Heatwaves Dreamnotfound (NOT MINE)

Chapter 5: Plunge

"You say whatever you're feeling, all of the time, like you don't know or care about what it'll make you look like. It's ridiculous, I mean, who does that?"

Gently, he repeats, "I know."

"I've known you for so long, and you're a great friend and I—," George pauses. "I care about you, because it's worked, online. It's always been online. Who's to say the second we meet in person, we won't have anything to talk about? Or, we meet and everything goes so well that...it's over?"

Dream clenches his jaw.

"That anticipated moment is over. Everything we've talked about for the last few years just...passes, and the expectations are gone," George continues, "and you stop talking to me."

"I wouldn't," Dream dictates calmly.

"You don't know that."

"I do," he swears, "I don't care whatever happens." If you somehow want me. "I'm not going anywhere." If you don't. "I'm here."

George sighs. "I appreciate your confidence, but still. Everything is going to be different than what we expect it to be."

Recognition clicks in Dream's brain. He'd shared a similar conversation with George years ago, and learned that George considers his life a careful balance between expectations, and reality. When the expectations fall through, and he's left with sheer disappointment, it's crippling.

"Are you worried it won't live up to your expectations?" Dream prods. 

"No," George says. "I'm afraid it will."

Words in response rise and then die on Dream's tongue, weighted by loss and confusion. He hopes that George doesn't expect poorly of him; what he looks like, or who he is in real life.

He hears a gentle patter pick up just beyond the clear curtain, and he lifts his head to survey the open window. The sky outside is darkened by tumbling clouds.

"George," he hushes, slowly rising to his feet as a feeling of child-like wonder swells in his chest, "George."

"What?" George asks, tired.

Once he's standing, he can see through the misted screen. His words come out in a whisper, "it's raining."

"Uh—"

"It's raining!" He clutches his phone to his ear as he scrambles out of the bathroom. "Oh my god, I didn't even notice—it's a break, it's a break!"

His feet carry him down the hall, passing under the skylight that is dappled with water splotches. His socks slide on the wooden floor.

"A break?" George says for clarification, and Dream can hear a faint trace of amusement in his voice.

"In the heat wave," Dream rasps, grinning when the sliding glass doors to his backyard come into view. The grass is drenched a vibrant green, bushes and palm trees whipping in the wind, and his concrete patio is stained dark grey. "When it's broken, it'll go down. The heat will go down."

He hears George laugh lightly. "I don't think I've ever heard someone this excited about rain."

"I've been miserable here, you don't even know," Dream rambles, pressing a palm against the cool glass, "day in day out, sweating bullets, the AC guy is booked for another week—and god, at the beach today it was horrible, I nearly roasted out there—"

"The beach?" George interrupts.

Dream falters.

"The one you told me about?"