warmth [dreamnotfound] | ✓

chapter eight. sparks.

2:45 PM.

They had lost a lot of time in Indianapolis. They wouldn't get to Orlando until at least 4 AM. George didn't get two shits.

Singing along to the local radio station, the two boys cruised down the interstate at nearly double the legal speed limit while both had subconsciously determined that time constraints were for losers and it didn't particularly matter if either of them got to Florida now or three months down the line.

Dream's sunglasses were on the tip of his bruised nose, sitting amongst his freckles so that the other boy could see the sunlight in the reflection of his friend's green (well, yellow for George) eyes. His floppy blond hair had been thrown to the wind as well, finally ceasing its endless quest to hide his face from the world. George grinned but the boy stared straight ahead, not noticing when he opened his phone camera and snapped a picture of him.

A blush crossed George's cheeks as he looked back at the picture for a moment, saving it to a folder of all his favorites.

"Hey, didn't this used to be Wilbur's favorite song?" Dream commented without thinking. A heartbeat later and he made a face, turning to look over to George.

"Yeah, I think so."

Pause.

"We all had kinda shit taste back then," George covered. As much as he hated talking about Wilbur, he probably hated the silence surrounding the ghost of a boy ten times more.

"Speak for yourself!" Dream exclaimed, "My music taste has always been great!"

"Liar! Your taste was bad for all of elementary and you can't even deny it. That soundcloud rap from middle school was even worse!" George cackled and Dream jokingly threw his sunglasses at him. George shrieked and threw back his book.

"Hey! No fucking with the driver or you'll end up in the ditch!"

"Just me?"

"Yes!" He struggled to find his words between wheezes, "I'll throw you in myself!"

As their laughter died down, George opened his camera again. Dream saw him this time, raising a questioning brow.

"What could you possibly want a picture of? It's the same 20 hills and farms for miles around," he said as the lens of George's phone camera was turned in his direction. Dream instinctively grinned, winking at the other boy.

"The clouds. I can see them in the reflection of your eyes and it looks... really cool." Click. Click. Dream's cheeks flushed a shade of red and he quickly turned to look back at the road, suddenly aware of how exposed he felt without his sunglasses. Click. Click. Click.

"Did you get my good side?" He smirked slightly.

"Do you have one?" George grinned as Dream swatted lightly at the phone. He flipped through the photos, clicking the little heart button near the ones he liked the best. Nearly all of them ended up in the "Loved Photos" folder.

"I have two actually," Dream said a heartbeat later, turning back to George to demonstrate. The other boy jokingly took another picture.

"You should probably pay attention to the road," he said it as if they weren't swerving into the next lane already, in danger of getting into an accident.

"Shit!" Dream cursed as he yanked the wheel to get them back into their lane and shot an expression of fake-annoyance to George. "You should probably have said that earlier."

"I don't think that grammar was correct."

"I was mocking you."

George snickered and the car descended into momentary silence, climbing a mountain in front of it and slowing down slightly. Soft music - some kind of dumb love song off Dream's playlist -wafted through the air like a pleasant smell and made him smile. He hummed lightly and lifted his feet to sit crossed-legged and lean back comfortably, lost in the lyrics.

The dark-haired boy's thoughts returned to their usual topics and his eyes clouded over slightly. His left hand looped with his right and he stared out at the sky, still humming along. It was like he was alone in the car, even with Dream beside him, but he was quite used to that feeling anyway.

A new song started and it was definitely in a rom-com that George had seen at one point. It was probably the ending or credit music from what he could remember as it was about being happy and in love. If it was a believable movie, he had definitely cried to this. He always cried at the good ones.

Now that he thought about it again, he could remember the tears trailing down his face and frowned while his eyes darted to the floor. It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, but a bothersome one to say the least. He curled in on himself and pressed his crossed legs to his chest, mind fumbling to resurface memories that he didn't want.

Dream called to George, but he ignored it. Again. A third time. On the fourth time, there was a hand on top of his and he gasped slightly, looking over to his old friend and immediately being pulled from the murky waters of his own mind.

"Dude, you good? You kinda zoned out there."

"Yeah, I think I'm fine." Dream's hand still hadn't moved. George said nothing about it. He'd much rather keep it there and pretend he was in one of the cars driving past, looking in the window and taking it out of context. From beyond the metallic construct of the vehicle, they could've been anything. Brothers. Boyfriends. Best friends who'd known each other since they were little and stuck together through everything.

Besides, Dream's hand was warm. It was way larger than George's and his long fingers fit perfectly between the spaces of the brunet's.

The problem was that the second his friend's golden eyes darted down to their connection, it immediately disappeared. He pulled his fingers away and they were only replaced by an awkward space full of quiet. And regret. Just the thing George wanted least. He could barely handle what he already had.