one fleeting first

p1.ch1

Dream really didn't give a shit.

His parents were concerned or whatever. His grades were slipping, and his patience for the next few years was already running thin. But he really didn't care.

Honestly, Dream was this close to dropping out, to beg his way into getting into online school. There was nothing keeping him here, nothing to learn that he couldn't figure out himself. Hell, half the time he knew more than the actual teacher did.

It didn't matter. Being at the top of the class or impressing those who didn't give a fuck about him or his academic performance.

He didn't care, and it didn't matter. That was, until it did.

Because George was in his class this year. Smart-ass, teacher's pet, 'I'm gonna be valedictorian so don't even try,' stupid british accented motherfucker George was in his class.

And there was something about him that lit a fire under Dream's competitive side with furious, burning flames.

It wasn't like he was meaning to catch the other's attention in some rivalry he had made up entirely in his head. But Dream just couldn't wait for the moment, any moment, to prove George wrong. To correct him and show he wasn't some slacker who didn't give a shit.

Even if that's what he was, it didn't have to be so obvious.

"Oh my god," Dream laughed in sly provocation, rolling his eyes at the explanation George gave for a problem that couldn't be further from the right answer, "You can't be serious. I thought you were the smart one."

The other fumed at him, scoffing as he set his pencil down, George already annoyed they were put in these idiotic groups to discuss things he could do by himself. Dream, who had instantly rubbed him the wrong way with his half-ass attitude, was getting on his nerves.

He scoffed, gesturing at Dream, "If you know so much, then what did you put down?"

George glanced over at the other's blank paper, having some victory in his voice as he pointed out, "You haven't even written anything."

Dream dismissed him, waving his hand like this conversation was boring him, even though it was quite literally sparking him alive to defy the great and mighty George like this, "That's because this whole thing is stupid. Who cares about completely another endless worksheet the teacher probably stole off the internet?"

"The people who actually want to do something with their lives."

"High school isn't everything."

George blew him off with a haughty, "That's what people who are going to flunk out of it say."

"Big talk for someone who can't do a simple chemistry problem," Dream shot back.

The other defended immediately, "You can't even tell me what's wrong with what I'm saying. I swear you just want to fight with me and have no other excuse to do so."

"No, actually," Dream breathed out, pointing down at the error George wrote, "You didn't convert this number right. You did it in grams instead of kilograms, messing up the whole entire problem."

George looked at him unimpressed, his expression growing more sheepish as Dream showed him the actual way to do it, exhaling in annoyance when he found the other was, unfortunately, correct.

"Whatever," George brushed out the defeat, "It's only because you aren't pulling your weight and helping like the rest of the group is."

"Sure," Dream grinned in his absolute success, "Keep telling yourself that."