Constellations... and Other Tragedies || DreamNotFound

Chapter 2

George Davidson was the most handsome person he had ever met.

Clay's breath momentarily caught as he watched George's lips twist up to a smile while he held his hand out for Dream to shake. Clay took the outstretched hand and, rather awkwardly, shook it. The company behind him (this consisted of Sapnap, Mix, Fundy, Skeppy and BadBoyHalo) began to laugh at the pair as they stood hand in hand for what felt like hours, looking at each other in silence. Clay cleared his throat and curtly said, "Nice to meet you , George." He caught himself, "...Not Found." George merely giggle light heartedly and pushed past Dream, only to trip over. Almost immediately, he was caught by the dirty blonde he has shook the hand of. A rather faint shade of red dusted George's cheeks and he regained his balance and turned to his rescuer. "Thank you, Dream."
"No problem." He responded with an unseen smile.

~ ~~~~ ~~~

The evening progressed as expected, there was in fact good food, dancing and gossip. Whether it was about Rosaline - the newest heartthrob, or Joshua - the newest heartbreaker, the news was juicy and impeccable. Suddenly a loud cough came from the stage and everyone turned to see their prime minister, Will Gold.
"Ahem, thank you everybody for joining me on this fine evening."
"Only fine if you excuse the weather..." Dream muttered to himself.
Yet again the microphone rang with the booming voice of Will, "You may all be wondering, Mr PM, why make us attend your amazing Ball under false identities and in masks? Well you see," a dramatic pause, "I am the dirty crime boy and I thought itnwouod be fun if we all played a little game of 'Guess or Gone.'" He not so discreetly looked at his lecture cards and then back to the audience. "The rules are simple. You were each to be given a partner selected at random from this..." He gestured to the top hat beside him, "hat. Now myself and the staff decided that it would take too long to pull 24 names out of a hat when we could just get on with the game so we all said sod it." He threw the notecards over his shoulder and stared intensely at the audience, "Once this speech has ended, each one of you will have an envelope handed to you with your target's real name. The aim of the game is to locate your suspect and guess their identity correctly. If you get the wrong person, you must leave the ballroom and go bother some other people for the night. If you guess correctly, you and your partner will be sent to a private room so you can get to know each other and become best friends. All clear on the rules? Lovely. My children, it is now time. LET THE GAMES..." Yet another dramatic pause, "BEGIN."
Clay sighed and laughed quietly, of course Will would turn this into a game. Of course. An envelope was forced into his hand and he opened it to reveal the name 'Mr George Davidson'. A sudden sweat broke out across his back at the thought of being alone with George. Inexplicable butterflies were erupting in his stomach at the prospect of seeing him again. Clay was taken aback by the severity of his feelings, but mire than anything, a little scared.

After maybe three minutes of walking through the maze of people, Dream located his 'target'. He inhaled, and stepped towards him.

"Excuse me, GeorgeNotFound. Are you by any chance Mr George Davidson?" George turned to him and smiled yet again.
"Yes, I assume you are Mr Clay Ferling then?" His voice. Dream loved his voice, the way it had a soft ring to it, how it sounded when he said his name. He imagined closing his eyes and having that voice just talk to him, rambling, whispering I his ears... Dear God what is wrong with me! He exclaimed in his mind. This kind of behaviour was unhealthy, unnecessary and dangerous for him. "Yes, I am Clay Ferling."
Will's voice boomed over the speakers again. "I have just received word from my Intel that we have two winners, one an incredibly close friend of mine who still owes me 300 quid. Anyway, would Dream and GeorgeNotFound please be escorted to the East Wing, room 8." A servant then ushered them both through the crowd of people in the ballroom, up a thousand stairs and past corridors before inviting them inside a smaller room. They both thanked the female servant that had guided them to their current location.

The room was rather simple, but beautiful. It was painted cream with oak doors leading to a balcony that could be seen through the window panes. One of the two doors was open, causing the faint breeze of the 28°C evening to disturb the rose coloured gauze curtains. Each corner of the room had a light, which illuminated the room in a comforting orange hue. In the centre of the left wall a four poster bed stood with white linen sheets and a green blanket over the middle of the duvet. What intrigued Clay most though, was the record player that was on a table next to the balcony doors. Beneath it had a collection of records. Dream was entirely transfixed for moments, when he felt George brush past him to the record player. He was suddenly nervous again, the butterflies growing in him for the second time. "Mr Ferling," Dream looked towards the man who had called his name. "Yes, Mr Davidson." It sounded so right in his head. No, he was not going there. George spoke again, "Name your favourite musician." Dream took a moment to think about the question, using the pretense of thought to admire George. Even though he couldn't see his eyes, he imagined them to be beautiful. In his mind, they were brown, warm and soothing. "Hmm, the Ink Spots perhaps." George hummed, searching through the collection. Clay's heart accelerated at the quiet noise, he was getting carried away. He cleared his throat and George pulled out a record and placed it on the record player.
"Tell me, Ferling. Do you enjoy a dance, my friend?"
Clay laughed. "In fact I do! Why, sir are you offering?"
"Absolutely." He grinned and placed the tonearm onto the record, moving to the balcony. The first few bars of Address Unknown played and Clay felt even more anxious, he was about to dance with the person he had completely mixed emotions for. He knew that they were not as mixed as he hoped though. There was a definite meaning to his thoughts and that was frightening and wrong and painful. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Clay sighed and walked to George on the balcony.

A/N: I do realise the Ink Spots is 1939+... BUT JUST GIVE ME THIS PLEASE..