late for the love of my life

ch. 9

It was George's birthday today.

Dream didn't get to see him.

He wasn't high enough on the list, with friends, family, and of course, George's other soulmate, all an overbearing priority.

George profusely apologized, texting Dream early in the day that they wouldn't be able to meet up, everything being much more hectic and filled with new surprise plans he wasn't aware of until now.

Dream said there was no need to be sorry, he'd see George sometime later, they could celebrate just by themselves another time, no problem.

The tightness in his chest and the hot pricking tears in his eyes gave away Dream's true feelings on this matter, he was grateful George couldn't see him at this moment, how his tremble would betray him immediately.

He laughed shortly, reminded of the stark contrast this was to his own birthday a couple of months ago.

Dream had treated himself by taking off his classes for the day, sleeping in, and mulling over what cake he should purchase for himself later.

George had interrupted Dream's musings, questioning when he was going to come over today for the occasion. Dream was surprised as yes, he was overly familiar with George's schedule, and this was out of the ordinary. He shouldn't be off.

George admitted he took the day off, just for this. Just for Dream.

He actually thought he told Dream this before, slightly embarrassed that the other wasn't expecting this as the predetermined plans.

But, of course, Dream welcomed it openly, inviting George to join him at whatever time was most convenient, George showing up about 15 minutes later, only to shove Dream right out the door again for some birthday breakfast.

It was an enjoyable day, one of Dream's fondest memories.

George did the whole charade with the cake and candles and singing. Dream was awarded with a gift since he entertained George's whims.

He didn't understand the meaning of the flash drive he was handed, giving George a look that asked if this was some kind of gag gift.

But, it was so far from that assumption. George coded something for him, just a simple little game that took Dream on an adventure with stupid jokes through, what Dream guessed, was a Floridian swamp, with some geocache treasure hidden deep in the muddy banks.

Dream played it an innumerable amount of times, picking out new bits he hadn't seen before on every run through, finding deep appreciation for the attention George had in the coded detail.

As a programmer himself, Dream was impressed and honored, knowing the time and work this must have taken.

He played it now, waiting for George, waiting for his phone to buzz and tell Dream when he would see the other next.

His game character was a little blob with a smiley face, hopping along the path he'd become familiar with, avoiding the traps and heading to the NPC that was just George blatantly inserting himself into the game. Dream appreciated it.

He smiled at the screen, liking the sunglasses and the 404 error message that popped up when you said something the blob George didn't like.

His amused expression fell, releasing a long sigh as the hours with radio silence slipped passed, glancing at his phone still containing zero notifications with disdain.

Dream played, played again, and waited.

Finally, the message he'd stubbornly stayed up for came. He grinned, deciding the upheaval to his sleep schedule was worth it.