Hoodie- Dreamnotfound

Qualm

Georges hoodie comes into the mail, Dream is still overthinking the words he had said to George last night.

Denying his feelings for George is harder than he thought, he made everything so impossible. Maybe it's time to consider these strange feelings as something more?

Fuck.

The words had slipped out of his mouth, there was no recovery from what had just been said. He sat on the grass, his stomach twisted and turned from all the possible scenarios running through his head of what could happen next.

He stared at the dark lock screen, praying that no notifications from George would show up. He really just said he loved him, like the fool he was.

What did George think about all this? Was he shocked? Does he even care?

Deep in his thoughts, Patches rubbed against his arm. He looked down at her glossy eyes as she meowed hungrily, he had forgotten it was early morning now. With the birds chirping their daily morning-tunes, he figured there's no point in sleeping anymore.

He finally got up, he noticed his legs felt slightly numb. Everything was sore, especially his neck which ached from lying down on the ground for too long.

He droopily headed to the door, passing a mirror on the way inside. He took a quick glance, but then did a double-take.

Deep bags formed under his strained eyes. His jumbled hair was filled with bits of grass and weeds. He had only stayed awake for one night, but he looked and felt completely unpresentable.

After taking a well-needed shower, he helped himself to a cup of black coffee and sat on his front porch.

The bitter taste of the dark coffee stung his tongue, almost instantly clearing his headache. Leaning back in his small chair, he felt whisks of the chilly air sweeping through his waterlogged curls he had yet to dry.

Watching each car pass by, he noticed one particular car slow down near his house. The man in the car seemed to be focused, squinting at the house numbers on Dream's street. After finding his house, he got out of the car with a cardboard package in his hand.

That was George's hoodie.

As the mailman approached, Dream's heart drummed so loudly he was afraid it was audible. He wished he had an answer to why George made him feel this way, or why he made everything so confusing.

He put his half-empty mug down and stood awkwardly at his door. He gulped as the man neared, the package was bigger than he had envisioned.

The man looked down at his paper. "I have a package for Clay."

Dream stood absent-mindedly, not processing the words. The mailman raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response. After a lengthy few seconds, Dream gained back his consciousness.

Shit, that's me... I'm Clay.

"Sorry, yeah I'll take that," he shakily signed the paper handed to him and grabbed the box from his hands. Dream thanked the mailman and he headed back towards his car.

The mailman stopped midway and turned his head facing Dream again.

"You know, your voice sounds so familiar," he sighs. Dream's eyes widened in shock. He tried to mask his awe just in case the mailman was aware of his well-known internet presence.

He forced a chuckle. "I-I get that a lot. It's strange, innit," he stuttered while running his hand through his hair nervously.

Innit, did he really just say that.