MCYT Oneshots

Doesn't Mean I Like You // DreamNotFound

// art by @ kunisdrafting101 on instagram //

George sets his phone down on the bathroom counter, running a comb through his hair. "Honestly, Sapnap, I don't know why you think this is such a big deal," he says, meeting his own eyes in the mirror. "We've hung out like this before. It's not any different."

"It is different, and you know it," Sapnap retorts over the speakerphone. "Now, spill. Where are you two going?"

Just then, George hears the chime of a notification alert. "I don't know," he mutters absently, picking up his phone. "He won't tell me." George opens his texts – sure enough, there's a new message from Dream. "hey. are we still on for tonight?" he wants to know.

George tries to ignore the tiny flutter in his chest as he taps out a quick response. Sapnap's just making me doubt myself, he thinks. Why else would he be nervous about going out for a completely normal evening with his best friend?

"great! i'll pick u up at 8 :)" comes Dream's swift reply.

George sets the phone back down. "So..." Sapnap purrs mischievously into the phone, turning George's attention back to the call. "What are you wearing for your date?"

"Sapnap," huffs George indignantly. "I told you already, it's not a date!" George turns to himself in the mirror again, as if trying to convince himself. "I don't like Dream," he says firmly.

"Sure," drawls Sapnap, smirking. "And I don't like Ka–"

George scowls, hanging up before Sapnap can finish his sentence. Outside, he hears the telltale sound of tires rolling up onto his driveway. George checks his outfit in the mirror again, sighing as he tugs his shirt up over his head. For all of Sapnap's teasing, he was probably right about picking out some nicer clothes. George riffles through his closet, pulling out a light blue sweater, which he pulls on over a white collared shirt.

George checks his reflection again. Better, he thinks, running a hand through his hair. It only makes sense that he dresses a little nicer, after all the effort Dream put into planning this night. This isn't because I like him, George adds to himself. I'm just being polite.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. "Coming!" George calls, grabbing his wallet and keys from on top of the dresser. He tugs on his socks and shoes, then hurries outside, locking the door behind him.

Outside, Dream is waiting in the driveway, leaning against the side of his car. "Hey," he greets with an easy smile, his figure silhouetted by the warm glow of the streetlights above.

"Hi," George replies simply, making his way over.

"You look nice," Dream says, opening the car door.

George rolls his eyes at his unnecessary chivalry, slipping into the passenger seat. "Thanks," he replies as Dream closes the door, walking around to the other side. Dream takes a seat behind the wheel, and for a moment George wonders if he should compliment him back. After all, Dream seems to have put some extra effort into his appearance as well. He's wearing a dark green button-down over a black shirt and dark jeans, and his usual mess of dirty-blond hair appears to have gotten a trim. Although George is used to seeing it tied up in a haphazard ponytail, tonight the strands hang short and loose over his forehead, framing the graceful cut of his features.

George doesn't notice he's staring until Dream meets his eyes, a smirk spreading across his features. "What are you looking at?" he teases, arching an eyebrow.

George turns away before Dream can see the heat rising in his cheeks. "So, where are we going, anyway?" George mutters, ignoring him.

Dream lets out a laugh as he starts the engine. "You'll see," he replies simply, a smile touching his lips.