So you think you're bold huh?

Smiley face

A/N: That's my favorite DNF fanart ever BUT I CAN NEVER FIND THE ARTIST TOT

George's POV:

Dream's car smelt funky, like middle school boys and cologne. It also smelt like drugs and paint with a hint of an old mango smoothie. His seats had an ugly pattern on them, and he had stickers on his dashboard. I few of them were really...interesting. He had one big one in the corner that said, "feeling good," with one guy crouched down and another guy stood with his pants down, except you could only see their legs. Hmm. I shrugged it off and glanced out the window. He was driving concerningly fast, plus all the windows were open and the radio was loud as fuck so I couldn't really hear anything. That's probably a good thing though so if he said anything to me I wouldn't have to respond.

I'd doubt he'd even talk to me anyway. I groaned, but it disappeared in the noise coming from all directions. I seriously regret depending on a guy like Jack. I should have known he'd come back and ask me for some embarrassing favor to repay him for when he helped us out. Plus, I'm missing juice for this. The last time I missed juice was in sophomore year when I got the flu and was out of school for a whole week. It put a huge dent in my football performance and coach was pissed. We lost the game that week, Trevor blamed it on some knee cramp he had but Wilbur told me it was because I wasn't playing. They had to use fucking Chase in my place, god knows why he's even on the varsity team.

Sooner than I expected, Dream pulled into the driveway of an old-looking house. It was smaller than mine and had a tiny front yard. "Here you go Bad," He smiled and hugged Dream from behind then opened the door to leave. "Wait! Come here sexy I need a proper hug," Dream opened his door and waited for Bad to come around and hug him. I cringed and looked the other way. It's just awkward is all.

He and Zak ran into Bad's house, then Dream looked over at me. "What?" I asked defensively. He looked away while smirking. "Nothing," I sighed and turned the radio down since it was giving me a headache and the loud noise bothered me a bit. He frowned and reached to turn it up again but hesitated after facing me. I shot him a weird look, so he brought his hands back to his car's steering wheel and backed out of Bad's driveway. "You're sure we can't go to your house?" Dream asked before we got to the end of the street. "No! Just go to your house and quickly," I snapped back. 

My parents are never home. They both work in London so they're mostly staying there. I don't even know why we moved here in the first place. Dad says it was so I could play football, but mom says it was a financial decision. Plus the environments apparently supposed to be better for me than London. That didn't make any sense, but from my view, I blamed it on my parents. My dad's a stuck-up republican white guy and my mom's too busy to care about me. When they aren't away from home though, they expect so much out of me. I'm expected to be perfect, get perfect grades, do perfectly in football, have perfect friends, look perfect, act perfect. All that expectation is suffocating. 

Most people envy me for the freedom I have with my parents gone all the time, but I'm usually stuck at home in an empty house and overworking myself to live up to my parent's expectations.

We're not exactly the suburban dream.

Dream's house was closer to Bad's than I expected, it was a lot bigger, with two stories, a nice green lawn, and rose bushes out front. Talk about the suburban dream. I scoffed and unbuckled myself, then opened the car door and grabbed my backpack. I slammed the door shut and stood in his driveway while staring up at his house. I wondered if his parents were home. "Oi! Stop doing that it's weird," I snapped back into reality and looked over at Dream. "Oh, sorry. It's a bad habit," he nodded and walked up to his front door. "You coming??" I hurried over and stood behind him while he unlocked his door. "My sisters at her friend's house, and my dad's at work. My mom should be at yoga until later this evening, so we have the house to ourselves," He explained and shut the door behind us. His house was nice on the inside. There was a nice piano with a colorfully patterned rug with a leather couch and a big TV in the living room. Plus a huge picture of Jesus right smack in the center of the room.