november rain // dreamnotfound

seven

George is driving to the restaurant, and Dream is sitting restlessly in the passenger seat, rethinking everything.

Yet another silent car ride leads his mind to question everything- George's expressionless face, the tense atmosphere in the car. It seemed like it was all going well, so what happened? Was he too clingy for George? Was George already tired of him again?

As George pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant, Dream decides to speak. "Is everything okay?"

George turns to examine him, sighing before saying, "Yeah, sorry. I just don't like to hear that people are talking shit about me, and honestly that whole conversation with Wilbur threw me off-"

"Wait, what?" Dream interjects, brows furrowing. "You think that I'm shit talking about you?"

"Obviously, Dream, you don't have to be so blunt!"

"George, the talking I do about you is the opposite of shit talking." Dream says with a laugh.

"Really?" George asks, glaring at Dream.

"Yes! I'm sorry Wilbur made it seem that way..."

"It's okay, Dream. I need to stop assuming things."

"I know that it's in your nature, don't feel bad."

"Yeah, I can't let stupid interactions get to me though. Thanks for checking on me, hopefully we can have a nice meal now." George's eyes met his, a warm look of sincerity making him look even prettier.

"Of course. Now let's go eat please, I am so hungry!" Dream said dramatically.

"I'm coming! You are such a child." George said with a laugh as he got out of the car.

Dream feels his face flush when George grabs his hand. He doesn't let go until they've reached their table, a secluded corner booth in the back of the dimly lit restaurant. After the waiter takes their orders, they fall into easy conversation.

"What's it like to walk on the runway?" George asks as he swirls the straw in his drink around.

"It's a very surreal experience every time. I don't think my brain is thinking as I walk, I just go on autopilot. You can't look, but you can feel everyone's eyes on you and it makes me feel like I'm floating, almost." Dream tries to put into words how it feels, but you really can't. At least he can't.

"How did you start?"

"I've been modeling since I was sixteen. My mother told me it was time for me to make a name for myself, and sent me to Badboyhalo- the industry's most well known talent agent."

"Dream Johnson," he said, looking at the extensive 'resume' and legal documents provided by his mother. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My parents think it's time for me to make a name for myself." He had said, repeating his mother's words.

"Are you kidding?!" Bad asked, laughing, surprising Dream. "Everyone already knows who you are!"

"Yeah, I guess," Dream said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "But I think she means more like a name in some industry."

"Okay, so you're ready for a professional career. What are you good at?"

"That's the problem... I'm not a good singer, or actor, and I'm not very outgoing. I don't know what would suit me."

"Well if I could suggest something, I would say modeling could be the best route to start. You can easily get into other careers in the future, and you certainly have the looks and build of a model."