Waltzes and Waterfalls

Chapter 1

George loved to travel. Or rather, he usually did.

As a child, he would lose sleep in anticipation of flights, packing and repacking his rucksack with whatever he felt was necessary, dreaming up endless scenarios of the holiday to come; as an adult, he found himself losing sleep once again, although this time for an entirely different reason.

Music far louder than what would be healthy somewhat muffled the cacophony of chaos surrounding him to the extent that, with his vision obscured by the itchy eye mask he had grabbed at the duty-free, he could almost pretend that he was somewhere else. Almost. But the low and steady rumble of the aeroplane's engine was inescapable, and the cries of the baby in row five somehow drowned out the rap he was blasting, and with the misfortune of being cramped between two older ladies who had no concept of personal space and were talking to each other as though he wasn't sat right in the middle of them, nattering on about quilting and bridge and their grandchildren's misfortunes at a level which was very much not inside voices— maybe the promise of sleep was too good to be true.

And that wasn't even considering the pit of trepidation that had settled deep in his gut — a persistent reminder, the edge of adrenaline constant through his veins and arteries making the beating of his heart just that bit faster. So instead of even attempting to sleep, he settled on reminiscing about how he got there in the first place.

It was a bizarre situation. It really was. He probably would have found it humorous if it wasn't happening to him, but being the brunt of a joke never makes it quite as funny.

It had started at some point in March. Or maybe it was April? He couldn't remember. It didn't really matter. He was in a call with Dream and Sapnap but none of them were speaking, just enjoying the presence of the others whilst they worked away, a playlist on loop in the background. It was his phone vibrating that drew him out of his focus and he glanced down expecting to see one of his parents or his sister—they were the only people who sent him text messages after all— but was faced with a different contact entirely.

He read the message that was so rudely obscuring the adorable photo of his cat on his home screen twice over to check that there wasn't a mistake before unlocking his phone to read the message in full.

'Hello George,' it read, followed by a smiling emoji, 'I hope this is still your number! I was wondering if you were around in August to come and see Dream!'.

And the number that the messages came from was saved in his phone under the contact "Dream's Mum".

"Dream?!" George exclaimed incredulously, swallowing down the laughter threatening to bubble up, "Why is-" but he cut himself off at the sight of the next message; 'don't mention anything, it's going to be a surprise for his birthday!!!'.

"'Why is' what?" Dream shot back, confused.

"Oh- uhh, nothing I think I just misread something." George choked. He cursed himself for not making a 'your mum' joke because the irony would have been just beautiful but it was clear that he had neither the coolness of head nor the speed of wit to pull that off successfully without spilling anything.

"What did you misread, George? Go on?" Sapnap taunted him, giggling at the spluttering mess that George had become. In the reflection of his computer screen he watched the colour rush to his face—his cheeks getting rosier by the second, tips of his ears practically glowing with all the heat they were emitting.

"Oh no it's fine- I- err- ignore me. Actually, I think it's time for some lunch, I'll be back soon," he spoke fast, ending the call before realising that he never actually responded to Dream's mother.