Between Friends (dnf)

Homesick

Homesickness was not something George thought he'd feel after moving to America. Well, at least not this soon.

Dream and Sapnap- they're his home, not some rubbish one bedroom flat in England. He knew he was meant to be here in Florida. George had come to learn that home was found on Dream's shoulders, being carried around the house, while they chased Sapnap with Nerf guns.

Yet here he is, standing in the kitchen over a cup of tea he never even enjoyed when he lived in the UK.

The holidays just passed and it was George's first time not being with his family for Christmas and New Years. For the first time in 26 years, he didn't sit with his sister on his parents' sofa, while they all unwrapped presents.

Instead, this year he sat in his own living room, pressed against Dream's side, with 75,000 people watching them live. But again, Dream was there with him, reminding George that this was home with his presence alone.

Dream was someone who felt like home to George, even before the move.

Dream smelled like lavender and laundry detergent, a combination George never realized would bring him so much comfort. Even though they all shared the same detergent, George never got that homey-feeling from the smell of his own clothes, only Dream's.

But even so, that didn't change the fact it was January, twenty-four degrees (c) outside, and Florida's winter was more like a British summer.

So here George was again, for the third night in a row, standing in their kitchen. George stirred his now lukewarm tea, scraping the crystallized sugar on the bottom of his mug.

"Can't sleep?"

George perked up from hearing the familiar voice. The voice that he heard everyday for almost ten years.

"I guess. Why are you up?" George asked, turning around to face Dream. He looked like he was asleep on his feet, holding his stomach under his shirt, and his curly hair sticking up in every which direction.

"I heard you come down, so I wanted to check on you." Dream shrugged, walking over to lean on the counter across from George.

"Why would you want to check on me?" George scoffed, dragging his eyes away from Dream.

"Because you've been drinking tea. You hate tea." Dream said bluntly, looking at George's mug on the counter.

He did kind of have a point.

"I'm fine, it doesn't matter." George shrugged off the concern, choosing to dump the tea into the sink, as if the act would prove something.

Watching the amber liquid pour down the drain felt sad in a way, like his futile attempt at finding familiarity was taken away from him.

"Do you... miss home? Is that what's wrong?" Dream spoke as though it were a question, but it was clear to George that Dream had already figured out exactly what was going on in his mind.

George sighed, knowing there wasn't a point in trying to hide something from Dream anyway. Dream could read him like an open book, even before they lived together.

"I am home." George deflected, still not quite ready to acknowledge what he was feeling.

"George." Dream said softly. George could see out of the corner of his eye that Dream was beginning to inch towards him. Part of him craved the comfort that came with burying his face into Dream's broad chest, knowing the smell of lavender and detergent would make him feel more at home than any mug of crappy tea could. The other part of George was concerned with how often he found himself seeking out that comfort.