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George was tired.
He was always tired now. Sometimes he could barely sleep without waking up multiple times throughout the night. George hadn't told Dream, he knew that the blonde would react poorly, and that's the last thing he would want.
George didn't like being cared for, that's what made his stay at the hospital frustrating.
Dream was the literal definition of a caring person. He's the type of person who checks in every hour just to make sure that George was feeling okay, even when it meant setting up those annoying phone alarms.
The brunette trusted Dream with everything, but he didn't want to be seen as a charity case. He was perfectly capable of himself and keeping his issues a secret wasn't a crime.
George doesn't know what he's doing anymore.
Sometimes he tries to read until the words don't cooperate and start to blur into the paper background.
Sometimes he tries to gather up all his nerves to call his old friends, just wanting everything to be like before. The only friend he talks to is Wilbur, and they don't even talk as much as George hoped they would.
He would receive an occasional text from Izzy, Wilbur's well-liked and popular cousin, but George was always too scared to respond.
It wasn't like he was scared of her. No, that could never be the case.
Izzy had always been one of his closet friends, and he promised himself that one day he will call her and catch up on everything they had missed out on.
When the time was right, of course.
Sometimes George would sit on the bed, wide awake, wondering how things would've gone if he had met Dream differently.
What if they had a meet-cute? It could be anywhere. A coffee shop, a bookstore, anywhere would've been "cuter" than a hospital.
He wonders how they would meet. Maybe they'd lock eyes in an art gallery, not that George has ever been to one, and it'd be love at first sight.
Dream would definitely introduce himself first, he's not the type of person who would completely ice everyone out.
George longs for those stories "normal" couples tell people. He wants a reality where he's actually proud of telling other people his and Dream's story.
It's like how normal couples do it. They'd spin a story of how they bumped into each other outside, then couldn't help but fall in love. Just like that, their story was created. And when they'd share their story they'd touch each other's hand protectively, maybe even steal a short glance at one another.
George had thought that it was stupid how couples told their story one too many times, but now he realizes that it's not dumb at all. Now that he knows what it's like to be in love, he can't help but be a little envious.
He hated to admit it, but he was a bit sorry.
It felt wrong, and he knew that there was no reason to feel guilty for how things turned out. It wasn't like he chose to be in this situation.
But somehow he was.
The hospital room was a cruel reminder that he was completely trapped here. That no matter what he tried to do, Dream was always going to be dragged down with him.
That was just how things were.
Something George hated more was that Dream was flawless. He was so perfects that he could win a contest for simply being perfect. If he could ever find the right words, George could write countless essays about how amazing the blonde was.
In George's eyes, the universe fucked up real bad.
Dream was supposed to be with someone as perfect as himself, and George can go hang out with his flaws that were much too obvious.
So when he received the gift from the blonde, it reminded him of two things. One, that Dream was the one who made the sacrifice to love him, because why else would he send something so caring? Two, that George could never pay Dream back. Not in actions, anyway.
The bag was ordinary, and George originally thought that it was just medication, but he recognized the blonde's handwriting almost immediately.
He cautiously opened the bag, revealing a carefully wrapped bundle of flowers and an envelope.
A smile immediately snuck onto his face as he gently picked up the flowers, pale blue petals laying in his hands.
He's never gotten flowers from anyone before, and it feels even more special as it's from Dream.
Putting the flowers aside, he picks up the envelope, only to realize that there were two envelopes and that there was a square sticky note on one.
The brunette opens the one without the sticky note first. The envelope is a pale blue, matching the delicate petals spread on the bedsheets beside him.
George,
I've never gotten anyone flowers, not ever. I remember my past girlfriend once complained to me about how I wasn't affectionate enough. That I didn't praise her and compliment her to her liking. She was very persistent on flowers, though. She said that they symbolized everything she wanted in a relationship, and I never knew what she meant.
But now I do. She wanted what we have, George. I've never given anyone flowers because they mean something, and you mean everything to me.
I hope you like the flowers.
Dream
George can't help but smile as he finishes the letter, folding it back into the envelope.
Dream seems like a person who writes pages of sweet but repetitive words, printed in neat handwriting on lined paper.
The message is short and sweet, something George couldn't expect, but would never complain about.
It's exactly what he wants.
—————
They don't see each other for the next two days, but Dream stops by to drop off a few gifts to George. He gives small things; a tiny stuffed animal of a baby duck, a bookmark, a couple of mini-candles scented like ice cream flavors.
(The candles were Quackity's idea, because who else was gross enough to buy those?)
He wants to see the brunette face-to-face, but there's something romantic about dropping things off at the front desk.
Dream likes the feeling of when he exits the hospital through the glass doors, cool summer air hitting his face as he receives a 'thank you' text from George.
Dream has still a lot of summer vacation left, enough time to keep hanging out with George without falling behind on summer readings and extra credit assignments.
He's a bit worried about what will happen when school starts again, but it's the least of his concerns. They've brought it up a few times, but Dream normally shrugs the conversation off.
He knows that George feels sad knowing that he couldn't get the same high school experience.
It's not a surprise that they don't think about the future that much.
Sure, they fantasize about having a home together, but they don't think realistically enough to make college plans and such stuff.
Dream brought college up one time, but George just looked away and said the same thing he always said when the blonde started to worry.
"We'll be okay, we'll be fine."
The blonde always believed him.
When someone said something close to those words, it always made Dream even more worried. But when George said it, he believed him with his entire heart.
The brunette would lean closer to Dream, bringing a sense of home Dream never knew existed.
They called each other on the first day of waiting. As usual, George was sitting at his desk near the window while Dream was sitting cross-legged on his bed.
The wind has gotten chillier and the blonde didn't feel like wearing a hoodie and dragging himself up to the roof.
"I miss you," Dream admitted. "And it's stupid because it's only been two days."
Two days feel like a hell of a long time when you're apart from someone you adore so much. Even from the phone, Dream could hear the subtle sounds of medical equipment and the rumbling of hospital beds against the floors.
"I know."
"Aren't you going to say it back?" Dream asked with a dismayed tone.
George frowned, "I thought you already knew that, though." He paused. "I miss you too."
The two bask in comfortable silence for a while, dissolving in the comfort of each other's presence.
"You're probably staring out the window right now, aren't you?" The blonde asked, leaning his back against the wall.
George just laughs. "You know me too well."
Dream taps his fingers on the bedsheets beside him. "Can I ask," he pauses. "Why you love astronomy that much?"
It's George's turn to hesitate. He's thought of this before, but he doesn't know how to respond in words. Stars bring a feeling of warmth to him, it's a topic he could talk about endlessly and not be bored.
"Space is a weird subject," the brunette tries. "I like how it's just a void of emptiness but there's so much to it."
"Yeah?"
"It's something so far away but we still find a way to learn about it," George smiles. "It makes far things feel so close."
Dream smiles. "I miss you, I wish I wasn't far from you."
"You aren't," the brunette thinks for a bit. "The stars bring you close."
They talk for hours.
George stuck in his hospital room while Dream is leaned against his bedroom wall. The blonde's phone's laying on the bed, and hehas earbuds in, scared that one of his family members will overhear and bombard him with questions.
He even locked his bedroom door to make sure that no one would come in randomly.
They'd been nosier recently, especially his parents. They've been leaving so many not-so-subtle program pamphlets around the house that Dream's home started to look like a commercial with bad product placement.
Most papers were from the hospital intern program. Dream knew that he made it clear that he was completely uninterested in attending, but he also knew that his parents weren't going down without a proper fight.
The papers were on kitchen countertops, folded between articles of clean laundry, hidden in every crook and cranny. It was like the house was infected by the disease of too-happy doctors treating too-happy patients.
Dream sometimes tells George about his parents and their high expectations. They've been a family legacy ever since the start, even the twins are advanced for their age.
The brunette always suggests the same thing: "Attend the program, try it out."
Dream thinks it's absolutely absurd. Not that he doesn't want to "try out new things," but he doesn't want to be apart from George. He thinks it's also part of why George is so insistent about him taking the internship, he probably blames it on himself for holding Dream back.
That's what he had said when Dream first spoke about it, and what's even scarier is that Dream thinks that he's right.
George is partially the only reason why Dream doesn't just shrug and sign up. George is something more worth than a stupid program that comes with bragging rights.
Dream would choose George over anything.
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My Heart it Beats for You - grentperez
Dream knocks on the hospital door.
The same hospital door he knocked on a long time ago, the door that led him to possibly finding the love of his entire life.
"Come in," the brunette's voice rings from the other side.
Dream's heart bubbles as soon as he hears George, stopping a little before happily complying, opening the door with one hand while his other hand holds a small bouquet of flowers.
The bouqet is made of gerbera daisies, gardenias, and sparks of yellow orchid. Tiny buds of pink and petals of yellow sprouting up from luscious green stems. He had found it under the label of "Health" and admired the light and playful mix of colors.
They're wrapped by Audrey and Sophie's store. Dream knew that flowers were a cheesy concept, but he liked the simplicity and beauty of their flowers.
Dream remembers how nervous he was when he got George his first present, the dictionary and the balloons. It was a risky card to play, especially as they were just acquaintences, nothing more.
He slightly leans on the door frame, eyes brightening. "Hi, George," the blonde says, smile widening as his gaze falls on George, who was sitting on the bed.
The brunette looks like tired now, he's a bit more pale, but maybe it was because of the poor lighting. Half of the curtains are still drawn, a sliver of sunlight peeking through the windows. George looks tried, like he had just woke up.
"Hey," the brunette responds sleepily, a grin taking over his face. "What's up?"
"How are you feeling?" Dream asked instead, diverting the attention from himself and to the person in front of him.
"Better," George shrugs dismissively, obviously not enjoying the attention on his medical life. He pats the bed next to him, signaling for Dream to sit next to him.
Dream follows, closing the door behind him until he hears a reassuring 'click.' He was not going to make the same mistake as last time. He sets the flowers in the middle of them, wrapping an arm around the brunette's shoulder, bringing him in for a warm hug.
George buries his face in the crook of the blonde's neck, closing his eyes as he continues to rest.
"I missed this," the blonde smiles.
"I missed you," George sighs, melting in to Dream's touch.
The blonde just kisses him, letting it say everything he'd kept to himself for the days they were apart. George laughs into the kiss, both gently pulling away but still caught up in each other's presence.
"You kept the flowers," Dream said as his eyes graze over the blue flowers neatly set in a tiny glass vase.
The flowers were washed over with liveliness, petals perky and bright. He had thought the flowers would be wilted and dead by now, he hadn't expected for George to care for it so well.
"I asked Niki for help," the brunette smiles, leaning against Dream's chest. "She likes flowers and gave me the vase to keep them in."
"You like them?"
George chuckles, "I love everything from you."
"So do I."
Dream couldn't help but notice the still closed envelope laying next to the flowers. The other card was already opened and sitting proudly on the table, so it couldn't be that George didn't see the other card.
"You haven't opened the card yet?" Dream blurted out suddenly, gesturing to the tabletop.
He doesn't know why it's so important to him, but he really needs for George to see it.
Read when it feels right.
Did George think that it wasn't the best time?
"The card?" the brunette asked, voice full of surprise.
Dream nods, "The card I told you to read when it felt right, why didn't you open it?" He brings his hand to toy around with George's hair, bringing a sense of comfort to him.
The brunette laughs, head still leaned on Dream's chest. "I don't know, do you want me to?" he asks with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"No- it's just, I thought you'd read it."
"I can if you really want me to," the brunette chimes in.
"No!" Dream interrupts almost instantly. "It's fine, it's all good."
George tilts his head, sharing a look that said: "I know something's wrong."
Nothing was wrong. If anything, Dream was the one who was wrong. He had thought George was ready, and he clearly wasn't.
Maybe he was overthinking, maybe a few words written on a card wouldn't really make sure an impact on their relationship. After all, they got through enough rough to survive this mild situation. Maybe George was the one who was overthinking. He could've easily mistaken the card for something more important and decided to ice it out completely.
"Are you alright?" George questions, resting a hand to angle Dream to face him. "You'd tell me if anything was wrong, right?"
"Yeah," the blonde says without hesitation. "Of course I would."
"Good," George says with a smug expression.
He leans forward and catches Dream's lips with his. The blonde is surprised, but he kisses back with the same gentleness and affection.
"You got me more flowers, I noticed," George smiles, hands grazing the bouquet of pink and yellow flowers. "They'd go well with the forget-me-nots."
"You remember the name!" Dream laughs excitedly.
The brunette rolls his eyes playfully. "Your creepily good memory rubbed off on me," he points out. "Plus, you got me into flowers."
"I did?" the blonde asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Maybe you can tell me about them."
"No chance, we can learn together."
"Are we going to become those couples who attend those stupid flower arranging classes?" Dream laughs, not even noticing that he referred to the both of them as a "couple."
This felt like a perfect time to ask George to be his boyfriend, but Dream wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted his favorite song to be playing in the background, to be at the perfect place, to say the perfect words.
The brunette must've noticed it as well, because his laughter slowly died down, face getting replaced with a distant look.
"You okay?" Dream asks stupidly.
George nods, forcing a small smile. "I'm okay."
The blonde brings his hands to the bouquet in George's hand, swiftly picking a flower off of the stem. It's a light pink gardenia, the flowers feeling as soft and delicate against his fingers. Dream tucks the flower behind George's ear, smiling as he admires the person next to him.
"You look beautiful," the blonde whispers so quietly that he thinks George doesn't hear him.
But he wasn't quiet enough. He sees it in the way George's face turns as pink as the flowers and how his gaze goes from Dream's eyes to his hands. Dream doesn't regret it. The lighting is perfect, the sun slips past the curtains, illuminating the brunette's freckles and the sparkle in his eyes. George looks angelic, he always looked angelic, it didn't take a genius to spot that out.
It's perfect.
"George," the blonde whispers, louder this time. He clears his throat. "Will you be my boyfriend?"
The brunette breaks into a full smile at this point, eyes glittering even more. Without a warning, he wraps his arms around Dream's neck, letting a kiss speak for him. He tilts his head into the kiss, letting Dream's hand trace his jawline.
"Yes," the brunette whispers as soon as they pull away, voice wavering with joy. "I'll be your boyfriend, Dream."
The blonde laughs, resting his chin on George's shoulder. He doesn't know what to think except that George was his boyfriend. They made it. Dream asked him out and George said yes.
His eyes darted to the still closed envelope resting next to the flowers. The post-it was still there, a bit wrinkled along the corners, but still there.
"George," Dream smiles, kissing the brunette's neck. "You want to know what the letter said?"
"The super secret one?" George asks, his tone playful. "Sure," his smile widens.
"C'mon, let's read it together."
The brunette rolls his eyes, "Cheesy, but fine."
He blushes as he crawls off of Dream and walks to the table pushed up against the window. The sliver of sunlight escapes past the curtains, basking George in the golden glow. The rays of sun enhances everything about George, making him even more stunning.
The two were apart for no longer than ten seconds and Dream already wants to hold and kiss George.
Finally, the brunette sits back on the bed, vanilla colored envelope resting in his hand.
"Here's your super secret confidential letter, Dream," George teases, resting his head on the blonde's shoulder.
"Open it," Dream smiles.
George hums softly, carefully opening the seal of the envelope and taking the card out.
"George," the brunette reads, clearing his throat. "I don't know how to start letters, not to people I really care about, anyways." George laughs, rolling his eyes, "That's rude."
Dream responds with a sly shrug.
"In my life, I've only sent seven letters, and those don't really count. It's just a combination of Christmas cards and fan mail to celebrities that don't even know I exist," George laughs. "Love this letter already."
"Keep going, you're so bad at reading love letters."
"So this is a love letter?" the brunette says, laughing as he sees the blush creeping up on Dream's face. "Fine, I'll keep reading."
"I'll read this part," the blonde says confidently, picking the card from George's hands. "But I've changed, don't worry. Letters mean more to me, especially after I met you."
George's smug grin is immediately wiped off of his face, replaced with a softer and more affectionate smile.
"You taught me a lot of things throughout our time together. Important things that no one else talks about. I never believed in love, the shrill existence of strong affection feels fake. Take my parents as an example. They don't love each other, they coexist. They work alongside each other because they know that it's better than being on their own," the blonde reads, voice wavering a little.
Dream pauses. "I've never believed in love, and I still don't. But I believe in us, George."
The brunette is silent, listening to Dream thoughtfully. He reaches out and grabs the blonde's hand, gently interlacing their fingers.
This time, Dream doesn't look down at the card, he looks into George's curious brown eyes.
"You are the closest I will ever get to understanding what love is. I love you, that's something you taught me. All I want is for you to keep teaching me, for us to keep going and persevering through these memories and adventures. No matter how far apart we are, we'll always make our way to each other."
George leans into Dream's side, fighting the urge to kiss him.
"You once told me that the stars brought me close. And I thought you said it because it was poetic, or whatever. But it has a meaning," the blonde pauses for a bit, collecting his words. "Cause George, we're like stars. No matter where we are, you don't feel far away. Night falls and you'll always light the way die me."
Dream holds George's hand, feeling a light squeeze in return.
"The stars bring you close," Dream smiles. "We are the truest love letter out there, George."
The brunette's smile widens, looking down at their hands.
Dream looks back at the card, "Will you be my boyfriend, George? Love, Dream."
"That's how you were supposed to ask me?" the brunette asks, smile still there.
The blonde nods, clearing his throat. "But I didn't write half of the things I said just now."
"Good," George leans over wrapping his arms around Dream's neck. "Because I liked this version better," he finishes, stealing a kiss in between.
"Good," Dream repeats.
The two stare at each other, eyes heavy with love and affection.
There's still a thousand reasons of why this wasn't a perfect opportunity for asking someone out. The wheels of hospital beds still rumble along the squeaky clean floors, doctors and nurses rush about, and Dream's pretty sure that he can hear someone's phone ringing outside. But everything feels perfect.
It is perfect.
—————
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