okay guys look, the start is bad but my writing does improve immensely so if you could just give me a chance that would be amazing :)
The light from the computer screen cast an ominous glow across the dark room, illuminating days worth of coffee cups strewn across the floor and countless papers and documents thrust into makeshift piles across a barely slept in bed. At the desk, a figure lay collapsed across his keyboard, eyes half shut as he listened to his friends bicker through his discarded headset.
"George, you stole my diamonds." a voice whined through the headset, earning a stifled groan from the man on the desk.
"You killed my dog first, Sapnap." a british accent replied, equally as whiny as the prior. The man rolled his eyes at the voices inside his headset, and reluctantly slipped it over his head, blonde hairs falling over his eyes.
"Guys, if you don't shut up," the man spoke slowly, his calloused lips barely formed the words as if he could not be bothered to put effort into his speech, "I will kill you." he finished.
This earned a laugh from the block figures on the other of the screen. George's body crouched at Dream's own and he playfully hit at him. Dream smiled, he could feel the life slowly draining back into him and he sat up straighter in his leather chair.
Sapnap's and George's laughs echoed around him and he felt himself slip back into his usual mood, deciding to disregard the immense sadness he had felt not just five minutes ago. On the screen he was running through a cave while his friends jokingly chased him, their stone swords swinging in a feeble attempt to slay Dream.
Once in the familiar grind Dream barely noticed the hours slip by and as the sun slowly rose through the slated blinds Dream only got more energetic, yelling at Sapnap jokingly through the headset as he stole iron from Dream's half-hearted attempt at a house.
Dream watched Sapnap's avatar flee his own as he jokingly yelled threats at him and swung his axe. He accidentally destroyed the door. As he replaced it, he turned around and saw George, afk, standing near a crafting table.
"Hey Sapnap," Dream called through the mic, "Come look at this."
Sapnap bounded over, and Dream could hear his laugh as he understood what Dream was insinuating.
"Dream you dirty dog," Sapnap laughed as he removed the crafting table and replaced it underneath George's feet.
"Quick, take a screenshot and post it on twitter."
Dream hurriedly took the screenshot and while he uploaded it to Twitter he noticed the now risen sun and the time that read on the clock opposite his bed.
"Alright, I think I'm gonna go now," Dream yawned through the mic, scratching at his stubbly chin and locks of hair.
He said his goodbyes to Sapnap and clicked off the call, leaning back on his chair as he did so. He grabbed at his phone and opened twitter, scrolling through it absent-mindedly. He chuckled to himself at some of Tommy's new tweets and Tubbo's equally hilarious replies before he decided to check the comments of his newest tweet, regarding George on the crafting table.
As he scrolled through the replies something caught his eye, a smaller account had replied to the tweet with a link to a song.
Heatwaves.
Smiling, he liked the reply, knowing full well the stans would probably go crazy about this on twitter.
He had read the fanfic, of course he had read it. He had enjoyed it as well. That was the problem.
Him and George joked about it all the time, especially since they both liked the song but it was just friendly jokes, the kind he made with Sapnap and Bad all the time. It hurt.
He stood up slowly, stretching and yawning as he slipped off his top and approached his bed, chucking his phone on the nearest pile of clothes. He flicked the light off and shut the blinds, bathing his room in darkness as he slipped into bed at 8am.
His phone beeped.
Dream sat up, he only had his notifications on for one person. Hurrying out of bed he grabbed his phone and lay back down, unlocking the screen and opening up Snapchat.
Gog has sent you a snap.
He clicked on Snapchat and opened up the photo George had sent him.
His pale skin, the brown hair brushed on his forehead, his hazel eyes. Dream took it all in thirstily. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he read what George had captioned the photo.
"Next time you want me on the crafting table you should just ask."
His stomach flipped.
"George," Dream typed back, accompanied with an angry face.
"What?"
"I'm showing Twitter this."
" Don't you dare."
"Stop me." Dream texted, his hands jerkily pressing the letters in pure fear of what could happen.
"Maybe I will." Dream inhaled sharply.
What does he say to that? George is clearly joking and he doesn't want to make this awkward between them.
Dream hid his face in his hands, groaning loudly. He was ruined. What had heatwaves done to him.
