It's one thing flying out to another country and spending a week in your best friend's home, but it's another thing if you're in love with said best friend. That's a whole different story, but luckily, that's what this story is about. -------- Cross-posted from AO3 under the same account name. My friend Pi drew the cover for me and I'm so blessed!!! Please check them out on Tumblr: https://prettyinaccurate.tumblr.com/ and/or Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/prettyinaccurate/

Alone. Scared of the light. The mask choking him. Constant buzzing noice. Caos. Singing to drown noise. Suffocating. Footsteps. Terror. Looking up. This story is something I thought about one night when I couldt sleep so I just wrote it all down. So it may not be the best story but I wrote this at 3 am and its kinda improvised sjdjsksk It was mostly for myself cause I felt I needed to write my thoughts down but I decided to publish it anyways ^•^ And also I had just read some dnf fanfics so the only names I could come up with were Clay and George and also it was fitting with the mask Thank you for reading 🥰🥑

PLEASE do not report this. the original creator is tbhyourelame. This is a copy from a03. If you want to read more and dont want to wait for me to publish more chapters, please register an a03 account :) credits to the author: tbhyourelame. I WILL DELETE THIS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ Summary Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather. A breath of frustration escapes George's lips. "I don't do that." "You do. It's okay," Dream says. He feels pinpricks of warmth building in his chest. The words rise up faster than he can temper, laced with soft honey, "you're so cute." The call falls silent. They heard it. The affection in the tone of his voice, different than usual, no trace of humor. The way it came from the hearth below his heart, glowing with secrecy and shame-for George, and George only. They had to have heard it. -inspired by the song "heat waves" by glass animals