exposé

eight

George had almost dropped to the ground in relief when Quackity had immediately agreed to pick him up.

He didn't have to wait for him for very long, too. Within only fifteen minutes of George calling, Quackity was parked up outside the gate that led into Dream's neighbourhood, honking his shitty old car the moment he caught sight of him. George flushed when the security guard raised an unimpressed eyebrow up at him at the noise, muttering a quiet apology to him before rushing over to get in.

Quackity took one look at George's miserable face and instantly turned down the music playing through his speakers, having been well acquainted with George's panic attacks by now. He knew to never push and ask what had caused them- not until George was calm again, at least. There were times where that rule had to be overlooked, such as that one time in Freshman year when his anxiety had become so high he almost passed out, but that was rare in itself.

George, once comfortable inside the car, instantaneously slumped down into his seat. His head was pounding with a mix of his Omega screaming at him and a tension headache, his breathing still wasn't back to normal and the tears just wouldn't stop flowing from behind his glasses. In summary, he was a mess. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Dream was feeling, especially since George had basically abandoned him to deal with his family himself.

It didn't really help that his phone was blowing up with texts either. George knew without looking who the majority of them were coming from, and his heart panged painfully at the thought of Dream anxiously spam messaging him. He caught a glimpse of some very strongly worded ones from Sapnap, too, and George couldn't find it within himself to be mad at Dream for having told his best friend. He was about to do the same, after all.

"So," Quackity drawled once he sensed George's breathing start to regulate, his finger tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel, "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" George answered, internally wincing at just how stupid he must've looked saying that. There was no reason to straight-up lie to him, not when he could just cut out the main reasoning behind his panic attack.

"Don't even try that bullshit with me, George," Quackity sighed, "You look like shit, so obviously something happened."

"Thanks," George snorted a little self-depreciatingly. He knew it was true, though, and quickly brought a hand up to his face to wipe away the tear tracks staining his cheeks. After a moment or two he spoke again, his voice a little shaky with leftover nerves, "I messed up, Q."

Quackity went silent again at that, and George knew he was thinking over what to say. Moments like this made him extremely thankful to have such a caring best friend, one that could coddle him or call him out on his bullshit depending on what he needed. Right now, George very much craved the codling- but knew that Quackity would give him whatever he thought was best.

"Okay..." Quackity finally hummed, "What did you do?  Just be honest with me."

"I almost kissed Dream," George mumbled, his eyes cast downwards as he fidgeted with a loose thread on the hem of his sweater. He lifted his gaze momentarily, only to see Quackity's own wide eyes staring back at him.

Without him even noticing, the car had been pulled into an empty rest stop. George sighed once he realised he wasn't getting out of this with an explanation, and so very briefly recounted the events that had occurred beforehand. Quackity's eyes seemed to get wider with each sentence until George came to the end, in which they narrowed in confusion.

"What's the problem with that, though?" Quackity questioned warily. At George's deadpan expression, he started to explain himself, "I'm just saying, dude! It's obvious he likes you back, especially since he's the one who instigated it in the first place."