parted lips | ✫

︲𝟢𝟪

Pretty Boy , Lennon Stella —

George has calmed by the evening, where he takes cups in Tina's handwriting, eyes scanning over orders and fingers pressing against coffee machines. He's coating a cup in caramel as Tina slides another cup over. He looks at it, nods to the brunette who smiles before whipping up the drink quickly to start the next.

"Sophia!" He calls, and a girl comes bouncing along, he recognises her from the hallways at school. "Here."

"Thank you." She smiles, fingers clasping around the drink, he drops it. Nods, steps away for the other drink.

Before he scans over the order, he notices the name. He scoffs.

I'm sorry.

Browns flick up with hazy, lingering anger scanning his cafe for the idiot blonde. He finds him upfront rather than at the back corner like always, his computer is closed, unlike usual where he opens it the moment he's sat down. Spread legs, elbows resting against thighs and his hands clasped together under his chin. Downturned lips and sorry eyes, he's apologetic and George can tell. He hates how easily he forgives him.

He hates the way Dreams lips part to mouth the exact two words written on his cup. It's a quick order that he knows he only ordered to get George to talk to him. His head ducks down, lips pulled tight and brows lowered over his eyes.

He hates everything.

"Here." George sets the drink down on the table, Dream had since migrated to his usual table at the back.

Dreams lips part, he pauses, sighs, "Thank you." Finality.

George doesn't say anything.

"I — George. I'm sorry."

"I know." His arms cross.

"It wasn't right for me to say that, especially when I don't even know you." They weren't friends, though they weren't strangers anymore, perhaps acquaintances.

"I know."

The light hits the window, casting against Georges face, grazing his skin that meets strawberry-pink lips, wet with saliva. Dream hates that he's staring. He looks away quickly, back down to his drink.

George sighs, falling into the seat opposite him, no invitation needed. "Why say it though? That's what i don't know.. understand."

Greens meet browns, tanned hands roll the drink, fidgeting fingers. "It's stupid."

"It's better than saying nothing." He quips.

Dream sighs, "No, really." So many sighs.

The brunettes lips purse together, bottom lips slipping between rows of teeth. He looks back to the counter, "Were you trying to make me mad at you?"

"No I uh. That was not the plan."

His elbow meets the table, slouched figures and chin pressed to palm, "You ruined my whole day." He clucks.

Dreams lips curl up, sensing the humour in his tone, though hardly there. "I wanted to humble you."

"Humble me? I'm fucking humble, what." George frowns, though he pauses, biting down on his bottom lip again. "Okay whatever." Dream leans back, a short breath of laughter on his tongue, Georges smile endears him. And the bell chimes with a cool gust of air.

The warm weather hadn't lasted even a day, and with Georges sour mood came overcast clouds and a slight drizzle through the afternoon, now at five it brought bitter breezes back.