flowers from 1970 - ff1970 (unedited)

1.6

George was sitting at his computer, finishing work up as he had been too caught up talking to Dream to remember doing so. Every time he opened his computer, he always had to resist the urge to search google endlessly for Dream, but his promise not to go looking for him was more important than his curiosity.

He was rushing his project, waiting for the phone to ring. This had become a daily thing, procrastinating then laying in his bed with the phone next to him waiting for a call from a boy he's never met in person.

The magic and impossibility of the whole thing had passed. His interest in Dream and his life had made him forget how absurd the whole thing had sounded. It made him forget how far away in time Dream was. Maybe it was the fact that he had been lonely.

His family had been back in England, and he had lived alone for the past 6 years, only having one or two friends who he had not even talked to in months each. Sometimes when you're lonely, talking to the one person makes you feel like you have everybody in the world. For George, that was Dream. Dream asked him things that no one had ever bothered to ask. From simple things like how his day was, to unique questions such as what he would take with him if he had 60 seconds to gather things into a bomb shelter.

He didn't know the last time someone had ever been that interested in him and what he had to say. He couldn't remember when he had last heard himself talk about things that he actually liked to talk about.

So yes, despite the time difference (no kidding), there was a connection there that mattered to him, the first connection he had had in awhile.

As he submit his day's work of coding, he absentmindedly walked over to the wall. He didn't know how many times he looked at it a day. From the "Hi" in the corner of the room, to the two hand prints made with the same aint at different times, knowing there was something to prove the boy he was talking to existed made him feel calm when his world felt like crumbling.

The photo of Dream lay on his desk, his smile permanently captured onto a piece of film that had survived fifty years under the dirt. Furthermore presenting the fact that Dream was real.

So, as he clutched the phone in his hand still vaguely stained with paint, waiting for a call, he did not see it as wasting time. He saw it as an opportunity to finally speak to someone who cares about him.

Just on time, the phone started ringing and he picked up quickly.

"So you saw the photo?" Dream had wasted no time in asking.

George glanced to the corner of the room on the desk it lay on, "Yes, I did. That's you, right?"

"Yes." Dream sighed as he seemingly slumped down onto a chair, "My friend Sap took it. The cat is my cat, Patches."

"When you called this phone, it's because you thought it was Sap, right?" George questioned curiously.

"Yeah. This is his number." Dream answered, "He doesn't know I talk to you, though. I think he'd see me as crazy."

George chuckled, "You're already crazy."

"Thank you, thank you." Dream gave short laughs, "So I thought about the science of it all." He said after he had gathered himself.

George raised his eyebrow, "The science? Is this even science? This is straight sci-fi magic." George said, half-jokingly.

"Well yes, but if all our experiments with the time capsule and the paint worked out, it means that I do exist in your so called 'timeline' and I'm somewhere out there in your world existing as a poor old man," Dream began.

"Go on." George was intrigued.

"That should mean that before our first phone call, I never knew you existed yet, but after we started talking, I think we started modifying the memories of the Dream in your time and adding in events that we create."

"So," George began, "why hasn't old you ever visited me yet?"

"Like I said, I could be dead, or gotten Alzheimer's, or just refuse to see you for a reason I do not know yet." Dream suggested.

"Why don't you let me look you up on the internet, then?" George asked, Dream knew about the internet as George had spent hours trying to explain the concept of it to him.

"I just," Dream struggled, "I don't know. I guess I like the idea that we're talking as if this whole 50 year gap doesn't exist. It's weird to think that now I'm an old man in your time, and that we're so far apart from each other. You finding out about old me just proves that this friendship would never be a normal one." Dream had done his best to explain.

"I understand and feel the same way." George said quietly. "Thank you. Also, thank you for keeping your promise."

"Of course, anytime." George smiled and looked at the clock, "I should sleep. It's late and I have a meeting with some colleagues early in the morning tomorrow."

"Have fun with that." Dream chuckled, "Goodnight, wrong number."

"Goodnight old man." George joked.

"I'm not even-"

"-old yet, yeah yeah, Sleep well, Dream." George finished.