"Sorry if I'm a bit late," Dream grimaced with an apologetic smile. "My mom wanted to talk to me."
"Oh, I hope it isn't anything bad." The thought of Dream experiencing bad news felt almost disturbing.
"No, no, it was just about me being around the home and that type of stuff."
A small piece of guilt built up in George's chest. Did Dream have something more important to do?
Even if he did, it made George relieved that he was the option that Dream chose. It seemed selfish, and it probably was, but as for right now - he couldn't care less.
It was almost strange how different the atmosphere of the room was. It was almost tense in a way, and it was probably caused by George's shaking hand trying his best to cover the scattered papers on the tabletop.
Slight sounds came from the crevice of the window, noises of cars and busy people.
"What's that?" the blonde gestured to where George's hand was slowly stacking the sheets into a neat pile.
"Letters," the brunette quickly interjected, his voice sounding too rushed and nervous. "I think I'm going to throw them away," he murmured in a shaking voice.
"No, don't. Letters are so cool, you can always read them, even when you don't send it."
I never planned on sending them in the first place, the brunette mentally shouted. Why was he doing this to himself - this is torture.
"Yeah," George shrugged, planting his laptop onto the papers so it directly hid it from Dream. "Maybe."
"I do that sometimes," Dream said to the ceiling, head tilting up. "I like writing letters - but I never send them."
"I didn't know that you liked writing letters," George said with a smile. It was nice to know that he wasn't the only one who was obsessed with envelopes and sealing stickers.
Dream laughed, eyes looking down at the squeaky clean floor. "There's quite a lot that you don't know about me."
"Oh."
"Are you okay, George?"
"I'm fine," he replied, almost sounding snappy.
What was he supposed to reply to that?
"Okay..." the blonde answered with a narrowed tone. "You'll tell me if something's wrong, right?" he hesitated, "I don't want you to suffer all by yourself, that hurts."
"No, I'm fine," George quickly denied his hands still a bit trembly from being so nervous.
They paused for a second as Dream made himself comfortable on the spinny chair in front of the desk.
The desk contained the letters written by George.
"You hungry?" Dream asked as he threw a peppermint in front of George. It landed with a gentle thud. "That's, like, my therapy candy. Try it."
"Therapy candy," George chuckled, letting go of his protective grip on the drawer. "Never heard of it, but sounds good."
Dream smiled, relieved that George returned normal. The tension scared him, the last time something was this awkward was when they had first met - they were pretty far from that already.
"Remember when we first met?" the blonde interjected, sitting down on the corner of the bed.
George mockingly rolled his eyes, "How could I forget, I will forever be your dumb Squidward."
"You really will."
"I thought I hated you," the brunette added pointedly, taking a seat beside Dream.
"What made you change your mind?" he replied with a smug smile.
George rolled his eyes playfully, "I hate everyone I meet, don't let it get to your head."
"You don't hate me anymore," Dream said matter-of-factly.
George looked away from him, squinting out the window. "You're different."
"Yeah, how so?"
"Yeah, you're..." the brunette paused.
Amazing? Adorable? Very one of a kind?
What the fuck.
"Tolerable."
Dream laughed, "Nice word choice."
"Shut up before I find you not tolerable."
George didn't think it was possible, but he looked away even more, as Dream wasn't even in the room.
He didn't know why he was doing this, or even why his face was flaring into a blossoming color that could be mistaken for a wild forest fire.
This was Dream. Dream who was maybe amazing and one of a kind, but definitely not adorable.
"Wanna talk about it?" Dream said, placing his chin on the backrest of the chair. He spun around a few times, finally resting a lazy gaze on George.
"About?"
The blonde smiled gently, tilting his head to one side, which George found mildly attractive.
Stop.
"Somethings obviously on your mind," Dream said.
"No, it's nothing."
"Talk to me, George."
"I can't, I'm sorry."
Dreams smile faltered a bit.
"No, not like that- Dream," George immediately said. "It's not about you, I'm fine."
"Are you sure-"
No, absolutely not.
"Yea, Dream. Thank you, though."
"Well, I'm always here for you."
God, why did he have to be so nice?
"Still hate you."
"I bet you do," Dream laughed again.
The faint sound of heels clicked along the hallway, and they were only getting closer to the room. Shortly after, a small knock filled up the silence.
"Come in," George said, his voice a bit disappointed, seeing as they had interrupted a perfectly good conversation.
The door opened and Niki poked her head into the room, raising an eyebrow as she realized that Dream was present.
"Hi, Niki!" Dream waved fondly.
She waved back, a joyful yet tired expression on her face. She faced George with a hint of apology, "Doctor wants to meet with you."
Niki tried her best to smile, but she was obviously exhausted. Her hair was messily untied from her pin-neat bun and there were dark circles under her eyes. Even her cheerful expression was replaced with a solemn look, and it looked like she had been crying.
"Not the best time right now," George says bleakly, making sure that it wouldn't completely break her. Niki was a strong person who endured in all situations, but George had never seen her like this.
Fragile and on the verge of breaking.
Niki was always pretty relaxed about his schedule, and if Dream was there, she would be more cautious about putting distance between nurse and patient.
He didn't often have visitors, and it was obvious how appreciative Niki was about Dream.
George knew that Niki pitied him. Not in the way that she would look down on him, but in a way that he knew deep inside that if he was like everyone else, they wouldn't have the same friendship they had currently.
Before, he didn't mind. Niki was one more reason why living here was a good thing.
She was sweet, charming, and determined to make friends with George. Even when he knew that he was a bit like a pity party for her, he still appreciated that he was still worth it.
Niki's smile frayed a bit, "Sorry, George." She glanced away and hugged the manila folder closer to her chest. "Phil needs to talk to you, it can't wait."
Dream shot a worried look at the brunette while George just kept staring blankly at Niki.
"Okay."
"Yeah?" Niki asked, sighing. "Thanks, I'll call him over." She turned to the open door, but then frowned apologetically at his companion. "Dream?"
"Yeah?'
"I really don't want to, but visiting hours are over and I don't want to keep you waiting."
The blonde smiled, "No, it's fine. I'm happy to stay."
"Are you staying overnight?"
Dream tilted his head in confusion, then turned to George.
"Is that alright?" he whispered quietly.
The brunette smiled and nodded ecstatically.
"I think I'll stay the night, thanks, Niki."
The nurse was practically glowing with happiness. Even her tired eyes brightened just a bit. "That's perfect!" she smiled. "Wait, are you going to stay for the appointment?"
Dream and George exchanged a glance.
"I don't want to make George uncomfortable."
"Yeah," the brunette nodded, looking to the ground for help.
He trusted Dream with his medical conditions, but it felt weird to have someone join his appointment with him.
Niki thought for a bit, "The waiting room is closed for now, how about the cafeteria?"
"Actually-" Dream started to say, about to offer to go to his dad's office for the time, but remembered about the cold encounter with his mom back at the house. "-actually the cafeteria sounds like a good idea."
The last thing he would want is to encounter the empty office, and being reminded of how badly he failed at being a volunteer.
Was a volunteer even supposed to have favorites?
Was George even his favorite?
Dream felt dumb for thinking that, here he was, standing in George's hospital room, with one hand placed on his shoulder.
Of course, George was his favorite.
"I'll wait outside, it's okay."
—————
The cafeteria was exceptionally empty.
The many rows of benches were empty except for a couple of families who looked tired out of their minds. Dream felt bad for them.
One girl - about the age of five, was bent over some crayons and paper, flowers scattered beside her. Her sharp blue eyes were focused on the paper in front of her. An older woman, probably her mother, was beside the girl, her eyes bloodshot.
As Dream passed her, he spotted the wonky yet readable words of: "Get well soon" in blue crayon.
Each letter was neatly printed, and it was even underlined with a pink glitter pen.
He quickly looked away, it looked like something Molly would do.
He sat on the further side of the cafeteria, staring blankly at his phone.
Was this what would happen to him without George?
A mindless person who just scrolls on his phone?
Probably.
"No way, is that Dream?" someone called.
"It is!"
The blonde looked up, eyes meeting with the three people that just entered the cafeteria.
"Hey, guys," he greeted.
In all honesty, he hasn't seen the chaotic mailbox runner crew in a long time. After getting closer to George, he didn't have any excuse to go to the cafeteria.
Karl quickly high-fived Dream and took a seat, Quackity and Sapnap scooting beside him.
"Why are you here, you're not a criminal, are you?" Sapnap said jokingly.
Dream laughed, "No, I obviously don't have the brains to run over a mailbox."
"It's not our fault she was an absolute Karen," Quackity scoffed.
Karl whacked Quackity playfully, returning his gaze to Dream.
"No, but what are you doing here? Actually."
The blonde shrugged, "Could ask myself the same thing."
"God," Sapnap rolled his eyes, "Stop being philosophical, we need answers."
"I'm visiting someone."
"Is she hot?" Quackity asked slyly, leaning forward. "It's okay, I can keep a secret."
"Wh- no!" Dream laughed. "It's just George, but it's nothing like that. He's cool, we're cool."
"Jorge," Quackity replied in a high-pitched voice.
"Is he hot?" Sapnap asked.
Dream backed up defensively, "O-kay... this is getting weird."
"Not in a sexual way, just like 'oh man, they're good-looking way,' do you know what I mean?"
"Not really," the blonde said, finding this interaction somewhat entertaining.
They all stared back at Dream, waiting for him to answer.
"Oh my god, you're serious," the blonde said, burying his face in his arms.
"Damn right, we are," Karl said with his hands across his chest.
"Well, he's mildly attractive but-"
"I knew it!" Karl practically squealed, slamming his hands on the table and jumping up and down excitedly.
"Knew what?"
Sapnap leaned back and smiled, "Dream, you've got the hots for a patient."
"I don't," Dream said defensively.
"You so do," Quackity grinned, "Also his name is Jorge, don't let him go."
"Damn, keep it professional, Dreamie," Sapnap slapped the blonde on his shoulder, leaning forward a bit.
"Okay, you guys, this is getting out of hand," Dream said, "You practically pushed me into a corner in that one."
"We're just messing with you, don't worry," Karl said, "The fact you're being serious about this is quite scary."
The two of them glared at each other mockingly before Dream rolled his eyes and laughed.
"Where's Bad by the way? Isn't he always with you guys?" he pointed out.
Sapnap frowned, "He doesn't stick with us after his shift ends. He's lucky he didn't run over a mailbox."
"You guys really fucked up on that one," Dream said, toying around with his hoodie string. He stared into space after that, looking over their shoulders and staring at the families behind them.
"Dream?"
The blonde blinked, "Yeah?"
Karl tilted his head in concern and confusion, "You seem distracted, are you alright?"
Dream stopped for a bit, then raised his eyebrows a little, directing his friends to the people behind. "Them," he said, his voice hushed to a cautious whisper, "Are they always here?"
"Oh," Quackity glanced back, "Yeah, they're probably getting something to eat before heading home."
"Are you alright?" Sapnap asked, observing the blank look on Dream's face, "You looked tired as shit, go home."
He rolled his eyes, "Can't. George, remember?"
"Mm, right."
The blonde averted his eyes from the family, then looked at Sapnap. "I feel bad for them."
Sapnap sighed, placing his chin on his hand. "Me too, but there's nothing we can do."
"George has a sister," he suddenly said.
He didn't know exactly why he had said it, but it felt right. Those three seemed genuine and kind, even when they were complete idiots at times.
"Molly," Dream continued, "That's her name." He slowly watched as the little girl at the next table brushed the eraser marks off the card and held it up proudly. She didn't exactly have the best handwriting, but it was obvious how much detail she had put into it. There were smiley faces in each corner, highlighted by a neat pink line. "She's in lower school and super sweet."
"Are you afraid of what would happen if-"
"Yeah."
Everyone became silent, Dreams hands gripping his hoodie strings even tighter.
"It's stupid, but I don't want to lose him."
"It's not stupid," Karl said in an uplifting tone. "It's natural to worry."
"I do everything with him, I just don't know what I'll be doing without him."
"What we're you doing before?"
The blonde thought for a bit, "Nothing."
"Everyone has their sense of meaning," Quackity offered. "Keep that in mind, and you'll be all set." He smiled and gently patted Dream on his shoulder. He turned to Sapnap and Karl, who were both gazing at Dream empathetically. "Why don't you two get a snack, I'm not hungry," Quackity said in his usual upbeat tone.
The other two agreed and made their way to the vending machines while Quackity narrowed his eyes at Dream, smiling a bit.
"What's happening?" Dream asked, backing away defensively.
"No, this is serious," the other replied, quickly erasing his goofy look. "Dream," he said intently, "Are you gay?"
That was everything Dream wouldn't have expected. And seeing how spontaneous Quackity was, that was setting the bar pretty high.
"Okay- what is up with you and those random ass questions."
"Answer the question, Dream," Quackity said smugly.
"Wh-"
"Dream, look. It's nothing about George, it's about you," Quackity sighed, "I'm being serious right now, and even if it doesn't seem like something I'd do, change your mind."
"You won't judge?"
"That's the last thing I would possibly do."
Dream paused for a second, "I did take an are-you-gay Buzzfeed quiz."
"Those never lie," Quackity nodded, leaning forwards so his elbows touched Dream's hands. "What did it say?" he whispered in a curious tone.
"Super gay," the blonde grimaced, "Oh my god." He hesitated once more, "Actually maybe it's wrong, I did have a fangirl crush on this one football player. It's probably just a phase."
Quackity smacked himself with his hand, groaning a bit. "If I had a fucking gun with me, I'll be gone in an instant."
"You said you wouldn't judge," Dream said in a disappointed tone. "It's not my fault that he had hot hands."
"Are you blind, Dream?"
"No, his hands were actually hot."
"You're not taking this seriously, aren't you."
"It's a bit hard to believe," Dream said, chewing his bottom lip a little.
He hated that Quackity was a bit right, but he was a bit wrong as well.
There was nothing wrong with feeling a connection to a person. Sure, they were both males, but George was straight. Possibly the straightest man created, and that didn't stop them from becoming friends.
"You're wrong, Quackity," Dream said, "He's straight, and we're friends."
"I'm not talking about George, this is about you."
"Well, then it doesn't matter. I just want the best for him, and I'm pretty sure that my sexuality won't impact him."
"Do you want it to impact him?"
Dream's heart dropped instantly, his blood running cold.
"No."
Quackity casted his kind eyes over to the blonde, sharing an empathetic look. "Fine," he said, "Let's make this about George."
Dream mumbled something, but his companion talked over him.
"Let's say you are straight, how would you feel about him."
"I-I don't know, confused, maybe," Dream offered, shrugging a little.
"And now if you're gay?"
"I'd really like him, I think anyone will."
"What most do you like about him?" Quackity said in a steady tone, "Be honest, I know you like him a lot."
Dream thought for a moment. "I like-" he paused.
What was there about George that he didn't like?
This was also another time that Quackity was right and that Dream was definitely not here for it.
He did like George a lot. His smile, his laugh, and the way that he would look to the ground when a blush would creep in on his soft, angelic skin. The small freckles that lay on his face, so tiny that you have to stare at him to notice.
Maybe Dream did too much staring, because those freckles were almost his favorite thing about George.
"You're down bad, Dream," Quackity observed. "Is he really that handsome?"
"He's a different type of attractive."
"What's that?"
He paused before finding the right word. "Hes beautiful."
"Describe him."
Dream chuckled at that. George wasn't something that someone could describe. George was a flurry of thoughts and memories that deserved to be marked on paper, and even that wasn't as accurate as what Dream was thinking of.
George was one-of-a-kind and indescribable. Dream could never capture his true beauty, capture the way that he would get Dreams attention in such a mesmerizing hold.
For sure, Dream has had a fair number of previous crushes. Ones with piled high ponytails that swayed when the girls laughed, but nothing would ever grasp his attention like how George did.
The effortless gaze that he would occasionally hold, like a pit of mystery begging for Dream to find out more.
No one would ever have a smile happier than his, with pretty pink lips and bright, brown eyes.
"He's gorgeous," Dream said, stunned speechless.
How could he have never noticed this?
"Dream?"
Did he really like George?
"Dream," Quackity said, planting one hand on Dream's shoulder.
The blonde immediately stood up, his green eyes brightening. "I need to find him," he said, his voice holding a firm tone.
"George?"
"George."
Without another word, Quackity let go of his hold on Dream and watched as he bolted across the almost empty cafeteria, his shoes clicking along the floor as he ran.
He ran away from the girl and her tired looking mom, ran away from the two friends who returned from the vending machine trip, and ran from the person who guided him through his realization.
The realization that he should've found out much before this.
Adrenaline pumped through the blonde, his mind asking so many questions but only finding one answer.
The answer was George.
—————
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