On Thin Ice ☰ Dreamnotfound

☰ꜰɪᴠᴇ - ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴇᴅ☰

What George didn't expect when waking up the next morning? One giant crash, three softer thuds following the first, and a not-so-quiet string of curses being thrown out into the air after.

He contemplated just letting whatever his sister was doing play out, sparing a glance at his clock which read quarter past ten. It was after he settled back down into his duvet that he realized it wasn't Cara's voice he heard, rather a man's—specifically one belonging to the man who had graced him with a surprise visit only hours earlier. With a groan, the events of the previous day came back to him, rolling through his head like a movie clip.

Dream was here.

He was here, and he was real.

He wasn't just some 3D blocky figure that George had somehow manifested into becoming his best friend for years. He didn't hide behind his iconic mask and he didn't dress head to toe in green like they had joked about before.

Instead, he was here and bundled up in a sweater, grumbling about how cold it was in England compared to Florida—it was bound to snow soon and George couldn't wait to see his reaction to the white flurries. His voice was refined by static of long-distance calls no longer, and his laugh was able to be heard in the authentic way it always should have been.

Dream was most certainly not fictional. He had stood right there with George just the other day, eyes wide and catching a spark that just made George want to stand back and admire the flickering fire behind his expression for just a moment longer than necessary. It was as if every new thing George got to learn about him was like placing logs onto a fire, his excitement being the flame that seemed to be only capable of growth. George wondered if he was always like that, and realized now that he would finally get to find out.

So yeah, Dream was here and real. George knew this from the commotion that only grew louder by the time he had opened his bedroom door clad in a sweatshirt that was just a size too big (it was barely noticeable and made it ten times more comfy, so why should he care?) and a pair of basketball shorts that just barely poked out from beneath the other fabric.

As George made his way down the stairs, he could hear hushed voices seemingly trying to 'Shush!' each other. Sure enough, Dream and Cara were hunched together over the kitchen island, a few boxes sitting at their feet and innocent smiles on their faces.

"Am I interrupting some secretive meeting or something?" George asked, stretching one arm all the way up and over his head, hand balled into a fist, while the other tried to cover the yawn that had escaped his mouth.

"Finally, it took you long enough to get up."

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty!"

The two spoke at the same time as George walked into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the barstools that sat on the opposite side of the island the pair were standing at.

"Morning to you too, now can one of you please tell me why I woke up to the sound of somebody destroying my house?" George asked, voice raspy from having just woken up. Begrudgingly, he stood back up and made his way to the fridge, taking out a carton of apple juice and placing it on the counter while he went to fetch a glass.

"What do you mean 'what are we doing'? There's less than a week until Christmas and you haven't done a single thing to prepare!" George just blinked at Dream, filling his glass and replacing the carton back into the fridge. He picked it up and took a sip before responding.

"Prepare?" This received an eye roll from both his sister and Dream.

"Well duh! You always make me do the hard work every year, now I finally have someone to help me!" Cara smirked and crossed her arms over her chest, nodding at Dream. George walked over to the island, setting down his glass before kneeling in front of the boxes to peer inside.