Texts • DreamNotFound

streamys

December 12th, 2020

George wished more than anything to be on call with Dream the night of the Streamys. He didn't even bother to ask because he knew Dream would probably be with his family; he usually was when these things came along. He didn't feel hurt, but he almost felt... well, jealous. He shook off the feeling, though. He could text him anyway.

George's mom was asleep, and he was contently sitting at his desk on the side of his room, knees pulled up, scrolling through useless emails on his phone. It was around 1:40 am, an average night for George; he often stayed up to ungodly hours on calls with his friends or taking care of work that had to get done.

George looked down at his sweatshirt, or rather, Dream's sweatshirt. His mind began to drift... drift back to a few nights ago.

He smiled greedily to himself and buried his face into the side of his chair after turning his whole body to the side, bent knees and all. He brought a hand up and played with the taught leather on the headpiece, drawing insignificant, little circles as he recalled what had happened.

After the whole... mirror part, things kept... going. George giggled to himself, gushing like a teenage girl.

After teasing Dream a bit about how much he enjoyed seeing George in his hoodie, Dream began to tease him back, and a playful, flirty banter erupted between the two.

"Is it big?" Dream asked, sounding like an excited child waiting to get handed tickets to Disneyland.

"You saw it on me. What do you think, Dream," George audibly dragged out Dream's name, making the word much longer than it was originally meant to be.

"I just wanna hear you say it," Dream whispered, trying to hold in laughs.

"Of course you do. You just love my voice, don't you," George said it sarcastically, but the path of their conversation was teetering between two best friends giggling at a sleepover and a couple's late-night pillow talk.

As much as they both wanted to know, neither of them would ask the other what they were doing. The way they were acting. They were... flirting... and before, they most definitely didn't flirt. Sure, they were used to joking on streams, and sure they were crossing the line they had previously avoided, but coquettish voice/video calls were very different than flirty texts. Especially when they were alone; secluded, and reticent. It added an element of secretiveness to their relationship, the teasing, the idea that they may tip off the edge of platonic every once in a while, whilst still having no one else know. Well, other than the stream slips and constant pandering, that is.

"I'm surprised it doesn't stink, Dream," George had teased.

"Oh, shut up. You know you love it on you," George heard Dream's low chuckle through the cracky speaker of the phone.

He could imagine Dream sitting at his desk and watching George through his own screen, a blue, purplish light illuminating his side profile, sitting there in nothing but a black t-shirt and sweats, his freckles, golden eyes, prominent nose...

God, George still didn't know what he looked like, and he was still so sure he has a perfect image of Dream. Of course, his thoughts were assisted by the glimpses of the corner or Dream's face very rarely on face time, or the top of his hair poking out the bottom of the screen in snaps. His mind drifted back to what Dream might look like right now on call with him but stopped himself. He almost felt ashamed, like he wasn't allowed to think of those things. But at the same time, it was so, so tempting, so desirable.

George rolled his eyes and flipped the camera back to his face. "You seem to love it on me too, huh Dream." His tone was taunting and childish.

"I'd love it better off of you."