raspberries and dirt

4. lavender

"Hello?"

George stared at the man who at spoken to him. He was handsome, with blond curly hair and piercing green eyes. He smelled of lavender and held a tabby cat in his arms.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

George answered, "I'm George."

"May I ask what you're doing in my home?"

The man had a lovely voice. It was nice and deep, slightly singsongy. It was a little raspy, too, probably from being unused. Did the man live by himself? It must be lonely. George never had 'friends,' as they always ended up enemies, but he couldn't imagine being alone for more than two weeks.

"Long story," George told him.

"I have nothing but time," the man replied. "I'm Dream, by the way."

Dream was an odd name, that's for sure, but George wasn't going to judge him.

"Do you have any food? I'm starving," George wasn't going to stop stealing food just because Dream happened to be extremely handsome. And had a lovely voice. And had a cat. George loved cats. But that wasn't the point. Even though Dream was extremely attractive, and had a nice voice, and smelled of lavender, and had a cat, that didn't mean George wasn't going to actually become friends with him. Friends were liabilities. Friends betrayed you. George knew what friends did.

So George sat down on the bed (Dream had a bed, an honest-to-God bed. George hadn't seen a bed with a mattress since before the floods. And it might be lumpy, but it was still a bed), and started from the beginning. After all, where else would he start?

____

Okay, so maybe George did trust this incredibly handsome man who smelled of lavender. That didn't mean anything. It wasn't like George was going to stay. He never stayed anywhere long. Just because George thought Dream was handsome, it didn't mean George had a crush on him or anything, right?

____

Dream had been so lonely. He hadn't realized just how lonely until George came along, with his bright blue sweater and his gorgeous eyes. It was nice having company for once. He appreciated Patches and all, but the cat couldn't hold a conversation.

Dream wasn't fully paying attention to George's story. He was too distracted by the way George's lips moved and the way his lips formed words. And the freckles splattered across his cheeks. And the way his hands moved along with his story, enunciating words.

It wasn't like Dream liked him or anything. It was just human contact, which he hadn't had in quite a long while. Jesus Christ, look at his lips. George was just a stranger that had broken into his home. Look at the way his eyes glint in the candlelight. George was just a very handsome stranger who had crossed paths with Dream. His hair has a streak of blond in it; look at that. Dream was nodding along to the story, which he was completely and totally listening to, when George stopped. Dream looked up from his spot on the floor. George had taken the bed, and it wasn't like Dream was going to ask the handsome stranger to move.

"Can I pet your cat?" George asked.

At this point, Dream would've let George stab him, and he wouldn't care.

"Yeah, sure," Dream said. "Her name is Patches. You never really struck me as a cat person, George."

George leaned over to pick up the tabby.

"She's pretty sweet," he said as Patches nuzzled against his hand. George wasn't really paying attention to the cat, though. He kept sneaking glances at Dream. Specifically, he looked at the way Dream leaned against the wall with his arms resting on his knees. The veins in his hands stood out, stark against his pale skin. George loved the way he sat like that. His sneaking glances turned into full-on staring as George noticed all the little details that made up one whole Dream.

Dream was too distracted by George to notice.