the wall that divides us | DNF au

twelve

george

The morning after meeting everyone felt surreal, suddenly everything started to feel like they were falling into place. It didn't take a lot of effort for George to find comfort in Dream's friends, although the tension between Sapnap and the brunette was still blindingly evident. 

George always struggled when it came to maintaining friendships. Back home, one had to act a certain way at all times, even if that wasn't exactly who they felt like. Sure, your personality was allowed to slip out every now and then, but everyone shared this unspoken agreement of conservativeness. With Dream and his friends, George found himself quite literally. He didn't hold back from cussing, or rolling his eyes in a playful manner, he continued to find himself within conversation as well. Laughing at things he personally found funny rather than waiting for the entire group to initiate any form of social cue. To put it simply, George found himself. He knew exactly who he was and who he wanted to be around these people. He wanted to be surprisingly funny, he wanted to appear dazed and lost in the moment at times, catching people off guard when saying something random that just popped into his head. George wanted to swear from time to time, he wanted to be sassy and push peoples buttons. Fuck the social cues and standards, he didn't need to follow them any longer. 

Waking up today was different to waking up the morning prior. He wanted to shoot out of bed with excitement, knowing that Karl was going to come over and show him around the city, but something held him back from fully emerging from the bedsheets. 

George fully opened his eyes and looked down at the weight around his torso. The brunette's breath hitched and his body tensed for a moment, noticing the toned arm wrapped comfortably around him. A small smile crept across his face as his fingers hovered over Dream's forearm, wanting to trace little patterns along his skin until the blonde woke up, but at the same time, he was too afraid. He knew now that Dream was kind and caring, but that didn't mean anything more, not between them at least. You were capable of being an absolute sweetheart and a charming person to your friends. Surely this was strictly a platonic alliance between the pair. 

Instead of just laying lifeless until Dream woke up, George slowly wriggled his way out of the sleeping boy's grasp and made his way to the kitchen, he looked around at ingredients and figured there was enough familiar things around here for him to make breakfast. 

There were eggs, a certain type of raw meat as well as an uncut loaf of bread. A typical breakfast seemed easy enough. With precision and ease, the boy managed to make breakfast without waking Dream up and as he walked to the bed with both plates occupying his hands, he took a moment to take in the sight before him. 

All this time, George had gotten so used to the mask that he never really had much time to fully take in Dream's features now. However, as the blonde laid fast asleep in bed, George noticed the freckles spread across the bridge of his nose and lighter ones spread across his cheeks. He noticed how long Dream's eyelashes were, how dark they were and how they naturally seemed to curl upwards. He noticed the boys jawline and how beautiful it's structure was - even whilst Dream's face was fully relaxed in his slumber, his features were still as prominent as they would be when he was awake. His lips - George remembered seeing them for the firs time when they had dinner together but now, as his lips were parted and slightly chapped, the brunette had the sudden intrusive thought to just kiss them. 

George shook his head slightly with a huff escaping his lips before making his way over to the bed, placing the plates at the foot of it before sitting back on his spot, legs crossed, reaching over to the sleeping boy's shoulder and shaking it slightly. 

"Good morning," George said in a hushed voice as he noticed the other begin to stir. Soon Dream's eyes opened and George almost forgot to compose himself. That was truly Dream's best feature, his eyes. They were practically the colour of emeralds, but the closer you got to the boy's pupils, you could see the tint of light brown in the middle.