The flowers were fine, George thought.
He had gone outside and noticed the Calendulas slowly blooming, and a sense of relief took over his body knowing he wasn't a complete screw up at gardening. He made a mental note to tell Dream about it later tonight.
Then he remembered: Dream had not called in the past week.
The first night he was worried but understood that sometimes Dream got caught up in things, and he'd apologize for forgetting to call the next day, but that was not the case. It happened two, then three more times until George was starting to get worried.
His mind filled with things that could have happened, all negative. The worst scenario being that the refason Dream had not visited him in 2020 was because he had lost his life before then, maybe in 1970. He shook these thoughts from his head and tried to think of the positive, like the flowers finally growing.
He walked back into his house and bedroom, trying not to meet eyes with the telephone because he'd only get worried again. Instead, he reached for his cellphone charging on the desk and saw he had missed texts. He unlocked his phone to read them, they were from Wilbur.
Wilbur:George, good morning
Don't worry I'm not asking you to babysit Tommy again haha
I actually wanted to see if you'd like to come to dinner tonight?
The last seat was actually reserved for my father, but you know he's at the hospital nonetheless he insisted someone fill his seat as he didn't want it to go to waste
George had not been out to a proper dinner since he lived with his family in England. The ones he had been to had been strictly business related with colleagues, with the talk being mainly about work, so he didn't count those.
George:Are you sure your father doesn't mind?
Wilbur's typing bubble appeared right away.
WilburWell, he insisted Lol, so I'd assume not
George:I'd like that, then
When and where?
Wilbur:6:30 at The Minx, better to get there at 6
George's eyes widened, The Minx had been the priciest restaurant in town. Even the wealthiest of people George knew lived here couldn't afford eating there more than once or twice a year.
George:I'll be there
Wilbur:FYI there's a dress code
If you need a suit or anything let me know
George:I'm pretty sure I could dig one up out of my closet
Thank you again Wilbur
Wilbur:Don't sweat it, mate
See you there
George locked his phone and started to overthink. He calculated how long it would probably take to eat dinner there if it started at 6:30, maybe even later if it included waiting for the food. He definitely would not make it back to his house by eight o' clock when Dream would call.
As much as it hurt him, he hoped Dream wouldn't call. At least not on the one night that wasn't at home awaiting it.
He couldn't bring himself to decline Wilbur's offer. Reserving a seat at The Minx required a payment itself, and Wilbur's father himself (who was horribly sick) had said he did not want his seat going to waste. There was no way to say no to Wilbur without it paining him.
So, he threw clothes out of his closet one by one until he found a suit that was in tact enough to wear. He ironed it out until not a fold could be seen, and dug into his drawer for a tie that went with it.
It was a black suit, with a small chain hanging from the front pocket. He paired it with a white collared button up and black trousers with a belt. He had been to scared to wear it until the very last minute he had to go, as he was clumsy and just knew he'd spill something on it or damage it any other way.
Once it had hit 5:30, George had put on the suit. He took a look at himself in his full length mirror he had never bothered looking at himself in, and not to seem full of himself but he thought he looked quite dapper and handsome.
Thoughts then consumed his brain. He would have loved to have Dream see him in something like this, especially since all the outfits he had described himself wearing to Dream had been casual and not that interesting. He took one last look at the phone, praying again that he wouldn't miss a phone call, and then once more that Dream was okay.
He made his way to the car and drove over to The Minx, which was perched on top of a small hill and (to his dismay) had paid valet parking. He chose to park his car himself near the front, so it was faster to get to and he didn't have to pay anything. He must have been early because he had not seen any of the Soot family anywhere, so he sat down on one of the benches to wait for them.
He watched the cars that would pass by, giving their keys to a valet parking worker and walking toward the restaurant in their best clothes and jewels. He wondered what kind of lives they had and why they could afford to eat at such place. Wives in their silkiest of dress clutching the arms of husbands with the most bejeweled watches. He wondered how happy they could be with all that money.
George busied himself with observing, until he got to the third car in the valet line, where two brothers stepped out, one with his wife and kid. It was Wilbur and his family, looking fancier than they had ever seen them before. He couldn't even fathom the cost of Niki's dress, which sparkled in the last of the sun before it set as she was helped out the car by Wilbur, who was looking great himself. Techno had appeared to have gotten a haircut, and even Tommy was in a suit and acting on his best behavior.
Wilbur handed his keys to the Valet man, and led his family over to the revolving door near where George sat, "George!" Wilbur greeted excitedly, giving him a hug. "Looking fresh, mate. Have you gone inside yet?"
"No," George played with the sleeve of the white button up that was exposed under the black suit, "I was waiting for you guys, actually."
"Oh well then, let's go on in." Wilbur suggested but Tommy was already ahead of him, playing with the revolving door. Niki made her way to get him to stop but ended up having to chase him through the spinning door on a different panel as he laughed and kept the door spinning.
George walked in after Tommy and Niki had finished their hilarious chase around the door. The restaurant looked like a mini cathedral, with paintings of angels and other such beautiful scenery surrounding him. The chandeliers held real wax candles that illuminated the restaurant in the most perfect way, leaving his face in a yellowish glow.
Wilbur spoke with one of the people at the reservation lectern, who nodded at him continuously before checking his book for Wilbur's name. After a while, Wilbur gestured for them to follow the man to their table, which was circular with a white tablecloth and a spinning glass circle within it for food.
After the party had sat down, the waiter informed them he'd be back in a bit to ask them what drinks they would like. "This place is cool but it looks old, Dad." Tommy said as he played with the handkerchief on his plate, which had been folded into a swan.
"That's because it is old, it has been up since 1916." Wilbur informed his son, who instead of being impressed looked disappointed that it had been an older place. Tommy continued fidgeting with his handkerchief, making Niki laugh as she hugged him from the side. Techno sat casually, looking over the menu.
"Thank you again, Wilbur," George said from the other side of the table from him, "this must have cost a fortune."
Wilbur laughed and shook his head, "Oh, no," he denied, "this was paid for by an old friend of my dad. His name is Darryl Noveschosch. He co-owns this restaurant, and after hearing Dad was in Florida he offered to treat us to a dinner. Of course, Dad couldn't come and he was quite sad about it, but he made us keep the reservations anyway."
"I call him Mr. Halo," Tommy told George, "because one time I was playing with my food when I flung an onion ring on his head. Uncle Techno said it looked like a Halo."
Techno sniggered from behind the menu, and the rest of the family looked over to him. "So you're the reason Tommy calls Darryl that?" Niki asked while staring him down.
Techno put his hands up, "Look Darryl's a cool guy he didn't mind." He tried explaining himself but Niki was shaking her head. Though, George caught her smiling.
"Anyway," Wilbur continued, "yeah, this really didn't cost us so you definitely don't owe us."
The waiter came by asking them what they wanted to order. It was an all you can eat restaurant, since it was the seats that had to be paid for, so George didn't have to go looking for the cheapest stuff on the menu. He ordered a steak with some gourmet mashed potatoes and vegetables, with a soup on the side.
Everyone told the waiter their orders, and Niki ordered for Tommy before the waiter walked away
and they awaited their food.
They immersed themselves in conversations. They talked about their childhoods, jobs, and what they enjoyed doing in their free time. A couple of conversations were fit in before the waiter came with their food, which was plated beautifully and smelled amazing.
George's mouth watered as he cut into his steak and took a bite. It was perfect.
The Soot family had obviously eaten here before, because they seemed so used to the ornate decoration and skillful cooking of their meals.
George continued to eat, embarrassingly faster than anyone else at the table, who didn't seem to mind.
---
Dream sat by the phone, digging his hands into his hair.
It was 7:58, and he knew he wanted to call George because he had put it off for over a week.
He felt selfish, because he knew George had probably been worried and lonely because Dream had not called just to benefit himself.
It was the simple "can't live with you, can't live without you."
He couldn't live with talking to George any longer knowing he could never have him, and he couldn't live without the comfort and happiness George brought to him that no one had done in a while.
But tonight, he wanted to explain. He wanted to tell George how he felt, and he wanted to say sorry.
Sorry that this had to be the last phone call.
If he wanted to hear anything for the first time, it was if George had loved him back. Even if it was the last time, he knew he wanted to hear it at least once.
He took a pen and scribbled in his notebook, "September 8, 1970/2020: To him I say "I love you", and "goodbye"."
He dialed the phone and awaited George's usual quick answer...
but nothing came.
He called over and over but it donned the same result.
He immediately knew he had messed up not calling George. He must have been angry and dodging the calls now.
He started banging his fist into the table, crying. He was lost on what to do, and he was even more lost on how he felt. He knew this would hurt George, yet he's still doing it to save his own feelings..
..but he wasn't just saving his own.
This was saving George, too.
It was making sure George would move on. If George felt the same way, continuing the calls and falling for each other more and more would make it worse for both of them. This was the right decision.
He knew once he wrote what he was about to write, there was no turning back. He glanced at the sketch of George on his wall, clicked his pen, and started to write on the last page of his notebook,
To my next of kin, a friend, or whoever I pass these notes onto: I know I have asked for so much from you, but I make one last request. On September 9, 2020, 9:30 AM, I would like you to...
---
Wilbur and Techno's phones were vibrating simultaneously. Wilbur picked up his, "Hello?"
Wilbur listened to the speaker on the other end before getting up quickly, "Oh shoot." He wiped his mouth with the handkerchief, "Niki I gotta go, it's dad there's an emergency. Stay here and eat." He told them, still on the phone.
"Wait Wil, I'll go with you." Techno got up as well, taking one last french fry and eating it. "The valet will take forever."
Wilbur was speaking on the phone, "He wants to see who?" Wilbur furrowed his brow before he looked to George, "George I'm sorry, but do you think you can take us?"
George was done eating, and he looked at the frantic brothers, wanting to help, "Of course. I didn't park valet, I can take you guys wherever you need to go, it'll be faster to get to my car." He agreed, and Wilbur ending the phone call.
The three ran out of the restaurant to George's car.
---
It was 8:30 when they reached the hospital, and Wilbur frantically asked the nurse to visit his dad, and they were led down the farthest hallway where his room was. George let the two brothers have some privacy in there, as he didn't know what was going on.
After ten minutes, Wilbur and Techno walked out of the room, a bit weary. "George." "Wilbur," George got up and walked to him, "is everything alright?"
"He seized up, but for now he's stabilized." Wilbur informed him, but George knew there was more he had to say, so he waited.
"He wants to see you, George." Wilbur finally said, scratching the back of his head where his hair lay frizzed up from all the running.
"Me?" George looked confused, "Why me?"
Wilbur shrugged sadly, "To thank you for bringing us here."
"Oh," George responded, "I can do that, yeah."
Wilbur nodded and he led George into the room. He took out his usual pocket notebook and started flipping through it when he reached the last page and made a face. He looked like he read something that wasn't written there before, before walking out the room, leaving only George and his father.
An old man lay on the bed, IV tubes sticking out of his arms and the constant sound of beeping surrounding the area. George wondered why he never went crazy. The man stared at him for a few moments, opening his mouth to talk but nothing came out.
George walked over slowly and awkwardly, before taking a seat on a small chair beside the hospital bed. "Er- Hello, sir."
The man continued to stare at him, slightly shaking. George didn't know if the man had trouble talking or if it was for other reasons, but he felt awkward and didn't know if he should say something else.
The silence continued for what felt like forever, before the man finally spoke with a raspy, shaky voice, "Hello, y-young man."
"Hi," George looked to him, "I'm friends with your sons."
"Oh yes, yes they've mentioned you before." The old man nodded slowly, his eyes slightly squinted at him. "I just wanted to thank you for the things you've done for them."
George shook his head with a smile, "Oh they have done more for me than I have for them, trust me."
The man kept nodding slowly, and then both were put in another slow moving silence.
George was about to say goodbye, when the man stopped him, "Do you know what the date is, young man?"
George raised his eyebrows, before getting his cellphone and checking the date, "September eighth, sir."
"The eighth of September already? How could I be so predictable." Wilbur's father said softly with a small laugh.
"What was that, sir?" George politely asked the old man to repeat himself, but he shook his head indicating he was talking to himself.
George got up slowly, "Well it was nice talking to you, sir, but I'm sure you'd like to speak with your family again." He said as he waved goodbye and started to walk away.
George had his hand on the doorknob, about to open it, when the old man raised his voice a little. "He called."
George turned around, "Pardon?"
"He called you today, but you didn't answer."
George's eyes widened, he started to shake and his heartbeat increased. Could this man be talking about the phone calls?
"I'm sorry, sir," George managed to say, "but I don't know what you're speaking about."
"You know damn well what I'm talking about." He pointed a finger, and George started to walk back toward him, sitting in the chair.
George was confused and scared at the same time, and his breath caught in his throat a few times,
and he'd have to cough to remember to breath.
"Breath, young man." Wilbur's father urged, as he sat up slowly and carefully. George did so, and he finally brought himself to face him.
"Y-you know about the phone calls?" George stuttered on his words, which to his confusion highly amused the old man in front of him.
The old man chuckled, "Of course I know about the phone calls."
"Are you friends with Clay?" George asked, using Dream's real name in case the man never knew about the nickname.
"Clay," The man started, "the boy who'd lock himself in his room every night just to talk to someone on the phone."
George said the first assumption that came to mind, "Are you.. Sapnap?"
The man jumped a little at the mention of the name, before looking George in the eyes and shaking his head slowly and dimly "Nick Armstrong passed in March."
"Oh, I'm sorry," was all George managed to say. "Who are you then?"
There was silence once again. The loudest silence George had ever had to sit through in his entire life as he tried to shake away the anxiety of another person being in knowledge of him and Dream's phone calls.
"I'm an old man, George." He stared deep into George's eyes, so deep he felt his corneas being cut, "You called me that yourself."
George had started to nod before what the man said sunk in. His eyes widened and his chest pounded violently as his breath was running out of his throat quicker than he could manage. He looked at the man, and saw the familiar green eyes. The eyes on the photo of a man he kept on his desk. A man smiling while holding his cat.
"D-dream?" He sputtered, "It's you?" Talking felt like an earthquake from how much shaking was going on inside his throat.
Dream smiled, his oh so aged eyes filling with tears, "How are those flowers, George?"
George let out a sob before stuffing his face into his hands. All of his worries seemed to subsided slowly. Dream was alive, but-
"Are they growing alright?" Dream once again asked about the flowers.
George nodded, wiping his eyes, "The stem's out now."
Dream looked reminiscent, after all, George's events were in a span of a few weeks, while for him it's been fifty years.
"Do you remember why you didn't call this week?" George had asked bravely, and Dream nodded. "I do."
George wanted answers, "Can you tell me, Dream? Please?"
"I was young, George. Obviously I'm not anymore, but the me you're talking to is still young, and naive, and confused." Dream began, trying his best to hold back his emotions but ultimately failing.
"Why was he?" George tried to level with the man, but couldn't understand. Dream put off the question, "And he was stupid, at times, but he knew how he felt." George fixed himself onto the couch, "How did he feel?"
"Do you love him, George?" Dream suddenly asked, and George's eyes widened.
George knew he had felt some sort of emotion or pull toward Dream, but he never took the time to think about what it was. All those times he'd change his whole routine to fit Dream's phone calls, and all those times he'd stare at the hand prints on the wall and wonder what it would be like if they had made them together.
He knew how he felt, he just couldn't name it.
All this time he couldn't bring himself to say he was in love.
George couldn't help but notice Dream referring to his past self as though he was a different person. "Why do you call yourself 'him'?"
"I'll answer your question after you answer mine." Dream said plainly.
George took a deep breath in, "Yes. I do." He had finally admitted, but not to the Dream he wanted to say it to.
Dream nodded, tears filling his eyes slowly, "To answer your question George, I'd be answering all your other ones."
George nodded, awaiting what Dream had to say.
"He and I are different people," he began, "maybe not literally, but emotionally we're in different stages of our lives. I was young, George. Young and in love with you,"
George jumped a bit after hearing that, getting chills, but he continued to listen.
"but also realistic. I knew I just couldn't be in love with you." He explained, "I saw a vase of flowers at Sapnap's house. They just sat in water, dying and cold. They're meant to be in the sun, to grow and live."
George sat up to listen, unsure where Dream was going.
"They had their own place, where they're meant to stay. Yes maybe a couple days earlier the flowers looked beautiful in that vase, but after a while they started to crumble. That's what happens when things don't stay where they're supposed to stay." Dream said.
"What does this have to do with you and me?"
"The flowers are you and me." Dream elaborated, "We're meant to stay in our own place. We can't get caught up trying to live in someone else's."
George had taken it in, he didn't know that was what Dream had been feeling lately. "George."
"Yes, Dream?"
"My heart couldn't be in 2020 when it belonged in 1970." Was all Dream said. That line shattered George's heart to pieces, but Dream wasn't done.
"I want you to move on, George. I know I don't have much time here, I feel like I'm gonna die tommorow-
"Don't say that." George snapped.
"It's true, George. Look what happened when I moved on. You saw what happened. You've met my beautiful family, and I love them. That's the life I was given because I knew inevitably we would never have worked. It was you I loved, George, there's no doubt about that, but it couldn't have happened." Dream scolded, and he exhaled, almost apologetically.
"I can still talk to you over the phone, Dream."
"You can't. Tomorrow's the ninth of September, George. I made sure you couldn't call again." George was confused, how could Dream have turned out to be so cruel?
"What do you mean you made sure?"
"George I did what I did to save you, to help you move on. You know deep down we never could have happened-" Dream started coughing and the beeping on the monitor started to increase.
George was frantic "Nurse!"
"Dream, you were my flower." George said, he knew it was cheesy but there was no other way to say how he felt.
"You said it yourself. Flowers from 1970 couldn't survive that long."
He heard footsteps running toward the room, and he backed away as doctors filled the area around Dream's hospital bed.
Dream gave him one last look in the eye, "You take care of those flowers, Wrong Number." He said as George's view of him became obscured by the nurses.