The steady rumble of the engine thrums beneath Dream's shoes. Parked under bright sun in his driveway, he nudges at the console controls while the air-conditioning refuses to show mercy. Light sweat graces his jaw, touched by a warm breeze, as the open windows do little to relieve the heat.
"I'm forgetting something," he mumbles again. "I am. I know I am."
"What is taking George so long?" Sapnap asks, sliding down in the passenger seat. Another pair of sunglasses rests over the bridge of his nose, tinted brown; definitely stolen.
Dream sighs. "Dunno."
"What'd he say when you told him we'd be waiting?"
"Just that he'd be right out," Dream says, readjusting the ball cap curving over his head. His hair warm beneath the dark canvas. He doesn't blame George for taking his time inside the cold, refrigerator of a house. "He did seem kind of distracted, though."
"You think he's nervous?" Sapnap questions, and Dream nods. "Why?"
Dream shrugs, holding a hand over the vents to feel them offer up a chill. "It might have to do with me asking about his-"
The word "camera" is caught right before it slips from Dream's mouth. Last night after bowls of spaghetti and hours of streaming, George made an offhand comment that he wanted to bring it with them today. When knocking lightly on his door to tell him they're ready to leave, Dream curiously brought it up again.
Sapnap is still unaware of its existence.
"His what?" Sapnap pushes, having caught Dream's hesitation immediately. "What does he have?"
Dream hopes one day to be a smarter man, and stop shoving himself in unnecessary dilemmas. He squints at Sapnap as though it'll minimize it. Answering him could smoothly avoid any issues of George being offended, or kickstart a day of harsh teasing. Perhaps Sapnap is more sensible than George gives him credit for.
"Sapnap," Dream says slowly, "hey."
His eyebrows raise, and he sits up attentively. "Oh, okay."
"I need you to be really serious with me for a second. I'm going to tell you something that is very important to George, and you have to listen carefully. Okay?"
"Um." Sapnap regards him warily, pushing the sunglasses out of his face. "Sure."
Dream purses his lips contemplatively, then continues. "Long story short, George has this special camera that he likes to take pictures on and he might be bringing it with-okay. No, no. Get that look off of your face." He snaps his fingers at Sapnap sharply to dissuade his growing grin. "He's sensitive about it. Look at me. You have to be nice."
"He takes pictures?" Sapnap repeats gleefully, his breath dissipating into a laugh.
Dream shoves at his shoulder, which only makes his condition worse. "Stop. Stop getting ideas."
"Dream." Sapnap's voice drops gravely. "Come on. That's fucking hilarious, you can't expect me not to-"
They both pause at the sound of the front door slamming shut. Sapnap's eyes leap to meet his, mouth widening in an overwhelmed stutter of what to say first. Dream angrily steals the sunglasses off his head.
"Not a word," he threatens in a hiss, pointing the plastic spokes towards Sapnap's eyeballs. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you dead."
Sapnap pulls a face at the seriousness in his tone, but leaves him a haze of whether he'll listen or not. George approaches the car, and Dream tosses him a smile, peacefully withdrawing the glasses to rest in his collar.
"We ready?" George asks, sliding into the backseat.
The strap of his camera bag is slung across his chest, and he pulls the bulky base into his lap protectively. Black fabric and dark leather, held carefully in George's hands with a promise of fragility, it seems undoubtedly special. Dream doesn't understand why he'd brought it to Florida in the first place.
He can feel Sapnap's curiosity, too, and prepares an apology for spilling the secret.
"That depends, George," Sapnap says as Dream holds his breath. "Are you ready for the best day of your life?"
His eyes jump towards him in relief. The menacing grin has fallen away from his face, meaning he could be intentionally nice, or biding his innocence for a later attack. Dream finds the ambiguity scarily similar to that of his younger sister.
"I'm not sure about this being the 'best' day," George responds vaguely.
Sapnap clears his throat. "Sorry, I think I misheard that. Can you try again?"
The gearshift stings the concave of Dream's palm as he slides it into reverse. He turns around and grows wary at the sight of George's sharp grin.
"I said," George continues, "that today is going to stink."
"I will crawl back there and strangle you."
"Easy," Dream says sharply, gaze passing between Sapnap and the rearview. "C'mon, guys. What'd we agree on?"
Their stream the day before had been hectic. Though they'd been careful to not mention their plans, tossing in valid excuses to throw viewers off the scent, the bickering grew out of hand. It was Quackity's fault, with all of his "mickey mouse streamer" jokes that made George laugh too hard.
Once fully disconnected, the three set loose boundaries in hopes of keeping peace for the following day.
"No bitching at Disney," Sapnap recounts. "But we're not there yet. We're on route."
"En route," Dream corrects as he pulls out onto the road. Sparse puddles from yesterday's rain splash under his tires. "Still counts, though. George?"
"What he said."
"George."
"Ugh, fine." George reclines dramatically in the middle seat, lips pressed together in a light smile. "Best behavior for Disney, or whatever."
Dream nods in satisfaction. "For Disney," he emphasizes to make Sapnap grin.
"Yee fuckin' haw," Sapnap says.
Disney music that would get them banned on Twitch begins to play from Sapnap's phone, stereo trickling to life. Excitement for their outing drifts in with the oncoming air-conditioning.
Dream has never been one for Disney, or theme parks, or anything hot and overcrowded and sticky. Yet when his eyes slide to see Sapnap's enthusiastic smile, sudden words of admission rise to his tongue. Meeting him for the first time on Main Street, joking awkwardly under the hot sun, and swearing to come back when they're old enough to buy beer-it's the only trip to the park that he's truly enjoyed.
The words feel too heavy to pass on now. Instead, he lands a hand on Sapnap's shoulder and gives it a hearty shake.
The ride continues with stifling warmth. Sidewalks are speckled from traces of morning drizzle, and the roads have usual midday traffic. Sapnap clings to the aux in the passenger seat, George reaches for a chance to add to the queue, and Dream's phone starts to ring.
He glances habitually at George in the backseat. "That's... strange."
"Your girlfriend?" Sapnap jokes.
"What? No, it's just-" Dream slides his buzzing phone out of his pocket, and hands it to Sapnap. "My do-not-disturb is on today. Who's it?"
The jingling tone continues patiently, as Sapnap dials down the music to a low murmur. "Your mama."
"Hah, seriously-wait. Seriously?" Dream slows as they pull up to an intersection, nodding when Sapnap tips it in question. The speaker clicks as it's held close to Dream's face. "Hi, Mom. What's up?"
"Hey honey," she greets. "We just went by the house and you weren't home so I wanted to give you a call. Are you going to be back soon?"
He eyes the car riding his bumper in the rearview. "Uh, no, actually. We've got a big day planned. Why?"
There's a brief pause over the line. A honk resounds behind him.
"It's the eleventh, Clay," she says lightly.
"The... the-oh." Dream's eyes widen as the stoplight flicks green. He eases off the brake pedal, distractedly glancing from the dashboard's clock to the road. "Shit. I mean, shoot. Is she there with you?"
"Yes," his younger sister's voice pipes up through the speaker. "I can hear you."
Dream's chest tightens. "Oh god. Hey, this must have completely slipped my mind with the guys coming in town and all. I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," she says.
"It's not. What-what can I do now?" he asks. "What is your guys' plan?"
"Well, I have work in a bit but could maybe see if-" He hears his mother's voice withdraw, and mutter away from the phone line. "Would you be fine coming in with me for the day?"
The eleventh. He recalls seeing the date from his mother's calendar sandwiched between his own events, and curses himself for letting it slip him by.
"No, no, she doesn't have to do that," he rushes. "We're going to Disney, Mom. And we-we were just talking about how we accidentally got extra tickets." He waves for the other two in the car to speak up, head scrambling to smooth over the damage of his mistake.
"Hi!" Sapnap says into his palm.
Leaning forward to lodge his shoulders between their seats, George greets, "Hello."
"Does she want to join us?" Dream asks quickly.
"Oh!" A pause of murmurs passes, then his mother affirms, "That would be great. She'd love to."
"You sure it's alright?" his sister questions.
"Yes, definitely," Dream says vehemently, while a chorus of staggered "yeses" chime up behind him. "You caught us on our way there now. Where are you, Mom?"
"We just stopped for gas near the plaza. Do you want to meet us here?"
He scans the road signs overhead; they're not too far for this to work smoothly. "Yeah, yeah. We'll be there in like, five-ish. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," his mother says breezily, the audible shift making him relax. "We'll see you then."
"Seeya. Buh-bye."
Once the call is hung up for him, Dream blows out a steadying breath to recalculate their plan for the day. Guilt claws unhappily in his chest. He looks at his passengers briefly before accelerating on the road.
"Okay. So, I completely forgot my sister was supposed to come hangout with me today. My mom has a big work thing and kind of hates leaving her alone, so-god." Dream leans a heavy elbow on the divider between the three of them, and kneads at his jaw with his free hand. "I knew it. I knew I was forgetting something. I should've double checked, I'm such an-"
George's knuckles press intentionally to the back of his bicep. Above the firm chill of an index finger, dipping below the fabric of Dream's sleeve, a thumb brushes across his tan skin. The touch is quiet in its familiarity.
He relaxes his arm into it, briefly, before he feels George's hand withdraw.
"I guess she'll be joining us, if that's okay," Dream finishes, keeping his eyes on the streets. His bicep feels bare. Why did George do that?
"Awesome," Sapnap says simply, reaching to nudge the music dial back up. "Clay Jr. is cool."
"She doesn't like you calling her that."
"Lil' Sap," he tries.
"Even worse."
"I'm meeting your sister?" George interrupts suddenly.
The constriction in Dream's throat squeezes his words dry, and he swallows. "Uh, yeah. You finally are."
George's voice grows quieter. "And your mum?"
Music thumps in the blown speakers around them. Sunshine skips across the settled dust on his dash. He has a strange memory of being driven to an appointment by his mother as a teenager, and staring at the light soaking the windshield. Desperate to fill the silent void of their ride, he'd muttered: I recently made a new friend, you know.
"Yeah," Dream repeats, breathing out the words carefully. "You will."
-
The parking lot of the gas station is sparsely filled by the time they arrive. Dream scans the cars until he sees one he recognizes, and pulls into a nearby spot. The market windows, cluttered with posters and colorful ads, reflect his bumper back at them.
"Oh, there." He waves at his sister, waiting in the passenger seat of his mother's car. He frowns once he realizes she's alone, and she points inside wordlessly. "Ah."
Sapnap dips his head to look at Dream as he begins to leave the car. "Should we get out?"
Dream nervously glances between them and the sight of his sister approaching. "Yeah, sure. Okay."
He never intended for the meeting to appear so out of place, without plan and without warning. It's not like George hasn't spoken with his family before, entertained his sister on calls when he's run off to the restroom, or exchanged words with his mother in easy pastime. Family and friends have long since been synonymous to them all.
Yet George knows everything he's spilled about his family, years of growing away and moving closer, what has hurt him and what has stayed. The opposite is also true: his mother knows the other end of that "everything," too. Here, his life could be collapsing under the weight of love on all sides.
Dream steps out in front of his car; his sister stops on the sidewalk before him.
"Hey dummy," she says.
"Hi dummy," he apologizes.
Her light eyes narrow as she squints at him. "Why Disney?"
Dream gestures over his shoulder to Sapnap, who is chatting with George on the other side of the car. "Idiot's fault."
She grins in approval. They both look back when George's voice carries over the frame, and her face lights up. "Is that George?"
He opens his mouth to try for a response, but is cut off at the sight of his mother pushing past the gas station doors and coming towards them with a similar smile. Once close, she hands his sister a bag of seasoned pistachios.
"Here, sweetie. They didn't have much else."
"This is my lunch?" she questions dejectedly.
The cheap snack is passed to Dream for his judgement, and he glances over it. "I made some sandwiches for us this morning. You can just have mine."
His mom gives him a look. He wants to tell her to not worry, and holds back from repeating words that have failed a myriad of apologies before. They're closer now, he knows that. In some ways, it makes casual talk more exhausting than it used to be.
"Would you mind getting some slushies?" he directs towards his sister, tugging out his wallet to thumb through some money. "Two big ones."
She takes the cash. "What flavor?"
"Dunno. All of 'em."
She leaves him with a handful of pistachios and the weight of his mother's silence. Muffled engines hum in her absence. The asphalt smells like gasoline.
"Extra Disney tickets, hm?" his mom prods finally.
Dream raises his eyebrows. "I have extra tickets, if Marcus isn't in town for your work-thing today."
"How did..." She trails off contemplatively, and shakes her head. "Again with that damn-"
"Calendar, yeah," Dream finishes with a grin. "Kick me off the Cloud share if you don't want me being nosey." His smile eases away as faint exhaustion settles on her face. "Come on, though, Mom. Odds are she already knows about him."
"I know, I know. Today is just... always too soon." His mother sighs, the light breath settling the air between them as Dream leans back on his car door. "Thank you for including her so last minute. It means a lot."
"Are you kidding? Sapnap hasn't shut up about hanging out with her since last weekend," he says easily. "Plus, she's saving me from going on any rides."
"I'm glad that works out in your favor, then." She tips her head to look over the car, and clears her throat, voice falling low. "So, should I introduce myself? Or are we waiting for you?"
He's brought back down to the reality of their lot, the presence of a cross-Atlantic stranger waiting feet away, and his face grows hot. "Ah, right."
The bag of pistachios is absently passed between his palms, shells rolling together noisily. He clears his throat in a poor attempt to dislodge his hitched breath. His mom settles a hand over his, and his fingers still.
"Right," he repeats. As they turn towards his friends' direction, he quickly mutters, "Before I do, he um-he likes his space. Okay?"
She raises her eyebrows at him, and slowly mouths a dramatic "okay."
They make their way to the other side of the car. Cheap plastic crinkles in his grip as he tries to get their collective attention.
"Hey," he says, and two pairs of eyes swivel to meet him. He gestures with his free hand. "Mom, this is George. George, this is my mother." George doesn't hesitate to offer a light nod. "And Sap-you know."
Was I breathing, when I said that? He watches carefully as the sight unfolds. Am I breathing now?
"Of course." His mom pulls Sapnap into a greeting hug with ease. "Hi, Nicky."
He pats her back briefly before pulling away. "Hello, ma'am. How are you?"
"Oh fine, just fine. Glad you're getting him out of the house." She turns to face George with a soft smile. "George, honey, so good to see you. How was the flight in?"
George is quick to extend a handshake, and Sapnap shares a glance with Dream. The offer is far more formal than they've witnessed from him before; they're bound to hassle him for it later.
"It was wonderful, thank you," George replies, giving her the well-mannered tone that Dream has only heard when ordering food on calls together. He remembers hugging George at the airport, seeing his authentic smile for the first time, and asking him the same question.
"Awful," he'd answered, like it was meant to be theirs, only.
Unaware of the surreality of George's composure, his mother nods pleasantly. "And they've been taking good care of you, I hope?"
"Yes, of course. It's been great."
"Well good, good," she says, voice all shades of calm. "I'm glad to hear it."
Dream looks between them restlessly. Something yellow in his chest continues to swell, pressing against his ribs, threatening to burst without warning. He knows Sapnap's eyes are on him.
His mother tuts lightly. "I honestly feel that I've heard so much about you, George. I can't believe we haven't met before properly."
"Me as well," George says earnestly. "Though I did promise you I'd apologize the first time we'd meet, so: I'm very sorry."
She tips her head at him quizzically. "Oh? You'll have to remind me what for."
"Keeping him up so late when your house was trying to sleep, ma'am."
She immediately laughs in recollection, and Dream is glued incredulously to the whites of her teeth and shine in her eyes. People aren't able to make his mother laugh so easily.
"I must be mistaken," she says warmly. "I can't imagine my Clay was yelling all that time at someone so polite."
"It's an act, Mom," Dream intrudes, eyes flicking to George. He gives him a playful smile. "Don't believe a word he says."
Sapnap claps a hand on George's shoulder. "I can vouch for that."
"Are you trying to make me look bad?" George questions with feigned embarrassment, lifting Sapnap's fingers off of him and letting his wrist drop.
Laughter is elicited from his mother again, and Dream's head declutters at the jovial sound of it. Ease slips through his core, letting him chuckle softly, as he gazes at the contained charm of George's smile. The only hint of nervousness he detects is the light interlocking of George's hands, a silent palm clasped tightly over pale knuckles.
A chime carries from the gas station doors, and Dream turns to see his sister pushing her way through them. The slushie cups in her hands are monstrous.
"Well look, George, you're going to be in town for a bit, yes?" his mother asks.
Dream sharply glances back.
"Yeah." George clears his throat quickly, and speaks up, "Yes. About another week and a half."
"If you get the chance, why don't you come by for dinner?"
Dream's jaw falls open. "Mom," he tries, but her small hand gently connects with his arm.
"Don't feel the need to say yes, you can think about it and let me know." She waits until he gives her a hesitant nod, then pats his shoulder.
They haven't acknowledged an ounce of it, yet-Sapnap's inevitable departure in three days time, and the solitude that Dream and George will have no choice but to wade in. How will they survive long days and quiet nights, unscathed? Where will they be at the end of it? It sets off a faint panic in Dream that he doesn't dare put into words.
"Alright. You boys be good." She nudges the hair on his sister's head as she greets them. "And you call me if you have any trouble, okay?"
"Yes, Mom," his sister says, but lets her adjust stray strands anyway.
"I can keep you updated on our plans later. We'd be happy to drive her home," Dream offers. It's a bit of a way to his family's house, but one he's more than willing to cover to amend his forgetfulness.
"I'll let you know." His mother aims to press a kiss to his cheek, and he leans down habitually to let her. "Have fun today."
They give her a disorganized jumble of parting words, and once she's gone, Dream realizes his friends watched the fiasco with transparent amusement. He hastily wipes his cheek with the back of his hand.
"So your whole family's that touchy?" George questions.
"Big time," Sapnap says.
Dream's sister extends a slushie cup to him. "Yep."
"Oh, thanks." Dream exchanges the pistachios for the drink, and doesn't bother asking for the change. Condensation drops on the exterior, chilling his fingertips.
His sister's gaze settles back on George silently. George returns the stare, with unsure glances to Dream and Sapnap.
"You're GeorgeNotFound," she says.
"You're... Clay's sister," he jokes vaguely, to successfully make Dream smile.
"I think you should call me Nancy."
George blinks at her. "I know that's not your name." The other cold slushie in her hand is held out towards him anyway, and he takes it gingerly. "Oh, okay. Thank you, 'Nancy.'"
"How come I don't get one?" Sapnap asks.
She shrugs.
Dream takes a sip from the plastic straw, and silently hands Sapnap the cup to share. Cold ice cools from the backs of his teeth down the length of his throat, settling calmly over any coals in his stomach that have been stirred by his mother's presence. The chaotic blend of sugary flavors may be a mistake.
George hands the slushie back to his sister. "Nice to meet you."
Dream's keys jingle when he tugs the lanyard from his pocket. His heart has refused to cease pounding inside of his chest. By all means, they'd successfully averted any type of crises from such a slapdash introduction.
"Yeah," he hears his sister say, as they gravitate back to the car. "My brother won't shut up about you."
-
From labyrinths of hot parking lots, to fussing over directions, tickets, proper application of sunscreen-Dream does not consider this to be the happiest place on Earth. He's been under duress since they spilled out of the car, and raided his scattered trunk of old hats and sunglasses for "identity protection." As usual, Sapnap and his sister quickly teamed against him, dragging them from the yawning mouth of the park to an abundance of rides. It's been several years since he last set foot on the curving roads, probably in hand with someone he doesn't speak to anymore, and his hesitance is evident.
Lands he hardly remembers the names of are explored with determined enthusiasm. He observes the bright surroundings contentedly, waiting outside lines with other tired parents. Occasionally, he'll listen to his friends' complaints, and join them on any attractions that don't lift him too far off the ground.
George has taken it upon himself to keep Dream idle company. He lags back when the others' energy is too much, or disappears with them to eagerly join a ride. Once outside of a noisy fast-track lane, George hesitates on his departure, and pulls the strap of his camera bag over his head.
"Keep it safe?" he asks, extending it to Dream carefully.
Dream is instantly much happier to be the designated pack mule, as he answers, "Of course."
When the three are finished and chatting about where to go next, Dream leans back under an awning in his precious stretch of shade. His palm is settled protectively over the base of the camera bag. He feels a lick of pride when George doesn't ask for it back.
Even though it was passed off with casualty, carrying such a prized object is personal, like they trust each other more than friends should. Then again, Sapnap did make Dream hold his half-eaten sandwich, so he reigns in his optimism.
At the excited mentions of teacups, he lifts his aviators to rub at his eyes. His stomach aches at the idea, but he pulls the map from the side pouch on his bag anyway to chart the course.
"Just give us the map," Sapnap says.
Dream holds it away from his grabby hands, again. "Hey, hey. Back off. You're gonna rip it."
"You suck as the map guide," his sister agrees, slipping it out of his fingers in the prime of his distraction. "George wants the teacups, too. Don't you, George?"
George looks away from a nearby pretzel stand, and back to their group. "Uh, yeah. Sure."
Dream tugs his shades back down. "You don't have to agree with everything she says."
"Yes he does." His sister's attention drops downward as Sapnap huddles over the map in her hands. They begin to craft an unorganized plan without mercy for Dream's sigh.
George peers up at him in further question, from beneath the floppy bucket hat he'd been forced to wear. His cheeks have a slight rosiness under the soft luster of lotion.
Cute.
"You don't," Dream reassures quietly, and George shrugs.
"There's no harm in it."
The map is shoved between them abruptly. "Dream, look," Sapnap says, pointing towards a corner of colorful streets. "This is where we first met."
Dream looks down with a nostalgic smile. "Star it. We can send my Mom a picture of us there, on our way out."
He leans off his backrest and turns his bag towards Sapnap, feeling as he hunts for a loose pen in the outer pocket.
"I remember that," his sister says.
Sapnap holds the map up to Dream's shoulder, and scribbles on the sleek surface. "No you don't. You weren't born yet."
"What? Yes I was."
Dream refocuses on George as they delve into further bickering behind him. They begin to step away from his shady solace, back to the river of traveling tourists, but George doesn't move. Dream follows the direction of his gaze to the nearby food stand.
"Do you want a pretzel?" he asks.
"Huh? Oh, no, I was just-" George's mouth presses together, and he exhales lightly. "Kind of."
Dream taps the brim of his dark hat fondly. "C'mon."
He keeps an eye on the wandering map fiends while buying from the vendor. Wrapped in the famous logo and bread twisted to mimic it, he hands George the warm pretzel. The savory scent of it floats into the humid air between them.
"Thank you," George mutters.
"No problem."
They continue walking, trailing behind their company, shoes scuffing slow on the spotted concrete. George's camera bag sways against Dream's hip, and he uses a mindful hand to steady it from jostling too much.
"So," he says. "Thoughts on the park so far?"
George hums, swallowing a bite of the dough. "It's big."
He laughs. "It is, it is." Dream pauses, eyes dancing over the tops of strangers' heads lazily. "Let me know if you want to bring home any more Disney shit, by the way. Some ears, or a t-shirt, or a tutu-"
"The pretzel is fine," George insists fervently, smothering his smile with another mouthful.
"You sure? Cause that's what I'm here for. To buy stuff, and nothing else." Dream grins as his patronage earns an amused scoff. "I have to be good to you. Mom's orders."
"Sapnap seems very happy about that," George dismisses.
Dream loops his thumb in the strap of his bag, keeping his elbow close to not nudge the set of small shoulders next to him. "He definitely does."
They stroll together idly, turning when his sister turns, and surveying the people that pass them by. The dark ball cap on Dream's head grows hot from the beating sun, and though he was teased relentlessly for it, he does feel that wearing it hides his face well enough. They've successfully avoided being recognized so far.
"She's really nice, your mum," George says suddenly.
"Yeh." A piece of the pretzel is torn off and extended to Dream, and he takes it gratefully. "She seemed happy to meet you."
George turns his head quickly. "Oh, did she?"
Dream side-eyes his valiance, suppressing a smile as he chews. "Mhm."
"Huh." George begins to wander paces in front of him, cupping the pretzel to his chest. "It feels like your family knows a lot about me, Dream."
The threat of spinning teacups is less dizzying than this. Strange momentum twirls the nerves in Dream's chest, to leave his brain in a scramble of George's doing.
"If I recall correctly, yours knows a lot about me, too." His voice oozes with a warm confidence that George either grins at, or despises. "Isn't that right?"
His heart flops helplessly when George tosses a smile over his shoulder. "Right."
Dream's awareness is brought to the difference in their strides, as George slows to walk next to him again. His shoes are clean and crisp as usual, but half the size of Dream's. He fights the urge to smile as he studies it.
"Should we take her up on her offer?" George asks.
Dream's eyes flick up beneath the dark cover of his sunglasses. His gaze steels ahead into Sapnap's back, which is undeserving of the interest, despite the hoodie he'd stubbornly brought now tied around his waist.
He likes the way that George says "we." If he's not careful, he knows he'll get addicted to that feeling.
"About dinner?" he clarifies aimlessly, wiping at the light sheen of sweat coating the back of his neck. "It's up to you."
"Do you think it was rude of me to not say yes right away?" George asks, with enough moderation to make Dream's chest grow warm.
"No, George."
After a moment, George mutters, "I have another question."
"What is your other question?"
"Did you, like, ask her to not hug me, or something?"
Dream tips his nose down, and peers at George over the top of his sunglasses. "Did you want her to hug you?" He pauses, letting his dark eyes fall away dismissively. "She would have if I didn't, to be fair. You don't have to be so worried."
"I'm not-" George breathes, then takes a mournful bite of his pretzel. Muffled, he continues, "I just want the people in your life to like me, s'all."
The confession rekindles a smothered warmth inside of him, and his smile lights at the sudden oxygen. He bumps George's arm playfully, sending a jostle through his shoulders. "Sapnap likes you. My sister likes you."
George nudges him back dismissively. "You know who I'm talking about."
"Who, Patches?" he teases. "Cause you definitely have her approval already."
"Stop being dumb. Your mum is different."
Dream grins again at the soft clip of his accent. "Why, though? It's not like you're my-"
The words scrape his ears as they collide with sharp silence. Dream catches his obvious trajectory with the back of his teeth, lips enclosed around his exhale, attempting to swallow it whole.
Boyfriend.
He can feel how abruptly George's open presence abandons him. From the halt in his breath to the stillness of his hands, Dream knows George heard the ghosted term fall. He doesn't dare turn his head.
"I... I know that," George says, tersely. "I know."
His side-glances rap against Dream's skin, blistering him in silence. The horrors of the theme park reverberate in Dream's ears with a nauseating hum.
"I know," George repeats.
"I'm sorry. That came out weird." Dream wants to wince at the sound of his own voice; how it lingers, unanswered. He tugs off his sunglasses to confront him in an unobstructed view. "George-"
"No, let's-" George avoids his eyes rapidly. "Let's not. Not today. Yeah?"
A terrifying conglomerate of fear and regret cements in Dream's throat. His vision is blinded by the repetition of colorful logos, cheerful slogans, and caricatures all iterating a message that mocks him. He promised to keep the peace and harmony of this place, and with hours of walking and rides left before them, he knows he can't bring himself to break it.
"...Okay," he says.
George attempts to flash him a reassuring smile, but Dream sees how it never quite reaches his eyes.
-
The teacups only make him feel worse. Dream should've expected pure violence once his sister and Sapnap got hold of the center wheel, but his faith in their benevolence is his downfall. They laugh at his misery. He threatens to get sick. All of his pleas are lost to their endless cackling, and his brain rots as the spinning continues.
Somewhere in the midst of the torture, their laughter and smiles make it worthwhile. He neglects to join them again, or on the next few rides, instead focusing on recovering from the nausea.
On their way to the next destination, George rejoins him in the back of the group. Dream stays uncomfortably silent in his surprise as a temperate breeze washes over them. The scent of nearby water and sweet foods is carried with it.
"So." George's cheek turns as he looks up at Dream, and asks, "Thoughts on the park?"
Dream meets his eye timidly. He's been watching George interact with his sister, and joke with Sapnap, but seeing him brush off their altercation is more frightening than he expected.
Yet George gazes at him, inviting and genuine as he waits. Dream presses his lips together in a grateful smile.
"I think it's going to kill me," he admits.
"Hm." George furrows his brow light-heartedly. "Would it be such a bad way to go?"
Dream lets out a forlorn sigh. "Only if I could go visit the-"
"Epcot ball, we get it," George interrupts, and chuckles softly. "Why do you keep saying that? What is it with that place?"
Dream turns to him. "The history, George. The culture. Think of all the pretty pictures you could take if we went there."
George huffs. "You're so weird. You talk about my camera more than I do."
"Well, it has been hanging off my back all day," Dream says. He sees George's face fall lightly. "Which is fine, more than fine. Really, I-I like carrying it. Makes me feel important."
His honesty earns a laugh. Dream forces his eyes to drift away from George as his face grows warm.
"I have been wondering," Dream prods, curiously, "why did you bring it along if you've hardly touched it?" He sees Sapnap and his sister at a booth on the side of the walkway, talking and pointing to stuffed animals hanging on the wall. As George opens his mouth, he suddenly interrupts, "You know what, sorry, hold that thought. I'll be right back."
Dream quickly slings his backpack around to the front of his chest, and draws out his wallet as he approaches them. He smiles politely at the uniformed workers behind the counter.
"Hi!" he says happily. "Can I get that one, and the one next to it, please?"
Sapnap rapidly turns to look at him. "Dream-"
"Thank you." Dream exchanges his card towards an employee, while the other takes down the requested merchandise. He has the animals in his hold and is passing them to Sapnap before he can get a word in edgewise.
"Dude," Sapnap says finally, arms full of the bombarded gifts.
His sister takes the one she'd been eyeing, reluctantly. "It's easier if you just let him do this," she mutters, but is unable to hide her smile. "Thanks, Clay."
Dream nods as he puts his wallet in his bag, and retreats back to George, who hasn't moved in the duration of his absence.
"Sorry about that. What were we-your camera, right?" he questions. "How come you brought it here?"
George studies him, silently, and he feels a nervous flicker in his chest. "Just in case," George says gently.
A quizzical smile settles on Dream's face. "In case of what?"
"I don't know yet."
George's eyes are on him and show no sign of drifting away. It floods Dream with a torrent of confused adrenaline. Shouldn't he be angrier, not letting Dream's arm brush his, choosing to walk far away from him, and speaking colder than he is now?
"You might be the most cryptic person I've ever met," Dream confesses.
George looks at him with a light smirk. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Good," he breathes quickly. A quiet pause rests in the air, and he reiterates, "Always good."
"Always is a big word," George says.
Dream smiles. "I'm a big-word kind of guy."
The eye roll Dream receives makes his pulse flutter in his chest. What is this? he wants to ask. Is this old, or is it new?
Rocks coated with shades of orange rise in front of them as they continue to wander forwards, talking sweetly or not talking at all. The flow of George's voice waxing and waning in sync with his own, so seamlessly, makes Dream's heart continue to pound. His sister falls back to slide between them eventually, linking her elbow with Dream's, but George inducts her to their conversation with ease. He tells her stories and asks questions like he's always known her, and always been there.
Dream's distaste for Disney melts, slowly, in the caverns of his heart.
His sister skips forward when a tall, rushing mountain comes into view, guarded by rails and crowded lines waiting for the watery ride. She stands next to Sapnap at the base of it, and they bump the fists of their stuffed animals together excitedly. Dream bought them a matching pair of the creature "Stitch," one pink, and one blue. He's amused to see who will end up with magentas and lilacs in hand at the end of the day.
He opens his mouth to comment on it to George, but is shushed before he can get a word out. Frowning, he attempts again, "What-"
"Just-quiet, be quiet," George rushes under his breath, glancing rapidly from where the two stand meters away. His hands quickly reach around Dream's waist, knuckles grazing his tense abdomen, and leaving a careless trail of firing nerves behind.
He unzips the bag at Dream's hip.
Dream's lips part silently as the sleek camera is pulled into daylight. He watches George's nimble fingers fly over the controls, his movements practiced and graceful, as he uncaps the lens and lifts it up.
His dark brows are pinched together. The roar of the roller coaster's splash descends around them, tangled with thrilling cheers, and the sound of Sapnap whooping happily.
The shutter of George's camera slices cleanly through the noise.
By the time Dream cares to look where the photo is aimed, he sees his sister and Sapnap drenched from the spray of the ride. They're laughing, clothes spattered in dark splotches, shaking droplets from their shoes and reveling in the magic that embraces them.
"Oh," Dream says. He turns back towards George, who immediately tilts the screen of his camera out of view. "What, I don't get to see?"
George's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Nope."
In his hands, the shiny box gleams with secrecy against the center of his chest. George recaps it with mindful fingers; Dream gazes down at him warmly.
"C'mon," he murmurs. "Lemme see it."
"No."
Dream tilts his head in disdain. George mimics him, and he feels a hitch of surprise at how animated he's been today.
"You'll have to hand the camera back to me, you know," he barters. "Seeing as I have the bag and all."
George's pale jaw tips up in defiance, and Dream lets his eyes slip openly over the curves on his face. The shadow of his bucket hat falls midway down his nose. Above a lightly stubbled chin, his soft mouth is quirked playfully.
"What if I just hold on to it?" George tests. "Then what?"
Dream dares to reach for George's neck and adjust a twist in his camera strap. George's eyes drop to follow every inch of the motion as Dream's hand smooths the fabric on his collarbone.
"I could just steal it from you," Dream pretends.
George nudges his fingers away with the back of his hand. "You won't."
"I won't."
A sharp patter of footsteps causes him to finally tear his eyes off George, and he's greeted with a wet hug from his giggling sister. He accepts the change of temperature wholeheartedly.
"We have to go on," she muffles gleefully into his chest.
He pushes her damp hair away, studying the dark stain it leaves behind. "You guys are more than welcome to. I have towels in the car."
"No," she says, as Sapnap joins her side. "We have to go on. All of us. Including you."
Dream laughs shortly. "Funny. You're a comedian."
"Dream," Sapnap pleads. "Just this once, come on."
"'Just this once?'" he echoes, eyes leaping from their abysmal smiles to the steep drop of the coaster behind them. "What about the teacups? Or the pirate-thing? Or the carpets-"
"Those are mild. Itty-bitty-baby rides. They don't count."
"Exactly," he drawls, shaking his head as Sapnap opens his mouth again. "That's my limit. I cannot do that."
His stomach plummets as they watch another group descend the rushing slope. He does not understand how they're laughing as their screams dissipate in a spray of white water.
"But George said he'd only go on if you did," his sister says.
He watches George's brows draw together. "I did?" His sister nudges him. "Oh. I mean, yes, Nancy, I did."
Dream stares at them blankly.
"Do I..." The volume of George's voice drops in an attempt for secrecy. "Do I have to get wet, though?"
Dream grins at his sister's irritated groan. "This isn't going to work," he says, retracting the stuffed animals from their hands. "Go have fun. I'll keep these dry."
He ignores the guilty pang at how dramatically sad the two of them look, and refuses to budge. Wrapping the fuzzy gifts in his arms, he musters up a soothing smile, as the prospect of him joining them begins to retreat.
"It doesn't seem like that bad of a drop, actually," George muses.
Dream's eyes jump sharply towards him. Intense horror begins to twist in his gut at the way George is studying the ride with quiet intrigue.
"No," he rasps.
George smiles as he looks back at him. "It looks kind of fun."
"It is," Sapnap encourages quickly. "Very fun, totally worth it."
The three of them dare to turn their gazes on Dream. His eyes widen, as he flicks from face to face, getting the faint feeling that he should cherish these last moments of his life. George meets his growing panic with an apologetic look.
"We should give it a try," he says lightly, floating with enough soft curiosity to make Dream's face fall. George could've whispered, "you're going," and it would have evoked the same, visceral fear.
"Don't do this to me," Dream warns. "Please, George."
"Hear him out," his sister says while Sapnap begins to laugh.
"Stop enabling him," Dream demands callously. "As a matter of fact, stop enabling each other. I will take us out of this park right now if you don't-"
"Are you still afraid of heights?" George questions suddenly.
Dream narrows his eyes. "I... am."
"It's only the one fall, Dream," he says. "Just once, and then that's it. Right?"
George takes a light step forward. Dream leans back. He's unsure what he finds so intimidating about a trio of short instigators, who he could tip like bowling pins with an easy nudge.
Dream's voice is low. "You don't get it."
"Why not?" George asks, as though they're alone in an empty park, standing and waiting for rain.
Dream exhales lightly. "Let's say I do go on. It's just one drop for you guys, sure, but I'll be sitting there absolutely losing it. I could pass out. And when the drop comes, I'd probably pass out again." His voice pitches with strain. "Maybe I'd start bawling, too. Does that sound like fun? You guys want to see me literally become an infant again?"
He hears his sister giggle, but George's gaze softens without warning. "I don't think you would," he says.
"Stop looking at me like that," Dream rushes wildly. "Cut it out. There's nothing you can say that would make me get on that thing."
A tense silence settles over them. His breath slowly calms down from tightened breaths he wasn't aware had formed in his ranting, and he meets George's dark gaze.
"What if I offered you a deal?" George asks hesitantly.
Dream glances at the other two, then back down. "A deal?"
George reaches up, and pulls Dream's head down by a palm on the back of his neck. His body bends forward rapidly before he can process the distance decreasing. Eyes wide, knuckles pushed against George's sternum, he feels his breath warm on his ear.
Quietly, George proposes, "What if I show you the picture I took?"
The air in Dream's lungs rushes out at once, gliding over George's shoulder. "Wh-what?"
"Go on it with us," he whispers, "and I'll show you the camera."
The nerves below his hairline sing with every fleeting moment that George's fingers press against them. Dream's gaze floats up warily to his sister, whose attention is quickly snagged by Sapnap gesturing elsewhere. He lets himself ease back to George, resisting the urge to drop his hands and pull him in by his waist.
"You're joking," Dream mutters, as George's touch slips away. "Why would you just for this-this stupid ride?"
George leans back, and pulls his camera strap over his head. He lowers it back into the bag while he speaks carefully.
"I want to make the most of my time here," he says lightly, then pauses. "The most of my time with... with you. If that means helping you branch out a little more, then-" His eyes slowly lift to Dream, and he blinks. "I'm willing to try that, too."
"You'll show me the photo," Dream says flatly. His heart is in his throat.
"I will."
He shakes his head the moment George smiles. "I don't believe you. I'm not going to go on that thing and lose a-a canon life, just for you to laugh it off and not show me." His voice grows quiet. "What if you're lying?"
As though simplicity is enough to unwrite any traces of fear between them, George mutters, "Trust me."
Dream's head echoes back memories of soft words over the phone line, light fingers sifting gently through his hair, the feel of gazing up into a steady downpour of rain.
Trust.
The sounds of the park fade around him as he considers what George's offer means. He thinks of the way George holds his camera, protectively, right over his heart. A vulnerable exchange of a photo for fear will break them both open. How could Dream ever refuse?
"I really, really hate you," Dream says hoarsely.
The nervous tangle in his gut briefly vanishes when George gives him a smile. "I'm okay with that."
At the first sign of success, Sapnap grabs them by the elbows and tugs them towards the ride.
-
Dream is shown two pictures for the price of one.
The first he can hardly process, with his throat screamed raw and hands trembling as he stumbles to the nearest bench. Sapnap shoves a printed image taken mid-ride under his nose, and claps his back as cackles unfold around him. Crowded in a log-shaped coffin, descending to their doom, the grainy film immortalizes his sister and Sapnap's grins.
Dream stares at the himself in the photograph.
He knows he'd been babbling like a maniac, sitting next to George and panicking up until the moment the final drop tore the life from his lungs. He's still dripping with water and sweat from the consequences of the ride. What he didn't know was that he'd buried his face into George's shoulder, interlocking their knuckles in a terrified grip, while George's free palm pulled his head closer in comfort.
It's the first photo of the two of them to exist, and it looks like this?
Dream tries to makes sense of it during his recovery. George's thoughtfulness for his fears is nothing new. He must've been too surprised to shake Dream off, letting him latch onto his hand mid-ride, but ultimately uncomfortable about it. Yet the smile on George's face in the frame makes Dream taste hope. He swallows, and doesn't catch the usual guilt that comes after it.
Head on fire, he asks George to see the second photo.
"You look like you're going to be sick," George postpones, politely. "Just wait until you can see straight."
After twenty minutes of walking in damp clothes and another five slumped on a bench, Dream is finally shown the camera. His sister and Sapnap have run off to ride the glamorous Space Mountain, and on the third time around, George declines their invitation. The day has been wearing on them enough to hint at it drawing to a close as the sun lowers in the sky with similar exhaustion.
"How are you feeling?" George asks as he carefully sits down next to him.
Purple and blue lights glow and bounce off their metallic surroundings. Families pass by them with murmured plans of an oncoming fireworks show. Dream's bench has become his place of admittance, made of dark green wire as he finally sinks into himself.
"I have a headache," he mutters.
A pause settles over them. George silently pulls his camera from the bag and switches the screen to display his gallery.
"We had a deal," he says hesitantly, holding it towards Dream. "It'll look better once I go in and tweak some things, I know the lighting isn't great and I probably should've focused it more, so I'm sorry if it's-"
Dream's racing thoughts slow to a gentle lull as he locks onto the image. "George."
"...Yeah?"
His eyes trace over every inch of the beautiful, captured moment. It's of Sapnap and his sister by the edge of the same coaster that nearly killed him, yet they're caught in a glistening spray of falling water. Smiles fold across their faces so vividly he can hear the high shrieks of their laughter. The fluffy animals he'd bought them are held, defensively, to their chests or mid-air to block the oncoming wave.
They're swimming in joy. If Dream didn't know better, he'd mistake them for family.
Slowly, chest heavy with feelings he cannot name, he looks up. "You should never apologize before showing me something that you care about. This is incredible."
George's eyes are wide under the praise, reiterating Dream's memory of their time in the hot tub. A light smile lifts across his face. "Really?"
"I was right there, right next to you, and I didn't catch a second of this." Dream lets out a huff of astonishment. "I mean, how did you know when it was the right time? It passed me by but you-you saved this for me. Forever."
"It's just a picture," George dismisses under his breath.
Dream smiles. "Bullshit. This is worth a thousand rides on that splashy-mountain nightmare."
"You mean it?"
"I mean it," Dream says, his voice firm with admiration.
He watches as the camera is tucked away quietly. George unknowingly rolls his wrist once it's free, curling fingers into his palm and flexing them as though they hold a hidden ache. Dream thinks of the on-ride photo stored neatly in his backpack, and though he can't remember much beyond the feel of a small hand in his, he frowns.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks quietly.
"What?" George stops stretching out his fingers to regard him. "Oh, from squeezing my-no. I'm okay."
His eyes trace over his thin knuckles with uncertainty. "You're not just saying that, right? You'd let me know?"
"I..." George lets out a short breath. "I guess it did hurt a little, at first." When he sees Dream blanch, he quickly adds, "It went away immediately, though. Oh my god, what are you-stop, I don't need painkillers. I promise I'm alright."
"Are you sure?" Dream pushes, slow to return the bottle to the first-aid kit. George gives him a look. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry."
His fingers twitch nervously where they rest on the space between them. In the silence, his growing aspiration tells him that if he did try, maybe George would let him search for invisible wounds on his palms. Dream carefully pulls his hands together to stay controlled in his lap.
"Actually, George, I am sorry," he finds himself saying, and pauses for his mind to catch up to his mouth. "For... for what I said earlier. Or what I didn't say. I know you probably don't want to hear it because we're trying not to argue on 'Disney day,' but-it's true. It was dumb of me to joke about that. I'm sorry."
Without pause, George mutters, "It's okay."
Dream's lips part at him in silence. Inches away from each other on an uncomfortable bench, numbed after a day of strange conversations and timid smiles, he still doesn't understand George.
He tries and fails to be soothed by George's acceptance of his apology. The light breath he draws in is saturated with humid air.
"I honestly don't understand why you're not more upset with me," he says.
"I'm used to it."
Dream stares at him sharply. "What?"
George finally looks at him, eyes caught in mild surprise as he rephrases, "I-I mean that you've said things like that to me for a while, Dream." His voice drops quietly. "So I'm used to it."
The tired nonchalance of his words strikes Dream across the face as a well-earned slap. Years of unrequited yearning have done this to George. Even now, after the acknowledgement of their mutuality, Dream still finds a way to unearth his old wounds. How many times has he made jokes that hurt, without realizing? At what point did George try to move on?
"Shit," is all Dream can say. His breath is low; his eyes fall with it.
He hears George huff lightly beside him.
A long stretch of silence sits on their shoulders that they don't try to fill. It feels like a shared recognition; the present is all that matters, now. Meeting Dream's family, adventuring busy theme parks, making excuses to stand closer or reach for each other's hands.
"We," George had said. Dream wants more than anything to believe in the possibility.
We walked side by side all day. We shared a sandwich that I packed for him. Dream glances towards George on the bench, heart beating loud and slow. We always end up waiting like this. On the phone, in the hot tub, in the kitchen.
We always end up here.
"Can I ask you something?" George questions, and Dream nods. "Why... Why do you dislike this place so much?"
A drawn out sigh leaves his lips in response.
George frowns. "You seem like you really enjoy it sometimes. Then it goes away, whenever you're reminded where you are."
"I'm not sure how to answer that," Dream says. "I was never really a Disney kid, I guess, so I don't get all excited about it like they do."
"Didn't you come here a lot, though?"
"Yeah. Mostly before my sister was born, but like I said, I didn't get much out of it." A smile passes across Dream's face before he can help it. "Well, I mean, it was kind of nice when I was too young to go on all the big rides."
"That's a weird thing to be fond of," George muses.
"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses. "I just wasn't forced to do anything I didn't want to. I could wait at the bottom with my mom, eating ice cream, while everyone else went on ahead." His smile begins to soften. "I... I remember this one time, my older sister somehow convinced her to go on a ride, and my dad stayed with me instead."
George turns to face him, and Dream's eyes drop down to his lap.
"He uh, he didn't really know what to do, y'know?" Dream chuckles lightly, fingers braiding together on his thighs. "We were never all that close. But... he bought me this stupid balloon. Like that'd make everything magically better, and I'd fall in love with Disney right there, on the spot." He pauses as the words fade out, letting the low swoop in his stomach rise up between his ribs. "He had this huge smile on his face when he handed it to me, though, and for a moment, it worked."
Dream can faintly hear the park chatter in his memory; see the warm expression of someone bound to be a stranger. His chest aches with the slow realization as he sinks into the tar of old scars.
"He never really looked at me like that again."
Dream's fingertips are wrapped tight over his knuckles, and he unclenches them once aware of the strain. The feeling collects in his chest, too; steady breaths ease it away.
"Why did you agree to bring us here?" George asks quietly.
Dream looks at the glinted concern in his eyes, and smiles dryly. "Gotta rewrite the old to work on the new, right?"
His eyebrows raise. "Is that really your rhetoric?"
"It could be."
Silence becomes of them again as any worries from George's gaze are left unsaid. Dream is beginning to grow fond of it. They stare at the space-themed constructions around them, and his eyes snag on a small puddle somehow leftover from yesterday's rain. The endless sun and hours of heat hadn't evaporated it away.
George hops off the bench suddenly. Dream looks at him.
"Can we go on a walk?" he asks.
Dream gives him a soft smile, and eases onto his feet. His legs no longer feel like they're fresh off the boat, having finally recovered from the uneasy coaster ride. Their quiet stroll stabilizes lingering paranoia as he walks, heel to toe, in rhythm.
"Is this their last ride?" George asks eventually.
Dream nods. "I think I'm going to break the news when they're done."
"Sapnap seems pretty beat. I'm sure he's-oh, there we go."
Dream glances around their empty surroundings at George's sudden pause. "Where are they?"
His question is ignored. George tugs his wallet from his pocket, and pulls out U.S. dollars.
"What? What are you doing?" Dream asks, before his eyes finally land on the employee surrounded by inflated mouse ears, attached to a hoard of strings. George meanders his way towards her, leaving Dream no choice but to follow.
He lays a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "What," he repeats, "are you doing."
George shrugs him off. "Buying you a balloon."
"No, you're not." Dream reaches for his wallet when George starts to walk again. "I'm serious, George, no."
To his surprise, George listens. His money is tucked back and out of sight before Dream has the chance to catch up to the motions. Halted in his path to the waiting worker, he looks up at Dream with an even smile, making his breath halt.
"Fine," George says. "Then buy me one."
Dream scoffs. "What?"
"I want a balloon," George insists.
"No you don't."
His face draws together in a familiar, stubborn ploy. "Yes, I do."
Dream studies his expression with exhaustion, and relents. He unburies his card from his backpack to politely greet the balloon-holder. He chooses a blue one that's easy on the eyes, encased in a clear shell. It's the darkest out of all the options, but faint sunlight and shapes dance through the plastic as he hands it to George.
"Thank you," George chirps. Not a moment after they've stepped away, he shoves his closed hand towards Dream.
"Wh-"
"Can you hold this for me?" he asks. He waves the string in front of him with a satisfied smile, and Dream stares at him in defeat.
"Oh my god," he mumbles, taking the balloon from George's hand.
George laughs as he begins to sulk to their bench, walking backwards to keep ogling at the defeated look on Dream's face. "You're so easy," he teases. "I didn't even have to try."
Dream tugs down the balloon, and thumps it airily against George's nose. "Shut up."
George bats it away with a hollow noise as his palm collides with the rubber. Dream bumps it again on top of his head, and giggles.
"I will pop it," George complains.
"Bummer," Dream says warmly, tucking the balloon under his chin as he gazes down. He sees George's mouth open and stall as a curious light crosses his face.
He reaches down to his bag on Dream's hip. "I have an idea."
The weight of the camera leaves the shoulder strap, and Dream's hand tightens on the plastic string. He quickly glances at George's concentrated expression, the idea of another photo making his chest stir with curiosity, until the lens is tipped towards him.
His heart pounds heavily. "George?"
The hand on the balloon string is nudged towards his torso; George's fingertips are cold on his knuckles.
"Hold it in front of your head," George directs gently.
Dream listens, and hesitantly hides himself behind the colored ears. He can hardly see beyond the blue nylon, but he feels George's camera on him, and doesn't remember how to blink.
The exposure wracks inside of him with uncertainty. He thinks of himself, frozen in a piece of George's life, to be taken across thousands of miles when the trip is finally over. His facelessness is bound to live forever.
Even though he can't see it, George says, "Smile."
Even though he'll never know, Dream does.
The click of the camera follows not a moment later. Dream slowly lowers the balloon, and sees George studying his screen with a grin. The sky behind him is fading pink, silhouetting him with tangerine, and Dream wishes he was bold enough to take a photo, too. He knows better than to ask to see it.
"Is there a reason you don't want my face in it?" Dream jokes, desperate to understand, but it falls flat when he watches George's face falter.
His mouth slowly closes from its amused smile. A complicated look writes across the pull of his brows as he swallows, and Dream watches the movement bob in his pale throat. George's eyes float past his shoulder.
"I think I see your sister," he says, and shuts off the camera for good.
-
The sun has gone by the time Dream's car pulls up to his family's residence. After voting to leave the park and arranging phone calls with his mother, they decided to take his sister home. The drive is long, and dark, but calming in its familiarity. They lean into leather seats with sweat-dried skin as yawns become a common passing.
The car frame rumbles as they pull up to the curb. Dream's mother left the porch lights on, and he can see moonlight shimmering on the lake beyond it.
"I'm uh, I'm going to walk her in," Dream says, voice low from the warm silence. His sister's hair glows yellow as she passes the headlights of his car.
He doesn't ask his friends to come with him.
Dream joins his sister on their path to the front door, and she doesn't say a word besides lightly nudging him to trek in the grass. She's used to his hovering. He tries to ignore the small nagging in his gut, telling him he doesn't call enough, or should take her out to lunch more often.
She steps up onto the front patio and mumbles a parting "seeya."
"Next time you can stay the night," Dream says.
She shrugs. "Maybe when the season is over."
"Good luck with practice tomorrow." He smiles lightly at her eye-roll.
In a light, arid tone of their mother, she mocks, "'Bright and early.'"
"Bright and early, that's right," he agrees through a chuckle, reaching to sling his arm around her shoulder.
She leans into his side as they hug, and the blue-colored Stitch is sandwiched between them. "Thanks for today. T'was fun."
He lets his forearm slide away from her shoulders. "Text me, okay?" A faint pang carries its way through his chest; no matter how much they've grown over the years, bumming knees and comparing heights, she still is so small.
She stalls with her hand on the brass doorknob, and lets her fingers slide away. "Hey, Clay?"
"Yeah?"
Her mouth is open in a silent stutter, before finally she says, "I really like George."
He grins immediately. "That's good. I'm glad you do."
She nods with finality and glances away, so he steps off the patio. He can see George and Sapnap through the windows of his car, waiting behind the idle glow of their phone screens. The night air is warm on his throat.
"I, um. I didn't know." The quiet strength in her voice causes him to turn back.
He meets her gaze halfway, brows drawing together in concern. "Know... what?"
"That you like him, too."
Dream's face heats up as they regard each other from several feet of silence away. Their world of grass and concrete seems noiseless besides the faint hum of bugs in the night.
"Oh," he manages to say.
"But like I said, I think he's nice. And funny. And kinda weird." She seems to be looking anywhere but his face, and for once, he's grateful. "He is cool."
"Cool." Dream winces at the soft break in his voice.
She clears her throat in pity at the sound. "Are... are you guys, like-"
"No," he rushes, eyes wide with surprise. "I mean, nope. No. We're just-friends."
The word feels wrong in his mouth, like embers of truth desperately coated with sand. Yet it isn't a lie, they aren't more than friends. They're not supposed to be.
He watches his sister frown. "Oh."
Dream tries to not think about her confusion at his answer, after she'd been with them all day, and came to a wildly different conclusion. He wishes he was unfeeling enough to blame it on her naivety. They are quiet for a moment more.
"I'm going to go now," he says.
She smiles at him dryly as he retreats down the yard. "Don't crash."
His head is still buzzing from the sight of the porch lights during the drive home. The warm ambiance illuminated his sister's face; how her mouth formed around George's name as it fell with quiet approval.
Her words continue to echo in his head. Dream finds himself again wishing he could see through the eyes of someone other than himself. He is painfully aware that his own expressions and words make his heart obvious-but what was it his sister noticed about George that implies the same affection? Is she right? Was it real?
Did I miss it?
Traffic lights glide over the windshield as he pulls up to a vacant intersection. Red flicks for the opposite, empty lanes. The cold weight of his phone rests against his thigh, recently disconnected by Sapnap from the charging port. As he accelerates again, it mindlessly slips to the side, and clatters below his seat.
"Nice going," Sapnap mutters against the passenger door, face glowing white from his own screen.
Dream lifts his eyes to the mirror. "George, can you reach it?"
"Uh, yeah." George ducks down briefly in the dark of the car.
The sleek device is passed over the left side of Dream's seat and the corner nudges his shoulder. He overestimates the distance when he reaches to retrieve it, fingers settling over George's knuckles, and stalling at the mistake.
The contact lingers for longer than it has to. His retreat is curiously slow, testing the passing seconds, and he feels George's fingers jump slightly to graze his. The touch severs as Dream pulls his phone back in front of him.
"Thanks," he mutters, but the nerves on his hands are burning bright.
George says nothing. The car ride continues in silence, save Sapnap's music and distracted huffs at his phone in the corner. Dream counts the passing dashes on the road and tries not to think.
He fails.
Their day replays continuously in his tumbling mind; glances, touches, and secrets that fill a hope too warm to be alive in autumn. He squints at the fuzzy lights on the road as if they hold his memories. In the sharp, gleaming refractions, he dares to imagine straying outside of the lines they've created. He dares to imagine that given the opportunity, George would follow him.
Music floats between enclosed windows in their liminal space as he chases a small inkling of an idea.
Dream wraps a large palm firmly on the steering wheel, holding it steady, and lets his other hand fall away. He holds his breath between the beats of a song.
Asphalt crunches beneath his tires. The beams from his headlights only illuminate so far into the darkness.
He slides his forearm between his chair and the car door as he slowly reaches behind his seat. Close enough to seal the offer in secrecy, but obvious enough for George's eyes, he cranes his hand.
Danger climbs in the black silence; street lamps glow on his open fingers. His hand waits for any sign of life.
Reach back, he wishes, eyes lost on the road. Please, reach back.
After a moment, his headrest tilts forward with the pressure of George leaning against it. He hears a low exhale whisper from behind him.
George's fingers are gentle, and slow, when they quietly slide into his.