Just One Night // DNF

26 - Real

A/N - 4200+ babes. Get sum to eat, drink, snack on, idc but get something. Get cozy, and happy reading my loves.

"Dance with me."

"It's raining."

✧✧✧

When George woke up, he was actually in a fairly good mood. Those dreams that's used to chase him from sleep settled and for once it was blissfully silent dreaming.

His eyes squinted open to peer at his window, beams of bright light shining through cascaded beautiful streams of white on the sheets. George threw an arm over his eyes, listening to the quiet silence of the house. Not a step to be heard, not a fire alarm being set off. He could feel the emptiness reverberate through him, rattling some deep sense of abandonment that George never strived to acknowledge. He groaned and shoved his blankets off, swinging his legs over and pressing them into the plush carpet of his floor.

With the usual crack and pop of his joints and bones, he grabbed his phone off his bedside table and made his way to the bathroom. He flicked on the light as he looked at his notification screen.

There were a few from Nick, some from Karl, one from his family group chat, and... George's eyes widen on Dream's name. Dream.

"Holy shit" George murmured to himself, "it was real." He brought a hand up to his hair, pulling at the strands just to be left with sand falling out in little pebbles on the tile. It all came crashing back to him through the fog of his sleep-ridden mind. The beach, the confession, the kiss, everything. Oh my god.

"It wasn't a dream," George said to himself through the mirror. "It was very much real." His reflection nearly answered back. He took a step back, then another until his shoulders and back collided with the wall where he slid down to the floor. His heart was beating so hard in his chest he wondered if it would just tear itself out.

"Real," he said, again to himself. His knees were pulled up to his chest, his forearms braced on either one as he leaned his forehead on them.

Real. It was real. George saying all that shit on the beach. Opening his damn heart up to Dream. Kissing Dream first. Asking the other to kiss him again. George was practically shaking in his own skin, yet he didn't feel bad. He didn't feel anything purely negative, just an overwhelming sense of realness. That Dream was real. That he himself was real. That they were real and were... together-ish? Not dating but not... just friends.

I need to get out. George thought to himself. Air. I need air and caffeine. Maybe even a cigarette. He gripped onto the edge of the counter and pulled himself up, wobbling slightly. With sweaty palms and turned on the faucet, letting the cool water run over his hands before splashing his face with it. Yeah. Definitely a cigarette.

He dried his face with a towel and breathed. Then breathed again. He felt so overwhelmed, so full of indescribable and unfamiliar emotions that the four walls of his bedroom made him feel as if he was gonna be squished and splattered against the walls. He needed to leave, like, right now. So he quickly fixed his hair, brushed his teeth, and scrambled out of the bathroom and to the closet before pulling out a pair of sweats. His hands slackened when he saw the sage green hoodie laid on the back of his chair.

After the whole fiasco last night, the two of them just walked along the beach. And, because George is kind of an idiot in some (most) cases, he didn't bring a jacket. And, because Dream is a gentleman and watches way too many chick flick's with his sister, he shoved his sweatshirt onto George before he could even protest that it was cheesy and awfully cliché.