Thank you so much for 50 reads, it means an awful lot :)
I don't really have any idea of an upload schedule because I have school and everything but I'll try and post as much as possible.
Dream lay in bed, drenched in sweat as he tossed and turned in his bed sheets, entangling himself in the maze of polyester. It was late at night and he couldn't sleep, his thoughts were plaguing him and nothing he could do would make them go away.
Sitting up, Dream groped in the darkness for the water beside his bed, desperate to cool his sweating fever and clear his head. He missed and completely knocked the glass to the floor, spilling it's months old liquid to the ground.
"Fuck." Dream swore, swinging his legs out of bed to reach down and pick up the glass and mop up the water. Noticing something he cursed even harder, picking up his soaking wet phone with fear and distaste plastered on face. He brushed the water off of the phone and in a panic tried to turn it on. The screen remained black. He growled in frustration, mashing his fingers against the small object in a desperate attempt to see it light up again.
The screen flickered.
"Oh thank god," Dream sighed, half laughing at his own stupidity and half crying from sheer thankfulness that his phone was okay. In his elation he hugged his phone, his cheeks pressing against his lock screen, a screenshot of the dream team on the first day they made the dreamsmp.
He heard a number dial and froze not daring to look down at who he had just called.
What if it were someone important, like Clairo, who he planned to do a collaboration with shortly, or his primary school teacher. He couldn't bear to look, his eyes glued in front of him in absolute fear. The person answered.
"Hello?"
Dream held his breath, why had he called him? Him, of all people. He gulped for air, wiping sweat off of his forehead so he didn't overheat and blinked slowly to steady his now spinning head. Thousands of contacts, thousands of names and it had to be this one he accidentally called, the man who he least wanted to speak to in the world. He held his breath waiting for the man to speak again, hoping it was a fever dream and he'd wake up and everything would be okay.
"Clay?"
It was most definitely real. Dream could deny it no longer but still he sat there, hands in his lap as he stared at his discarded phone laying on his bedsheets, still slightly soaking wet and displaying the name of the person he so desperately wanted to avoid.
"Clay, I swear if this is a prank or some shit. I have things to do."
Dream took a deep breath, letting the air circle around his lungs and back out of mouth before he even began to think about what he should answer with. Eyes closed and his hands balled in his fist he opened his mouth to reply to the british boy.
"Hey."
He let out an exhale slowly, opening his eyes and staring down at his phone hoping the boy would reply and break the awkward silence that had been formed. His fingernails dug into sweaty palms, causing crescent moons to form before the boy spoke again. It had felt like an eternity.
"Hey Clay, did you need anything?" Wilbur spoke through his phone, his soft voice echoing through the speakers and disturbing the crushing silence of the American night.
"I didn't need anything until you answered." he replied, his breaths quick with panic and worry with what the response would be.
"What?" Wilbur replied, Dream could hear him pushing his glasses further up his nose in confusion through the phone.
"I didn't mean to call you but now you answered, I need nothing more but to speak to you," Dream spoke, his voice surprisingly calm for the panic party that was forming in his brain with every new word that he spoke.
Dream could hear Wilbur thinking, his breaths also audible through the phone as he presumably was in as bad as a state as Dream. He hadn't spoken to his ex-boyfriend for over a year, at least not directly. They tolerated Discord calls with each other and would occasionally acknowledge each other so that the fans didn't ever realise that anything had happened in the first place. It had been a short relationship, seven or so months but Wilbur was straight and Dream was, well a man so it could never have ended well.
They didn't hate each other, quite the opposite both wanted to remain friends after it ended but the combination of long distance and the stress of breaking up anyway was enough to force any friendship apart and the two just didn't talk that much. Dream knew that Wilbur was happy now with one of his british babes but something about him caused Dream to feel strangely affectionate over the brunette musician. Maybe it was that he was British.
"What is it Clay?" he asked, his voice surprisingly warm for being woken up at 7am and Wilbur was far from a morning person.
"I like George." He blurted out, rubbing his calves in worry.
"George?"
"Yeah."
"Oh no." Wilbur's voice had softened even more.
"I like him a lot." Dream confessed into his phone, the pain in his voice clearly visible to the man on the other side of the phone.
"Too much."
Wilbur nodded understandingly, forgetting that Dream couldn't see him.
"It hurts Wilby, it hurts."
Wilbur flinched slightly at the use of his pet name but he continued nonetheless.
"You need to tell him, it's important."
"I know but what if he doesn't feel the same way or it ruins our friendship?" Dream asked, his voice quivering slightly at the idea of losing his best friend.
"Then make it not."
"I can't control that." Dream replied, slightly annoyed at Wilbur's vagueness.
"Don't be silly Clay. If you make an effort you'll always remain friends."
Dream frowned into the phone, his eyebrows furrowing at Wilbur's words.
"Well I need to go now Clay, get some sleep."
They said their goodbyes and hung up, leaving Dream sitting cross-legged on his bed in deep thought. Absent-mindedly he chewed at his nails, squinting through the dark at his phone in concentration. Maybe he should take Wilbur's advice, after all he was popular with the ladies and he maintained healthy relationships with all his friends. But he was Wilbur, an attractive man who could play you guitar and make you piss yourself from laughing. Dream wasn't that.
He looked across the room at himself in the mirror, normally he was a striking man with a laugh and a smile that got most people laughing along with him and who got glanced at in the street by girls and their friends as they fawned over him, giggling with each other behind their hands and it wasn't just the women. Boys too would watch him with wide eyes as he walked down the sidewalk, nervous to approach him for his number. Dream loved it and he loved the attention he got from both genders, infact the attention he got was what made him realise that he was bi-sexual in the first place.
But as he looked across the room at himself he saw the shell of the man he was just a few days ago. The sleepless nights had taken their toll and he had large bags under his eyes, and they themselves were dimmer, lacking their usual twinkle. His curly blonde hair was greasy, a mixture of bedhead and it being days since it saw water of any sort. He looked down at his feet in shame, he knew he couldn't continue like this, it made him even more miserable.
He sighed and reluctantly got up to shower and eat, no one would take him seriously if he looked like this, not even George. Maybe he should get life together. Maybe then George would like him.
