipulate my feelings in any way. In fact, I said the exact same thing to my mom when I told her I was moving to America for a man who I'd never even seen. I'd sworn on his character, and meant every word. 

Now, I don't know what to think. 

There's a reason you love so slowly. There's a reason you hesitate in giving your heart to people. 

It ends like this. They hurt you, or lie to you, or  break you. Every time. 

Every time, even now, with the best person I've ever known. 

My words have a visible effect on Dream. He staggers backwards, putting distance between us, and his breaths come in sharp gasps. "I- I'm sorry," he pleads, and he means it. I know him well enough to tell. 

He's shaking, and guilty, and even though he hurt me more than I could ever describe, I love him. 

This , I reprimand myself, is why you shouldn't have fallen in love . 

I suck in a deep breath and swipe the tears off of my face. I'm willing to forgive him, or drop it, or just deal with everything later, because he's suffering, and I would never want that. No matter what he's done to me, I still know him. I still love him.

"Dream-" I start to call, but he speaks first. 

"Don't, please. Don't apologize. You don't need to." He steps backwards, one pace, then two. 

"I went too far," I exhale. "I shouldn't have said that I didn't believe you. I know you wouldn't try to hurt me. But... this hurts. I'm still sorry, though."

Dream doesn't look comforted by my apology, face only drawing up into more of a guilty and painful frown. "I'm sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry. I wasn't- I wasn't trying to hurt you, I would never. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He's fully rambling now, sounding panicked and horrible apologetic. 

"I lied to you, and I yelled at Sapnap, I'm sorry. I try- I swear, I can't control it. I've tried, I'm always trying, and I can't get rid of it or fix it and it won't- it won't fucking go away." He pauses only to inhale, pressing his palms to his eyes as if covering them will hide the tears and redness. 

'Control it'?

Oh. He was talking about the... empathy thing. 

I'm alarmed by his expression, and by how broken he seems. "Dream? Are you... are you okay?" I step towards him, concerned, and I flinch as he practically jumps backwards and away from me. 

"Wait! Please, don't come any closer. Everything's- I can't- I don't want to-"

He leaves the sentence unfinished, and it hangs heavy in the air between us. He seems... terrified, of what, I'm not sure.

Could he be scared of me?

No. 

God, I hope not.

"Please, just stay away. D-don't follow me... please." 

I gawk at him, realizing that he's much more upset than I'd realized. Dream isn't just guilty, but devastated , and I don't know what to do."Follow you?" I echo, confused. "What-?"

Before I can say another word, he answers my question by bolting for the woods, running like a spooked animal reacting primitively to a flight or fight response. His sneakers thud lightly on the grass, and the late afternoon sun casts a halo around him.

"Dream, wait!" I dash after him, panicked, but I'm barefoot, and not nearly as fast. Dream plunges into the dense forestation around our house, and before I can reach the tree line, all signs of him are swallowed by the mass of ferns and bushes. "Dream!"

"No! Don't be stupid-" My voice cracks, revealing my true fear. What is happening? It's dangerous in the woods! Why would he run away?!

I try to follow him further, but the mossy ground is steep and uneven. The trees and undergrowth block any entrance to the forest. I can't run through the brush like Dream, I have to painstakingly separate the branches. 

Do I really want to go in there? I'm not even wearing shoes... 

But Dream's upset. He could do something stupid, or get hurt.

Pushing aside my doubts, I manhandle the closest palm out of my way, and shove into the swampy forest. 

Chapter Text

"Hey, Dream. Are you okay?" George's question is quiet, testing the air between us. I'm not okay, and I can't pretend to be. Everything, everything, everything has gone wrong, with Sapnap and George and me.

And it's all my fault. 

"Skip the small talk, George," I snap. It's cold, but I know what's coming, and I don't want to prolong it more than necessary.

 He falters at my bluntness, but moves to sit next to me anyway. "Oh. Um, yah. Okay..." He hesitates, clearly unsure of how to continue. "Sapnap says I need to know what this secret is. You told me earlier that you'd tell me. So, please, Dream, would you-"

No, no, no.  "I can't. I tried earlier, and I'm only worse off in my head now." It's an excuse, but I can't tell him, not now. I want to, I need to, but I just can't.

George scowls, and twists away from me, hurt. "Yah. Okay. You know, I'm not stupid. I've noticed a lot while I've been here. I didn't want to guess, or make assumptions, but I think I have to."

A cold chill washes over me, and I tear my gaze away from the grass to meet his eyes, finding a steely fire in the mahogany irises I've come to know so well.  I've lied to George enough, and he's ready to know the truth. 

I can't blame him, I would do the same in shoes. 

"The first morning I was here, you fell and hit your head. You just happened to 'fall' at our sleepover the other night too, so there's probably some correlation there," he notes, voice shockingly level. The calm facade can't fool me, though, as I can feel George's apprehension and mounting anxiety. 

"You hide in your room after more than two hours of socializing, every time." He continues. "I thought you were just shy or something, but..." His voice fades into a questioning silence, and he tilts his head, considering.

I can't deny any of it, because it's all true. 

"When we rode the Tower of Terror, you only reacted when some little kid started freaking out. In all honesty, I had no idea what to make of that at first, but I've done some thinking..."

Oh, right. I'd forgotten about the Tower of Terror. It was my own fault, I'd known it was risky to get on a ride with so many potent emotions. And when it's a kid, it's worse. My empathy, strangely, has always reacted worse to a children's reactions- probably due to the simplicity of younger emotions. For a kid, there's Mad, and Sad, and Happy, and Scared- and that's about it. Until your brain grows and develops, it's basically just primary emotions. 

"And you're always saying things like 'feel too much', or other confusingly vague shit." He concludes, and I want to slap myself for not being more careful. George is far from stupid, of course he would notice the unusual things I let slip to Sapnap on occasion, or the weird behavior I can't shake. And that's not even counting the times I've let my empathy slip in front of him.  

George rubs his face, looking exhausted and terrified. "Dream, I'm gonna ask you a few things, and I want you to be honest with me. Please."

"Okay," I say, because I can't deny him. I grip a handful of grass and tug in a blade, ripping it apart in my fingers. A sharp edge burns against my thumb like a paper cut.

It hurts, but right now, that's a good thing.

"Does the thing you've been keeping from me have to do with ADHD?"

I nod mutely, staying silent as I feel George's panic spiral. 

"Is it... dangerous?"

"Yes. No. It's circumstantial, really," I shrug. Yes: it nearly killed me. No: it's not anyone else's problem. Yes: it's ruined my life. No: it's just my life, so who cares?

He frowns deeper at my response, eyes wide and face pale. "I read something about- um, encompassing something?" He stutters, and I feel my heart skip a beat. This is it. This is the moment he figures it out, and hates me. This is the moment I lose him. 

"ADHD influenced... Dream, is this- do you have-" He closes his eyes and swallows roughly, letting the question hang. 

Deny it. You can fix this, you can lie-

But then what? George doesn't deserve anymore lying, and I can't keep this up forever.

I need to tell him.

I'm going to tell him. 

I owe him this.

"Y-yes."

Nonono my thoughts scream in a jumbled mess of terror, but there's no taking it back. George knows now. For better or worse, he knows. 

Trembling and on the edge of tears, I look up, and find his stricken expression watching me. 

"Are you being serious? Like, you can- you can do that mind thing? Where you know what I'm feeling just by looking at me? Is that even- is that even fucking possible? How is it possible?"

I nod again, unable to speak as I feel his hurt, his betrayal, his anger crash into me like a tsunami.  

"What does this mean." he rasps, eyes narrowed and full of accusations that I feel in my lungs.

 "Um. Basically, I feel everyone's emotions, sometimes stronger than they do. It only works in person, and has a few other limitations." Limitations like keeping me from interacting with anyone in person, or living a normal life, or even going outside without having to worry that I'll do something that ends with me getting hurt, or killed- something that's almost happened, once. 

George's crashing anger fades like a firework at midnight, an inky sadness taking its place. When he speaks, it sounds like he's fighting against every syllable. "Dream, we've known each other for seven years. How long have you been using this from me?" 

You've lied to your best friend for years. You've hidden this thing from him, and now it's going to ruin everything.

I look down. My own guilt sinks into my stomach, and his pain eats away at my spine."The... the whole time. George, I'm sorry. I meant to tell you, I swear, but I- well. I couldn't."

He shakes his head violently, angry and hurt tears flying in his eyes. "Couldn't' isn't a good enough excuse, Dream! You've been, what, snooping in my hidden feelings the whole time I've been here?!" 

No, no. Not him, too. 

"I told you I loved you!" He accuses, eyes red with a heartbreak that I can feel in my soul. "But you never needed to hear me say it, did you? You knew from the beginning how I felt, and you were just toying with me."

My own gaze was already clouded with tears, but my reaction to George's crying makes it worse. Bitter salt drips down my face while I desperately try to get a hold of myself and stop things from getting ruined even more."No! I can't feel love or attraction with my empathy. It doesn't work like that! Please, George, what can I do to fix this?" I say stupidly, voice catching as my burning tears blur my vision. 

"Fix this'?!" He cries. "I just found out you've been lying to my face for years, and secretly reading my emotions, and you think you can just 'fix it'?! For someone who can read minds , you sure are clueless about how I'm feeling." 

I flinch. "Wait, no. I can't read minds, I can't hear your thoughts, or anything!" Please believe me. Please, don't hate me. I can't control it, I can't help it, I can't read your thoughts. It's not like that. Please, please, please.

 "Oh, and that's just so much better now, isn't it?!" George spits, bitterness and broken trust in every word. "Do you want to know something fucked up? I'm more upset that you lied to me than that you've been secretly reading my emotions. Funny, right?"

Oh.

This is all my fault... 

George is crying because of me. Not because of my empathy, but because of me.

"I wasn't trying to lie to you! It was just a bad decision I made years ago!" I plead. It's true, I never meant to keep my empathy a secret for this long. It just... faded out of my mind, all those years ago. We wouldn't be meeting up for ages, so why should it matter if he knew or not? 

I was wrong, obviously. 

"So, you didn't care enough about me to tell me the truth in all of seven years? What about when I applied for the VISA, did you even consider that this was something I deserved to know?" 

I feel as if I'm dangling over a ravine, with only a fraying rope to keep me from falling. "George, no! It wasn't about how much I care about you. I love you , George. This was my fault, and my problem. I fucking hate myself because of this condition, and I didn't want you to hate me too," I gasp, desperate to stop the pain coming from him, from me, weighing the air in sadness and betrayal. 

I wait, hanging on by a thread, for George to say something, anything , to quell the guilt and self hatred crashing inside of me.

He blinks, and I feel a stab of bitterness and mistrust mirrored from him.

"I don't believe you."

My rope snaps.

Those four words are enough to send me plummeting to the ground. I don't feel the impact. I can't see past the tears in my vision, and my hands are numb. 

'I don't believe you.'

"I- I'm sorry," I rasp, backing away from my best friend. I should have known that it would come to this. I've hurt everyone I care about, ruined every relationship. And now, I've done the same thing to George. 

The voice in my head, the loud whispers of doubt and depression are back, amplified by the emotions drowning me. It's not just my empathy, though. It's my own emotions and actions in play.

Run. Run away, and don't come back. You'll only make it worse if you stay. 

You always make it worse. 

Your friends would be happier if they'd never met you. 

They'd be happier if you left. 

Why are you still here? Do you want to hurt them again? Do you think they'll ever forgive you after this? They won't. You've ruined it.

You turn everything around you into sadness and pain. You can't make them live like that. 

Run.

I'm not strong enough to force the murmurs out of my head. I'm not strong enough to pull myself together, to be brave and selfless like Sapnap or endlessly forgiving and loving like George. 

You're weak. 

They don't want you here, and if they did, you'd only make their lives worse.

Leave. 

Leave, and don't come back. If you care about them, you'll leave.

George inhales and rubs his face, echoes of forgiveness already radiating from him. I know what he's about to say, and I can't let him. George may act distant at first, never voicing his love or affections, but he's the most love-filled person I've ever met. He'd be willing to give, and give, and give, until he has nothing left, and I can't let him.

Not anymore.

"Dream-" He starts, but I interrupt. 

"Don't, please. Don't apologize. You don't need to." 

George must have noticed my change in expression, the blank emptiness and resolve that seeps from my heartbreak, because his features soften further. "I went too far. I shouldn't have said that I didn't believe you. I know you wouldn't try to hurt me. But... this hurts. I'm still sorry, though," he apologizes, words drenched in a painful kindness that I don't deserve. 

 "I'm sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry. I wasn't- I wasn't trying to hurt you, I would never. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." My voice is raw, cracked. "I lied to you, and I yelled at Sapnap, I'm sorry. I try- I swear, I can't control it. I've tried, I'm always trying, and I can't get rid of it or fix it and it won't- it won't fucking go away." 

 Concern furrows his face, and he moves closer on instinct. "Dream? Are you... are you okay?" 

No. 

George has no way of knowing what I'm feeling, but I'm not the same. I can feel every single damn emotion in his head, and I have to bear the guilt that they're there because of me. I'm carrying his anguish and mine, and it's more than enough to break me.

Consider me broken.

He takes another step forward and I lunge away, holding my hands out as if I'm trying to push him away."Wait! Please, don't come any closer. Everything's- I can't- I don't want to-" to hurt you again? To let you get close to me? To ruin your life, just like I've ruined mine?

"Please, just stay away. D-don't follow me... please." 

George blinks, confusion and sudden panic sweeping through him- and me. "Follow you?" Brown eyes find mine, wounded and betrayed, but somehow still full of concern for me. "What-?"

I'm running before he can finish his question.

"Dream, wait!" He calls, but I don't look back, forcing my way past the heavy palm fronds and into the dense cluster of palm and pine trees. The marshy forests have never been my friend, but I don't care. George falls behind quickly, and within seconds of me entering the tree line, he's out of sigh.

"Dream!" His voice carries through the trees, but I don't turn back. My heartbeat is too loud in my ears, and the ground is covered in moss and mud.

"No! Don't be stupid-" he calls again, voice cutting off as I dash deeper into the forest. 

He can't follow me, not barefoot. I'm sure he'll stay back, no one in their right mind would run into a forest in the middle of Florida without even wearing shoes. It's dangerous enough as is, with the large snake population, alligators in nearby lakes. The usual spiders and fire ants inhabit the tall evergreens, and the palm trees have bark sharp enough to rip clothes and skin, in places. The ground is slippery and covered in tangles of vines and tree roots. The numerous lakes, ponds, and rivers leave the ground saturated, with mud that acts a little too much like quicksand in places. 

I'm an idiot for running in here, and I'm from Florida. George hasn't even lived here for a month, there's no way he'd follow me. 

Right?

He's probably back at the house. Sapnap's there, he'll make sure George is okay. 

The sun is hot on my back, and soon, sweat is sticking to my shirt. The humidity rises with the temperature, the late afternoon sunlight slanting through the trees and casting short shadows on the trees. The sky is clear and cloudless, although I can't see much of the sky from under the cover of the trees. 

If I hadn't just ruined my life, I would find it to be a beautiful day.

***

 I don't stop to catch my breath until I physically can't run anymore, until my head is spinning and my breath comes in uneven and desperate gasps. I've been sprinting full speed for at least twenty minutes, but the density of the brush makes it almost impossible to make progress. 

Where am I?

I reach for my phone to check GPS, but when I turn on the screen, I see that it's nearly dead, and I have over fifty missed calls and texts from Sapnap and George. The pit in my stomach only grows at the sight.

Five percent battery, and no signal. 

I glare at the device, feeling my simmering guilt boil over into pointless anger. "Useless. Why do I even- why do I even try!" I throw the phone at the nearest tree, grimacing at the loud crack of breaking glass that follows my outburst. 

Oh. That was stupid, I think. I reach a hand up to my face to push my hair off of my forehead, and blink in surprise when I feel tears under my eyes. I didn't know I was still crying.

Rubbing my eyes harder, I look around, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings. I'm still in the forest, but the trees have started to thin a little, meaning I'm either getting close to a lake or the edges of the city. Orlando is interesting like that, a web of tourism and suburban areas interwoven with the natural forests, lakes, and wildlife. You can be in thick and wild forests while also being only a thirty minute walk to Disney world. 

There aren't any trails, or at least, none obvious enough for me to see. The only thing to do is head in the direction with the least trees, and hope for the best. I don't even know where I'm trying to go-the only thought in my head when I ran was to get away, to leave before I ruined my best friend's lives anymore. 

Where do I go now? I can't go back, not now. But at the same time, I can't just leave . My whole life is here. My house, and my family, and my friends, and my cat. 

God, Patches. It's stupid, but I don't think I could ever abandon her, not even if it means having to face my friends and risk making things even worse.

Although, thinking about it, how much worse could things possibly get? I've already broken George's trust (and heart), yelled at Sapnap while he was only trying to help, and been a burden to both of them. I didn't realize how much Sapnap does for me, or how hard living with me is for him. I didn't realize that my secret keeping would hurt George more than the secret. I was stupidly oblivious, and now, I'm paying the price. 

I can't go back, and there's nowhere to go, so I just stop. I stop moving, stop thinking, and let my back rest against a tree as I sink down, curling my knees up to my chest and burying my face in my arms. The bark digs into my back, and the sweltering heat makes my position uncomfortable and stuffy, but I don't care. 

I don't care. 

I left the only people I care about behind, and I don't deserve to go back to them.

Chapter Text

"Dream!" I scream, cursing loudly as the mass of roots and mud trips me and scrapes my feet. Running blindly into an unfamiliar forest isn't the brightest thing I've ever done, but there's no possibility of me turning back, not now. 

Dream was upset when he ran off, and knowing Dream as well as I do...Well, I'll just say he has a tendency to be self destructive, in more ways than one. He blames himself more than necessary when forgiveness has already been granted, holds grudges against himself (like the impressively stubborn idiot that he is), and neglects his physical well being.

 I don't trust Dream to keep himself safe in some random forest, not when he's this unstable. So, I'm going after him, because I'm not going to let him do something stupid and get hurt. Sure, I'm furious that he lied, and there's a lingering sense of heartbreak, but in the end, it's not enough to drive me away from him. How could it? He's Dream . The one person who can do something like this to me and still hold my love. 

It's probably bad, I debate, that he could lie to me like this, and I'm willing to forgive him so easily. 

But when I think about it, there's not much I wouldn't do for Dream. Even now, with my fragile and scarcely granted trust broken, I'm willing to rush headlong into a tangle of bushes and trees that I have no clue how to navigate, just to keep my best friend safe. 

Best friend, boyfriend, soulmate. All just words, none of which can describe Dream, not to me.

God, this is so fucking stupid. I'm so in love with that idiot, even though he hid something this major from me. Didn't he think he could trust me? 

Dream must have had a reason for not telling me sooner. Surely, he has some excuse. 

Or maybe, I'm just a gullible and naïve idiot. 

"Wait! I'm mad, but I don't- this won't help! Come back, please," I call, panting heavily. I'm not out of shape, but running through hanging branches, muddy puddles, and who knows how many patches of poison ivy is slowing me down. I'm tempted to stop and catch my breath, but Dream had a head start on me, and he's faster to begin with. 

Inhaling sharply against the burning in my lungs, I push off against the slippery ground, speeding up.

 Dream's trail isn't exactly obvious, but it's enough to follow, as long as I don't wait too long. There, a broken branch and footprints. And there, his favorite cat-eared beanie. 

Oh, I think, slowing just enough to pick up the hat and slide it into the pocket of my cargo shorts.  He must have dropped this? But how did he not notice? It's his favorite...  

He must be really upset.

I swallow gratingly, and scan my surroundings once more. For the most part, Florida is pretty level, with no mountains or extreme hills. Here, though, the forest floor slopes down alarmingly steeply, at least 50 meters of sheer downhill. 

"Dream!" I yell once again, hoping against hope that he'll answer, or at least slow down upon hearing me. If he can even hear me, that is. "Wait, pl-"

And then, before I can react, my bare foot catches on a rock protruding from the mud and underbrush. A jolt of pain that adrenaline stifles arks up my leg as I fall forwards, my momentum catapulting me towards the ground. Instinctively, I throw out my hands to catch myself, but they don't do much to help me as I land off balance and collapse onto my right shoulder.  

Gravity takes the upper hand as I tumble down the hill, and everything's a terrifying blur of color and noise. I scramble desperately for something to slow my fall, but come up empty handed. There's screaming, and after a second, I realize that the screams I'm hearing are being ripped from my own throat. Every spin leaves me more and more dizzy, and my shoulder is on fire, and I don't know which way is up until-

My back slams into a pine tree, sending a cascade of needles falling. 

Holy shit, I gasp for breath, unable to move and winded. Fuck, fuck. This is bad. 

Gingerly, cradling my arm and careful not to move my foot, I pull myself into a sitting position against the bark. My vision is still spinning, but at least I've stopped falling. Looking around, I find that I'm about halfway down the slope.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have known better than running down a slippery hill. Now, I've got no hope of catching up to Dream- and, worse, I'm hurt. I don't know how bad it is, but the trickle of blood running down my face is probably a bad sign. 

I reach for my phone, heaving a sigh of relief when I find it securely in my pocket, next to Dream's beanie. Zipper pockets, thank god. The screen is cracked, but it lights up when I hold it in front of my face. 

Out of instinct, I click over to Dream's contact, and press call. I know realistically that he won't answer, but at the same time, I'm hurting and want the familiar comfort of hearing his voice. 

I call three times. No answer. 

I expected nothing else, but it still stings.

"At the tone, please leave a message," the computerized female voice intones after my third failed call.

"Uh, hi. It's me- George. Dream, you should come back. I'm not mad- well, I am mad, but I already forgave you, idiot. Also, um... I might have done something stupid. So I kind of- kind of need your help. It's not bad, don't freak out," I reassure, lying through my teeth as my shoulder sends stabs of pain through my spine. "I just need you here. We need to talk about this properly, without you running away. So come back, please. If you listen to this, I- I love you. Idiot. So come back, okay?"

I hang up, ending the message with a bitter finality in my stomach. 

I open my phone again, this time dialing Sapnap. He must be panicking, I'm sure, after me and Dream both ran into the forest with no explanation and left him alone in the house. 

"George!" He shrieks, picking up first ring. "Oh my god, holy shit. What happened! I sat here for like ten minutes, and then all the yelling stopped, so I knocked and went outside, but- you were both gone!"

"Uh, yah." I rub my face, wincing a little as my hand comes away bloody. "So, Dream freaked out a little after I yelled at him. I was a bit harsh, but I don't know. He might have deserved it, after all of that. Uh, so, he ran away, and said something stupid like 'don't follow me'."

Sapnap is silent for a moment as he takes in my words. "Wait, so, why aren't you here?"

"I... might have followed him."

"George!" 

"I know, I know!" I huff. "But he was upset, and I didn't want him to just leave, not like that. And we hadn't even finished talking! I already forgave him, even though he..." I trail off. Even though he lied to me for years. Even though he's been reading my emotions. Even though he broke my trust. 

Sapnap exhales. "So, I take it he told you?"

I snort, rolling my eyes even though no one's there to see it but me. "Not exactly. More like, I guessed after he refused to say anything." 

He's stunned silent. "Really? Wait, how did you know?"

"Well, he's not exactly the most subtle person, is he?" I retort sarcastically. "But... yah. I figured it out, and yelled at him, and he freaked out. He ran into the woods out of nowhere, so I followed him."

"Wait, you both ran into the woods?! George, that was so fucking dangerous! What if you'd gotten hurt?"

"...Um. That's kind of why I called," I admit. 

He swears. "Damnit, George. What happened? Is Dream with you?"

"Dream's- I don't know where Dream is. I was chasing him, when I tripped over a rock. I'm fine, though." I'm not fine, but I'm clinging to the foolishly optimistic policy that if I don't acknowledge the pain, it won't be anything serious. "Could you come and get me?"

"Sure, but why can't you walk back? Are you lost?" He asks. 

I frown, realizing that I can't admit I need help without admitting I'm hurt. "No. I know where I am, I just... never mind. I'll be home soon. No need to come get me." 

"George, wait! It's fine, I'll be right there-" 

I hang up before he can finish. 

I'm fine. I'm fine, right? 

I try and stand, gasping as the movement makes my head spin and my bruised back and shoulder spark with pain. My foot's the worst part, it threatens to give way beneath me the second I put weight on it. I'm not fine, and that only becomes more clear as I try to walk. Each step is agony, and before I've even gone thirty paces, I'm sinking to the ground in defeat. 

Okay, maybe I'm not fine.

Gritting my teeth, I begin to awkwardly crawl forwards. It's stupid, but I don't want to call Sapnap. Accepting or admitting I need help has never been my strong suit. 

I know I'm close to the house, as I'd only been running for ten minutes or so when I fell. If I can just make it up the hill, I'll be fine. 

Although, that's a pretty big if.

***

By the time I crest the hill, my vision is spotty, and my whole body is throbbing. My efforts have only made my injuries worse, and I'm about thirty seconds from flopping to the ground and giving up. Still, I shuffle forward, and begin to rise unsteadily to my feet. 

I take a step, but my bleeding foot can't support my weight. I stagger backwards, and start to tip over. I feel my heart leap up into my throat, well aware of the steep drop behind me. 

No, no, not again! Desperately, I grab onto a palm frond, clutching it like a lifeline as I fall. The flimsy greenery snaps taught like a tripwire, the only thing keeping me from tumbling down the drop once again. 

I gasp as the plant starts to give, leaves snapping. 

"George!" 

I almost sob with relief at the familiar voice. "Sapnap! Help, help." 

A warm hand latches onto mine, pulling me back up and away from the slope. I can't breathe, can't think. I'm helpless to do anything but stand there trembling, until my foot gives out again and I slump against Sapnap. 

Once my dizziness clears, I open my eyes, and find concerned hazel irises staring back at me. 

"George! You said it wasn't bad, holy shit. You're covered in blood, barefoot, and you can't even stand up!"

"Sorry," I mumble, blinking away the lingering blurriness in my vision. "I didn't want to worry you."

He starts to punch my arm, but stops, noticing the way I'm holding it so stiffly against my body. "You're an idiot. I was gonna be worried anyway, you know? I'm just glad I ran out here when I did, you were about to fall off of a fucking cliff when I showed up. You're lucky I'm a genius, and thought of using the find my friends app. You and Dream both have it, so I just ran out here to your location."

"Yah, thanks," I pant. "That would have been the second time I fell down that thing today."

I didn't think it was possible for his face to get any paler, but here I was wrong. " Second ?!? George!" He groans. "No wonder you look like you lost a fight with an alligator."

"Well, I didn't," I note. "Which is good for you, I guess, since you're so terrified of them." I smirk jokingly, although my teasing doesn't hit as hard when I'm too exhausted to stand and leaning heavily on Sapnap. 

He coughs a surprised laugh. "Fuck, George. Only you could get yourself in a position like this and still make bad jokes."

" Bad jokes!" I repeat, faking offense. "My jokes are fantastic!"

He scoffs. "No, they're not. Just because Dream simps for you-" He cuts off abruptly, realizing what he just said. "Uh... sorry." 

A tense silence fills the air before I shake my head, brushing aside his awkward apology. "Don't be sorry. Dream is a simp, which is why we need to find him before he does something stupid like take out his guilt on himself. If he wasn't such a selfless idiot, he'd realize that I don't hate him. He was scared of telling me because he didn't know how I'd react, which I sort of get."

I take a deep breath, scanning Sapnap's face. From what I can tell, he's relieved, although it would be helpful to have an emotion reading mutation like a certain someone right now. 

"I just- I wish he'd told me sooner. I hate when people lie to me, especially when it matters." I shrug, ignoring the burning in my eyes. I've cried enough today. 

Sapnap nods. "Yah. I know how you feel, really. When I figured out about Dream's empathy-"

"Wait, he didn't tell you either?" I interrupt, shocked. 

"Ha, nope." He chuckles wryly. "Definitely not. I found out in the worst possible scenario."

Huh. That's... something. I was sure Dream would have told Sapnap. They'd known each other since they were just kids, after all. 

"'Worst possible scenario'?" I question. "Like, during a stream?" 

He shakes his head, a rare haunted look seeping into his eyes. "Um, no. It wasn't- it wasn't a stream. I guess I should tell you, but we should probably get you home first."

I'm filled with a burning curiosity, but I don't object. I do my best to help as Sapnap drags me to my feet and practically carries me back to the house. It's not too long of a walk, but by the time the edge of the forest is in sight, I'm panting and shaking.

 I'd tried to protest that we should go back and look for Dream, but Sapnap had put his foot down. I didn't want to admit it, but he was right, there's no way I could find Dream if I can't even stand up on my own. 

Together, we manage to limp into the first floor bathroom, where I sit down heavily on the tiled floor. Normally, I'd prefer the couch, but I'm covered in mud, leaves, and blood. Sapnap joins me a minute later, arms full of first aid products and washcloths. 

"Dude, are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? This looks bad. You're really hurt, I don't think Dream would want-"

I glare at him. "Absolutely not, Sap. Hospitals take forever, and in America they charge you for everything. Your healthcare here is shit."

Sapnap closes his eyes, looking about half a second from throwing the bottle of disinfectant at my head. "George. This isn't about healthcare. I mean, it does suck, but that's not the point."

"I'm not going to a hospital, end of story. Not right now. Once we find Dream, and make sure he's okay, and sort out this whole mess between the three of us, then I'll go to a doctor. Maybe. But no hospitals." 

He agrees, but it's reluctant. "Fine. But I'm not a professional, so I can only do so much for you right now."

I hum in acknowledgment, thinking back to when Dream fell and cut his head and I was the one in charge of cleaning the blood from his face. Now, it's me with the scratches and injuries, and poor Sapnap is stuck taking care of me. 

He starts to clean my face, using the washcloth to get the most of the blood off before moving on to my foot. The gouge and bruising where I kicked the rock is obvious, a dark purple already blooming on the side of my foot next to a jagged and deep cut. 

I wince as the rough cloth irritates my skin, but say nothing.

"Hey, Sap?" I ask after a few minutes of quiet.

"Yah?"

"Um. So, this is kind of random, but when I told you that me and Dream were dating, you seemed upset. Was it, uh, just because of the empathy thing, or..?" Or was it because you don't support us?

It surprises me, how much Sapnap's approval means to me. I'm going to love Dream regardless, but I still want Sapnap to be happy for us- because I want him to be happy with us. He's like a younger brother to me, despite the fact that I often act much younger.

 Sapnap came to visit me in London when being an ocean away from the people I loved the most became too much, applying for a passport with no hesitation. Sapnap trusted me with his and Karl's growing relationship. Sapnap fought Dream on my behalf, which isn't something I would ever ask of him, but is still a touching gesture.

Maybe it's stupid, but I want him to support our relationship. Even now, with Dream's guilt most likely eating him alive and our most recent conversation ending in tears on both sides. We're endgame, despite our rough patches- and we've had plenty. We always get around them, though, and I'm determined that this time will be no different. 

Sapnap blinks, a little surprised by the question. "Wait, what? No, it was just the empathy thing. I'm happy for you, muffinhead. Of course I am. I've been wondering how long it would take you to figure out your shit. I mean, I was hoping he'd confess after mentioning the empathy, but since you forgive him anyway, I guess it's fine."

I nod wordlessly, suddenly feeling crashingly overwhelmed by everything. I don't say anything else as Sapnap finished cleaning my various injuries, first with the washcloth and then with the rubbing alcohol. It burns, and the harsh chemical smell reminds me of doing this with Dream. Reflex tears stream down my face as Sapnap finishes with the gash on my foot before closing the bottle. 

"Okay, so, we don't have much as far as real bandages go, but I found a shit ton of these tiny bandaids and a roll of that... gazey stuff they used in that movie where the dog died. Oh! And there's this ankle branch I found, too. I don't know where it's from, but it was under the sink, so I'm sure it's fine. Probably."

I stare at him. "Um. What the heck?"

"Don't worry," he reassures, looking worried. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

 With that confidence inspiring statement, he starts to apply the bandaids. One on my forehead, one on my shoulder, one on my hand. He does his best with the gaze on my foot, wrapping it tightly before strapping on the ankle brace. 

I'm not even sure if the brace is necessary. For all I know, my foot could just be sore- or, it very well could be broken. It's hard to tell with the ankle, or at least, it is according to my limited knowledge of medicine. 

"Okay, there," Sapnap says, tightening the final strap. "Want to try and stand on it?" 

"Let's try it," I affirm determinedly, bracing myself for a jolt of pain as he pulls me to my feet. 

I wait, and... nothing? Gingerly, I take a step, and only the slightest ache echoes up my leg. 

"Sapnap, I could kiss you," I proclaim gratefully, before immediately reconsidering. "Well. I could, but I definitely don't want to. So I'll just..." I reach out, and pat his shoulder instead. "There." 

He laughs, relieved that the bandages worked, and pulls me into a hug. I yelp a little as my arm is jerked around, but play it off as a fake shriek when he looks up. I hug him back reluctantly, pushing away quickly so he doesn't see the small smile I'm unable to hide. 

"Okay, Sapnap. It's time to find Dream, before he does something stupid."

Sapnap smirks. "Something stupid, like falling down a cliff?"

Ouch. Sapnap's comebacks have gotten better.

"It was a hill ," I mutter bitterly. "And yes, something stupid like that. You said you have the find my friends app, right? Can you pull up Dream's location?" 

He grabs his phone, opening the app and selecting Dream's icon. The screen flashes a loading sign for a minute, before switching to an ominous location not found .

"Well, shit." Sapnap threads his hands through his hair, pushing his baseball hat away from his face. "That's bad. It means either he turned off his location, or his phone died."

I frown, a bubble of nerves growing in my chest. "So, now what? Where do we go?" I suck in a breath, starting to panic. That was my only plan to find him. "Should we call his mom? Oh, or his sister? Wait, can she drive yet? No, we should definitely call his mom-"

"George!" 

I freeze, swallowing the rest of my ramble. "Sorry. But, seriously, what do we do now?"

Sapnap gestures to his phone, which is open to a google earth. "Okay, look. So, this is our house. You and Dream ran off into these woods, and they're surrounded by lakes on two sides. On another, it's a school, so unless Dream was willing to get arrested for jumping the fence of an elementary school, he had to go this way. The forest opens up to a road here, and the road has a public bus stop. So, most likely, he's gonna try and take the bus somewhere- although, they only travel in city limits, so he won't be able to get far."

I gawk, a little taken aback by Sapnap's logical reasoning. Sure, I know he's smart, but he doesn't often show it like this. It's impressive. 

Although, I would rather eat a whole lemon than tell him that.

"We can take my car and drive to the bus stop, and we might be able to get there first," he concludes, already walking towards the garage. I follow as quickly as my brace will allow, stopping to grab a shoe for my uninjured foot before hobbling to the passenger seat and practically jumping in. 

Sapnap starts the car, accelerating past the speed limit as we exit the neighborhood and merge onto the main road. 

"... so. How did you find out about Dream's empathy thing?" I ask hesitantly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over us. 

Sapnap flinches a little. "Right. Yah. Okay, I should probably start from the beginning. I had just moved in, and I started noticing some weird things about Dream. He refused to go practically anywhere, he hated socializing, and he freaked out every time I brought up having company over." 

"It wasn't too big of a deal," he continues. "Not a first. I didn't really care, I was just excited to be living with my best friend. But, after, like, three months of living with him, I got sick of staying indoors all of the time, so I convinced him to take me on a day out. It was great, we got pizza, and messed around, and toured the city. And then... I saw a building with open top floor viewing for tourists. It was twenty something stories, and right on the waterfront. Dream didn't want to go, said he was scared of heights but... I insisted."

***

"Dream, common! This place is gonna be epic, just wait!"

Chapter Text

"Dream, common!" Sapnap urged, turning to grin at me. "The view is gonna be epic, just wait."

I glared at him, but followed anyway. I hadn't wanted to go, but it meant a lot to Sapnap. I'd been out with him all day, trying to make up for never going anywhere with him.

It was difficult, when he moved in. We both planned adventures for years that I couldn't fulfill, not with my empathy. And since I hadn't told him yet, he thought I just didn't want to go anywhere with him. 

My empathy sucked, in more ways than one. Ruining my friendship with Sap was at the top of the list, so I was desperate to do anything to fix it-

-Even spending the day sightseeing and forcibly controlling my empathy, and agreeing to take an elevator to the top floor of a sky-scraping office building and walk out on the open air viewing balcony. 

If I wasn't unnerved by heights, I would have been more excited. But my sweaty palms and racing heart made it hard to enjoy the view as we climbed higher and higher in the elevator, the other buildings shrinking beneath us as we reached the highest visitor floor. 

"Dream, look, bro! I can see our house!" Sapnap screeched as we walked out onto the terrace, jumping up excitedly and pointing towards the buildings in the distance. 

The balcony was actually pretty nice, with only three other people and a stunning view of Orlando. One of the onlookers was a security guard, with almost comically accurate sunglasses and an earpiece that looked like something out of a spy movie. 

I kept my distance from the rail, but looked over, wincing a little at the drop. A glass pane atop a three foot high metal fence was the only barrier keeping us from falling.

"Oh, wow..." I started to say, before I scanned the buildings visible. "Wait, that's a lie. Either you're lying or you're stupid, because this is the west view, and our house is on the east side of the city. And it's probably too far in the woods to see from here, anyway."

"Yah, yah, yah," Sapnap mocked, rolling his eyes. "So what. The point is, it's sick up here. Right?"

I wouldn't have called it sick in the sense that it was cool, but rather in the way that made me feel actually ill, but I agreed anyway. "Sure, it's neat. Wanna take a picture?" 

The sooner we take a picture or two, we can leave, I knew. I tried to hurry him up, but when Sapnap has his mind set on something, he can be stubborn. He refused to leave until he'd taken a panoramic of the skyline, and even then, he insisted on taking two more, 'just in case'. By the time he finished, at least ten minutes had passed, and my stomach was cramping into nervous knots. 

I had a bad feeling, then. It was like I knew, somehow, what was about to happen...

"Can we go, now?" I asked, leaning against the wall of the building. The wind, much stronger at this height, rustled my hair and threatened to blow away the beanie I was wearing. 

"Fine, fine." He answered. "Just let me post these, and then we can head out."

I groaned internally, trying and failing to keep my irritation and anxiety from bothering him.

And then, the doors beside me opened. 

Suddenly, like a storm cloud forming on the horizon, I felt a dark pit of something settle in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I tried to play it off, and act like this abrupt surge of empathy wasn't draining my energy and dopamine. The feeling was unnamable, and nothing I'd ever felt before- at least, not as strongly, and not from my empathy. It was like a black hole leeching my other emotions away, even the other empathy caused reactions, and leaving me with a blank emptiness that felt vaguely cold. 

I shivered, and Sapnap looked over. "Dream? You good?" 

Neither of us noticed the person on the balcony with us. From what I remember, they wore a dark hoodie, hood lifted to hide their features. 

I never even saw their face. 

I started to answer Sapnap, but the heavy darkness grew worse, cutting off my lungs and making me gasp for air, unable to breathe. 

"Dream! What's wrong!?"

I tried to force out an answer, but failed, doubling over in a raspy cough. I was terrified, both that Sapnap would find out about my empathy and that something was seriously wrong. This hadn't ever happened to me before then, a reaction so strong that I physically couldn't breathe. 

Beside us, the figure began to walk towards the edge. 

Neither of us saw. Neither of us realized. 

Sapnap pounded on my back, trying to help clear my throat. It was a meaningful effort, but the problem wasn't something that simple. 

Hyperventilating, I slumped against the back wall, desperately attempting to suck in a lungful of oxygen against cramping lungs that refused to obey me. My hands felt numb, I remember. Cold. Distant.

"Hey, you!" The guard called. Sapnap and I both looked up through our panic, expecting the guard to be addressing me, but his attention was focused on the hooded figure now leaning their weight on the glass, looking over. "Be careful! The barrier can't support your weight, and if you break the glass, you'll fall!"

They didn't respond, or move. It was then that I realized something was seriously wrong, and that the horrifying nothingness was coming from them. None of my blocking strategies were working against them, almost as if whatever they were feeling was enough to surpass all of my efforts. 

"Get back from there, now!" The guard yelled, sounding more urgent, that time. "You're gonna fall!"

The person on the rail didn't turn around when they answered, their words echoing into the sky. "... and what if I want to fall? What if I want the glass to break? What then?" 

Their voice sent tremors racing down my back, and blurred my vision. I'd never felt anything of this magnitude, a combination of heart wrenching loneliness and a feeling that could only be described as hollowness. 

Everything was fuzzy, but I recall Sapnap crouching down next to me, eyes wide and worried as the security guard started forward. 

And then, the person pivoted, and punched the glass. 

At first, it didn't break. It just cracked, icy ripples spreading from their hand. Then, as they made contact a second time, and a third, the glass dissolved into hundreds of jagged shards. 

Someone screamed. 

The guard ran towards the figure, while yelling something into his earpiece. I was too stunned and still too influenced by my empathy to even comprehend what was happening. 

One moment, I was slouching against the wall, and the next, I was sprinting towards the edge. Sapnap yelled my name, trying to call me back, but I didn't listen. 

I think I wanted to help. I knew I would get there before the guard, and I think I would have tried to help pull the person away from the drop. But whatever my intentions were didn't matter, as the moment I got within ten feet of the figure, everything shifted. 

The foggy blankness wasn't just in me. It was me. 

The ledge, I noticed suddenly, was right there. 

Right there...

I took an unsteady step forward, but then, hands were on my shoulders, slapping my face. It takes a moment for me to hear the voice, but then I realized Sapnap was the one yelling at me.

"-ream! What are you doing!"

I blinked once, then twice. "Um. I don't-" Talking is too hard, I decided, and moved another pace closer. The fall was like a gravitational pull on my mind, the freezing emptiness surging in my soul. 

"Stop! You're gonna walk over the edge, oh my god!"

I said nothing. 

Sapnap was hysterical, desperately trying to pull me away."This is the thing, isn't it?! The thing where you freak out and feel other peoples' emotions?!" The question penetrated my hazy mind, and brought a sliver of clarity back.

"You-you know about it?" I asked, voice sounding strangely flat. Everything I should have been feeling just wasn't there, replaced by the twisted nothingness.

"Well, I wasn't sure, but I guessed! And clearly, I was right, because you're about to-" he stopped mid sentence as I lunged forward once again, this time falling and cutting my knees and hands on the shards of broken glass. 

"Stop! Dream, do something! Fight this, whatever it is!" He pleaded, unable to hold me back anymore as I crawled forward, mind empty and eyes foggy. 

It was strange, how quiet my thoughts were. The emptiness was like a virus on a computer, corrupting the good software piece by piece. First, my emotions, then my body, and finally, my mind. 

I should have been scared, but I wasn't, not yet. I was just... cold. 

Sapnap grabbed my arm, twisting it painfully. I didn't flinch or pull away, only kept struggling forwards, until I was directly next to the shattered glass shield and short metal barrier. 

"Dream, Clay, no! Stop, stop, please!" He screamed, sounding raw and terrified. I couldn't react, not with the mist obscuring my mind. 

And then, I stepped over the ledge. 

I was falling, for half a second, before a sharp tugging and snapping pain in my arm yanked me to a halt. 

Above me, Sapnap gasped, tightening his desperate grip on my bloody hand. "Dream! No, no, no, nononono! I can't- can't fucking hold you!" 

The surging and continuous pain in my shoulder acted as a catalyst, or maybe, it was the fact that the person was no longer on the terrace, wrestled back inside by the guard before they could jump. Whatever the case, the emptiness cleared, and I woke up to find myself dangling over the ledge of a multiple story high balcony.

I gasped harshly as the wind slashed its cold gusts at my face, drawing reflex tears from my eyes. "Sapnap!" I called, sounding alive again. "What- what's-"

"Dream, don't talk! Help me, I need you to help me. I can't hold you much longer! I'll pull, and you climb up, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he yanked, sending a jolt through my chest.

"My arm, my arm," I sobbed, free hand scrabbling for purchase on the metal railing. "It hurts, Sap, help!"

Terrified hazel eyes stared down at me, desperation visible. "I know, I know! But you need to hurry, Dream! Please!"

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, I remember. I thought I was going to die, and that the adrenaline coursing through my veins was a hopeless effort. I was crying, I think, but I'm not really sure.

"Try again, okay?!" He ordered, raising his voice painfully loud to be heard over the wind. "I'm gonna lift on the count of three, and I need you to make it up!" 

I nodded, unable to speak over the fear knotting my throat like a closing noose. 

"Three!"

I looked down, and immediately wished I didn't. No one could survive a fall from this height, no matter how skilled they were at Minecraft MLGs. 

"Two!"

My hand was starting to slip, I could feel it in every throb of my shoulder and arm. Something had to be torn in my arm, or maybe even broken. I knew that if I didn't make it up, though, my injuries would be much worse than that. 

"One!"And Sapnap lifted with all of his strength, screaming as he took the blunt of my weight. I reached up, grabbed the metal bar- but my hand was covered in sweat and blood, and slipped. Unable to breathe, or think, or do anything besides panic, I lunged upwards one last time, and just barely managed to latch onto the rail. 

And then, hands were pulling me up over the rail by my arms and shirt fabric, and I was collapsing onto the terrace with swimming vision. 

They told me later, in the hospital, that I fainted right after that. They also told me about my eight various stitches from the glass cuts and torn rotator cuff in my shoulder, along with a sprain. Plus, a concussion from hitting my head that I don't remember happening. 

My medical file detailed my empathy, which was the only thing keeping the nurses and doctors from keeping me overnight in the psych ward. To any onlookers, I was the bystander who went mental after watching someone try and jump the ledge, and my friend had to save my life.

That part was true, though. Sapnap did save my life, something I'm beyond grateful for. I would have done the same for him, but still, it wasn't something he should have ever head to go through. Thanks to me and my fucking empathy, we were both messed up- and while I got the most physical injuries, Sapnap had to deal with the mental trauma of what happened. 

And we never talked about it, not really. I thanked him for saving my life, and explained my empathy fully, and that was it. He didn't leave me, like the only other person I'd told, which was more than I was expecting. My brain had almost killed me, and yet, Sapnap still wanted to stay by my side. 

I don't deserve him or George. Not when all I do is hurt them, like that . 

***

I jolt awake, starting from the nightmare. At first, I think I'm still dreaming, as I'm not I'm my room, or George's, or even inside a house. I'm leaning against a tree in the middle of a forest, with pine needles in my hair and mud on my shoes. 

And then I remember what just happened.

How could I have fucked up this badly? 

All I ever do is hurt my friends. And it's not just my empathy. It's me, and the secrets I kept from them. 

I know it's my fault, and knowing burns like acid in my throat. 

I stand up, not bothering to grab my phone as I walk forwards. I don't know these woods very well, or at all, really. I pick a direction to go based on how thick the trees are, and when I hit a clearing, I know I made the right guess. Ahead of me is a road, and down the street a few dozen meters is a bus stop. 

It's funny, I would have had to have walked a good couple miles to get to the nearest bus stop. If anyone had asked me, I would have guessed I'd only been running for half a mile, at most. 

I'm not thinking as I stumble to the bus stop, or as I stand up moments later to board the first passing bus. There's nowhere for me to go, and I don't have more than ten dollars cash in my pocket. My phone is back in the woods, and I'm emotionally unstable. 

I'm a fucking mess.

The driver doesn't ask questions, which is good, because I doubt I could answer them anyway. I sink into the seat at the very back of the bus, looking out of the tinted window at the car pulling up to the stop behind us. 

Wait, is that a Tesla?

I sit up, eyes wide as I recognize the familiar vehicle. There's no one else that could be besides Sapnap, and maybe George, although I have no clue how they found me. Hell, I don't even know where I am. 

My stomach lurches as Sapnap steps out of the car, and looks up towards the bus. 

Our gazes meet, and I'm not sure what he sees in my expression, but his hopeful expression drops into one of fear...

Fear. Sapnap, terrified. Glass, breaking. Blood, blood, blood on my hands. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see his face as the bus pulls away, onto the main road. My empathy is already pulsing, just from Sapnap's distant worry. I'm so much weaker than usual, it's pathetic. I haven't been this vulnerable since... well, since that day on the terrace. 

My mind wanders off into the realm of flashbacks and darkness as I lean my head against the seat in front of me, only snapping back to reality when I feel wind on my face.

What the fuck? Wind? Where... where am I?

When I look up, I'm not on the bus. In fact, I'm not inside at all. I'm... no. 

Here? No way. The universe is shitting me, right now. This isn't possible. 

I was trying to run away from my memories, but my brain backfired. 

I'm on the visitor balcony of the tallest building in local Orlando, wind in my face and a shocking familiarity in the metal railing. 

I can't catch my breath as I spin around, sure that I'm dreaming and will be jolting awake in seconds. Time passes, though, moment by moment, and I'm forced to accept that my surroundings are real when even a harsh pinch to my shoulder doesn't change anything. 

How the hell did I get back here? 

Somehow, without consciously trying, I ended up back where my empathy stuck the hardest, where it tried to take everything from me. I don't remember walking here, or when I got off the bus, or entering the building. The past... Well, I don't know how long, but the time it took for me to travel is all a blank gap in my mind.- which, all things considered, is probably a bad sign. 

I look over my shoulder, seeing two security guards, instead of one, like the last time I was here. The glass reinforcements are back, and there's a sign in front of the rail warning guests to stay back at least two feet from the edge. 

It's undoubtedly the same place. 

Being here is bad for me, like inhaling poison. The memories I've tried to hard to repress leech into my mind, my weakened mental barriers not strong enough to control my empathy, let alone myself. 

The guards eye me suspiciously as I lower myself to sit on the wooden flooring, back to the building and far enough away from the edge that technically, I'm not doing anything wrong. I don't blame them, I'm sure I look borderline maniacal with my tear streaked face, disheveled and muddy clothes, and raspy breathing. 

I should leave, I think, but where can I go? 

There's nowhere for me. My home is with the people I've sworn to leave behind, to stop hurting- and I can't let myself go back, I can't. 

I've never felt more lost. 

Chapter Text

I stare at Sapnap, mouth open and eyes wide. "What-? No, no. That's terrible! Holy shit, he could have died. And neither of you told me, until now?!?"

Sapnap winces, looking guilty and burdened. "Sorry, George, but it wasn't worth explaining. You would have been worried for nothing, and Dream didn't want to tell you."

Of course he didn't, I think bitterly. The list of secrets is only growing longer, and while I could never hate him for it, the lies do make my stomach cramp into knots of sour betrayal. 

"Right," I mutter, not pushing further. It's not Sapnap's fault I didn't know sooner, so it's not fair for me to snap at him. "Are we at the bus stop yet?"

"Almost, almost," he assures, braking smoothly and turning, revealing a small and unkempt bus station around the corner. The ferns of the nearby forest creep out and snag their way between the tiles and cement, as if the undergrowth is trying to reclaim the space. 

I blink, seeing a bus already parked and loading. "Sap! They're here already, Dream could be-"

He swears, throwing the car into park and jumping out. I fumble for my seatbelt, but I'm not fast enough, and the bus is pulling away by the time I'm able to clamber out of the car.

"Was that- did you see-?" I ask breathlessly, already seeing the answer in Sapnap's clouded eyes and slumped shoulders. 

He nods wordlessly, and I groan, burying my head in my hands and closing my eyes. Dream, as our luck would have it, was on the bus that just pulled away. 

"Well, shit," I exhale, laughing humorlessly and borderline hysterically. "What do we do now? He could be going anywhere, literally anywhere. Orlando is giant, and we can't track his phone. We need to find him! He's upset, and he makes bad decisions when he's blaming himself for things. Plus, now that he's face revealed, it's dangerous for him. People know what he looks like- and Dream is worth a lot."

Any multi-millionaire would be a possible target, especially one who is so prevalent. Added to the fact that fans know Dream lives in Orlando... it's enough to leave a bitter twist of worry in my throat. Not that Dream can't take care of himself, but... well, if I'm being honest, he can't, not when he's so upset and drowning in guilt. 

Sapnap puts a hand on my uninjured shoulder, and I lean into the touch. Normally, I would shove him off, but right now, I need the comfort. 

"Hey, George. It's okay, don't freak out. We're gonna find him, dude, don't worry," Sapnap reassures, a hollow promise. 

"But-" I start to interject, but he cuts me off. 

"I know that it sounds impossible, but we're us. We know him better than anyone else, and vice versa. We know his habits like ours, what he feels, where he goes-" Suddenly, he cuts off, eyes widening. "Oh. We know where he goes. George!" 

I stare at him, trying to follow his reasoning. "What?"

"I think- I think I have... I have an idea," Sapnap mumbles, brow furrowed. "Of where he might be. If Clay isn't at his mom's house, then he's probably somewhere bad. Like, he has this habit of trying to punish himself when he's feeling guilty. I wouldn't put it past him to go somewhere he hates, or somewhere that has bad memories for him."

I frown, knowing Dream's poor coping mechanisms well. 

"Okay, so. Where do you think he would go, specifically?"

Sapnap winces, raising a hand up to smooth the worry lines on his forehead. "Yah, that's the hard part. Maybe..." He hesitates for a moment, then suddenly, the blood drains from his face and his eyes widen. "Oh. Oh, I know where he could be. There's only one place in Orlando that he actually has nightmares about, he mentioned it once-"

"Well, where is it?!" I interrupt, urgency sharpening my words like a dagger on steel. "Where is he, Sap?"

He swallows, hard. "The rooftop. The one we were on when... when he nearly..." He trails off, but I get the picture. 

No, oh no. That's- I can't hear myself think, not over the pounding of my heart in my ears. "He wouldn't-" I ask, sounding like a gasp. "He wouldn't try and-" I can't finish the sentence, images of tall buildings and broken glass and Dream's tear-streaked face in my mind. "Would he?!"