head in the clouds

a little talk

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Dream needs some reassurance, and George reminds him just how loved he is.

—

It is well into the afternoon when George finds Dream flat out on the floor in the living room, right where a square sunbeam shines in through the windows and creates a little framed space for him to lie in. He is on his tummy with his head nestled in his folded arms, turned away from the door to face the sun instead.

George can imagine without having to see it, how the gentle light is dusting Dream's freckled cheeks; warming over his closed eyelids. He can't know for sure if Dream is asleep, but all indications certainly point to it. Like the slow rising and falling of his back, and the fact that he is completely silent over there.

When he's awake, Dream is almost always making some sort of noise. Anything from quiet humming to little clicks with his tongue or echoing different sounds he picks up on around him.

His favorite is to echo George and Sapnap's words. If one of them asks if he's feeling sleepy, he'll probably respond with a nod and a sweetly mumbled, "feelin' sleepy."

George is pretty sure it's all subconscious, all of Dream's little sounds, but that doesn't make it any less endearing.

...

"Dream?" He tries from the doorway, careful to keep his voice soft.

The blond turns his head towards him right away, a sleepy smile spreading on his lips as he stretches out a bit. Maybe he was just on the brink of sleep after all.

George smiles at seeing him awake and starts walking closer, socked feet padding across the fuzzy carpet.

"Napping on the floor again, huh?"

Dream nods. "But I'm not– like, feeling small, or whatever," he mumbles, watching George almost nervously for his reaction.

"That's okay," George says gently, stopping right beside him. "There are no age limits for napping on the floor."

That makes Dream smile again, "Okay."

With some effort, George kneels down on the floor and lays down right next to his friend, just close enough for their shoulders to brush. The square of light is big enough to encompass both of them, and George sighs as he settles into the warmth.

He turns his head to the side and takes in Dream's sleepy expression. "Are you okay?" He asks him softly.

Dream shrugs, "Just kind of quiet, I guess."

George hums, and they ease into a comfortable silence. He gets the feeling that Dream wants to say something; can sense the little twitches in his hands. Like the words are right on the tip of his tongue and he's working out how to say them the way he wants.

"Is it okay if I–" Dream starts, cutting himself off with a short breath. George gives him an encouraging look.

"Is it okay if I get something off my chest real quick?" He asks, his voice a little quieter. "I know it probably seems random, but I just... I don't know, I feel like I need to say it." His eyes flicker to George's when he's done, that same nervous look in them from before.

George turns on his side to face him properly. "Of course, Dream. I'm listening."

Dream nods, his gaze drifting off to the side again as he starts talking. George recognizes the habit of avoiding eye contact as something little Dream does, too. It seems like it's easier for him to get his words out without the pressure of keeping his eyes in just one place.