Flowers from 1970

Chapter 18: the notes (finale)

"May I see the phone, George?"

"Oh." George said, "Yeah, it's upstairs in my room."

George led Wilbur up the carpet steps to his bedroom. It was messy and he didn't have the energy to clean lately, so he was a bit embarrassed but Wilbur didn't seem to mind.

Wilbur kept constantly checking the clock, it was 9:21.

"Have to be somewhere?" George asked, and Wilbur shook his head.

"I just grew a habit of checking the time." He explained.

9:24

The phone rang.

"Is that him?" Wilbur asked.

George ran to the phone, longing to hear Dream's voice. Longing to talk to him, knowing there was some version of him that was still alive. He didn't even consider how off it was that he had called in the morning. Dream never called in the morning.

"I don't think I should talk to him," Wilbur said truthfully, "I don't know if I can bring myself to, and also it might mess things up, right?" He didn't know how any of it worked, he just assumed that it was safer not to risk anything.

George nodded quickly at Wilbur, he didn't have anything on his mind other than answering Dream. He wiped his eyes, gave a huge sigh, and picked up the phone, "Dream?"

"Hi, George."

"Dream, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice." George almost wailed, "It's been so long."

Dream was silent from his end for a moment, "Remember that hand print I put on your wall, how you freaked out when I asked if you held it."

George was lost, he didn't understand how Dream could start the conversation with such a random line, but he didn't care as long as he could hear his voice. "I do, why do you ask?"

"I know you held it, George." Dream said boldly, "I know how you felt. I know how you feel."

Dream was wrong. He had no idea how he felt. He had no idea what he had just seen the night before. "How I feel? Dream, what are you talking about?" George didn't even care that Wilbur was still in the room, he talked as if it was him and Dream in the room.

"You falter," Dream continued, "when I say something that goes a little too far. When I call you adorable, when I tell you I miss you."

"Dream can you just cut this and get to the point?" George snapped, and Dream's breath caught for a moment, almost as though he wasn't expecting this kind of reaction from George.

Dream closed his eyes, his leg shaking rapidly under his desk, "George, I love you." He said.

"Wh-"

"I love your voice, I love how absolutely dense you are sometimes even though you're one of the smartest people I know, and the way you answer the phone so fast when I call. I love the 'Hello Dream!'s' and the 'Goodnight, Old Man's and I even love how stupidly long you take to say you missed me back. Shoot, I love when you'd tell me I'm full of myself and how much you want me to shut up, but listen George, I don't want to shut up. I don't want to stop talking to you-"

George held the phone in his feeble, unsteady hand as his eyes glossed with a layer of salty tears.

"-and I just want you to love me back. I don't care if you say I'm full of myself, I know you love me back. So say it, please, George. I need to hear you say it at least once, I know you'll mean it so let's just get this over with."

George's eyebrows furrowed, "Get this over with?" George repeated, "Is that what you think this is? You trying to coax me into telling you 'I love you' just to 'get it over with'?"