november rain // dreamnotfound

six

George was currently squished between a rich old lady and an overly excited young journalist, waiting for Dream's appearance on the runway.

He hadn't seen Dream since their dinner together at his house, because they both had lives to live. George was thankful for the break; it was nice to have a few days to collect his thoughts. As he thought over the outcome of the dinner, he honestly couldn't pull anything negative from it. He had learned more about Dream, and for once their conversation wasn't strained. A bit awkward was better than strained, he supposed.

Now they were apparently at the stage where Dream felt obligated to text him every day, which was touching but also mildly annoying because Dream was so fucking clingy.

Dream

morning babe ;)

I'm trying out all the pet names btw

heres a patches pic, she says hi :D

(attatchment: 1 image)

today's the day! You'll be there right?

u better be there you promised you would >:(

goddamn are you still sleeping

GEORGE WAKE YO ASS UP

George

what the actual fuck Dream

and no I was actually driving to this dumb event

shouldn't you be getting ready?

Dream

i've been ready for hours George

I was born ready

George

Good to hear

Dream

where are you sitting? I want to wink at you ;)

George

karl insisted i sit in the very front

Dream

Of course he did

Well george i hope your ready to get swept off your

feet by my beauty ;)

George

I'm sitting down you idiot

Dream

then I hope you fall out of your chair and embarrass

yourself at the sight of my beauty >:)

George

okay. Stop texting me and get ready, golden boy.

George rolled his eyes and put his phone away, waiting for the show to start. He was surprised that Dream was so expressive when you got to know him, even over text. How could someone that seemed so boring be so interesting?

He sits there listlessly, mind racing with thoughts of Dream. He seemed to pop into his head at the most random times, glimpses of his wide smiles burning into the backs of George's eyelids. It was hard not to think of him now, staring straight onto the runway that would soon fill with models.

Suddenly, something taps his shoulder. He glanced over in a half daze, only to find the journalist looking at him with apprehension painted on their face. When they realized they had George's attention, they started talking, almost faster than George could comprehend.

"Hey! You're George Davidson! Could I ask you a few things?"

He was surprised by the sudden conversation, so he just blurted, "sure."