Chapter Text
Deviants sought money , George Davidson knew it to be true, and money brought deviance . It was a fact instilled into him since his first term at the oh-so-prestigious-world-renowned-elitist boarding school he attended.
George Davidson knew, in fact, a great many things, ranging from the Iliad’s tragedies, to the inner mechanics of complex computer code, but perhaps what he was versed most fluently in was none other than the academy’s beloved miscreant, Clay Revaz.
Clay Revaz. Depravity given skin, all manipulative charm and wicked smiles, George’s self-proclaimed rival, George’s waking nightmare, what George knew best. Their biting exchanges curdled his blood, alit fires within him that blazed through his mind and scorched his soul. He knew Clay’s damned haughtiness, he knew Clay was convinced he was God’s gift to the fucking world, oh, George knew him inside out.
And this would be the year, he would ruin him, an unspoken oath he’d made to himself after their first meeting, and this would be the year Clay would be brought to his knees, humbled.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
With silly optimism, and bright-eyed naivety, George had first entered the Academy on the prized scholarship, which he believed would surely gain him some respect amongst his peers. Ever so bright, ever so stupid.
As the first classes progressed, he felt the pinpricks of hostility of his peers from their cocky gazes, heard their brazen whispers, and ever so slowly, ever so surely, walls of steel and ice wrapped around George warding off the privileged brats.
He’d made one last attempt to salvage his situation, targeting the one boy they all seemed to fawn over. George knew his type; blonde dicks oozing charisma, their self worth entirely based on everyone’s else’s opinions on them, living with more money than braincells, entitled trust fund babies born with a silver spoon up their fucking arse-
“Hey,” Young George had beamed at Clay, catching him alone for once, apart from his horde of loyal followers. Freckles dusted over tan skin, eery gold eyes, a downward slash of lips.
Clay looked across at him warily, back then on level ground before he’d sprung up like a Jungle Tree.
“I’m George.” He forced an amicable smile, his heart lurching as Clay’s eyes never left his as if rooting out his deepest insecurities and surfacing them for the world to see.
And finally, a smile, all alluring deceit, all careful disingenuity. George clenched his teeth, only causing the smile to deepen. Why had he thought this would have been a good idea? Why was there instant hatred at the sight of him? It was like he exhumed everything they stood against.
“This year’s charity case ?” It wasn’t a question. George blinked back the burn in his eyes that had been building, forced it inwards, forced it behind the steel and ice. Clay leaned forward, a cruel glint in his eye, “Clay Revaz, though you knew that already, didn’t you?”
He tilted his head, leaned a little further until his breath was hot against George’s ear. “Clever little boy’s gonna make his family proud? Thinks he’s the shit now he’s in Big Boy school. You won’t survive a fucking day- fuck !”
Venom poured out as he winced back, a glimmer of surprise in those golden eyes. George had just kneed him in a way Clay wouldn’t soon forget, and he didn’t regret it in the slightest.
Clay turned away, scoffing, “Count your fucking days, charity case .”
George vowed to bring Clay Revaz to his knees, vowed to himself the effort he’d put in to be here wouldn’t be lost.
In the end, money couldn’t buy talent nor skill, and in the end George was still a bloody genius.
Notes:
yh… i kinda hate it :/ but it gets better when there’s acc more shit going on ig
discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: escapismwval
Chapter 2: chapter one.
Summary:
❝ we ignore truths for temporary happiness ❞
dedicated to everyone who’s confused between platonic and romantic feelings for someone of the same gender :)
Notes:
hi @futureval when will tubbos subathon stop? and when tf will george stream?
also if you like dnf fics I WOULD SO SO SO recc deathconsciousness it is so good,, also jaw by saintaches (literally anything by saintaches tbf im v much in love w their writing)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter one.
Three years of cutthroat competition later, of constant oneupmanship, and beating each other by half marks- because of course, Clay wasn’t just some rich half-wit like the rest of them- he had to be overly proficient at academics, because otherwise that would just be too easy for George- and their final year has arrived. George would bring forth ruination.
Dawn was cracking as the phone tore George away from his beloved sleep, ripping out a groan from him, until through bleary eyes he saw mum :) lit up on the cracked screen.
Sleep left him in an instant.
“Hope I didn’t wake you, sweetie.” A voice encased in freshly baked cookies, and volatile British weather, and overly maternal hugs.
Homesickness flooded him, and he could barely choke out a response. “No, I’ve been up for ages.”
His mother made a disapproving noise, “Sure. Listen, I’ve got some emails about payments for textbooks- are they no longer free this year?”
George pressed his forefinger to his temple, cursed Clay for all of George’s recent panicked preparation, cursed himself for getting distracted. George knew by taking a stand against Clay, he’d be against the school, knew he could lose his place, knew he’d not let his mother waste a penny on him especially with the new developments.
“No, they are. It’s probably a scam, delete it.”
“ George- ”
“ Malware .” George hated the way he knew his mum didn’t believe him, and knew that some part of her was grateful, knew there’s nothing back at home to spare. “Mum, don’t fuss.”
“Is it wrong to miss my little boy?” He could imagine her expression as she said it and his heart tightened, even as a light flush rose in his cheek.
Hating the feeling of having her just out of arm’s reach he mumbled out hurried goodbye s and prayed she’d been faring better than he had.
Money , always the issue, always the solution. George flexed his fingers and stretched his neck knowing what lay in store for him today.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
404 ~ online, seeking
jobs today, Q? strapped for cash.
Big Q~ online, hiding
Nothing on short notice. Newb training?
404 ~ online, seeking
typing ffs anything but newb trai
Big Q~ online, hiding
i’ll pay double rate
404 ~ online, chasing
ffs anything but newb trai what’s the big deal
Big Q~ online, hiding
iou cash in, big debt owed. u in?
404 ~ online, chasing
triple. and yh send @
Perhaps George may have dabbled a little into the dark web, but it was easy money and he was great at coding. One scholarship student in the year above had caught eye of his work in Robotics Society (because of course this school would have a robotics society ) and given him a hyperlink and told him to talk to Big Q. Some buggy websites in, and with a special browser installed, he’d found a way to make money that didn’t involve hours of labour on top of schoolwork.
He could imagine Clay’s sneer at the moral depths he’d fall to for cash if he ever knew. George, in return, could only marvel at the moral depths money had caused Clay to succumb to.
It had always fascinated him; their twisted symmetry.
He hated Clay all the more for it.
dream ~ online, seeking
hello?
George hated training newer hackers because they were slow and stupid with big mouths and egoes and none of the skills to match. But George revelled in the power he felt in moments like these; he was a god, they were mortals.
404 ~ online, chasing
let’s begin.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Classes, the following day, began with Classics, and the hallways were filled with first day enthusiasm that would soon be buried under exam stress and sleep deprivation. None of the boys in his year actively avoided George anymore, they were too mature for that now, but still they’d eye him with such unprovoked hostility. Clay, who never once avoided George, favouring rather to clash against him with every ounce of flare he could muster, was notably absent.
Whispers didn’t take long to follow.
wasn’t he acting weird at the welcome party? was he even there?
i heard he’s become addicted to drugs. clay? drugs? no way.
i saw him in a shady part of the city- do you reckon he’s in a gang ? not clay REVAZ?
oh my god, maybe he was meeting his dealer there- see i was right it was drugs.
shut up wilbur nobody’s doing drugs.
… so there’s a gap in the market? interesting.
i heard he’s having family troubles. oh yeah didn’t his brother die? he doesn’t have a brother you idiot. yeah i mean if he’s dead- HE NEVER HAD A BROTH-
George tuned out his peers’ nonsensical blabber as quickly as he could. He couldn’t afford to be so optimistic as to think Clay would do him the favour of disappearing. It wasn’t like him, stubborn as a mule, with infuriating determination. No, Clay was likely just ill and these vultures were picking apart his wounded body.
Even still, George felt a trickle of resentment for him not showing up, having the means and freedom to just be able to miss a day so easily and catch up.
The day churned forwards. The rumour mill grew wilder. George’s mind ached without a nemesis to compete against in lessons.
Lunchtime ensued, marked by stomach growls, and they swarmed into the Culinary Atrium - George’s eye roll at the posh name for lunch-hall grew ever more dramatic every passing year- like a pack of eager wolves.
Just as he thought he’d have peace, alone with his meal, and comfortable in his solitude, his phone buzzed with an alert. He sighed, knowing it had been set to Do Not Disturb, and whoever had superceded the wiring was going to be a hassle.
One look down, and
dream ~ online, chasing
tasks completed.
404?
404.
yk you’ve given me access to your phone settings indirectly right.
404.
fuck’s sake get here now.
George’s lips twisted upward with faint amusement despite himself.
404 ~ online, hiding
im busy.
wait ur turn.
dream ~ online, chasing
need $ rn
please.
George rolled his eyes. They all needed money, and they all needed it now, and Dream might’ve been an above average contestant and capable but Big Q had strict protocol in place and set waiting times for new recruits.
404 ~ online, hiding
tough.
dream ~ online, chasing
listen 404, you’ve seen the way i encrypted the piece you gave me. you know im good.
i’ll owe you one, srsly come on.
404 ~ online, hiding
i’ll talk to q from my end, no promises.
dream ~ online, hiding
THANK YOU thank you thank you
404 ~ online, hiding
you owe me.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
George disconnected the attachment that had let Dream access his end of things, and though he’d known it was a risk to allow that sort of leeway, it would have be riskier to send his tools across without the proper protection that he didn’t have time to do. There was plenty of firewalls behind the surface level stuff too so George wasn’t too worried.
Evening came, night fell, George’s fingers cramped from extra reading around his courses, and deep dives into the murkier areas of the specification. In Literature this term they’d been studying the Merchant of Venice and he’d uncovered incredible essays delving into the characters of Antonio, Portia, and Shylock. He’d made endless notes on possible arguments to present in class and made counters to his points that Clay would inevitably offer and added layers to his defence.
Maths was a breeze, just simple standard deviation. Computer science could be done with eyes closed and hands tied behind his back.
George fell asleep with the taste of code in his mouth, and woke to Clay’s name on his lips; his dreams had been filled with the missing boy. It was a foul start to the hectic day, and George huffed in indignance.
First lesson was literature, and like always, George was early, first one in, and he’d been flicking through his notes, when something caught his eye out of the window. Someone.
Two stories down, Clay Revaz didn’t look as intimidating as he did up close. Two stories down, he was a miniscule toy figure, easy for George to pick up, easy for George to break.
The first thing George noticed was that the rumours must’ve had some truth ingrained within them because Revaz was pacing unnerved, sunlight dancing on his freckles, worry painted on his sculpted features. The second was the faint bruises lining his face, harder to see, and George wasn’t completely sure they were bruises, was thrown by their colouring.
Something stirred within him at the sight, likely jealousy that someone else had gotten to Revaz before he had.
Feeling the weight of a gaze on him, Clay looked up and saw George staring. Unabashed at being caught, George scowled down, and in return Clay tossed up his middle finger. It was a brass move, not typical of him, and George couldn’t help but wonder if he’d really gotten caught up in some murder-frenzy cabal.
George really had no excuse to lose to him then.
He returned to his note, even more adamant to commit the words to memory. More to prove, more to lose .
Clay’d entered, some ten minutes later, presumably with a shit-eating smirk plastered to his face, and George knew what his first words would be without even having to glance in his direction.
Miss me, charity case? It was a predictable taunt, the first words of the year spoken between them for the past three years.
Silence filled the space between them; the heavy, unforgiving lack of a jab, lack of harsh words from the blonde’s silvered tongue was new. And suspicious. George’s lips twisted further downwards.
He considered being the first to fire, but anything he can think to say sounds too much like concern. He goes backs to his notes and wonders what casket he would have chosen, trying to win the desired Portia. Face value was gold ( who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire) , both denoting the mercenary price of Portia herself and painting her as a golden prize, as well as being more the literal worthy of value.
In retrospect, it was easy to see why suitors picked gold at first glance.
A movement in his peripheral, and the brunet turned to see Clay shading his eyes from the glow bathing him, painting his hair in shades of molten gold, defining the bruises lightly dusting his face. Curiosity tugged on George’s mouth, causing it to part, words ready to jump off his tongue, valiant martyrs falling to their demise to try and glean information from the blonde.
No sound escaped his mouth and he blamed it on the reluctance to be the first to speak.
Students began to treacle in, tried to laugh with their revered Clay, as if in hope the laughter would wash off the stains of their tarnished gossip from yesterday.
Clay, usually soaking in the adoration of his friends’ quasilove, barely offered a sentence or two. Not that they really noticed. No one noticed the shift. Except George.
It irritated him, it was two warm sides of a pillow, it was a lack of information, and a lack of control.
The teacher entered, and they began discussing the context of the bard, and antisemitism in the Elizabethan era. George pointed out how the protagonist, if it was the title character ‘the merchant of venice’ was deliberately left vague, thus the title could fall upon both Antonio or Shylock and similarly either could be the antagonist. Clay offered how the play didn’t fall neatly into Shakespeare’s genres, rather classified as a tragicomedy by modern audiences. It was an average point, and something anyone skimming the internet could have observed. Hardly any inference.
“Okay now has anyone else read the first scene, like I asked, or is it just those two, as usual?” Snark was evident in the teacher’s voice, and the class was filled with an awkward silence.
George took it as an opportunity to sneak a look at Clay, whose eyes were fixed firmly on the board. For someone so used to having Clay’s attention all of time, no matter how vindictive its form, not having a single fiery glance shot his way made George’s stomach turn. How was he supposed to beat Clay, if Clay wasn’t worth beating?
“Well, sir, I have to admit it was a bit gay.” It was a response designed to evoke laughs, and as predicted, rambunctious commotion arose as one would expect in an academy like his. George folded his arms across his chest, bored and confused to why he was being ignored, and tried his best to not let his eyes wander.
He swear he felt the weight of a pair of eyes on him, but why would Clay look at him now .
“Well,” The professor started, “homoerotic undertones isn’t something old Bill’s backed down from, and certainly bonds of all types are so vital in Merchant. Antonio ready to give everything he has to Bassanio without a moment hesitation is definitely aiming at something.”
George’s eyes widen in consideration, and the words tumble out of his mouth,
“My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.”
“Excellent example of a Shakespearian tricolon, and see, there we have it. So if there are such feelings for Bassanio, Antonio’s later actions, like the willingness to cut the deal with Shylock- well, Clay?”
George, grateful to have an excuse to turn towards the blonde, watched his lips twist.
“Why are you asking me ?” he spat out, and the teacher was paid enough to write it off as charm. “Mr. Davidson offered something, and you’re usually nipping on his ankles.”
Clay’s cold smile lacked its usual hostile warmth, and for a moment George was almost convinced he wouldn’t rebuke the argument, would let George have this. Almost.
“Modern viewers are blessed with hindsight, and so even if there was a romantic relationship between Antonio and Bassanio, that’s a minor subplot almost irrelevant to the play’s more important themes of prejudice. Unless, Mr. Davison’s arguing that because they were closeted gays it was okay for them to ruin Shylock’s reputation and take his life purely based on their hatred for Jews. Antisemitism is the theme we should focus on, not a hypothetical homosexual relationship, unless there’s a reason, George, are you claiming it’s excusable-”
“Shut the fuck up, I am not antisemitic.” George felt the heat in his cheeks, and his fist was clenched so hard around his pen, he felt it almost snap. “I’m not erasing the message Shakespeare intended, but in order to deliver that we must flesh out all of the characters and the context. Why are you so keen on going against the theory, unless it’s a guise of empathy to hide your homophobia-”
“Alright, alright, that’s enough. Mr. Davidson, Mr. Revaz, you’re both so bright yet so astoundingly dim. Don’t go throwing around shit like that in this class again, detention today.”
Clay scoffed, and stormed out the room.
George was too angry to care how uncharacteristic it was.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
dream~ hiding
thanks for the help with Q.
shitty day, this helped.
fr thanks.
i owe you.
404~hiding
yhyh sentimental sop.
will collect when needed.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Clay wasn’t in advanced mathematics, but to be honest he didn’t need to be. Neither did George to be fair; the pair knew exponential graphs and asymptotes and modelling logarithms forward, back, and under. They showed up as an excuse to show off.
To compete with the other, upstand one another, dance the same old dance.
Clay's spot three desks away from George was empty, and George's mind swam with bitterness, mouth twisting at the acrid nature of his thoughts.
On the other hand, he noticed a new addition, clad in a beanie yet still exuding superiority. He fought an eye roll and sat down pulling out a notepad.
Out of his periphery, he saw a few boys leaning into the new kid, whispering, a glance thrown his way. And of course the new kid ended up walking up to George's desk, manic grin on his face.
“Alex,” he held out a hand, sat on the desk next to George, and George continued rifling through his bag, not sparing a glance.
“People have a lot to say about you, y’know.” Alex continued and George briefly considered ditching the lesson, the appeal growing every moment, Alex stayed by his side.
“Pretentious, stinking-rich assholes always have a lot to say though.” It was enough of a statement to get George to look up in mild amusement. Until he saw Alex’s carefully pressed suit, the sides of glossy brown hair, and smelled the faint odour of money that followed the boys. Alex noticed his observations and shrugged. “Well, self awareness is key.”
George really did roll his eyes then, trying to bite back a smile.
“So what’s so special about you, you got the entire class talking shit.” Alex’s eyes sparkled like he was about to cause trouble, and there was something in his smile that meant he’d not even regret it.
“Scholarship kid.” George shrugged, with just enough ambiguity to let Alex know there was more.
Like a fish hooked onto bait, Alex leaned in.
George leaned in too, “Fuck off.”
He knew better than to confide in a new student, knew Alex would run off to the other boys and trade his words for some fleeting rise in popularity. Because talking shit about the less fortunate meant power. Clay’s gold eyes flashed in George’s mind, a reminder of their first meeting, a reminder of carefully constructed walls.
Alex didn’t take the words to heart, only leaned back on his chair freshly immersed in his own thoughts. A discreet roll of eyes once again, and George went back to the worksheet in wait for his teacher.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
After a few hours in the late evening- coding a piece for one of Big Q’s clients, George lay in bed with this feeling gutting him, but unaware of what it was or the underlying root cause. His thoughts circled their way back to the blonde, his rival, and ran a hand through chocolate curls. It was so vital to vanquish Clay, it had been his obsession, and now Clay’d just- Clay was tired of it, or busy with whatever happened. He didn’t really care about Clay but-
what was George supposed to do now?
He didn’t care for making connections with these boys who’d never spared a kind word in his direction, and all his school lessons were beneath him. Finding a legal job, perhaps, but his current profession was so much more convenient and it paid really well.
Loneliness was a side effect of who George was, and though it meant no-one could break his trust, it meant no-one was there at all.
His thoughts continued to spiral, anxiety grappling his core, misery intertwined in his reflections.
George Davidson had taught himself a great many things, but he didn’t know anything at all.
Notes:
rereading this made me laugh bc im on chap 4 and theyre both such idiots man
PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT ON HOW YOU FOUND IT AND IF YOU LIKED IT PLS LMK ON TWT ily if ur reading this xoxo val <333
discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: escapismwval
Chapter 3: chapter two.
Summary:
❝ 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺
𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦
'𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥
'𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺
𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 ❞ - the story, conan gray
Notes:
SNF STREAM I WAS SCREAMING I LOVE SAPNAP AND GEORGE SO MUXH!!! also omg omg omg poor dream literally so silent throughout yikessss (dw ur time will come)
alright somebody complimented my writing style on twitter and it made my day (hey if ur reading this)
i really want some more snf content pls
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter two.
George woke up with a newly formed streak of self-destruction within him. Of course the limited rationality still with him persevered to counteract, and he decided to take a morning walk around school grounds to think.
He took one step out, felt the icy early morning autumn breeze, and rerouted to the nearest radiated building; the library. A home away from home of sorts.
Inside a few students across the years were jotted around, hunched in early morning study sessions, or panic revising for a test. He pulled out wired headphones and wandered further in, borrowed laptop in hand.
A perk of the Academy was its resources, its high speed wifi, its high-tec devices to lend. Helped numb all the pain it inflicted through its residents. George scoffed to himself.
His eyes caught a familiar beanie, and because his episode last night had ignited a sense of recklessness, he went and sat opposite Alex.
Alex, bags under his eyes, contagious smile fixed on his lips, looked up to George and bowed in a sort of ironic welcome. George crossed his arms and sat down, resting the laptop on the desk.
“Morning, your highness.” Alex whispered, sparkles in his eyes as if knowing how the words would annoy George. He was already regretting his decision to sit with Alex.
“Why are you up so early?” George feigned disinterest, hoping to glean something of value. Having something on these boys went a long way, George knew that.
“Hustle never sleeps, baby!”
George was at a genuine loss of words, and Alex revelled in his speechlessness.
“Ok.” George shrugged, pulling up his emails, and sifted through them, half wishing he’d brought his own laptop so he could do some coding to restructure his mind.
“Mm, what about you, your highness?”
“What’s up with the your highness shit?” George took the bait so he could deflect the actual question.
“Because you’re one the prissiest motherfuckers I know, my dude. And trust me our year has some tough competition.”
George scrunched his nose, then rolled his eyes and sighed. “Ok.”
“Man you’re so fucking boring too. Really thought someone in this damn school would amount to something.” Alex was still trying to trip up George, get him to blow up or something.
“What do you want from me?”
Alex actually look offended, “Apologies, my liege, for I’ve committed a great dishonour addressing you after you sat opposite me, please accept my sincerest-”
“Alright, alright.” George mirrored Alex’s grin without meaning to, a dizzy sense of laughter making its way up his throat. And then, because he didn’t want to seem like a total dick, “So uh, the hustle? You work?”
“Not all of us are blessed with wealth, your majesty.” Alex did a dramatic sigh, “Some of us have to work for our money.”
George adjusted his collar, playing the role, humouring Alex. “Alas, I forget. Peasants are certainly odd creatures.”
“That’s like, seriously, dehumanising George.” Alex’s glare was accusatory, a dark eyebrow arched. “I’m not human, because I’m Mexican?”
“No, you idiot. Because you’re poor.”
“That’s it. I’m staging a revolution. Down with the monarchy, eat the rich.”
“That’s like so 18th century of you.” George was craving some cake either way- maybe he should try out theatre, he could really get in the mind of a character. Or maybe he just wanted cake.
“Well to be fair, if royalty looks like you, might as well be eat out the rich.” Alex’s manic grin returned.
George choked on imaginary cake, red flush on pale cheeks, laughter between gasps for air. Alex, unable to resist, joined in.
“So not a total bore then, George.” Alex leaned back, pleased with himself. George instantly dropped his smile and paled as if remembering where he was. “Oh don’t go sulk after all the effort I put in to see that pretty smile.”
And for effect, “Dickhead.”
George only returned to his laptop, returned behind the walls.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
dream ~ online, chasing
hi.
404 ~ online, hiding
what
dream ~ online, chasing
i need help with this code.
please
404 ~ online, hiding
you shld really take high profile jobs.
they give u more money and u dont have to do like 50 small ones
dream ~ online, chasing
um it’s not for a job
it’s personal
404 ~ online, hiding
are u rlly such an idiot
dont talk abt personal shit here
dream ~ online, chasing
404 cmon pls
404 ~ online, hiding
darwinism is gonna knock u on ur arse
dream ~ online, chasing
arse? british. of course. surely ur kind is nice enough to help
please.
404 ~ online, hiding
ffs. send the code. ious are building up.
one day i’m gonna collect, and u better be ready
dream ~ online, chasing
i heard that threat in a sexy british guy’s voice and i’m mildly turned on
404~ offline
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Clay was four seats in front of him in computer science, and typing away at some piece of work George’d finished ages ago. Out of touch, Revaz, get back to speed.
Without someone at his heels, George felt weird and out of place in a class full of nattering boys. Again that horrid existential crisis feeling breathed down his nape, and again he shoved it back and tried to focus on something else. He’d been bored enough to learn how to imitate a water drop sound perfectly, and bored enough to work on dream ’s stupid ‘personal project’ that was literally fine, and even bored enough to notice the how the bruises were now just barely visible of Clay’s skin.
George swallowed.
“ Charity case , send us the answers now, don’t be a spoilsport.” Some kid behind him moaned, clearly noticing George idly swiping on his phone. Charity case didn’t sound half as powerful from his mouth, and George rolled his eyes at the attempt to get Clay’s attention by using the insults he’d coined.
“I’ll pay for them. I know you probably need the money.” He continued, and a few laughters were heard, though thinly spread.
Someone jumped on the train, knowing annoying George was all the entertainment they were going to get from this lesson. “George is too good for our money. George is too good for anything, pompous shit.”
“Too good for money, and still broke.”
George tuned out their words, one eye on Clay, whose only response was a slightly clenched back, and the other on his phone flicking through youtube.
“Hey, Clay.” Someone eventually said, tired of not getting any response from either of them and craving for some drama or a fight.
The blonde turned to the voice, and nodded his head slightly as a gesture to go on.
“Wanna come to the party this weekend? Some guy in the year above’s throwing it out of campus, it’s supposed to be-”
“Can’t.” Clay interrupted, with a half shrug, “Have fun though.”
An awkward silence blanketed the room for a few minutes, but Clay didn’t even acknowledge it, just kept on typing whilst throwing infrequent glances to the clock or changing a song he was listening to on spotify. George heard the whispers start up again, and was just relieved they weren’t about him.
Big Q ~ online, hiding
404 bro, this dream guy’s the real shit.
im sending all of these hopefuls to get their training wheels taken of by you.
404 ~ online, hiding
please don’t
off*
“GEORGE!”
Without a glance upwards, the brunet knew which beanie-clad boy was making his way towards him in, of course, the most dramatic way possible. Inside, something frozen thawed just a little. On his face, he made sure to frown.
“Alex, my beloved.” His words oozed sarcasm, but they only fed into Alex’s giggles and wide grin. He sat next to George on the cafeteria (or culinary atrium as it were) bench, with an apple in hand and a tray of junk.
“I was just talking to these people, right. They don’t actually know why they don’t like you at all.” Alex inquired, and George shrugged. “They were like, he has beef with Revaz, he got into a fight with Clay, so who’s Clay? Tell me all.”
George sighed, fixed Alex with a tired stare. “You don’t need maths if you’re going into journalism.”
“Ew, as if I’d want to write about you.” Alex unapologetically picked at George’s fries, instead of his own plate. George felt strange at how he didn’t seem to mind at all. “I’m actually interested in law. AdMaths was a requirement.”
“Law, huh. Cool.”
“Ironic.” Alex winked conspirically and sighed, “Man, school sucks. Like for real.”
“Only when you’re bad at it.” George gave a small smile, and Alex frowned in mock-annoyance, gently shoving him.
“Being a nerd really isn’t the flex you think it is.” Alex gagged.
“That’s what all people who are below average intelligence say,” George’s smile grew as he watched Alex huff, and steal another couple of fries.
“Whatever. Loser.” And then, as if just realising, “Hey, don’t change the topic. This Clay guy, go on.”
George’s building smile broke apart, and his eyes lost their animation. “He’s- he’s an idiot.”
Alex waited for George to continue, and when he didn’t, didn’t push, instead opted to change the subject. “I’ve heard about this party-”
“Alex, no.”
“No isn’t in my vocabulary, baby. Life’s short, take risks.”
“Life’s not the only thing that’s short.”
“Tell me you didn’t just say that, you ugly-ass 5 8 piece of-”
George didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Alex
saturday. 6. we’ll arrive at 7. some guy called karl’s throwing it.
do you know the kid?
George
yeah he got me this jo
yeah he was acc nice to m
and there’s no we
Alex
there’s only oui
hahah yes mf let’s get wasted
It was nearing midnight, and George still couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t understand why. He’d researched insomnia, and he thought he’d never be the one contemplating if he had it.
Turn the pillow. Adjust the sheets. Pace around the room. Nothing really seemed to help, and George grew more agitated by the moment. He opened his phone but didn’t have anyone to message, turned on his laptop and nothing could calm this rising ball of panic somewhere in him.
He didn’t want to bother his mother, definitely didn’t want to message Alex. A faint buzz and he read the notification, and sighed.
dream~ online, hiding
how old are you?
like i just realised that my messages may have come off a bit yk
404~ online, hiding
- (Should he have given his real age? Probably not but it was late and he just wanted honesty.)
dream we’re literally paid to be illegal idc abt ur stupid msgs
also i tidied up the code for u
wait lemme send.
dream~ online, hiding
thanks:)
i’m 17, yh like ik we’re hackers allegedly but i’m not tryna catch a case.
404~ online, hiding
this is the fucking dark web not tinder???
why are u trying to catch anything
dream~ online, hiding
well the dark web is more accommodating to my desires than my own home
404~ online, hiding
ew i don’t even want to know what that implies
dream~ online, hiding
no u idiot. (How was George the idiot, what was he supposed to think- this was the bad side of the internet?)
i mean i’m a guy and i like guys…
parents really vibe with homophobia yay
404~ online, hiding
(Oh.) well i mean don’t go declaring ur intentions to every guy u talk to. you will end up getting fucking groomed or smtg by a 50 year old.
dream~ online, hiding
how tf did u catch that error?
ur acc a wizard or smtg at coding.
yh i don’t usually share my secrets ;)
only to sexy british guys whose coding skills are sublime.
George had no idea how got in the position to be staring, blushing at his phone in the middle of the night, texting some random hacker he’d known for all of five minutes.
Yeah, okay, he’d go to the party with Alex on Saturday after all.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Maths, first thing in the morning, was criminal. Bleary-eyed, George started sketching some exponential graphs to remind himself of last lesson.
A couple minutes in, the door opened, revealing Clay in his well-fitting suit, not a crease in sight. George fought an eye roll, and continued sifting through notes he’d already memorised.
He felt Clay look at him, and tried his best not to look up and return his glare. There was no point in wasting his time on someone who no longer tried. (But what was the point of being number one anymore?)
“GEORGE!” George jumped, for a second thinking the exclamation was Clay, but of course it was Alex, who stood at the door. As if suddenly seeing Clay there, Alex winced, “Sorry, bro didn’t realise anyone but George was sad enough to come to math early.”
Maths , George mouthed idly to no one.
Predictably, Clay didn’t reply. Before summer, Clay would’ve flashed one of his signature smiles, and turned on the charm. This was after summer.
“You’re here.” George pointed out.
“Ah, but that’s to see you.” Alex took his seat next to George, and extended his palm out. “Answers for the homework, mi vida.”
George rolled his eyes, already reaching out to find the worksheet. He threw a quick glance at Clay, whose jaw was clenched, and fingers were tight around his pencil. Had Alex’s not knowing who he was done so much damage to his self importance?
“Whoring out answers,” Clay’s voice was all early morning husk drenched in honey, and it’d been the first he’d talked to George this academic year. His eyes remained fixed on the work on his desk. “ Charity case? ”
The insult was more of a nickname falling from Clay’s lips, and George’s stomach tightened at the normalcy. George sighed, returned, “Not all of us are born without a beating heart, Revaz.”
“You say that like compassion’s anything but a weakness.” Clay tutted condescendingly, and George bit back a grin at their familiar exchange. This was a Clay he could defeat, the was the Clay that drove him to work hard, to win. Alex mouthed, Clay? to him and he nodded. Confusion flickered through Alex’s eyes momentarily.
Class began, and George felt as if something had lifted from his shoulders.
George (his highness)
fuck it.
im in.
Alex (my beloved)
AKSDKDKSLFJAJD
YES GOGY WE PARTY ALL NIGHT
ALCOHOL AND WOMEN AND DRUGS
George (his highness)
im already regretting this.
Head deep in an oddly fascinating research paper on human sleep cycles, George was hurrying to Alex’s dorm to help him with maths. Outside, the sun was setting, and leaves fell in pretty shades of orange and red that George longed to see.
A hand tugged the back of his collar, causing him to stop, and he hadn’t even realised there was anyone around. Golden hour was possibly conceived for the boy in front of him.
Threads of dying sunlight woven into his hair, shadows defining sculpted features, highlighting elucidated cheekbones, and full lips ever slightly parted.
George’s heart, the ever treacherous organ, threatened to cease entirely, and George blamed it on a sudden flush of nerves.
“You’ve made a friend.” Clay tilted his head to the side, careful indifference painted on his face. George shrugged off Clay’s arm, rolled his eyes.
“Leave me alone, Clay.” And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “Someone’s got to keep to my speed, and it’s clearly not you.”
Clay raised his eyebrows as if daring George to continue, and George wasn’t scared of Clay in the slightest.
“You’ve really fallen off, Revaz. Can’t keep up with me anymore, not that you ever could, not really.” George’s smile was sharp and he dug it into soft flesh, “I think we’re old enough now, to know that parent’s money doesn’t mean shit anymore, and without it, you’ve got perhaps one, maybe two brain cells to live off of.”
“Your adoring mass of fans are spreading rumours like wildfire, and we both know their love for you is skin-deep. We both know beneath it lies resentment, we both know they’ll turn on you soon enough.”
“And then you’ll be left with nothing. No money of your own. No talent. No friends. No ‘charity case’ to bully. All that’s left are faded bruises, and faded memories. You’ve peaked Clay, and it’s a downward journey from here.”
It was satisfying watching his words embed into Clay’s skin, watching the cracks blister on his mask. It was less satisfying to notice the slight tremors in Clay’s right hand, because George knew Clay better than anything else, and George knew how deep it had struck. But in the end this was Clay Revaz, and George had vowed to take him apart and bring him to his knees.
Clay’s gold eyes bore into his own, and he stepped back, still looking up at the blonde waiting for a strike back. Clay’s returning smile was soft and lethal, and his right hand had stopped shaking, “You underestimate me, George.”
George scoffed, but Clay walked forward as he stepped back, backed against a wall. Clay was dangerously close, close enough George could smell the faint vanilla of his cologne. “Even with nothing, no friends, no money, nothing. I can still destroy you , Georgie. And that’s all I want to do, to see you writhe, because you fucking started this mess. If my life’s a downward fucking spiral, you’re the cause.”
George scrunched his nose in confusion, and heard Clay’s sharp intake of breath. He looked up at Clay in defiance, and with a smile encased in taunts, “Whatever, Revaz. Try your best.”
George shoved past Clay, and continued walking to Alex’s. There was something different this year about their heated exchanges, something definitely off but George didn’t have the energy to analyse it. Analyse his own body’s reactions.
Notes:
i just love reading jealousy, if u have any fics with really good scenes w jealousy in them drop below...
ANYWAY have a great day/night ily <3
also mcc dreams not in it but i BET you thats bc he's planning a dt meetup
just watch just WATCH
oh also GEORGES SMILE WHEN SAP PLAYED W HIS HAIR (yeah im including hair fluff in this fic now idc)discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: escapismwval
Chapter 4: chapter three.
Summary:
“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴. 𝘓𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳; 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵--𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵--𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴?”
- Aiden Thomas, Cemetery Boys (BANGING BOOK)
Notes:
im missing the snf cooking stream this saturday :(
anyway chap's a little shorter bc idk...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter three.
Saturday arrived quickly and Alex’s infectious energy and excitement had transferred onto George. Outside storm clouds gathered, and George loved thunderstorms, the flashes of lightning, cool drops of rain against skin, calming rumbles of thunder.
Clay was scared of storms, George knew, because there was nothing George knew better than Clay, and he wondered if that was why Clay didn’t want to come to the party. A memory loomed in his mind of welled up gold eyes, and tremors in a right hand. Of a beautiful monster too scared to step outside, of George staying in the library arguing with him (about ethics of artificial intelligence or some fucking pretentious shit) to take his mind off the storm.
George swallowed, his mouth dry. He hated Clay for taking up residency in his mind, hated himself for not being able to evict him.
But you had to know your enemy to defeat him. And George was close.
Alex arrived at George’s house, and half looked like he’d just woken up. George inquired as a joke and Alex had made a comment on a global clientele and George had just laughed.
He didn’t trust Alex, but he was better company than George’s invasive thoughts.
“You’re rather dashing today, your highness.” Alex poorly attempted a British accent, causing George to whack his arm in insult. The umbrella moved in sync, causing the rain to hit George until he hurriedly pulled it back.
“Are you suggesting I’m not dashing all the other days? I should have you beheaded.” George stuck his chin up, trying to stay in character even though Alex was laughing. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed a car slow down next to them. “Laughing at your king-”
A window rolled down, “Uh, sorry to break your, um roleplay, but I need to speak to you for a moment, George.”
George frowned at the damned voice, and beside him Alex tensed and scoffed. Because it was Clay, he added, “Privately. Get in.”
“I have weekends off from your bullshit, Clay. Bother me on Monday.” George snapped, not wanting Clay to ruin the first party he was going to. Even as he was saying it, he knew he’d listen to whatever Clay had to say.
“George.” One word said in such a dickish way, and George sighed, apologising to Alex and telling him he’d only be a minute, before climbing in the car.
“What is it, Revaz?” George noted how tightly Clay’s hands gripped the steering wheel, how every so often his eyes would flicker to the rain outside. “No driver today?”
“You’re going to Karl’s party right.” Clay paused and tension simmered between them. George’s eyes traced the veins up Clay’s forearms idly, and wished he could seep the blood from them. Realising Clay was actually waiting for an answer, George gave a tight nod.
“Okay. I’ll drop you off. I know you like this shitty weather but I don’t want you catching a cold.” Before George could even comprehend the words, Clay shot him a look infused with such animosity, all he could do was part his mouth. Clay continued, in a rush, as if terrified his words would be misunderstood but George already knew there was no kindness nor concern for him that lead to Clay’s decision, “English prof has us together for first project because he wants to give the rest of the class a chance. I don’t want you missing lessons and falling behind.”
George sneered, “Says the one interpreting the name of the play, the most basic-”
“It was a one-off bad lesson.” Clay cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“Wait but how did you know I like-”
“Listen, charity case , I’m tired and I want to just get drunk alright. If you open your mouth one more time, I’ll kick you to the curb.” George didn’t point out it would go against only Clay’s interests, not his.
“Let me call Alex in.”
“No. I don’t want random people in my car.”
“I’m not leaving him to walk by himself?” George shot back exasperated.
“Why are you talking to him anyway? I thought you were at least better than mixing with people below your academic stature.” Clay’s lips were twisted, ugly emotion colouring his features.
George rolled his eyes.
“You just don’t want me to have any friends.”
“You don’t deserve any-”
“You just want me to be alone like you.” George watched the way a muscle in Clay’s jaw twitched. A small burst of pleasure to see him get under the blonde’s skin. A moment passed in silence.
“Your hair looks ridiculous.” It was so out of the blue George let out a little laugh, and all the vice on Clay’s face momentarily disappeared at George’s reaction. “That- that wasn’t a joke.”
For himself, and decidedly not because of Clay’s words, George idly tousled his wet hair, “Okay, well if Alex isn’t allowed in, then I’m leaving.”
Clay hit his fist on the steering wheel, then looked at George then looked at the rain outside, and then back to George. Finally, he administered a lethal dose of charm into his smile, and adjusted his collar, “It is about time I met this Alex, I guess.”
404 ~ online, hiding
big Q’s saying you’re giving me a run for my money…
i should ask for royalties
dream ~ online, hiding
broke ass bitch
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“Alex,” Clay’s smile was warm and so close to genuine, George couldn’t stop staring, “I never got a chance to welcome you. I’m Clay Revaz.”
Alex gave George a wary look, untrusting of this alluring blonde. “Hey. So, you know Karl?”
Clay’s eyes flickered with something, and with his free hand he pinched the bridge of his nose. “More than I wished to have.”
George cut the driver a look because he didn’t know Clay and Karl knew each other, and the development was odd.
“George, I thought he was a dick, why’s he dropping us off?” Alex stage-whispered, leaning forward to George.
“George’s taste in character is flawed-”
“You guys all speak so posh, holy.” Alex called out and both George and Clay exchanged a look, because their elevated language was in itself a way to one-up the other. It must sound so peculiar to anyone but them.
Clay laughed and it was all seafoam and starlight, “You’re funny, Alex. Don’t know why you’re bothering with George.”
George exhaled- as if Clay hadn’t been dissuading George from being friends with Alex just a couple of minutes ago.
“Well, I have an excellent taste in character. And George’s is just my type.” The loyalty was unexpected, and George involuntarily smiled.
The plastic kindness Clay had masked himself with was gone and George noticed how he openly glared at Alex. Agonisingly, the next few minutes passed in suffocating silence. George didn’t realise he was shivering until Clay turned up the heating. Outside thunder rumbled, the noise soothed George’s wandering thoughts, soothed the weird flutters in his abdomen.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
For all George had claimed to be above parties, there was a certain incomparable enjoyment to swaying in the trashy music, trashy drink in hand, trashy people all round. Perhaps that was just the alcohol buzz, but still, he put a hand on Alex’s arm and pulled him to get more drinks.
“Alcohol’s not good for the liver, your highness,” Alex reproved as he poured the bottle into George’s cup and downed the rest of the liquor himself.
“It’s a depressant,” George nodded, “It can literally scar your liver- cirrhosis, and it also leads to-”
“Boo! You’re such a fucking nerd.” Alex grabbed George’s arm and dragged him to the makeshift dance floor. “So many people are staring, I think they’re all a bit lovestruck, your honour.”
“Honour?” George had swore it had been your highness but his brain was currently a little addled, and his brain in theory knew alcohol was a depressant, but the confidence he felt was anything but. He laughed and wasn’t sure what it was at, but it made Alex start too, and once they both started they couldn’t stop.
“Hey George,” George turned to Karl, vision slightly hazy.
“Do we know each other?” George whispered, for some reason, and shot Alex a conspiration widening of the eyes. “Is it a secret ?”
“You’re such a lightweight, oh my god.” Karl laughed, and Alex piped in with something like well have you seen the guy . Karl leaned closer, “My friend wanted to get your number and I would have introduced you two, but I don’t think you’re in the right mindset to make rational decisions.”
“I’m not in the left either?” George scrunched his nose, and Alex started guffawing beside him. Karl shook his head, and smiled, “Alright, have fun boys, I’ll text you tomorrow George, yeah.”
Alex shoved George gently, a look halfway between amusement and drunken confusion, “You know Karl?”
George shrugged, and then sighed. “I want to go on a walk.”
“It’s pouring, George.”
George smiled up at the ceiling, smiled at faint smell of vanilla cologne wafting round the bodies, smiled at the way he felt so light-headed and so free of everything.
404 ~ online, hiding
pls dnt tske mt jib dresm
i k u need miney but i dp too
George wasn’t sure how he’d ended up outside, on the damp grass, gazing up at stars and sketching constellations with his finger.
A visceral plunge of navy blue, with diamonds dotted around; what a beauty to observe.
“It’s so strange how I’m looking at ghosts.” George whispered, “Stars that have died centuries ago, still shedding their- their um, light on me. Woah.”
Besides him, a boy hummed in agreement. It was strange, people agreeing with him. He was used to having to back his opinions, fight for his reasonings.
“Stars have nothing on you.” It was a cheesy line, and George wrinkled his nose at the boy ruining his vibe. He turned to get a better look, and it was just a nondescript student, likely with more money that good sense.
George didn’t like things he didn’t know well, people he didn’t know well.
Why was he here ruining the stars?
“I never realised how pretty you are.” He spoke, “You’d never be able to tell you’re on a scholarship.”
George had strived so hard to be indistinguishable from them, and this boy had watered down all his efforts with drunken words.
George got up to stumble back into the house away from pretty stars and words that opened healing scars.
The first thing his mind comprehended amidst a swarm of sweaty bodies and pumping music, was a tall familiar figure. Blonde head leaned down to hear something some girl is saying, and George wanted to join their conversation. Maybe to ruin it for Clay, because Clay doesn’t deserve to have fun after leaching it from George for so long.
He made his way, but an arm grabbed him before he could reach.
“You okay buddy? Lost you for a bit.” Alex’s pupils were dilated and his smile was so carefree that it made George laugh. He was not sure why.
“People are so boring .” George sighed dramatically, “School is so boring. I wish something would just you know, happen.”
“Something like?” Alex asked, holding George’s arm to steady himself.
“I don’t know. I just feel like I don’t have a plan.” He replied with a shrug and though Alex nodded, George was pretty sure he was too gone to understand what he was even saying. In all fairness, George didn’t know where this random bout of honesty had even come from.
Alex’s eyes lit up as if finding the answer to all of their strifes, “GEORGE! YOU SHOULD GET LAID BRO!”
“I’ve like, not even been in a relationship, you idiot.” George playfully shoved Alex, but once Alex had gotten hold of the idea he wasn’t ready to let go.
“You’re super fucking smart and like obviously this academic stress has got you all wound up,” George stared blankly as Alex paced in the middle of the room talking out loud. “Right?”
If anything had gotten him wound up, it would’ve been that dumb blonde. But not in that way. George’s pleas fell on deaf ears.
“Right! So now you need to relax, destress, make love.”
“Is this your way of propositioning me?”
“Propositioning? Shut the fuck up with your big words man, no one needs to hear that shit. Unless they’re into it…,” Alex winked, “And plus if I was propa-whatever-ing you, you’d already be in my bed.”
“Ugh, okay, enough with this stuff. We should probably head out, I have a stupid literature project to work on.”
“You are the worst fucking drunk, George.” Alex shook his head. “Talking about schoolwork at a party.”
George frowned, “Not everyone’s here because they’re stupid rich. Some of us have to actually earn our place.”
“Oh don’t take your anger at the school out at me, come on.” Alex pouted, not really taking George’s outburst personally. “Okay before you have a full breakdown I’m getting us some more drinks.”
“Alcohol’s not a coping mechan-” Alex was already gone, and George turned to find something interesting to do.
His eyes met hazel ones across the room. The girl Clay had been talking to was looking at him, and it made George’s heart swell, injected enough confidence in his veins to go over and start a conversation.
“Hi,” There was a secretive smile on her face as if sharing an in-joke but only with herself. “George, right?”
“The one and only, I suppose.” His speech was no longer slurred, and he tilted his head at her and smiled. “You were talking to Clay?”
“Yeah, you two seem well suited.” There was a twinkle in her eyes, teasing edge in her voice.
George blinked, wondering how Clay had thought their rivalry of enough importance to mention it to her. “I suppose, I think you need that kind of figure in your life to bring out the best in yourself.”
“Awww,” She swooned, hand on heart, “He was with me when I asked for your number from Karl but he was really calm about the whole thing, even later when we talked. Insecurity’s such an ick, am I right?”
“Uh-” George’s brain was lagging a little, “Wait you asked for my number?”
“Yeah, no I totally wouldn’t have if I’d had known about you and Clay-” George’s smile slipped, of course, who would continue pursuit of him knowing how much golden boy hated him. As soon as she found out he was on a scholarship, Clay would’ve swooped in with his pretty smile reserved for everyone but George, and that horrid charm, and who could resist that sweep of gold hair, and who could resist those eyes on you, piercing through any rationale?
“George?” She prompted, and he realised with a start she’d asked a question, “I was just asking how long you two had been toge-”
George needed to leave, couldn’t suffer the humiliation of her talking to him out of pity. He might’ve been still a little drunk, but he wasn’t going to be pathetic.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
dream ~ online, hiding
wow wish i could be wherever u r
sounds like fun that drinking
im at a party too and im j stuck watching everyone flirt w the person i like yay
dw pretty british coder boys are never out of jobs
plus ur like way better than me at this
idiot
Revaz (do not pick up)
drink water before u sleep u alcoholic moron istg if u fuck up my lit grade in this project because u have a hangover ill slit ur throat
drink water
drink water and go to bed
idiot
Notes:
how did you like it??? PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT W/ whatever ur feeling!!
also idc dream hitting his hand on a driving wheel in jealousy is so so so hot
LMAO POOR OC (random party girl) CAUGHT IN DNF OBLIVIOUSNESS MAN jdslkd
i think sap's in next chapter i dont remember but subscribe if u want :)discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: escapismwval
Chapter 5: chapter four.
Summary:
❝ 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
𝘉𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 ❞
- people watching, conan gray
Notes:
it's my birthday WOOOO!
um so basically this has that one seggsy trope in and like yh have fun this is actually problematically self indulgent i swear.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter four.
Harsh rays of sun invaded George’s Sunday lie in, and he rose from his bed with a groan and a distinct ache coming from somewhere .
A guttural noise erupted from his floor.
George jumped.
The guttural noise reared its head, blinking sleepy eyes at him. “We should do this next weekend.”
George briefly considered murdering Alex.
404 ~ online, hiding
oh gross can we pretend i never sent that yh
my heads pounding fuck
idk why people consume fermented beverages man
you like someone ooohhh
and here i thought i was special
Revaz (do not pick up)
( read 10:57 am)
In the library George scoured his notes, dissecting his annotations and configuring them into such solid arguments that even Clay’s piercing glare would be unable to bore holes into. It would’ve been a relaxing focused study session were it not for a certain individual’s endless boredom and endless creativity.
A paper plane finally hit his face, its many comrades having crashed before reaching their target or swerving around it.
“YES! I’M FUCKING BOMB.” Alex cheer-whispered.
“You’re so immature.” George scoffed. “Do some work.”
“Ew, it’s the weekend I’m not a nerd.”
George’s lips lifted into a small smirk, and he turned to Alex, raising an eyebrow. He picked a paper plane up the floor, streamlined it to optimise its aerodynamic shape, and angled it to Alex’s forehead whilst he just looked at George confused.
Trying his best to recall his physics, but ending up using mathematical mechanics instead, he threw the plane with just the right force, aimed just left of Alex.
It landed on target, even though Alex swerved to avoid it. “Hey, I moved, if I didn’t, it wouldn't have touched me.”
“Right-handed, you dodge right.” George shrugged nonchalantly, cocky smile plastered on his face, “How’s that for nerd?”
Alex mimicked his voice in an overly British accent, “ How’s that for nerd ? Shut the fuck up. Oh, where did you come from? Man how do you just fucking appear when I’m with-”
“Distracted I see, Davidson, not that I expected better.” Clay’s voice rung from behind him, and all George could think about was that girl and ruined chances.
He ignored Clay.
A mistake, obviously.
Clay leaned down, tugged on the brunette’s collar to get George to face him, “I’m talking to you, George. It’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you.”
“It’s also fucking rude to butt into a conversation.” Alex snapped, and Clay instantly backed off George and turned to him, “So don’t be a hypocrite.”
“Alan, right?” Clay’s voice was saccharine, all too enticing nectar, sickening, “Such a good lackey, Georgie’s found.”
The nickname made George’s abdomen tighten- probably in disgust.
“Listen here blondie,” Alex’s returning grin was menacing and protective and George didn’t deserve any loyalty that Alex was showing, “You’re so fucking obsessed with George, calling me a lackey, when you’re at his beck and call, chauffeuring him around, checking up on him after a night partying-”
“Watch yourself-”
“I get you’re jealous, Clay or whatever the fuck your dumb name is-”
“I’m not jeal-” Clay’s cheeks were dusted in a colour George couldn’t see.
“Yeah you are, he’s a million times smarter than you, and actually has a personality whereas you’re just a rich, shallow jerk. Of course you’re jealous of him.” Alex’s words were cruel, but George could see a hint of relief across Clay’s face. It was enough to make George intervene.
Clay scoffed, “I really didn’t want to do this Alex,”
“Oh so you do know my name, you pretentious piece of-”
“But you’ve forced my hand. Drawn your lines in the sand.” Clay was eerily composed, and George swallowed, knowing he should say something. “And you’re with Georgie, and that means you’re against me. So Alex, I’ve noticed you spend a lot of early morning in the library on your laptop. Interesting, that. Wonder what you’re doing, wonder-”
“That’s fucked up,” Alex began to pale, and something in George snapped at the sight.
“Clay,” George stood up, stood between his friend and his worst nightmare, “He’s done nothing to you, leave him alone.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll find out whoever gave you those bruises and make sure they don’t stop.” George bit out, revelling in the satisfaction of watching Clay genuinely squirm. It was perhaps, a little deeper than their exchanges in prior years, but Clay wasn’t attacking him, he was attacking Alex, whose only fault was showing loyalty. And George’d be damned if he didn’t return the gift.
Clay stormed off, though George’s words hadn’t even been the harshest he’d spoke.
The pair exchanged a look, some invisible bond between them wordlessly strengthening.
George didn’t trust Alex, still wouldn’t, not yet, but he’d never had such a friend before.
Alex sighed, “Guess I’ve got to go tighten security, you okay by yourself?”
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t apologise.” Alex shook his head, “Or you’re just as bad as him. It’s not your fault he’s a dick.”
“Well-”
“No, seriously, don’t blame yourself.”
Serious Alex was different, and perhaps, with a cooler head George would replay this moment, observe him further. George gave a small nod, “Thank you Alex, I really ap-”
Alex gagged, “Don’t you get fucking sappy on me, George, I swear-”
“Oh shut up, says Mr. he’s a million times smarter than you- ”
George didn’t totally hate having a friend.
dream ~ online, hiding
consider it forgotten how insecure you are of me and know deep inside that i’m better than you
consider it forgotten :)
ugh do not get me started on this guy… he’s fucking-
fucks w my head i tell you
you have no idea how much i wish i was straight
whats ur sexuality (dont answer if u dont want to obviously)
404 ~ online, hiding
i read the first text as “you’re deep inside of me” and was like what the fuck
i just find it so funny how a literal immoral internet thief has sensitivity whereas like the guys in my class who are supposed to be the creme de la creme of our generation think homophobia and bullying is the way to go.
ive never really had time to think about it tbh im always so caught up in schl or work
i dont think im attracted to guys but that just might be the company i keep
some of them are definitely attractive
dream ~ online, hiding
404 istg ur inadvertently flirting w me like WHY WLD U EVEN POINT THAT OUT?
lmao love oversharing to cybercriminals, just ur average tuesday activity
yh like ofc u dont have to label urself i was j wondering
404 ~ online, hiding
since we’re like one step away from trauma dumping anyway might as well tell me about this guy that’s fucking with ur head
dream ~ online, hiding
ugh
he’s going to be my undoing i tell you
404 ~ online, hiding
“undoing” jesus do u only consume romance novels or-
dream ~ online, hiding
i just have a diverse lexicon idiot
i dont want to get too deep into it or else i will deffo spiral :)
i just
im the dream child to hv for my parents, neurodivergent and bisexual
and my parents are godfearing overly religious (but only when it comes to this shit) old money conservatives so that fares about as well as you’d expect
404 ~ online, hiding
have u come out to them?
dream ~ online, hiding
really recently
their faces
fuck
i hate him
fuck
i wish i was straight
im going to go for a walk to clear my head
sorry 404 btw
dream, offline
404 ~ online, hiding
it’s fine dream dw im here if u need to talk
ik opening up irl can be really just ugh
and what else is ur dark web mentor for if not to delve into ur psyche ??
whos the “he” that u hate
George pressed his face against the glass window, watching the trees sway in the harsh winds against the backdrop of the setting sun. Somewhere, in perhaps a different timezone, perhaps a hundred worlds away from George, a boy was walking, head full of conflicting feelings, heart stolen by someone who potentially wasn’t able to return it.
George’s heart went out for him, and he touched the glass on the window, wishing he could hold Dream’s hand, and tell him it’d be okay and comfort him.
He supposed he was lucky, lucky that his mother would love him no matter his sexuality, that his own head didn’t despise the thought of being queer. From his laptop, the quiet hum of some spotify playlist rang out, from the distance, he saw students walking and talking and laughing in their big groups heading back to dorms.
Perhaps he didn’t mind his sexuality, because he just wanted to feel loved for once.
Instead of hated, and looked down upon.
An alarm rang from his phone, shrill, and George returned to Portia’s not-so-discreet racism towards the Prince of Morocco.
Big Q~ online, chasing
make sure ur not leaking shit. dont think it’s u bud but im reminding everyone that i’ll fuck them up good if they mess w my operation
It must’ve been late when the rush of knocks on George’s door started him awake, and his eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dark. Moonlight shone in through the window casting a muted grey on his surroundings, and he angled his head towards the door.
“Georgie,” Slurred, aching words, wrapped in sickening charm.
Was this a nightmare? Another light slam against the door, “C’mere George, please .”
George had never opened a door so quickly.
Clay towered over him, leaned against the doorframe, busted lip, bruised cheek, blood everywhere. George swallowed. Clay raked gold eyes down his figure, likely picking him apart and reserving the information.
“Hi.” He grinned, red teeth and all. George swallowed again. Clay’s smile suddenly fell, and he stepped back, swaying and George instinctively reached out an arm to steady him, but he shook it off. “Can I- can I come in? I- just- I didn’t know where else to go.”
Yes. Come in. Sit down. Let me call a fucking ambulance.
Who fucked you up this badly?
And why did you let it happen?
“Stop looking at me like that. It’s cruel.” Clay’s right hand trembled ever so slightly, and his words shook just the same.
“Leave Alex alone, and I’ll-”
“Alex?” A muscle in Clay’s jaw jumped. “Georgie, I’m already in the mood to beat the shit out of someone, don’t go painting targets.”
“You are in need of serious therapy.”
Clay’s laugh was devoid of humour. “Oh don’t I know- oh, ”
Clay stumbled into the doorframe, and let George tug him inside and sit him down on the sofa. The brunet was still half convinced this was a fever dream, but in no warped subconscious of his would Clay have ever said please to him .
He leaned Clay against pillows, and found bandages to press against the wounds.
Clay watched him in tipsy fascination, asked with the slightest quiver in his voice that only George would’ve caught, “Aren’t you going to ask?”
George scoffed, “I’m surprised no one did it sooner.”
Clay shut up at that, winced in pain causing George’s chest to constrict.
“Let me call 9-”
Clay shook his head, pushed damp gold waves off his forehead, took a deep breath. “Don’t. There’s a few reasons I came here, to you of all people, charity case. Don’t make that face. One,”
Clay’s eyes held his own captive, neither boy willing to look away. “One. I know you will understand when I tell you that it is futile to call the police, and calling the ambulance will only worsen matters.”
“I don’t want you dying-”
“Real sweet, Georgie. Touched,” Clay’s good hand went to his heart.
“I don’t want you dying on my hands.” George continued, rolling his eyes, “I’d be the prime suspect.”
Clay grinned, “I don’t mind bleeding out here half as much now.”
George pinched the bridge of his nose, “Two.”
“Two. I know you, and I can predict what you’re going to do-”
“You do not know me-”
“Au contraire, chéri,” Clay arched his neck out as a new wave of pain hit him, let out a soft groan, “I think we both know that’s not true.”
George rolled his eyes, as Clay whispered, cue eye roll , and scoffed as Clay whispered, cue scoff .
“Your nicknames for me are vile.”
“So is your hair, what a mess, I just want to-” Clay caught himself, laughed to himself, and then regretted it, clutching his abdomen in pain. George moved to grab painkillers, loudly muttering how much of an idiot the blonde was.
He returned to Clay in the exact same position, nursing his bottle of vodka from his kitchen. Annoyance twisted inside him, why couldn’t the idiot just take care of himself for two bloody minutes? George wasn’t a fucking babysitter.
“I can’t give you these pills if you’re drinking, you dumbass.” George seethed, close to ripping that lovely mass of hair from Clay’s stupid head. “You’re an idiot.”
“Alcohol’s are just- fun painkillers, you’re a painful fun killer.” Clay wheezed at his own joke, clutching his abdomen, but not seeming to care at the pain.
George opened his first aid kit, shaking his head in utter exasperation, dabbing rubbing alcohol on cotton pads, getting ready to enjoy Clay’s hiss of pain as the brunet cleaned his wounds. “You’re so lucky I took that dumb first aid extracurricular.”
“Not lucky. Number three.” Clay held out three fingers of his good hand and waved them in George’s face. “Told you I know you, Georgie.”
“Mmm,” George addressed the cuts on his face first, smiling at the slight wince in gold eyes at the sting, “Any other reasons?”
“Maybe.” Clay lengthened the e of the word and tilted his face to smile at George, to George’s annoyance and earned a harsh keep still, idiot . Clay’s drunken grin only grew wider. “I think I’d have to be a lot drunker to tell you though.”
George rolled his eyes at the dumb ploy to supply him with more booze.
His fingers brushed Clay’s cheeks, brushed those hidden freckles, and George felt Clay’s sudden intake of breath.
“Sorry,” He called out instinctively.
Clay just closed his eyes and leaned into George’s touch.
Somewhere, in some more astute part of George’s brain, alarm bells rang, as well as cries of how fucking surreal this whole situation was. But George was too tired, and too focused to deal with it at the moment.
Minutes stretched out in pregnant silence.
“I was scared you’d turn me away,” Clay confessed, liquor entwined in truth.
George, startled, almost messed a stitch and was about to drive a needle into Clay’s skin. Then, almost not wanting to know the answer, a quiet question, “Why?”
“ Or I’ll find out whoever gave you those bruises and make sure they don’t stop. ” Clay’s british falsetto was almost as appalling as the reminder itself. George, who was just about to start work on his cut lips, wanted to dissolve. He’d meant it too, in the moment, but seeing this, fuck , of course George hadn’t meant this. “Memory loss is a, a, um, a symptom for early on- what?”
Early onset dementia. How Clay had it in him to dig up stupid insults in this mindset, George did not understand. He reached for a glass of water, and instructed Clay to gargle and spit back into the bowl. Clay shook his head, “Wrong way round, I’m not the one spitting.”
“What?” George asked incredulously, “Do you swallow when you brush your teeth then?”
Clay burst out laughing, and George blamed it on his inebriety.
After tending to ample wounds, and locking the liquor cabinet, George couldn’t believe it was only half three, and he still had time to sleep. Not that he felt even the slightest bit of fatigue, due to adrenaline coursing through his veins because of whatever the fuck had just happened.
Clay had passed out on the sofa, and George had tossed a blanket on him even though he insisted he ran warm. Because George didn’t want him to catch pneumonia and die, not because he cared.
He watched the steady rise and fall of Clay’s chest, and wondered briefly what Alex would think were he to find out what George had done. It felt a bit of a betrayal in some senses, but even if it was Clay, how was he supposed to let him just not come in.
Clay’s pocket buzzed and George moved to grab it, not wanting the vibrations to stir the sleeping boy- only so that he wouldn’t wake and annoy him. It was the latest Apple Iphone of course, and the background was an amalgamation of planet-like circles in varying shades of what seemed to be brown.
There was a thread of texts from sappitynappity , but they were hidden in the lock screen. It worried George just slightly how he felt no guilt at this direct violation of privacy, but then again it was almost four am and he was finding it harder to care about anything apart from making sure those breaths were still even and steady, and no blood was leaking.
George pulled out his own phone and noticed Dream, whose replies were usually really quick, hadn’t replied, and following their last conversation, George hoped everything was alright.
Clay’s phone started buzzing, sappitynappity was calling, his icon was this brunet with his face covered with a balenciaga cap, the wasteful expenditure already signalling red flags in George’s mind.
He hesitated, wondering if this person was the reason behind this, but looked over to Clay’s bandaged form and decided he didn’t give a fuck.
“Answer your fucking messages, Clay, what the fuck dude, I’ve literally been trying to reach you-” A barrage of panicked, rushed messages coated with equal part anger, worry, and fear. George did a double take, looking back at the profile picture but still unable to recognise the person.
“Hello. Clay’s fine.” He whispered against the alarm, and the voice on the other end went silent.
“Who is this?” And then before George could even reply, “George?”
It felt weird to be recognised by a stranger, and weirder to hear his name from a stranger’s voice, but in all fairness, this entire night had ventured into the realm of oddities.
“Clay’s fine.” George repeated, untrusting yet empathetic. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight? Have you lost it? I’m coming to pick him up, you dorm at his school right? Yeah, of course you do. Don’t worry I have his spare fob, I’ll be let in, just keep that wretched idiot breathing.” The stranger ended the call, and left George reeling.
He tossed a wary look at Clay, knotted his eyebrows, wondered what Clay had told the stranger. George knew Clay well, knew the pattern of the splatter of freckles on his cheeks, the way he inhaled quickly before he was about to deliver an unbeatable argument at debate, the way he’d screw his eyes when his code in computer science had an error, the way his right hand shook when he was genuinely affected by something.
George knew Clay, like him, was alone.
George knew Clay inside out, but George didn’t know who the fuck sappitynappity was and it irked him to no end.
Alex (my beloved)
ik ur asleep (ur highness needs his beauty rest) but im in the library
meet me there before breakfast bby :)
George woke up with a start, having fallen asleep on the armchair gazing at Clay. The blonde was awake already, spinning George’s phone in his hands, and George had never loved his password more.
“You’re lucky you weren’t internally bleeding.” George said in lieu of greeting.
Pain was present in those gold eyes, and subconsciously all Clay’s movements were too stiff. He looked up at George, too tired to glare. “Go to sleep, George, it’s only six.”
George previously held every intention to sleep, but Clay wanting him to only served as an ice bath, and George crossed his arms defiance. A ghost of a smile traced busted lips.
“Alex texted you.” Any of a hint of a smile was gone, replaced with something dark. “Don’t panic. I didn’t reply.”
“Oh?”
“Didn’t want him running over here in that ridiculous beanie.”
Alex’s beanie was a little ridiculous. “I love his beanie.” Chin out, smirk planted. Clay’s eyes darkened.
Something bothered George, a feeling he was forgetting-
“Sappitynappity!” George muttered out to himself in sudden realisation, and Clay jumped forward. George rushed next to him as he groaned in pain, reprimanding him for moving.
“What the fuck did- ah, did you just say?” Clay’s good hand grabbed George by the chin and forced him to look up at Clay.
George resisted, “I need to check nothing opened, you idiot.”
“ George- ”
“Um,” George walked over to get clean bandages, “I think he called me a little while ago. I don’t really remember, I think I was, like, half asleep.”
Clay hit the back of his head against the side of the sofa, and cursed himself as soon as he did it. Fucking death wish , George mumbled to himself, and then out loud, “I think, oh shit, I think he said he’s coming here.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Clay hissed out, and George smiled at his behaviour. It was a little fun to be in the position of power for once. His fingers found the bottle of pain relief and he cut a look to the blonde.
“I wish the alcohol was out of your system.”
“ Charity case playing the nurse has a little ring to it, dare I say.”
“Careful, I might just slip up and impale you with a needle.”
“Prime suspect.”
“Starting to look worth it.”
“Starting?”
“Clay.” George’s tone was serious, a step aside from their snarky reproaches. “What hap-”
“ Clay ,” The blonde mimicked in a bad accent, “ Clay , look at me, charity case George with my dumb pretty privilege and ooh, help me i’m just a poor scholarship kid, I’m just a know-it-all, look at me, Clay .”
“Pretty privilege?” George raised an eyebrow, blinked up at the wounded boy, tipped his head ever so slightly to the right and rested his hand on top of Clay’s bad one.
Clay’s pupils seemed to dilate as he continued, “Don’t act oblivious, Georgie, it’s not a good look on you.”
George was about to press on with that thought, or return to the earlier one, when a fist came down on the door, heavy and unforgiving, and another knock, and another.
“Clay motherfucking Revaz, I’m going to beat the shit out of you if you don’t let me in this fucking second.”
“If you’ve caught me up in your gang rivalry,” George began, unimpressed.
“Do not let him in George.” Clay sighed, eyes up at the ceiling. “Or we’ll both be six feet under in six seconds flat.”
“OPEN THIS STUPID DOOR, YOU IDIOT, YOU MUFFIN, YOU-”
“Muffin?” George questioned. Clay looked like he was in more pain because of this sappitynappity than whatever had happened to him last night.
“Alright.” The voice calmed down, “Is darling George in there with you?”
George’s ears perked at the mention of his own name, and he turned to Clay, whose eyes filled with more terror than George’d seen before.
“I’d love to let him know all kind of things I’ve heard, all things-”
“Open the door, George. Open it, now.” Clay used his good hand to shove George off, and rolling his eyes, George went and opened the door.
Five foot eight, with bloodshot eyes, making a beeline straight for Clay, not caring about anything else.
Notes:
PLS LEAVE A KUDOS if you liked, PLS DROP A COMMENT (and wish me happy bday bc im lonely xoxo)
um internalised homophobia sucks
can they j make out alr this is getting annoying
theyre both such fucking idiots i can notdiscord: valyrie#3873
twitter: escapismwval
Chapter 6: chapter five.
Summary:
"𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳. 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘮𝘦. 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘐 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤. 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘔𝘌. 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘭𝘺" - dream, 2022 (suffering crippling loneliness)
Notes:
hi seggsy peoples, this chap's kinda not as good but tbh i think my writing peaked with that 'dream showing up and george tending to his injuries' chapter...
anyway some 3/5 dickgrabbers interactions and bg oblivious karlnap lmao lets go
tag urself as dtkq (im q bc im single yet i jokingly flirt w all my friends yay)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter five.
“Why are your fries so much tastier than mine?” Alex helped himself to another of George’s fries, and George feigned annoyance.
“Because I have money, and you’re a peasant.” Half of his mind was here, present, the other half with that idiot who’d gotten himself a right beating, and his overly protective friend. Nick , his name had been cursed with a sickening amount of affection by Clay. Who was Nick?
Water drops hit his face, as Alex flicked some on to him. “You look pale. And tired.”
Alex’s smile turned suggestive, “Late night?”
George groaned, and Alex clearly took that whatever the way he wanted to.
“Naughty George! Little George’s gone feral!” Alex hit him gently on the shoulder, eyes widening, “You took my advice and got your dick wet, yeah?”
George scrunched his nose at Alex’s words, but that only seemed to make him howl louder, and he persisted, begging for details. What was George even supposed to say in this situation?
He didn’t want to lie to Alex.
He didn’t want to tell Alex about Clay, either.
“Must’ve been good if it kept you up so late, you’re still affected.” His eyebrows waggled with such animation, George wondered if that was a special mutation. Then, remembering, he shot up in his seat, brushing sleep off his eyes with a hand.
“Semi-conservative replication, protein synthesis. My biology lab work,” George followed his exclaims with some indecipherable noises.
“Semi-conservative replication?” Alex cocked his head, “Is that scholarship talk for sex?”
“It’s scholarship talk for me being fucked, not getting fucked.” George had been so consumed in that dumb Shakespeare play, he’d not made the notes he’d needed to submit.
“Well.” Alex stole another fry, “Go figure.”
“Figure?” George knew he needed to do this biology in his free period this morning, but he was tired, and couldn’t help himself, “I hardly know her.”
Alex scowled at the joke, and took another fry as a punishment.
404 ~ online, hiding
hi
talk?
dream ~ online, hiding
404? msging me first?
ive either fucked up or ur collecting a favour
404 ~ online, hiding
you’re such an idiot
dream ~ online, hiding
oh so it’s just to insult me
404 ~ online, hiding
how are you btw
dream ~ online, hiding
im running a fever so hot as usual. sorry for not replying to ur msgs
just
felt a little overwhelmed and in my head
404 ~ online, hiding
why do i actually half like talking to you when u make me roll my eyes in annoyance every two seconds??
dream ~ online, hiding
because i make you smile right after
404 ~ online, hiding
can you tell me abt this guy you like
im feeling a little alone and id love to dissolve in a stranger’s love story
dream ~ online, hiding
it’s so far from a love story. im a million percent sure he’s straight.
and he fucking pisses me off all the time.
i think i hate him.
404 ~ online, hiding
… man ur just as confusing as the way u set up ur dumb code
dream ~ online, hiding
shut up j cos ur some hacking genius
being good at illegal things isnt the flex you think it is
404 ~ online, hiding
but i thought you liked him
dream ~ online, hiding
i hate him.
hate him so much he’s the only thing on my mind.
that dumb smile he does when he gets one over on me
how we just seem to fit together, how he just understands me
the way he scrunches his nose up when something weirds him out
how he bites his lip when he’s concentrating hard and the way he rolls his eyes
the way he says my name
fuck. ive got such a soft spot for british accents.
404 ~ online, hiding
my stupid friend was right i think i do need to get laid
dream
pls don’t tell me when u said u imagined my words in a “sexy british accent” it was in his voice
dream ~ online, hiding
well
to be fair i dont know many of your people
404 ~ online, hiding
this was supposed to help me.
now i just feel even more lonely.
u suck.
you owe me three.
dream ~ online, hiding
wtf.
idiot.
he’s literally straight. im literally pining over someone who will NEVER love me back
wait reply.
404 I DO NOT OWE U 3 BECAUSE U MADE URSELF SAD
404
Lessons passed like a breeze, Clay noticeably absent, and George worked hard, striving his best as always. Trying to challenge himself one step further, trying not to let boredom seep in along with thoughts of what he was trying to achieve.
He just needed to be the best.
His classmate’s golden boy had disappeared but the rumours had long since moved on, everyone excited about the new drama, and it irritated George, even though it didn’t surprise him. They’d loved Clay because he was the epitome of normative masculinity, tall, fit, sporty, white, straight, and of course, rich. He was everything they’d been taught to emulate. He couldn’t fault the way their minds had been shaped when they were younger, but they were old enough now to be able to think for themselves.
He wondered absent-mindedly, twirling a pencil in his left hand, how the blonde idiot had gotten himself in such a predicament. There’d been a fair few fights at school before, and Clay hand turned his head at them, rising above with that ridiculous air of superiority.
He hoped this Nick guy knew how to deal with the wounds and how to look out for signs of internal bleeding. Surely Clay had enough connections to get himself a discreet x-ray.
He picked up his phone and hovered over the messaging app icon, but set it back when he realised who would return his messages. Who the fuck was Nick ?
The questions kept stewing in his head, curiosity eating away at him along with other corrosive emotions. Alex noticed the change, the next day when they were having lunch together.
“You’ve been acting weirder than usual. Like distracted.”
George had been picking at vegetables, head deep in thought on long-term effects of organ bruising and if Nick knew the long term effects of organ bruising. Obviously if Clay were to die then George would only spiral further into his already ever growing existential crisis, so of course he was going to be concerned for the idiot’s well being.
“Just thinking about organ bruising.” George offered his plate to Alex who looked queasy at the amount of health on the dish.
“Oh. Bruising, hmm…” Alex replied, and then promptly raised his eyebrows, “Did you know dentists know if you’ve given head? They can tell that by bruising on the top of your mouth.”
George baulked, choked on a stray brussel sprout. Alex went into hysterics at his reaction, muttering something like not the only thing they’d see you choking on .
Someone was suddenly at his side patting his back, clearly attempting to help whilst his supposed friend was sitting across him laughing his head off.
“You okay there, George?” Karl smiled as George settled down, shaking his head at Alex.
“He got laid a couple nights ago and now he gets red when I mention blowjobs, take from that what you will.” Alex shrugged at Karl, who spun round to look at George in a new light. George’s eyes widened and he let out a sputter of disapproval, but Karl pat his shoulder, looking at him warmly.
“Hey,” He said in a lowered voice before George could get a word out, “Don’t worry, I don’t care if you’re gay-”
“That’s not-”
“Shh,” Karl carried on, and cut a harsh look at Alex, “I know people openly outing you at a school like this isn’t cool-”
“Man I was seriously just jo-” Alex had stopped laughing, and was just staring at Karl, confused.
“Joke or no joke. Just because George is queer, it’s not an opportunity to make fun of him-”
“Oh lord,” George whispered out.
“Please don’t worry about me telling anyone George, I’m so sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t get laid.” George rushed out at the same time Karl added, “My best friend, Nick’s - wait what?”
“Nick?” George thought hearing that name twice was too big of a coincidence not to be connected.
“You didn’t get laid?” Alex moaned, “Why were you up so late then?”
“Wait, I’m so confused, are you straight?”
“Karl. Who’s Nick?”
“Who is Nick?” Alex looked to George.
“Nick’s my best friend?” Confusion was clear on Karl’s face.
“5’ 8”, brown hair, something about, like, sappitynappity ?”
“You know Nick?”
“Who’s Nick ?” Alex repeated, exasperated. The other two ignored him.
“Did you call him sappitynappity ? I swear that’s what Clay-”
“Clay? I swear this blonde dickhead makes one more unwanted appearance in my life-” Alex sneered, “And now, George, stop ignoring me, who is Nick?”
“Nick is your best friend. And he’s um, queer?” George elaborated, noticing the slight tinge on Karl’s face, as he awkwardly toyed with his oversized blazer.
“Yeah, he is. And he’s my best friend, so just know I’m so totally supportive of whatever you are.” Karl assured with a wide smile, but George kept replaying Nick’s overprotective hold on Clay, how Clay instantly listened when Nick told him it was time to go.
“Nick is your best friend and he’s queer, and so,” George didn’t finish the thought out loud, what does that make him to Clay ?
“He’s, he’s just my best friend. He’s an idiot,” Karl’s laugh was a little off-balance, but sweet, “He gives out good hugs, and good advice, and he’s really loyal, and yeah he’s just Sapnap, you know, he’s just my best-”
“Friend. Alright we get it.” Alex knotted his eyebrows, “Did you say Sapnap?”
George felt a little faint.
Probably because of the dumb vegetables.
karl (honey <3)
hey sap
nick(pandas)
whats up :)
karl (honey <3)
do you know george?
nick (pandas)
do i know george
what dont i fucking know abt mr pretty privilege
karl (honey <3)
u think hes pretty?
nick (pandas)
do YOU think hes pretty
karl (honey <3)
oh wow so thats a yes then :/
nick (pandas)
man if i hear george one more fucking time this day im done
literally bye
bye to life
ill pull a clay and get the shit beaten out of me
karl (honey <3)
wHAt
nick (pandas)
um nothing.
luv u msg u l8r
Autumn, as a season, was decisively subpar, concluded George, shivering in the too warm for winter coats chill. He was walking to Clay’s apartment, a fifteen minute walk from the academy, because even though it was a boarding school with gorgeous, spacious dorms, Clay was too good to slum with the villagers.
He’d made residence in his own little castle of ice, a penthouse suite on some fancy apartment complex. The entire trip down, George cursed the cold, and cursed Clay, and cursed whoever almost killed Clay, and cursed Nick for taking Clay away from the relative safety of George’s dorm.
He had to check up the stupid blonde, because, well,
uh, his mind raced to justify the trip,
because Clay couldn’t just show up, all bruised and bloody in the middle of the night and expect George to just drop everything and help him.
The fact George did as Clay expected was irrelevant.
And, George’s mind supplemented, Clay had to complete his part of the English project.
Just because he was physically injured, didn’t give him an excuse for his Literature skills to collapse. A leaf embedded itself into George’s hair, and he fell back into a memory of one of his slightly younger years.
All boyish arrogance, Clay’d thought to wager a bet on an all too important computer science test, back when Clay and George’s skills were similar, when George hadn’t flown past. Privately, George had thought, since it was around the time Karl had noticed his work and hooked him up to Big Q, Clay had been annoyed that any conversation he’d had with a student had been normal.
George had agreed because he’d nothing to lose, and everything to gain.
“Well, we can’t bet money,” Cruelty had sept into Clay’s voice, and he’d put on a faux sympathetic grin, as he pulled George closer and tugged on the fraying threads of his blazer, “I don’t need any, and you don’t have any, so what else do I want my prize to be?”
“Please,” George noticed Clay absent-mindedly toying with his blazer, noticed their proximity, “Stop talking like you are going to win, it’s a bit pathetic.”
Clay had sneered at him, “Just tell me what we’re betting with.”
“I don’t care,” George rolled his eyes, leaned a little closer, “You’re the one that had this dumb idea. What do you want?”
“You have nothing I want.” Faint smell of vanilla, tachycardia, tensions brimming. “I just want to see you to realise you’re nothing.”
“You just can’t handle that some nobody can rip you to shreds.” George had jutted out his chin in defiance, squaring his shoulders. “Okay, I’ve got an idea.”
Clay nodded, gold eyes fixed so harshly on his own, with such seething intensity.
The hand on his blazer never left.
“I win, you buy me something so needlessly extravagant,” George liked the thought of the blonde’s beloved money being spent on someone like him, and though George hated presents, there was something that would be so satisfying about this. “No price limit.”
Clay didn’t speak for a minute, then realising his silence scoffed, “Gold digger and a charity case, not the slightest surprised.”
George was already imagining how much it would pain Clay to give something to him.
A shuffle of footsteps around the corner, heading to their isolated section of the library, and Clay let go of George’s blazer with a muted whatever and a i’ll win anyway so and a light shove.
“What if you lose then?” Clay stepped back, scowled down at the brunet.
“I won’t.”
“So you’ll do whatever I say,” Irreverent grin, twinkle in gold eyes, George swallowed.
“No,” His voice was a little hoarse, “Because I’m going to win. I know Java inside out, have made many motherboards myself down to every last solder, so-”
“So you’re ready to lose it all?”
“You’re an idiot.”
Clay grinned wide, and like his smiles always did, temporarily stole George’s breath because they were so annoying and perfect and dumb. George wanted to grab the blonde by his neck and wipe that dumb thing off his face. It had only grown upon seeing George’s reaction.
Then Clay had leaned in, all too quick, lips by his ear, voice dangerously soft, “Good luck, Georgie. I’ve got such wicked things I want to do you.”
George had simply swallowed.
Another leaf fell onto his shoulder as George neared Clay’s lair, and his head seemed fixated on that memory. Clay had been pulled away from school for a week, and George had gotten ill on the day of the test, and so nothing became of the bet. The memory itself was vague, but Clay’s words were clear and sharp and piercing. Wicked things .
George would have beaten him, of course, but the idea of Clay having such power over him made him sick to the stomach, or at least, caused his stomach to turn and flip, whatever that meant.
Notes:
yeah i think this one's a bit shorter but the next ones SUPER JUICY so make sure ur subscribed yay
if you leave kudos and comments dream team will stream (dream dmed me this -REAL!-)
MY FAV PART OF THIS IS JUST QUACKITY BEING SO TIRED OF DREAM J SHOWING UP AND SAPNAP BEING SO DONE WITH TALKING ABOUT GEORGE ALL THE TIME i fr think this is very canonical
uhhhhh yeah if u notice any grammar errors/mistakes u didn't xoxdiscord: valyrie#3873
twitter: escapismwval
Chapter 7: chapter six.
Summary:
“𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴. "𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰. 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.
"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦.”
― aaron warner, ignite me
Notes:
**** EATING DISORDER TRIGGER WARNING THIS CHAP (not necessary for story so u can just scroll past) WILL BE MARKED WITH ASTERISKS, not very in depth at all though so ***
hello loves <3
how are you on this fine day?
im such a whore for aaron warner omg
also omg just go on my latest bookmark for such an incredible fic ("you're no good for me") by @sqigly
^ nsfw and kinda toxic but very much love it (DREAM IN RINGS yes pls)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter six.
“What do you mean he doesn’t live here anymore? His parents own this building.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but he moved out in the summer, and his parents have sold the penthouse.”
George looked at the man in the reception with exasperation. The man looked back at George with equal exasperation. George didn’t look away. The man didn’t look away.
Then, without the slightest bit of empathy, “You’re holding up the queue.”
George grit his teeth, shot him a dark look, “There’s no one in this lobby except you and me.”
The man’s eyes widened, and George’s face dropped at the afterthought of how threatening that statement had been. With a reignited scowl the man leaned forward again, “Get out before I call security.”
His fingers rubbed his temples, and he considered calling Clay. Clay’s texts to him had usually been one-sided, him leaving the blonde on read, and it earned him some satisfaction.
Fuck it.
The phone rang, and George looked up at the greying sky, presuming rain would soon come. A soft smile at the thought of the even pitter-patter evening out his thoughts, and his eyes felt heavy. So bloody tired , he yawned, and thought about the tasks he had to do.
He should probably call his mum.
“George.” Nick’s voice was an unwelcome surprise and shook away the drowsiness. “What do you need?”
“Where’s Clay? Why didn’t you take him home?”
“He’s home.” Clipped. Curt. Of course him and Clay would be friends, they had the same amount of sensitivity, being none. George thought back to the panic in Nick’s voice, back to the fierce determination in his eyes to get to Clay. George thought back to Karl’s words, and Nick’s sexuality. Did Nick have feelings for Clay?
Surely not. The thought sickened him.
Who could have any feelings bar disgust for Clay?
And Clay, he was the embodiment of Straight White Rich Guy, from that stupid preppy haircut, to the school he attended. George half expected him to be homophobic, especially in the environment they’d grown up in. Perhaps that’s why he’d been so adamant against seeing Nick.
Fuck Clay.
“George? Stop monologuing in your head, man, what do you want?” Nick sounded tired, but George thought unrequited feelings could have such effects. If Nick had feelings for Clay, George felt for him, he really did.
He softened his voice, “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you. Just wanted to check up on Clay- uh, um to see if he’s done his English project.”
A moment of stunned silence.
“George. Did you see him? Do you think he’s in any fucking state to do fucking english? You’re unbelievable-” Nick began, but a familiar voice in the background piped up, tell him I’ve done it obviously , and Nick spluttered a string of curses. “You two, you two fuckers, I’m so fucking sick of both of you.”
“It’ll be okay,” George spoke warmly, “These feelings don’t last.”
“What are you on about?”
“I spoke to Karl, Nick. I understand, don’t worry.”
“Karl… Karl told you? Karl knows?” And in the background, Karl told him what? Why’s he talking to Karl ?
“Yeah, you seem really close to Clay, and I don’t really understand why you’re like you know feeling whatever you are because Clay’s ugh , but to be honest, I don’t think he’s homophobic.”
“What?” Nick gasped out. “What?”
Clay’s voice was louder, more demanding, wait, what’s he saying? Put the idiot on speaker.
George smiled inwardly, knowing he was helping out someone, hoping his sage words of wisdom would ease his heartache. If Clay was really with someone who liked him like that, then he was likely safe, and George could breathe a little easier, not that he cared. He just wanted his english project to work out okay. “Where are you guys? I’m coming.”
“Wait hold up, what did Karl tell you?”
“Nick. Where’s Clay?”
“George. What the fuck did Karl say?”
“Listen, I’m not going to tell anyone, okay? It’s really not a big deal.” George rolled his eyes, “You’re wasting our time, where’s Clay?”
Nick muttered something like, fucking deserve each other , and then sighed and grumbled out an address. George hailed a cab.
404 ~ online, hiding
how’s the fever going
dream ~ online, hiding
it’s going rather swimmingly
how’s the loneliness
404 ~ online, hiding
fuck you
dream ~ online, hiding
ik u want to
“...and he’s had no major change in his hearing or his vision?” George pressed on, and Nick levelled him with a tired look. The elevator groaned as it pulled to a stop. It was an odd building, everything short of what was typical of Clay. Nick, too, was not typical Clay, because, despite the bluntness, he was normal .
“George. Dr-Clay does not have internal bleeding .” Then as they walked down the narrow hall filled with apartments on either side, George was trying his best not to gape. This was not old money, classy, penthouse suite. This was George-wage, rented apartments. A small lift on the side of Nick’s mouth, “Clay says you guys hate each other because of some petty rivalry.”
“It is not a petty rivalry.” It was sophisticated feuding. Nick scoffed, smirked.
“Okay. But you hate him,” George nodded, and Nick pressed his lips together, “And yet you’re here, checking up on him, lecturing me on internal bleeding.”
“Well,” They were at the peeling door in a colour George couldn’t see, and Nick got his key and fumbled with locks. “I’m only here for the english project. And like, making sure he’s not dead. Because, I’d be the prime suspect.”
“Because in that inebriated, wounded state, he ended up at your door.” There was something akin to amusement gleaming in Nick’s eyes now and it irritated George, because he couldn’t quite read it.
“Yeah.” George shrugged.
“You two are the cleverest in your class, really ?”
George shook his head fervently, offended, “I’m the smartest, and Clay trails behind, clutching his second place medals like they mean shit.”
The interior was oddly homely, and George had never been inside Clay’s penthouse, but it surely had looked nothing like this. Framed pictures on the walls of two young boys, play fighting, wide gap-toothed smiles. George couldn’t help but smile at them, walking closer.
One blonde, one brunet. Clay and Nick. George blinked, shock resounding his good sense. Innocence beamed from the children, corruption seeped from the other room where Clay laid.
“Oh.” George didn’t know what to make of this place.
Everything he knew about Clay was unravelling, and when something so constant to him changed so dramatically, it made him question his entire perception on who he was.
Who was George?
Who was Clay?
“C’mere charity case , stop prying.” Clay’s voice exhumed exhaustion, and so George reluctantly left the random puzzle pieces, and went towards the newly empty frame.
George thought there were only a couple of pieces missing from his understanding of Clay. George knew he was wrong, and that in itself, was a harrowing thought.
Nick was idly watching George, with quiet inquisition, and though slightly unnerving, George was used to having unwanted eyes on him courtesy of the Golden Boy. George crept into the bedroom, half not wanting to see what waited for him.
He hated Clay, that was another constant in his life.
Nevertheless, something in him broke at seeing him like this, in bed, immobilised, sweat on his forehead, clearly running a temperature, and dry blood under his nose, a little on his neck. Clay tutted, but it was weak, “Don’t look at me like that, Georgie. I told you, it’s cruel, and I don’t have the capacity to play games.”
George opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“Have I finally rendered you speechless?” Clay croaked out, smiling to himself. “Go on George, why did you beg to come see me? I don’t usually mind you begging, but it wasn’t to me, it was to- my friend.”
George couldn’t help but interpret that pause as a million things it probably wasn’t.
“This is horrible. You two speak like this?” Concern painted Nick’s eyes, along with a sheen of disgust. “What the fuck, Clay?”
Clay cut a more familiar look of resentment towards George. “Why did you pick up the call from this idiot?”
“This idiot?” Nick hissed, “This idiot is going to tell George everything.”
“What’s everything?” George piped in, hating not knowing.
Despite the threat, Clay looked unbothered. Or as unbothered as he could look bound to the bed. “George, so what were you saying about Karl?“
“Oh as soon as you’re better, I’m going to-”
Clay waved him off, “Leave Sap,”
Nick scoffed, “With pleasure .”
Then it was just George and the blonde and rising temperatures and rising tension.
Clay angled his gaze to get a better look at George. “Are you here to nurse my back to health?”
“I’m here for-”
“Nick drove four hours at twelve am, George.” His voice might’ve been tired, but there was a lethal edge so prominent, it sent shivers across the brunet’s skin. “I know we aren’t the most affectionate, but he’s my brother George, he’s family, and you sending him hurtling across state lines for me was a mistake.”
George couldn’t take his eyes off Clay’s own. Glowing gold, danger lurking too close to the surface.
Intoxicatingly detestable. Alluring and addictive, and the more George drank them in, the dizzier he got.
“I-”
“Shh, Georgie, your words aren’t going to save you. You made a mistake and I’m going to make you pay.”
“How was I supposed to know who sappitynappity was? You’d be equally as mad if I missed the call and let him worry and panic and come here.” George inched closer, vexation brimming. He loomed over Clay’s bed, enjoyed the brief height advantage over Clay. “You’ve got some nerve making threats, half broken in bed.”
Clay’s eyes flashed, and his good hand moved quicker than George could pull back, tugging George down by his blazer first, then collar of his shirt. “This is a temporary situation, but I’m capable of much more permanent things.”
“You’re going to open my beautiful stitches,” George whined, breaking the flow, and shoving off Clay’s hand. “Ugh, did Nick air your wounds, you're going to get an infection.”
Clay’s lips parted slightly. Then with sudden realisation, George leaned back, crossed his arms, “And we’ll all be better off with you permanently on bedrest.”
“I apologise for showing up last night, it was a mistake on my behalf.” Clay didn’t sound sorry in the slightest, “But answering a call on my phone-”
“Who- who did this to you?” George persisted, and Clay’s bad hand trembled slightly, and George sat on the bed, watched gold eyes trail his every movement.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” George rolled his eyes, shuffled closer, “What happened to no one touches Clay Revaz ? Do you remember just what you did to To-”
“I made sure no one forgot that prick,” Clay’s smirk was infused with that infuriating self-conceit, and he flexed the fingers of his good hand, as if the bloody knuckles were still present. The boy Clay’d beaten up years ago, apparently over some snide remarks about the blonde, was a chilling flashback. Not that George could blame Clay for this to be fair, the entitled dick relentlessly bothered George, going so far as to break in to his dorm and rifle through his stuff. He’d flaunted it too, on his dumb instagram private.
“You were always above fights.” George noted, and Clay could no longer meet his eyes, “What was different about that?”
Clay shrugged, “Don’t like people messing with what’s mine.”
“Is that what happened this time?”
Clay’s body stiffened, his right hand weakly gripping the covers, his jaw and shoulders tensed. Why are your knuckles clean then, Clay? You let this happen to you. Who has this power over you? Clay shook his head, but didn’t say a word to elaborate.
Then, a second later, he exhaled, leaned back on the bedframe, something newly raw and vulnerable in his eyes. “Fine, lis-”
Nick burst in, phone in hand, and that split second of truth was buried, likely forever. George openly glared at the intruder, a small part of him wishing he’d never picked up his call last night. It was an ugly, selfish thought, and George didn’t know where it had come from.
“Clay, I-” He cut a look to George, “Um, you know um, your, um,”
“Spit it out.”
“She’s sick, it happened fast, don’t know what exactly. Luke called, he was with her, ‘cause I left her with him-”
“Nick,” Pain spewed from Clay voice, so pronounced, George’s head snapped back to him, anger sniffed out, and confusion growing. He hated Nick, he hated not knowing Clay. How was he supposed to win against him, when he barely even knew him. “You have to go to her.”
“I can’t leave you.” Nick sighed, and George felt awkward, and terribly out of place.
“One of us have to be there, just-” Something close to agony in gold eyes, “Just in case.”
“She’s going to be fine, D-” Nick looked back at George, “Clay, but, I-”
“No. I’ll be fine, really. Look George, will you tell him I’ll be okay.”
George stuck his chin out slightly, “He’ll be in better hands with someone who knows how long to air an wound.”
What the fuck made him say that? In that tone?
George’s head swam, and there was something ever slightly crazed in Nick’s eyes.
“I- okay. But I’ll be back if you’re temperature goes up by even two degrees, I’m not fucking with you.”
“Idiot.” Clay’s smile was soft, endearing, and George rolled his eyes at it.
“You,” Nick turned to George, “You- ugh, just- I’m so done with this place.”
What was his problem? George shifted slightly closer to Clay, and Nick stormed out, reminding Clay to answer his phone and if he didn’t he’d come rushing back. Nick left, and Clay’s mouth twisted downwards, and George heard his breath quickening.
“Who’s sick?” George felt something stab at his heart, watching Clay worry for this girl. Probably empathy for Nick.
“I don’t want you-” Clay sighed, good hand massaging his temples, “To use her against me, at like, school or anything.”
George wouldn’t. There were lines. Lines like thunderstorms, and that one late night at their spot in the library, and showing up at his door in that state, and when Clay found out about George’s eating habits that one bad winter- yeah, there were lines. They both knew the lines.
Clay knew this as well as he did.
“MAD.” George whispered their unspoken inside promise, a rare venture into no man’s land . Clay relaxed a little, leaned his head back, looked up towards the ceiling, exposing his prominent Hyoid bone and the cartilage beneath. George swallowed.
It had been in their younger years, in midst of learning about the nuclear arms race in the cold war. Communist Soviet Union with her Tsar Bomba, capitalist USA and his Castle Bravo. After the Cuban Missile Crisis, the two superpowers had entered detente, and whilst the quasi-peace made headlines, both sides rushed to fuel their nuclear arsenal.
Knowing they could never use it against the other without being utterly destroyed themself.
Mutually Assured Destruction. MAD.
********************************************************
Later that week, George, pre-hacker era, had been emptying his stomach in his room. A despicable mix of anxiety over upcoming exams, his mother having just lost her job, and him barely able to afford textbooks and uniform, alongside relentless nonsense from a group of kids making fun of his “twig” figure in Sports Ed.
Stomach acid stung his throat, polluted his thoughts.
It was made worse by the realisation that throwing up meant he had to eat more, meaning he had to spend more money to buy more food.
A vicious cycle.
Clay’d found out about his sudden drop in diet, prolonged time in the cubicles, somehow , and approached him with it. George had been so terrified he’d make fun of it, call him out for it, spread rumours shredding his dignity further.
*********************************************************
All Clay had said to him, though his eyes swam with emotion (that surely couldn’t have been for him), was “If you want it, all you do is have to ask.”
George would rather everyone know than ask Clay for money, and the blonde had known it. So he said the only other thing he could offer, “Listen Georgie, MAD.”
George, so young, so ashamed, couldn’t even look at his face, just nodded, “Yeah, ok. MAD.”
He had despised Clay for having that moral high ground over him, had loathed him for showing that devious kindness. He had been praying for the day he could outshine the blonde, once and for all.
Big Q ~ online, hiding
hello .
sapnap ~ online, hiding
realised you made a mistake hiring dream instead of me?
took you long enough
Big Q ~ online, hiding
we need to discuss something.
it’s urgent.
i think your pseudo is compromised
sapnap ~ online, hiding
what?
is this a joke?
Big Q ~ online, hiding
who gave you my contact
sapnap ~ online, hiding
that’s confidential.
Big Q ~ online, hiding
was it user KinokoTt
?
sapnap ~ offline
Big Q ~ online, hiding
this has to be a fucking joke right
no fucking way
Notes:
okay this chapter i liked it but it was kinda mid idk i feel like my writings just trash half the time i reread it so...
anyway lmk what u thought!! leave kudos in exchange for kisses :)
NEXT CHAP omg we have some super stuff going on (*hint* hand in hair? kissing??? (/hj) *hint*) so make sure ur subscribed
um i love wcesnty!dnf so much idc will defend them even though dreams kinda not a good person (YET) and george is very not in touch w his emotions! but yk character arcs are necessary and everyones flawed and its what makes them pretty :)
ALSO KARL LITERALLY SAT ON SAPNAP ON STREAM LIKE- damn irl fanfic going on, what in the ao3???discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: escapismwval
Chapter 8: chapter seven.
Summary:
THIS IS ENTIRELY DEDICATED TO DREAMWASTAKEN (twitter) POSTING THIS ENTIRE APPRECIATION POST TO GNF AND GNF REPLYING WITH :] (you'll understand why when you read this chapter LMAO)
Notes:
im so fucked for this chemistry test man
the only chemistry i can write about is dnf's
^when the only person who laughs at your jokes is you>>
also enjoy this i kinda love bits of it YAY
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter seven.
“My cat.” Clay’s voice was poodle fur, sheep wool, feather soft, and George couldn’t tell if there was some sort of twisted backhanded deception going on. “ Patches .”
“Patches.” George repeated dumbly, “Your cat.”
Clay tilted his head in mild annoyance, “Didn’t know the room had an echo.”
“You.” George blinked, “You have a cat.”
“Not just a cat, she’s,” Clay looked down at the bedsheets, smiled inwardly, “She’s Patches, she’s so pretty.”
George didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but he hadn’t been expecting this.
He remained blank, didn’t speak, shock rolling through him.
Clay looked up, sighed. “Sorry, nothing enticing enough for you to use against me.”
George imagined a little fluffball in Clay’s arms. Clay stroking it affectionately.
It was an impossible scenario to think of.
Clay fidgeted, ground his teeth together, scoffed into the silence, “Well, if you’re bored, you can go. No one asked you to stay. No one even asked for you to come.”
George imagined the cat scratching Clay, couldn’t imagine Clay refraining from lashing out at it. He imagined Clay scowling at Patches, half annoyed by her, but too enamoured to truly be mad.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the mix of emotions he imagined to be painted on Clay’s face.
Clay’s eyes widened, and after a beat, he swallowed, “So you’re just going to sit there and laugh at me?”
George sighed, returned to this warped reality, in which hard-hearted, detached, self serving Clay Revaz was worried about his cat. What parallel universe had he stumbled into, and he longed for a spinning topper to ensure this wasn’t some sick mind scape of a dream.
“She’ll be fine, Revaz, but you won’t be if you don’t let me redress your wounds.” George rolled his eyes, asked where the first aid kit was. The blonde looked at George strangely.
-
dream ~ online, hiding
i think i’m going to combust
George scrunched his nose at the text, unconsciously smiling, he didn’t know Dream and yet that was such a typical Dream way to start a conversation.
In the other room, with freshly wrapped wounds, Clay slept, and George was just looking through the notes Clay had made on Merchant.
They were adequate, he supposed.
404 ~ online, hiding
shitty code or straight boy crush?
or parents?
or fever?
oh ur really going through it rn
dream ~ online, hiding
don’t.
talk to me. need distraction
+typings hard
404 ~ online, hiding
im j a distraction then
dream ~ online, hiding
all u are is a dumb bother
404 ~ online, hiding
bother? i hardly know her
dream ~ online, hiding
i’m going offline
and blocking u
404 ~ online, hiding
then who’ll distract you from your assortment of dilemmas
right so i’m in a personal conflict myself
a bit of existential crisis as u may have it
dream ~ online, hiding
and u need my highly intellectual advice
404 ~ online, hiding
um no :]
well maybe a little
life rn is just so unexpected it’s like a fever dream
dream ~ online, hiding
so many jokes to make
yes that is LITERALLY my life right now bc i have a fever
fever + dream = me bc i’m hot and i’m dream
404 ~ online, hiding
what happened to typings hard
dream ~ online, hiding
when im typing to u it’s not the only thing that’s hard
George shook his head, smiling as Dream rushed to assure he was joking and then saying how technically he was the minor when it came to the two of them and technically it was George’s fault. Again, George had reminded him that this was not Tinder or Grindr or any dating app.
dream ~ online, hiding
sorry okay no go ahead.
existential crisis. fever dream. shoot.
404 ~ online, hiding
idk what i am worth without this person in my life. he’s like not a friend but he’s also what’s defined my adolescence.
and he’s changed recently. and without him in his usual place, idk what i’m to do with myself
wow i wld never talk abt this with someone ik irl
dream ~ online, hiding
you cannot base ur self worth on a person. ik it’s tricky sometimes and seemingly in ur situation it’s been a very long term thing.
but individuality is what makes a person who they are.
404 ~ online, hiding
but idk who i am without him
dream ~ online, hiding
well. what are your motivations rn
404 ~ online, hiding
um well my entire life’s purpose has been revolving around him…
dream ~ online, hiding
ur saying u don’t like this guy? but simultaneously ur obsessed w him to the point he’s the centre of ur life as well ur motivation to get up jn the morning
404 ~ online, hiding
he’s a dick too i can’t lie
well i mean
it’s weird idk i don’t like thinking abt it too much i usually just focus on not liking him
dream ~ online, hiding
hey u remember when i said
“i hate him so much he’s the only thing that’s on my mind”
404 ~ online, hiding
this is NOT the same
i do NOT like this guy platonically romantically at all just no no no
dream ~ online, hiding
me trying to convince myself i was straight :)
okay if it’s not like that then maybe u shld distance urself from him. find out who u are without his presence
404 ~ online, hiding
that’s actually a half decent idea
ur kinda a genius
dream ~ online, hiding
it’s what i’m known for
down to one favour?
404 ~ online, hiding
voluntarily giving me life advice counts as fuck all. we’re at 3.
dream ~ online, hiding
you’re such an idiot. alright i’m going to bed, fevers killing me. worse headache than you
404 ~ online, hiding
don’t die i can’t collect favours from a ghost
dream ~ online, hiding
404, for someone who doesn’t know who they are, from someone who doesn’t know who you are, i think you’re pretty awesome
i think you’ve limited urself and it’s because of that guy you base ur self worth around.
and hey who am i to say anything but i think you deserve better than to think ur not ur own person because of him
yeah ig what i’m trying to say is,
whoever you figure out you are, it’s a pretty soul underneath it all
and anyone wld be lucky to be friends with you
George was beaming like a love sick puppy, and he didn’t even realise how hard he was smiling at his phone.
Emotion blossomed in his heart, tender and exposed, flowers of anticipation blooming, a garden of hope for something new and more springing up across his skin.
A cascade of blush pink roses, a storm of crimson poppies, and underneath it all, George.
404 ~ online, hiding
:]
It was strange not sleeping on his bed, instead on a strange sofa, but Clay had fallen asleep, and George didn’t want to go home without knowing someone was there to keep an eye on him.
Moonlight shone in, casting a silvery glow around the room, and George’s eye rested on tiny Clay and his young frivolities.
It reminded him of Frankenstein, the message behind the work. Monsters were made not born.
But Clay was no hideous, grotesque being, and people weren’t scared of him, they worshipped him. If it was an external force having catalysed a transformation, then what would it have been?
George shouldn’t care.
George was fascinated.
And Nick, it was a crushing reminder of Clay having someone so close to him, when George was certain Clay was, in a sense alone .
Who was Clay?
Who was George?
He truly didn’t know anymore.
Clay’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, and George reached for it, hoping it would be Nick with good news.
Mom <3
I’ve had enough of your childishness Clay. You’re turning 18 tomorrow and you’re still behaving like a goddamn infant. Your father’s still too upset (understandably) and he’s taking it out on me and your sister. Don’t you have any shame or are you so stubborn and selfish you’re going to let us suffer for your problem?
Too far, George thought, too far, he really wasn’t meant to see this.
Mom <3
Listen honey, we love you, we just want what’s best for you, and I get that you’re confused right now. It’s only fair, you being away at that all boy’s boarding school, I understand. But you’ve been skipping your appointments to help with your little quirk, and honey I’m just worried for you.
We think you should take a term off school, go to that little resort I found for you as a lovely holiday, right?
You’ll come back as my darling boy, the one I recognise.
I’m sure your father will be forgiving once you apologise after you’re back. He’ll give everything back, Clay. We’ll all go back to normal. Don’t you want that, Clay?
Happy birthday sweetheart, for my sake, for your sister’s sake, stop this immaturity.
Love you always xx
Arid mouth, sweat beading on his forehead, George felt sick. His hands were shaky as he held the phone, rereading the messages. He didn’t really understand but he felt way too deep into territory he’d been banned from.
Appointments for quirks? “You are in need of serious therapy.” “Oh don’t I know?”
Was George reaching?
Term off school for a resort? Was it rehabilitation? For drugs?
George wished he never looked at the stupid phone.
Quietly, he got up, crept outside of Clay’s room, peered inside. Clay’s eyes were shut, face relaxed, no cold smile. Almost angelic, complete with a halo of damp gold. George frowned at Clay’s hair, ever slightly wet from fever sweat, all unkempt- so unlike usual. His lips were just slightly parted, even breathing.
He moved his bad arm a little in his sleep, then winced at the pain, and George wanted to eradicate the emotion from his face. If Clay was to be annoyed at something, it should be George. He wanted to kneel beside his bed, and whisper how sorry he was for breaching his privacy, then demand an explanation.
He’d explored themes of manipulation and guilt tripping in various literature texts, and as intriguing learning about it had been, it was fiction. He’d seen Clay manipulate his classmates, and George had probably been culpable of it too, but in this one string of messages from mother to son- George had never felt so stricken.
He imagined it from an outsider’s perspective, annotating the lines, underlining the nicknames, the switch from harsh blame to reassurances. He’d put an asterisk by the happy birthday line, and highlight the fuck out of every instance of Clay’s clear affection for his sister and mother and holding it against his actions.
And since he was an outsider, an outsider without bias, he’d have to evaluate Clay’s own actions that brought on such a message.
Standing outside the blonde’s room, watching him sleep, George was no outsider.
And however little George apparently knew Clay, there was nothing he could conceive Clay to be capable of, to have received such a message from his own mother on his birthday whilst he was recovering from a beating. Did his mother not know his cat was sick too, and why would she text this, instead of calling, talking in person?
George’s eyes widened, did she even know Clay was harmed? Surely. George’s mother was the first person he’d call, were he to be in the blonde’s situation.
Then again, Clay had insisted not telling the police, not telling anyone.
Were the two events linked? Had Clay gotten involved in some criminal activity and-
“ George ?” Rasp voice, cloaked in sleep, dusted with honey.
“Oh. Hi.” George straightened, stopped resting on the doorframe. Fuck, he must’ve looked like such a creep, staring at Clay sleeping, lost in his own thoughts.
“Didn’t realise fever dreams were so beautiful.” Clay whispered out.
The words lay in the space between them. George just gave him an odd look, still half thinking about the messages.
George yawned, entered, sat by Clay’s bed, “Mm, s’not a dream.”
Clay repositioned himself, angling his face to get a better look at George. His gold eyes dilated as he took in George, reminding the brunet about the lack of light, and he turned to switch on lights. Clay reached out, grabbed George’s collar to stop him leaving, “Course it isn’t. If it was a dream, you’d be wearing a lot less.”
George flushed, “What? You’re so weird.”
Clay scoffed, “Yeah your dreams, I mean. Ogling me in my sleep, charity case .”
That earned an eye roll. “I just um, came to give you your phone, uh, notifications went off and I just thought Nick might have an update.”
“And you didn’t snoop,” Clay was still smiling at George, still using his good hand to hook under George’s collar to keep him from moving away. “He learns.”
George didn’t reply, and gave him the phone, mumbled a too quiet question about Patches and her wellbeing. Clay took the phone in his bad hand, a tired, fond look towards George.
Expectedly, he watched drowsiness strip from Clay’s face, watched colour leech out from his cheeks, but unexpectedly, there wasn’t a visceral reaction. Clay schooled his face into a mask of disconnect and scowled at George. It was refreshingly normal, and George got ready for fire.
“It wasn’t Nick.” Clay broke the silence. “Go sleep, George.”
“Clay-” George looked everywhere but the boy’s face.
Clay’s hand moved up, up from the collar into George’s hair, and he tugged it so he was looking right at the blonde. There was no explanation, George could muster, for the way the action caused a certain rush of blood.
“Are you going to be good, and listen to me for once, or are you too stupid to understand simple instructions?” Clay’s voice had an addictive lilt to it, and something flared within George, yearning and needy. He didn’t know what it was, he just knew he wanted Clay to keep talking.
“Don’t talk to me like that.” George scowled back, “I think we should talk-”
“Shut up.” Clay’s voice was soft, quiet, noxious. George shut up, fixated on the blonde’s lips and how they were set in such a vicious downwards slant. “Bed George, or I’ll make some bad decisions.”
“Like telling me what the fuck happened to you.”
“Like kissing you till you shut up about it.”
A soft noise escaped George, and Clay’s grip in his hair loosened.
Embarrassment flooded George as Clay stared at him with obvious disgust. “Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
George shook him off, backed away. “I’d rather die.”
Alex (my beloved)
GEORGE!
where r u
did the aliens get u
did hepatitis b get u
did ur one night stand kidnap u
bc they were jealous of ur one true love: math
maths*** DID YOU LIKE THAT U BRITISH BASTARD
not even math could summon the nerd within you
oh ffs
fuck it im calling
A call woke George up, and he shot up, first feeling heavily disorientated, then feeling a rush of panic. He accepted the call from Alex, cringing at how late he was to class.
“George! You’ve disappeared? And you’re late for math? What’s going on?”
“I’m fine-”
“Did you catch something? A cold? A fever? A STD?”
“What, no-”
“Maybe telling you to get laid wasn’t the best advice, but I didn’t realise you-”
“Shut up Alex, oh my god.” George laughed, rolled his eyes, the thirty seconds of conversation alleviating weight off his shoulders almost automatically. “I’m coming-”
“Ew, didn’t need to know that George.”
George hung up.
The sudden burst of unexpected joy did little to combat the twists and turns of last night’s events. Late nights and Clay basically led to bad things, whether it was healing fresh wounds or cutting into old ones. Still, George wanted to know what had happened to Clay, wanted to know the truth.
He got up, and realised he had no clothes to change into, and heaven forbid he showed up to maths late in yesterday’s outfit, Alex would have his head. The inevitable was upon him, and with just the slightest hint of fear mixed with inexplicable excitement, he went to Clay’s room. Knocked, no answer. He walked in to an empty bed.
He was going to fucking kill Clay.
Grabbing the first jumper he saw, and deciding to keep the jeans, screw Alex, he changed and rushed outside into the living room, into the kitchen. Nowhere to be found. George had not gone through all that effort in saving his life, for him to so recklessly risk it.
In his anger, he’d almost overlooked the breakfast table, with food made, and a note beside the covered plate.
stop stomping around georgie and relax im fine
just need to get out “air” my wounds yeah
eat. and if i find out u havent eaten bc ur freaking out over me i wont show u pics of patches and youll be missing out on one of the prettiest creatures alive
Something scribbled out here so harshly, George couldn’t see the letters beneath. Even though he tried. Thoroughly.
ik ur late so go to class (u need the catch up time to get on my level)
also abt last night, esp the last bit just MAD ok
George inhaled the food, filled his bag, took his phone - obviously sparing time to take pictures of toddler Clay, and rushed out to maths, configuring an excuse for Alex.
Like kissing you till you shut up about it .
You’d like that wouldn’t you ?
George scoffed, egotistical dickhead .
Yet a strange turn in his abdomen, and a strange palpation in heart when he thought of those moments, Clay’s hand in his hair. Tugging his hair.It was confusing, and George shoved it all to the very back of his mind, hating how Clay took up even more space in his head. Idiot.
Big Q ~ online, hiding
is this Karl Jacobs
KinokoTt ~ online, hiding
no? who?
Big Q ~ online, hiding
cut the crap karl ur exposed
need to cut u and anyone uve brought
KinokoTt ~ online, hiding
this has to be a joke
what???
Big Q ~ online, hiding
don’t double use pseudos next time yh bud
its fine none of the clients know we’re cutting it off early
KinokoTt ~ online, hiding
i’ll cut the ones i brought on
but big q, keep 404, no way his pseudo is compromised and he’s insanely good
and he needs the job
Big Q ~ online, hiding
as long as u havent irl looped him in
KinokoTt ~ online, hiding
no no no online talent
Big Q ~ online, hiding
ok be careful. good run.
KinokoTt ~ account blocked
KinokoTt ~ not found
…
…
Sapnap ~ not found
Dream ~ not found
Notes:
PLS PLS PLS drop a comment because i run on comments and kudos(es/i??) when im writing and i j love validation from strangers over the internet isnt that fun .
anyway also *clears throats* according to AO3 statistics, only a small percentage of people that read my stories are actually subscribed. so if you end up enjoying this fic, consider subscribing. it's free, and you can always unsubscribe. enjoy the video.
lmao u dont have to actually i just wanted to live out my inner dream moment
ugh im so tired idek what im writing at this point just know that im lowkey in love w you if ur reading this fic i cant lie :) (this includes myself)discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 9: chapter eight.
Summary:
Dream: Do you compare this person to others you dated?
Dream: *no* (italiscised)
George: well...
Dream: okay shut upthis chapter is dedicated to that podcast because at this point they're literally living fanfic, it's not even fanfic, it's reality. and this chapter is kinda that but opposite.
Notes:
hi loves <3
ugh i missed an hour of sleep bc of daylight savings
also like stomach acid came up my throat and i genuinely thought that it was the end for me for a solid two minutes and i engulfed water, teary-eyed
lmao anyway so enjoy,,
ALSO CHAP IS V SHORT BUT IM UPLOADING TMRW SO u can wait and binge read if u want :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter eight.
George had taken an optional psychology seminar a year or so ago, and one of their prompts for the final exam had been:
Reminiscence.
He was critical of the argument presented in which they were essentially suggesting how humans tends to not realise the value of something and their sentiment attached to it until it was taken away from them.
George reproached with Rosy Retrospection and how people tended to view their past as disproportionately more positive.
He’d thought the initial idea given was a load of crap, to be honest, and he still did.
Well, until he went to message his cybercriminal understudy, and found him blacklisted.
His eyes scanned their previous messages, and suddenly, everything seemed more meaningful now without means to reignite the conversation.
What happened to Dream?
“You’ve been spacey, and checking your phone all day, and you showed up late to math… what’s going on?” Downside of having a friend was this, for sure.
George didn’t want to lie, but George couldn’t tell Alex the truth. Not about Clay, not about Dream. Still, the concern in Alex’s eyes was real, and it touched George’s heart. Just the genuinity of it was so refreshing.
“I’ve been feeling a little weird recently,” George’s words were true and Alex nodded, prompting him to go on. “I feel as if I’m not living for myself.”
Alex furrowed his eyebrows, and George braced for judgement, braced to retreat behind his carefully erected walls. “Make a bucket list.”
“What?” George scrunched his nose in confusion. Alex just looked at him like he was an idiot, like the answer was so blatantly obvious. George typically knew answers, and he didn’t like not knowing.
“Simple. Write down some shit you want to do and then do it.”
“Like, graduating?” George ventured, immediately regretting it when Alex scowled at him..
“No you fucking nerd, not like graduating. Like I don’t know, getting on a bunch of random trains and ending up somewhere random, making out with three people you’ve never met, trying a psychedelic, don’t make that face, um, like, going on a hot air balloon, cliff diving.”
“Over half of those result in me very like dying,” George crossed his arms, “And so what? You just want me to have an adventure? How’s that supposed to help?”
Alex looked like he was absolutely delighted at knowing things George didn’t, “It’s because you’ve been stuck doing the same thing on repeat for too long, you need to try out other shit, find out who you are. Then you’ll know what you want, then you’ll know what to live for.”
“Why does that actually make sense a little, you actually sound half rig-”
“C’mon George, I’m always right.”
“You got 0 on the maths quiz today.”
“Well, I counted on copying yours. If you’d been there, I’d have gotten full marks.”
“You-”
“Oh, I’m so sorry your highness, do forgive me-”
George prayed to any deity that was listening for strength to deal with Alex.
404 ~ online, hiding
what happened to dream?
also do u have any big jobs, have been busy
Big Q ~ online, hiding
pseudo comp. chain mistake (kinoko head)
such a beginner mistake- double use of pseudos
and we’ve got bunch of wifi shit u can have ur hand at
404 ~ online, hiding
kinoko? i was recruited by them why am i still
that’s dumb. what was the leak?
yeah ok send my way
“Karl!” George rushed to the boy enclad in a large purple sweater. It was just after dinner, and Alex had gone to bed early for once, so George had decided this was the best time to deal with this issue.
“Hey, what’s up?” Karl’s face was slightly weary, fatigue ghosted on the underside of his eyes.
“You got blacklisted?” George lowered his voice and Karl pursed his lips, nodded. “But Big Q said it was a chain issue, and I’m still okay?”
“I put in a special request, said you were online talent.” Karl’s smile was warm, and George’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected such out of the way kindness from Karl, who was a friend, sure, but they weren’t particularly close. There was a sort of understanding in Karl’s eyes, the sort he’d seen in Alex’s from time to time, the sort most of the boys in class and school lacked. He had no idea how to show how much he appreciated it.
So easily George would have spun into financial problems, having to get a part time job, balancing school work, bad pay rates. Such a small gesture, such a lifesaver.
“Thank you, if you need anything, ever, I owe-”
“Shh, George, really. It’s nothing. It was just a bit of easy cash for me anyway so,” Karl reached out, put an arm around George. George was not a physical person, not one for casual touching.
Karl’s arm around his shoulders didn’t feel so bad though.
“How did it even happen? I got told it was double using pseudos.”
“Yeah I mean, Nick, we call him Sapnap, and the idiot uses the same name for everything. Probably because of that.”
George wondered how he had never heard of Nick a week ago, and now Sapnap was appearing at every corner of his life. Acutely he remembered learning about frequency illusion, when you started repeatedly seeing something after noticing it once.
“Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.” George remarked out loud, earning a confused side glance from Karl. “Sorry, um, yeah, thanks once again, Karl. And oh yeah, it was a chain blacklist, and this guy I was showing the ropes to, Dream, did you know him directly?”
“Dream? Mmm, no, I’ve gotten a lot of people into this, and they’ve probably looped in their coder friends, so it was likely that.” George wasn’t expecting Karl to have known Dream, and yet disappointment still soured his mouth. “Sorry, I can ask Sap, if you’d like.”
George considered it, but imagined Nick telling Clay, and that would only spell disaster. “No it’s fine.”
“Oh yeah, also, I know you’re probably tired of me telling you this, but my friend asked for your number, after remembering you from the party pics.”
“Oh I talked to her-” George didn’t want to remember how Clay’d ruined his chances before he’d even had a chance.
“No no, don’t worry, she understood.” Karl gave a knowing smile, and George just looked confused, “Yeah she’s super chill with it, she’s bisexual herself, you know.”
“Oh that’s cool.” George didn’t really understand how the two linked.
“This is someone else, a lot of eyes on you that night. So anyway, you good with me sending?”
George thought of declining, but Alex’s face popped up in his head, and his words of stepping out of his comfort zone to discover who he was. This was definitely new, possibly a little exciting. With nothing to lose, George shrugged and replied, “Yeah, sure.”
unknown
Hey, this is Morgan :)
oh just realised you probably don’t know my name ahh
karl’s friend ^^
oh this is a bad start isn’t it
might as well go with it now aha
george
this is so weird
haha hi morgan
morgan
okay, i’m just going to say it, you’re really gorgeous
and i don’t know you, but i’d love to get to
so would you like to meet up?
george
like a date?
on a date?
romantically or platonically?
wAit did you j call me gorgeous??Fkdk
why am i so bad at this
yeah sure, i’m free tomorrow evening
ig it’s technically today evening bc it’s past midnight haha
thATS TOO sOON omgnndd i
morgan
perfect! you board at karl’s school right?
we could get dinner at this lovely italian place in the town next to it
del posto? idk if youve been there
george
do i bring flowers??
no i haven’t! sounds so good though :]
is 7 ok?
after i could go check up on clay, he’s right in town
why tf am i thinking about CLAY fuck off that dickheads ruining my
morgan
7s perfect. so perfect.
can’t wait, really excited george :)
George was fucked. She seemed so nice, and experienced, and George knew exactly fuck all about what to do. Fuck Alex and his stupid bucket list , George was fine with his only dream being beating Clay, because it was something achievable.
Going on a date with a girl who actually found him attractive ?
Yeah he’d pick the Clay thing anytime.
“Your highness, you seem agitated, did a servant use lavender oil to bathe you in instead of rosemary?” Alex raised the back of his hand to his forehead, cried out dramatically.
“No an advisor’s guidance has now gotten me into a prickly situation.” George levelled an annoyed gaze at Alex who blinked with faux innocence.
“I’m sure it was in his best interest-”
“Best interest my arse.” George rolled his eyes, and Alex laughed.
“What situation?”
“I’m being courted.” George smiled at Alex’s surprise, “Or well, perhaps I’m courting. Either way, I have a romantic rendezvous scheduled today evening.”
“One night stands to dates, where are you finding these people? People who are interested in you ?” Alex scorned, and George shoved him not so gently.
“I didn’t have a stupid one night stand.” George repeated, but Alex only winked and lifted a finger to his lips saying, oh of course you didn’t . “I don’t even know what she looks like, Alex, and I’ve had one conversation with her.”
“Mysterious.”
“Scary. Serial killer bait.”
“Well, that’s kinda-” Alex gave a knowing look and George groaned, shoved Alex once more.
“So how’s your um, hustle going?” George was eager to change the conversation.
Something flashed in Alex’s eyes, and he took a deep breath, “Headache honestly, but I’m getting that bag, so, soon I won’t even be partially reliant on parents anymore.”
“That’s- wow, little entrepreneur here. What is it you do?”
“Trading, lots of online stuff.” Alex shrugged, “Also how many condoms are you planning on packing for tonight?”
George flushed a pretty crimson that he couldn’t see, “Shut up. Idiot. None, obviously.”
“Catching feelings shouldn’t lead to catching gonorrhoea, George.” Alex’s voice was monotone, serious, and he was looking George dead in the eyes.
“Catch this.” George chucked a folder at his side, over to Alex, who dramatically doubled down in fake pain and real laughter.
Nerves wracked George as he fiddled with his sweatshirt, and strangely enough, he really wanted to message Dream about it. He missed their odd quips, hearing about Dream’s pining, helping each other with code. Hopefully Dream would get together with that British boy, and they’d fall in love, and be together, and not tragically alone.
Yeah okay, he needed this date, even if he didn’t particularly want to go on it.
Morgan
hey g :)
if you get there before me, it’s reservation under Flaiser, for two.
i mean obviously for two ahaha
Morgan Flaiser. George wondered what she looked like, wondered how she walked, wondered about the curve of her lips when she smiled, wondered if her laugh was like starlight and seafoam, if her voice had any honey drizzled on.
He arrived early, like he often did, and sat down at the table, marvelling at the ambience of the restaurant- the warm, congenial aura, the hum of chatter and laughter. It was an excellent choice, and if there was to be a second date in which George had to pick the place, he’d fall short.
The clock neared seven, every second causing George’s heart to beat even faster, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. The clock passed 7, and George began to fear the worst, almost immediately.
Morgan didn’t exist, she was a cruel joke from some kid at the academy.
Morgan had arrived, seen him, changed her mind, left.
Morgan never planned on showing.
Every minute passed, and George was swallowing complementary tap water by the gallon, even though it did nothing to soothe his rising panic. He pulled out his phone, no message, and he stared at it so intensely, wishing for a message, wishing so desperately for a call.
“George?” Voice, not honey, but deep, coated with something inviting, and rather masculine. George looked up from his phone to meet overwhelmingly pretty blue eyes, on a pretty face, all sculpted angles, and harsh cheekbones. Unruly brown curls, and a piercing on his right ear, and tall, so tall. Not quite as tall as-
“Morgan?” George tried not to sound confused, but failed by the look on his date’s face.
“Not what you expected?” He grinned, a hint of playful teasing.
“Um,” George blinked, “Well,”
“You are into guys, right?” Morgan’s smile faltered, “Because Karl said-”
“No, I mean, I don’t really know. Yes, I think, maybe.” George felt his cheeks warm, hoped the lighting would hide it, hoped nobody was paying attention to them. “Sit down, please.”
Morgan, thankfully didn’t seem offended, rather beguiled. “Oh. Did you think I was a girl?”
George nodded.
Morgan leaned in, flashed white teeth, enjoyed the way George got all flustered. “Are you disappointed then, sweetheart?”
George took Morgan in, the easy confidence, the charm. Morgan reminded him of things he liked in a person, and so he couldn’t not be honest. Living up to Alex’s hopes, George shook his head, and Morgan beamed at him.
It was refreshing to have someone look at you like that, smile at you like that, and some part of him wished that Clay could’ve seen it, shown him he was figuring out who he was without him.
“You must get this a lot, George, but you’re just so pretty.” Morgan’s eyes were fixed on him, and George chuckled nervously, not knowing how to take a compliment. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Notes:
this chapter is 1) so so short ik (IM UPLOADING TMRW SO DW J WAIT IF U WANNA BINGE READ BC NEXT CHAP IS LONG)
2) lacking dream/clay x george interactions (because i really think poor george does need to explore his sexuality and be more comfortable with it before dream puts a spin on everything)
^^ ALSO NEXT CHAPTER HAS SO MUCH OF THEIR DUMBASSERY omg LIKE I WAS WRITING THE NEXT CHAP and i was like what the fuck why are they doing this? and i swear like dream has half possessed me into writing this, poor man is STARVED w/out sap and dnf fics and fanart are the only thing keeping him going...anyway pls leave a comment on what your fav dnf interaction so far in this fic has been (im j a sucker for the dream arrives in the middle of the night all wounded moment idc)
thanks for reading <33 ( AND THANKS FOR ALMOST 1K HITS WHAT)discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 10: chapter nine.
Summary:
"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 2:00 𝘢.𝘮. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦
𝘚𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦
𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩"-the way i loved you, taylor swift (loml)
this bit kinda embodies the chapter tbh
Notes:
hello loves!
one k hits on this fic!! u guys are insane i love u all so much!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter nine.
“Boys at your school must be tripping over your accent.” Morgan remarked, and it was a topic they’d avoided this far. George’s school. Morgan was lovely, really, he had that fluid charisma and could talk about anything and everything, and he was great.
George couldn’t help but feel something was missing, and though he couldn’t fault his date in the least, a part of him felt bored. Oh lord, he was a horrible person.
“Boys at my school are still tripping over the fact I’m there on merit,” George scoffed, had another fork of utterly delectable linguine. “You go to an Arts College, right? That sounds so much more accepting.”
“You’d think so, isn’t it?” Morgan shook his head, took a sip from his cocktail, “It’s so full of toxicity, and skin deep people, and everyone romanticises the toxicity and romanticises being skin deep.”
George made a face, because he could see where Morgan was coming from, even though it was so far removed from his own experiences.
His date leaned closer across the table, wore that far too tempting smile of his, “I just want something real, y’know.”
“Morgan, this is all so new for me, and I think I like you, but I don’t-”
“Shh, Georgie,” Morgan hushed, and George decided that nickname didn’t work from just anyone, “I’m not expecting anything from you okay, I’m just saying I don’t like plastic relationships.”
Morgan reached out and took George’s hand in his own, thumb rubbing circles around George’s knuckles. George was decidedly not a fan of casual touches, but he put on a smile because Morgan was looking at him so carefully.
A split bill, against Morgan’s wishes, and a few more lighter conversations afterwards, they were outside the restaurant, light rain drizzling on them.
“I love the rain,” Morgan looked up at grey clouds, looked back at George, arm around his shoulders.
George sidled closer, “Me too.”
“Will I see you again, sweetheart?” An ounce on honesty, vulnerability injected into the words.
George looked up, looked into those inviting blue eyes, and gave a teasing shrug, “Depends.”
“On what?” Morgan’s voice dipped lower, line of vision dipping lower, resting on George’s lips.
“Like kissing you till you shut up about it.”
George shivered, and he wanted to shove the thought out of his mind, out of his head.
“On how convincing you can be.” George moved away from Morgan, causing the other boy to groan, hold on to George’s arm.
“Pleasure meeting you Morgan, hope it won’t be the last time.” George goaded a little further, loving how Morgan’s eyes were on him and only him, loving the way Morgan swallowed with want.
George had gotten a boy infatuated with him, wanting to kiss him. Clay could take that win and shove it up his entitled arse.
“Oh it won’t be. People find it hard to resist me.” Morgan raised an eyebrow, “See you soon, Georgie.”
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
is it bad i spent three hours making a burner just to talk to you?
Was it bad that seeing the message from Dream causes his heart to race more than it did on his actual date with Morgan? George usually never checked his spam messages on his job site, but he was tidying up in preparation for his new job and of course, the message caught his eye.
404 ~ online, hiding
second hand embarrassment is painful
how’d u get caught up in a fucking pseudo blacklist chain
that’s more embarrassing
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
i’m actually so fucked
i’m actually going to have to like sell my body for money at this point
404 ~ online, hiding
dream let’s be realistic here :(
no one wld pay for ur body
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
3 fucking hours down the stupid drain
404 ~ online, hiding
at least u saved ur three hour pining session over ur straight boy crush!!
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
it’s homophobic parents today actually
fevers gone though so focusing on positives
404 ~ online, hiding
oh no what happened :[
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
don’t wanna talk about it
rather dwell on ur loneliness
404 ~ online, hiding
for ur information i went on a date today
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
im sorry to the poor soul who had to suffer through this
404 ~ online, hiding
alright mr. i spent 3 hours making a burner for you sexy ass british coder man who i project my real life crush onto
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
that was alarmingly accurate fuck u
how was the date then
404 ~ online, hiding
well i thought it was going to be w a girl
and then it was w a guy
and yeah ok i think i might be into guys
physically at least
but it was kinda boring icl no spark i thjnk
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
hold up what how do u even get in these situations
was it a blind date or??
404 ~ online, hiding
no it was a friend of a friend who id nvr met
gender neutral name
and yeah
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
ofc.
so ur taking a break from the guy who was defining ur life
404 ~ online, hiding
yeah like i didn’t even see him today
only thought abt him
and i only compared him to my date like 3 times
that’s good right
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
oh 404…
George didn’t bother knocking as he entered his rival’s new (old) apartment, figuring if Clay had stuff to hide, he would have locked the door.
Greeted by a familiar scent of vanilla spice, and a hum of televised noises, George took off his shoes, stretched out his arms and yawned.
“Nick?” Clay called out, a hint of excitement in his voice. The warmth in the blonde’s voice made George spurn, roll his eyes. Ice would soon replace it when he figured out who his visitor truly was.
George walked towards the bedroom, adjusting his sweatshirt, then wondered if Morgan had liked his outfit, then had that newly repeating shockwave of realising Morgan was a guy and he’d been on a date with a guy. Too late, George realised he should process this information before checking up on Clay, who was probably hunting for weak spots to probe George.
Head in thoughts, he mindlessly made his way to Clay’s room, not realising Clay leaving as he rushed towards the door. Blue soda soaked the freshly pressed sweatshirt, blue enmity crackled between them.
“George?” Confusion on the blonde’s face as he instinctively placed his hands on the shorter’s shoulders to steady him. Realising who he was, he ripped them off like he’d been burned. George tried his best not to take offence, or read into it too deeply.
“Ouch.” George’s voice was monotone, and he frowned down at the stains, “Why are you up and moving already?”
“I’m in a good mood so don’t ruin it.” Clay’s eyes rested on George’s sweatshirt as if trying to figure something out, then moved to his jeans, then to his hair, and just as George was about to make a snarky comment on it, Clay continued, “Charity case’s all dressed up pretty.”
George didn’t know what to say to that.
Clay’s teasing smirk was vice and vaunt, “For me, Georgie?”
“I came here as an afterthought, because it was close, and because I needed to make sure you hadn’t made a mess of my bandages.” George grit out, hating the smug uptilt of full lips. Also because of that text from your mother .
“I’m sure.” Clay flashed canines, “Have you done the bio?”
“Yeah,” George took out his phone and sent his work over, knowing Clay needed to catch up. He knew he couldn’t achieve his full potential if Clay was lagging so far behind. “Can I take a shower? You’ve got me all, ugh-”
It wasn’t really a question and he was already moving towards the bathroom, and he felt Clay pace behind him, calling wait -
George opened the bathroom door to blood in the sink and gauzes messily strewn about, and from the blonde’s reflection he could see colour tint his cheek.
“Idiot. Let me clean up, and then you can shower.”
“No, it’s fine, you should’ve asked me to redo them. You should be resting, you’re literally overworking your muscles-”
“Shut up, George. Good mood, remember, don’t need-”
“Me to ruin it, yeah, yeah, just go sit down and tell me how your dials work and where a spare towel is.”
“Fuck you. Find out yourself.” George didn’t really know why he’d expected anything different. Clay scowled further, “And just go help yourself to more of my clothes-”
“I had nothing to wear? And you’d just up and left so I couldn’t ask-”
“So you just take my sweater-”
“You literally ruined mine so you owe me-”
“That’s now, you couldn’t predict the fu-”
“Get out.”
“Whatever, fucking idiot.”
As soon as the hot water left his skin, George missed its touch, the way the scalding heat ripped away negative thoughts, the way he could just submerge underneath everything that mattered.
Halfway through the shower, Clay’d banged at the door with, George prayed, his non injured hand, and said something about towel and clothes outside the door, his voice too muffled to distinguish. George had never felt quite as odd as he did, drowning in a freshly washed top (that still had that lingering Clay smell) and sweatpants too baggy at the waist, and too long for his legs. He looked in the mirror, frowned at his messy, wet hair, at the way none of the clothes fit.
He looked like a mess, and he hated having to face Clay like this.
He entered Clay’s bedroom, prepared to say his goodbye s when he noticed the dark static tension stifling the room, heavy and ready to suffocate.
There were stormclouds on Clay’s face, his good mood seemingly have gone to hell.
George desperately wanted to know what had happened, but there was too little of a chance for Clay to slip up and lay himself bare now, so he just waited a beat, then opened his mouth, “I’m going to-”
“Who’s Morgan, George?” Clay looked up at him, face devoid of emotion, gold eyes pinning him in place.
Panic flared in George’s throat, because Clay might not care if he was on a date with a guy but if he told people at school, and they found out. He tried his best to mirror Clay’s lack of expression, lack of tone in voice, “Who?”
“Don’t fucking play with me. Who’s Morgan?”
“Why?” George didn’t like feeling like he was being accused of something, and he glared right back at Clay.
Clay held George’s phone up, and George glowered, knowing he couldn’t say anything after picking up Nick’s call, after reading that strange message from Clay’s mother.
“Hey G, love heart emoticon,” Clay’s voice turned sickly sweet, poison seeping into each word, intending to intoxicate, wound, incapacitate the brunet, “Tonight was really fun and you have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you.”
A muscle in Clay’s jaw jumped.
“But I know you freaked out when you realised I-” Clay paused, and George noticed the slightest tremor in his right hand, “I was a guy, and I wanted to give you a chance to process. I didn’t want it to be impulsive and for you to regret it. You should know I’ll never forget the way your teeth flicked across your lips as you said convincing, should know I wanted to taste them then and there.”
Clay’s face was a mixture of disgustment and other sour feelings.
“Sorry for the ramble, it’s late and I’m nervous, look forward to hearing from you. Yours, Morgan, love heart emoticon.”
George felt all the linguini from earlier than evening threaten to make a reappearance, from both the too-fast text, and from Clay having read it. “Yeah, I went on a date, so what. I told you I came here as an afterthought.”
“You went on a date with a boy.”
“Come on, you’re clearly close to Nick, and he’s queer, so it’s not me fancying guys that’s the issue is it? Spit it out.” George wasn’t going to take that haughty look from Clay, not tonight.
Clay stood up, tall and imposing, and neared George, still with murderous intent in blazing gold eyes, “You’re- you’ve got a mouth on you tonight.”
“What the fuck is your problem with me going on a date? Not everyone’s destined to be alone, Revaz.”
Clay tutted, “You don’t deserve fucking dates, or fucking anyone sending hearts to you, sending sappy messages.”
“No?” George scoffed, “Tell me, Revaz, tell me what I deserve.”
“You deserve nothing, you’re worth less than the lint on my jacket.”
“That’s not what Morgan told me, not what Alex tells me, just because I have friends-”
Clay shoved George against the wall, “Shut up.”
“You’re just pissed because it’s your fucking birthday in ten minutes and the only one who’s here is the guy who despises every inch of you-”
“I’m warning you-” Clay’s face was inches away from his own, white-hot anger scribbled across it.
“Warning?” George’s laugh was hollow, “I’m not the same scared charity case anymore, Revaz, your empty threats have-”
Clay closed the gap. Full lips on his own, hand digging into his hair, pulling upwards to shorten the distance.
It was horrible, a clash of teeth, lips tugging lips, confusion, intensity suffocating, the blonde biting hard enough to draw blood, the consequent taste of copper.
It was incredible, left George reeling, heart fucking pumping, addictive, and strangely satisfying, and it was Clay Revaz, and it was years of pent up hatred, and it was the desire to fucking put him in place.
It was twisted, and wrong, and George loved it until the moment they both pulled away.
“What the fuck.” George breathed out, didn’t think, “I fucking hate you.”
“Do you kiss everyone you hate like that?”
“What is this? Some kind of power trip.” George shoved Clay back, but Clay didn’t move, and for some reason that comforted him just a little. Constant staying constant, even through whatever the heck had just happened
“I told you,” Clay’s voice was steady, yellow eyes unwavering, “what I am willing to do to get you to shut up.”
“You’re fucked in the head,” George instantly regretted saying it, remembering the text from Clay’s mother, then decidedly not caring.
Clay shrugged, laughed but it lacked starlight, lacked seafoam, “Look who’s speaking. Goes on a date with lovely , heart emoticon Morgan, ends up in another guy’s house, in his shower, in his clothes. That’s pretty fucked up.”
“Alright, firstly, I only met Morgan today, so I have no loyalties to him,” George hissed, noticed the way Clay’s shoulders relaxed, “Secondly, you’re making this out to be something it isn’t. I’d never be like that with you.”
“Believe me I know.” Frost-kissed words, frost-glazed eyes.
“You’re the last person-”
“Yeah, you’re not my usual type either, George. I kissed you to get you to shut up, and it was pretty effective.” Clay shrugged, and George noticed the way Clay winced as he moved his right shoulder. “Don’t make it something it’s not.” He knew Clay wasn’t even into guys. Subtly he moved towards the bed so the idiot could rest his wounds, Clay following, and got him to sit down.
Couldn’t be the prime suspect.
“You were in a good mood earlier, you said.”
“Yeah, you ruined it, so I ruined your first date with Morgan.” A twinkle in Clay’s eyes, “If he kisses you, now, I bet you’ll think of me.”
George was already thinking about the stupid blonde on the date, and he didn’t need him invading anymore of his personal life. Dream would be disappointed. Alex would quite possibly pass out, were he to know of the night’s events. Oh fuck, he couldn’t ever repeat what had happened.
His lips were still buzzing.
George ignored the comment, stood up, regaining good sense, “I’m leaving. Happy bir-”
Clay caught his wrist, pulled him back to sitting next to the blonde. “Wait. Wait, yeah, I was in a better mood earlier, and well, just wait like another half hour, you won’t regret it.”
George raised his eyebrows.
Suddenly Clay grinned, full blown, transforming his face, and it was such a change from the previous mood, George felt a little shaken. “Nick’s bringing my birthday present.”
George’s newly formed smile dropped at the mention of Nick , a reminder that though he’d spat those words about Clay being alone, he had someone all too close to him, something George had never experienced. “So?”
“Just wait, I, um, owe you for like the bandages and shit, I guess.”
“ That’s what you owe me for?”
Clay looked at him like he was stupid, “Yeah, what else. Then after, we’ll be even-”
“Even? You can’t just fucking kiss me-” Kiss me like that .
“Listen, don’t make it something it wasn’t-”
“So it’s okay for you to just-” George grew more irritated by the passing moment.
“Yes. Yes it is.”
“So if I wanted to shut you up-” George’s eyes dropped.
“What-” George didn’t know what he was doing, how he’d ended up leaning forward to press his lips onto Clay’s, not because he felt any feelings spare resentment towards him, but because he wanted to feel that thrill again, the lightheadedness the kiss had induced.
He pulled away after perhaps a minute or two of bliss, with a cocky grin, “It is quite effective in shutting people up.”
“Fuck you.” Clay spit out, still looking a little bewildered. “This means fuck all.”
“I guess whilst you’re distracted on your ouchies and on my lips, I can easily take first place in the Biology Olympiad.” George chuckled as Clay exclaimed no , because the annual biology exam was the one thing Clay consistently somehow beat George in.
There was a noise at the door, and they both sprang apart, George flushing pink, Clay going pale.
George had begun the evening going on a date with a girl, and ended the night in his self-proclaimed nemesis’s bed, in his clothes, having just kissed the straight guy twice.
What the genuine fuck was wrong with him.
Notes:
im done. im actually so done with dream and george, like u fr kissed each other and loved it and for what? "TO SHUT EACH OTHER UP" bye
idk why i bother writing at this point, they're INSUFFERABLE
so who do you think is going to figure out the other's identity first- 404 or dream or at the same time (that is if they figure it out at all)??
umm kudos is appreciated so much as usual, comments make my heart glow fr, and subscribe bc like dream team wld want u to like srsly.
also i feel like my writing is very choppy and inconsistent so im really sorry if it's just not the vibes but this fic is wholly self-indulgent so as long as i enjoy i hope someone does too lmaodiscord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 11: chapter ten.
Summary:
“𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳?"
"𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶," 𝘈𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥. "𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶."
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴. 𝘕𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘥𝘶𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦."
"𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶," 𝘈𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘕𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
- the kings men, nora sakavic(i def recc the foxhole court (but authors problematic so second hand pls) and if u like the dynamic between dnf in this, you'll love it BUT CHECK TWS so many)
(also andrew/neil dynamic lowkey inspired this fic very lowkey but still did so)
Notes:
hello loves <3
quite a nice chunky chapter for you tonight (which 10000% does not not not not not not end in a cliffhanger) :)
ALSO DREAM FACE REVEAL JUST NOW IM SO SHOCKED twitters exploding
cant believe dream team just dropped a selfie LIKE THAT
screaming !!!!!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter ten.
George couldn’t imagine his mother without that crinkle in her eyes, sweet smile on her face, arms open for him to dive in. He couldn’t imagine London without its unpredictable weather, its stifling heat as he entered Tesco and the sudden shower of rain as he left. He couldn’t imagine school without Clay Revaz in his well-fitting blazer and despicable charisma.
He couldn’t imagine the same Clay who’d ruthlessly sabotaged countless opportunities for George, from president of Robotics Society to Debate prefect, the same Clay who had cursed George, insulted him a thousand times over, the same Clay who’d kissed him just to shut him up, to have a soft spot.
For a cat. For a cat who could give him nothing in return but her company. Sure he’d seen the panic when Clay’d heard his cat was sick, but nothing could prepare him for the sight he was witness to at the moment.
A mewl from his arms, a tiny cat cradled in his arms, and George felt faint.
Clay, who in George’s present consistently wore a frown, was doting on the fluffball, like it was the most precious thing in his life.
“Is that Clay’s top?” Nick’s voice brought him back to reality, whatever this reality was.
“Yeah.” George answered the boy sat across from him, “Clay spilled his juice on my sweater.”
Nick scoffed, nodded, “I’m sure he did.”
“She missed me, oh didn’t you, Patches?” Clay stroked Patches, held her close, completely ignoring the other two boys.
“What juice did he spill on your trousers then?” Nick’s lips kicked up in mirth. George looked down on his baggy sweatpants and crossed his arms.
“You ask a lot of questions, Nick.”
“I prefer Sapnap-”
“Sapnap, then, whatever. Why are you so intrusive?”
“If you’re calling me intrusive, are you suggesting there’s something to intrude on?”
George mind was fixated on that bad first kiss, and that consuming second one. He hoped it didn’t show on his face, but from the glint in Sapnap’s eyes, he knew he could tell something was off.
“I was surprised to find you in uh, Clay’s house in the middle of the night, you know most times I’ve seen you, it’s in one of your bedrooms in the middle of the night, just a thought.” George wasn’t an idiot, he knew that Sapnap, possibly infatuated with the blonde, must have seen this situation and taken it the wrong way.
George blinked, looked to Clay, who was either just out of hearing distance across the room, on his bed, or too involved in coddling his cat. He looked back at Sapnap, lowered his voice, “Do you have feelings for Clay?”
“W-what?” George had only taken one psychology seminar but he was pretty sure stutters were an indication his question had some merit. Sapnap’s eyes widened, and then, out of nowhere, he burst out laughing.
Clay, not taking his eyes of Patches, offered a comment, “George isn’t that funny, why are you laughing?”
“Clay-” Sapnap managed to say between bouts of hysterical laughter, though George didn’t see what was so funny- he’d picked up what Karl had said and noticed the dynamic between the two boys. “Clay, oh, oh you have to hear what George just asked me.”
George didn’t bother hiding the emotion in his face, “Wait. Sapnap, wait-”
“What? What happened?”
“Nothing.” Sapnap looked back at George with a knowing smile, what he knew was beyond George, for George was sure now that the man opposite him had not a single brain cell.
“What the fuck, Nick, it’s my birthday , you have to say.”
Sapnap looked towards George and back to Clay and took a deep breath.
“Clay, I’m leaving, for real now-”
“Wait-” Clay called out, “Sorry, fine, okay, I’ll share Patches for a few minutes then, and then we’re even.”
“Even? You’re both odd.” They both ignored Sapnap.
George, though reluctantly, made his way over to Clay and his cat, and hated how he felt his face soften as the brown ball of fur stuck her tongue out. He sat down next to Clay, and stroked her fur, practically melting as she purred, and then moved towards him.
“She’s so adorable,” George breathed out, understanding how smitten Clay was over his met.
“Yeah, she’s the prettiest little kitty, aren’t you, Patches?” Clay’s voice was transformed into a bed of feathers, into gentle, flowing rivers. Again, something George couldn’t have imagined. She placed a paw on George’s leg, causing the boy to let out a little laugh.
“I think she likes me more than you.”
“Pretty privilege, isn’t it.” Clay murmured under his breath, and George didn’t know what to take from that, so he pretended not to have heard it. Clearly being reunited with his poorly pet had addled the blonde’s brain. Louder, Clay proudly stated, “Nope. No way, I’m her favourite.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s me,” Sapnap called out, and Clay threw back an insult at him.
nick (pandas)
hey, u up?
karl (honey<3)
mhm
cldn’t sleep :/
call?
nick (pandas)
i can do you one better
look out ur dorm window
Fridays were wonderful for various reasons, for one, they indicated the end of school- and the end of mindless, snobby classmates, for two he had lessons which mildly challenged him for a change, for three his mother would always call and check up on him no matter how busy she was.
Alex had quite possibly made it his life mission to ruin Fridays for him.
“-And then next Friday, we have the Autumnal Equinox Formal with our twin girls’ academy, and then there’s the lit as fuck afterparty-”
“I’m begging you to stop.” George hit his head against the back of the wall.
“Oh I’m so sorry you had a super awesome date yesterday, not all of us can get bitches as easily as you, your highness.”
“Alex-”
“No. Tonight, Friday night party at Wilbur’s-”
“I don’t even know Wil-”
“He’s alright as far these folk go, we share a head for entrepreneurship. Next week, Autumnal Eq-”
“Sounds so fucking pretentious, and we don’t have tic-”
“I have acquired two tickets.”
“Alex, I literally, physically can not pay you back-”
“You can pay me back with your body, don’t even worry, handsome white boy like you will fetch a pretty penny.”
George groaned, “Seriously, I don’t like gifts, and I don’t like feeling indebted like this.”
“George, lighten up, man, I wouldn’t want to go if you weren’t, so it’s basically for me.” Alex paused, then suddenly being struck with an idea, “Although, if you do want to return the favour, dish out what happened last night, eh. Don’t kiss and not tell.”
George instantly froze up at the word kiss, and instantly regretted it, knowing he had no explanation for why he did. It wasn’t as if Morgan had kissed him. Shit , he remembered Morgan’s message, realised he should probably reply. Still, even looking at it reminded him of Clay, which was, of course, the whole reason Clay had done whatever he had last night.
To ruin a good thing for George.
Dickhead.
He hadn’t told Alex that Morgan had been a guy, not that he thought Alex would care, but still, after finally having found a friend, he didn’t want to risk it and go back to being alone.
“Well it was really nice.” George grinned.
“Aw, look at you all blushing and shit.” Alex mirrored the smile until he suddenly dropped it and fake barfed, whacking George on the back of his head, “You are no simp, listen to me, you’ve been on one date with this girl, you’re not going to let her break your heart.”
George sighed, rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, I’m not doing your maths homework this week.”
Alex doubled back, pressed his hands together, pleaded, “I’m so sorry, your highness, forgive this stupid peasant for intervening in such matters of the heart-”
“Oh my god, shut up.”
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
i’ve found out your secret alex
Big Q ~ online, hiding
alex?
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
let’s not play games, ik what school you attend
ik the certain brunet you seem to be close with
ik all abt ur family alex quackity
Big Q ~ online, hiding
what do u want
who are u
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
you know me as dream but i can just as easily be ur worst nightmare
get me my job back, nd my user, nd my stats
or i’ll leak everything
Big Q ~ online, hiding
fuck you.
ok. but i get one sniff of info on me out there then i will find u
and ik people who can make it seem like u never even existed
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
i wish u the best of luck with that
j do the shit i asked for
Big Q ~ online, hiding
fine.
any other stipulations.
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
if u make that brunet friend of urs upset in any way i will leak anyway
and then i’ll find u and mess u up before you can lift a finger to call in reserves:)
Big Q ~ online, hiding
wtf. who’s he to u
burner <warning!SPAM LIKELY> ~ online, hiding
:)
George, knowing Alex would knock at his door any moment, drag him to Wilbur’s dorm
for the party, pulled on the nicest smelling sweatshirt he could find at a moment's notice. It happened to be Clay’s, but he doubted the blonde would be in attendance so it didn’t really matter. As he brushed his hair, his phone buzzed and he wondered if it was Dream.
It was Morgan, but George wasn’t too disheartened. It wasn’t as if Morgan was bad company, the way he’d shower George with compliments, laugh at his sarcastic comments, and he was definitely attractive enough for George to find his thoughts wandering to the boy.
He seemed experienced too, and sure of what he was looking for, confident in his sexuality, and that too was something George could admire.
Morgan
hey doll
stuck in evening art lecture and my mind keeps drifting to u
Georgie (<3)
art lecture? that sounds so cool
you’re SO boring george
bunk. im heading to a party tn, u down to join?
cant guarantee the company will be good but free booze and ill be there :)
Morgan
never thought u were such a bad influence george
got to say its an attractive look
ill be there in 25?
Georgie (<3)
sending u a copy of my digital fob
Alex should really be here by now, George scrunched his nose as the call went through to voicemail again. Was there something wrong? Did he not notice it?
He was a horrible friend, but, in all fairness, he hadn’t much practice.
Without Alex, there was no point going to Wilbur’s party, but now he’d been idiotic enough to invite Morgan. Morgan, who would be offended if he introduced as a mere friend, but who he couldn’t introduce as anything more. What had possessed him to make such a catastrophic decision?
A knock on his door, and he rushed toward it, anticipating Alex’s wild grin and contagious excitement. He opened the door to blue eyes and a bouquet of flowers, none of which he could quite tell the colour of.
“Morgan,” George grinned, hoping it didn’t seem forced, “How did you find my dorm?”
“Asked around.” Half his mouth tilted up, and he cupped George’s face with a hand. “I was surprised you asked me to come tonight.”
You and me both, George thought.
“I like to keep people on their toes.” George said instead, taking the flowers and placing them aside. “Quick detour before party, we have to stop my friend’s dorm, he’s running late.”
“Whatever you say, Georgie.” Morgan’s arm was around George’s shoulder, and George tried to convince himself he liked it. “You have a friend in this place ?”
“I was disappointed in myself too, but he’s funny and loyal, he’ll grow on you.”
“Lead the way, doll.”
There were a few younger students roaming around still, but it was quiet, everyone having either left school grounds or in dorms enjoying the start to the weekend. Beside him, Morgan had luckily gotten the hint and wasn’t overt about his touches, and commented on how posh the whole place was, how grand the gardens seemed, how beautiful the architecture was. George hummed in agreement, but half his mind was on Alex, and the worrying lack of replies to his texts and calls.
Alex’s dorm was close to Wilbur’s, and as they neared, other partygoers seemingly already tipsy, were making their own way too. The closer they got, the more people seemed to appear.
Morgan, somehow in his element, even struck up a conversation with some strangers, much to George’s initial horror and then surprise at how easily the conversation flowed. He could never have imagined to have such a talent, that was reserved for the likes of Morgan.
And a certain blonde.
“By the way, George,” Morgan remarked, picking some dust off his shoulders, “Your jumper suits you so well, I mean everything suits you, but the Balenciaga. I thought you were broke scholarship kid, was it a gift?”
“Uh-” George was saved from having to concoct an answer since they’d arrived at Alex’s door. George grinned as he imagined Alex styling his beanie, making poses in front of the mirror as he’d seen him do. George knocked on the door, and buzzed the bell, and knocked once again.
“Alex. Alex, ” He shouted, holding on to the last consonant, letting it ring, before looking quizzically up at Morgan. “Maybe he already left?”
“So much for loyal, eh?” Morgan joked, and George contrived a noise similar enough to laughter. A beat passed, Morgan’s eyes on him careful and inspecting, “You okay, Georgie?”
He really fucking hated that nickname.
George nodded, “Let’s go,”
Music rung out down the hallway, and noise levels grew exponentially as they neared, Morgan recounting a funny story about a teacher accidentally setting an entire rack of costumes on fire. As Morgan talked more about his school experience, George realised how much it contrasted his own.
Drinks, and then some more, and some tipsy dancing, and Morgan spinning him around, and laughing and laughing some more, and Morgan wasn’t so bad when they were drinking.
More drinks, and laughter, and talking and more talking, and Morgan talking to people who’d been so cruel to George, now listening with rapt interest, complimenting Morgan, laughing at his jokes, smiling at George.
Even more alcohol, and touches were no longer fleeting hand holds, rather Morgan’s hands at George’s waist, and shoulders, and as they conversed with more people, an almost possessive arm holding him close.
George thought he’d like to take a swim in Morgan’s eyes, let his lips sink into the other’s. George wasn’t thinking of Dream, or Alex, or school, he no longer seemed to care about who he was, instead just focused on the moment, enjoyed himself.
“Sweetheart,” Some muffled part of George’s mind rang warning bells at the entirely public endearment, but it was drowned by those sapphire eyes. “Who’s that guy staring at you? Next to Karl?”
George turned towards the direction Morgan was looking at, and saw Sapnap beside Karl. “Oh, that’s Sapnap.”
“He looks like trouble, is he one of the dickheads who make fun of you?”
“N-”
“Let’s go have a word.” Let’s not .
Morgan tugged George along to Sapnap and Karl, the former staring daggers at George’s date, and the latter adorning a full blown smile at George, one of shared secrets.
“Hey Karl,” George giggled at the slur in his words, and leaned into Morgan. “You having fun with- with Sapnap?”
“Yes, oh my God, I’ve never seen people throw up purple until today.”
“I’ve never seen purple at all.” George laughed, but only Sapnap nodded at him in understanding, the other two not knowing he was colourblind. Assuming he was simply drunk, Morgan chuckled along, and Karl gave an unsteady laugh. Why did Sapnap seem to know? He hadn’t told him. Who had?
“So you came with Morgan , huh?” There was a wink in Karl’s voice, and he nudged Sapnap, who didn’t seem to be half as amused. In fact, Sapnap brought out his phone stone-faced, and began to type something out. Karl turned to him, looking over his shoulder, “Stop texting him, he’s not coming, leave the poor boy alone.”
Sapnap smirked, rolled his eyes, “I think he’s about to change his mind.”
“I’m offended you didn’t invite me yourself Karl.” Morgan feigned offence, and pulled George closer.
“I sent it on the group chat, you said you had a lecture-” Karl screwed his eyes, “But I guess lectures don’t matter when there’s a George involved.”
“Who could say no to that face?” Morgan turned to the shorter brunet, gave him a look filled with way too much emotion for George to deal with. George took a swig of his drink.
“Genius to party boy George, huh?” Karl snickered, mellowed.
“Still a genius.” George felt the desire to let loose and sway with the music rush through his body, “Could still beat Clay anyday.”
“Clay?” Morgan inquired. There was a small smile on Sapnap’s face.
“You two and your insufferable squabbling.” Karl scorned, “This is a party, I forbid talk of school.”
All of a sudden, some topless boy rammed into them, and by the pungent smell of marijuana emanating from him, George could tell he was high. “Guys, more shots ‘n shit, fucking bomb! Get into the main hall.”
He pushed past them onto the next group of people, leaving them all a little dazed.
“He called me a penniless shit in History two years ago, compared me to the vagabonds plaguing the streets in the Tudor Era in England,” George broke the silence, words stumbling into each other, “But he can act however he wants, get high on school property just because he can whereas I was forced to act prim and proper for years. I despise people like that.”
Morgan pressed a kiss to George’s head in support.
But George didn’t want support, he wanted revenge.
“Your year was especially bad, like the school’s elitist but-”
“I blame Revaz.” George shot an accusatory look at Sapnap, but he only seem interested in his phone and playing with Karl’s arm. Surely if those two could be so physically intimate and be best friends, Morgan and him wouldn’t seem too unusual.
“Who’s Revaz?” Morgan asked again, and George noticed Sapnap’s smirk grow.
“Let’s go. I wanna go nearer the music,” And be normal , and just be normal, and not someone he’d hardwired himself to be, the perfect student. He just wanted to let loose.
Tugging on Morgan’s arm, he dragged the four of them into the main room, where the majority of the people attending were mingling about, rough circles formed.
(x-a)² + (y-b)² = r² was the general formula of a circle, his drunk brain lazily offered.
Such a fucking nerd , he heard Alex’s voice ring out from his mind, and it made him smile.
Basic , another familiar voice, honey-soaked, try using some calculus- a hint of integration, have you even bothered with poisson distribution to measure-
“Shut the fuck up, Revaz,” George mumbled, too quiet for the others to hear, as he shoved air, giggling. Morgan was catching up with Karl, and Sapnap was nursing a drink in one hand, and his phone in his other. George sat next to him, pouted, and the other boy gave him a tired look.
“What’s up?” Sapnap squinted at George’s sweater, “Looks familiar.”
“It’s Clay’s birthday and he’s hurt, and you left him alone.”
Sapnap tilted his head to the side, looked over to Morgan laughing at something Karl said, and back to George, “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t. I hate him.” George spat out since it was obvious, “But he’s your- your friend , he called you his family , you shouldn’t have left him on his birthday.”
“He’s-” Sapnap’s smile grew warm, “He was trying to do something nice for me.”
“What?”
“Georgie,” Fuck that stupid name. “Come sit here, sweetheart.”
George complied, because Wilbur was in the middle of the circle, trying to get everyone to quiet down and listen. He’d never attended a party with guys from school before, and already it had shocked him to see them so far fallen from the supercilious pedestal they placed themselves on. How dare they have mocked him for not having their background and being so different when they clearly didn’t even care he was here?
A girl had managed to break her leg in the other room, so she had to get escorted out, but Wilbur, only seemed to care about creating the right atmosphere in the main room.
“Karl, hey, I was looking for you!”
“Oh hey, Riya,” Karl replied, as the fine-featured girl ushered them into her huddle. “Hey, this is Mikael, that’s Riya, Valentina, resting bitch face is Lani.”
George was convinced he had spoken to more people today than he had in his entire academic years thus far. Exchanges were made, and Karl eased the groups together, until an equilibrium was reached. Morgan talked for the two of them, and George definitely didn’t mind it.
“You guys wanna do a drinking game?” Valentina suggested, lifting up her shot glass, and sharing a look with her friends. A chorus of drunk agreements, and George nodded too, because why not? Herding effect , he’d read in an economics article, and it applied now.
“I don’t want to do nevers, or shot in the dark ,” Riya added, “Or like two truth, one lie, it’s not the vibe.”
Again, more agreement, and the brunet, who’d spent months learning several languages- including numerous programming ones, barely understood a word she’d said, hadn’t the faintest clue what she was talking about. He burrowed closer to Morgan, who was advocating another game, wishing he could be more natural at socialising.
Even with the alcohol loosening his tongue, he still couldn’t manage to spin words that entertained quite like his date. A harrowing thought of how he was supposed to manage interviews and such after school arose, but he shoved it aside, hoping it wouldn’t resurface.
After brief conflict over what to play- everyone too tipsy to properly care, but tipsy enough to be overly stubborn, Mikael turned to George, who had been quiet in all this. “What about you, George? Got any ideas?”
Too many pairs of eyes on him. George wanted to dissolve.
“Truth or dare?” The only drinking game he knew well enough to recommend, and he waited two, three beats for a rejection to come through. It was altogether too simple, an oversaturated, overplayed game that was borderline childish.
Everyone shared looks with their friends they were closest to, until one of the girls started, nodding and shrugging, and everyone settled on that decision. George looked to Morgan who rolled his eyes tenderly, dipped his head so George could hear him over the music, “You’ve got magic words, doll. No one can ever say no to you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sapnap looked a little shocked too, muttered. “Damn it, he was right about the pretty privilege.”
George pretended not to know who he was talking about, and pretended not to notice how Morgan stiffened just slightly, having heard it all the same.
“Okay, we’ll do it spin the bottle, like whoever it lands on does the truth or the dare.” Valentina explained poorly, then finished off the last drops of vodka in a nearby bottle, resting it on the ground, and the whole group sat around it. George let out a nervous chuckle, realising that he was playing with complete strangers. It made him feel a lot closer to Morgan, even though they’d only really met twice. It made him wish for Alex and his uncanny ability to make George laugh genuinely.
Valentina spun the bottle, and the game carried on for a few turns, leading to a few clothing removals, a few sloppy kisses, a few drunken confessions of fetishes and feelings. Karl had just been asked who he would sleep with- in a more vulgar phrasing- out of the people in the circle. There was a twist in the game, in which every time the bottle landed on you, you had to take a shot regardless, and an additional one for not doing the dare or answering the question.
Karl had let out an uneasy laugh, which only provoked his friends into getting him to answer quicker. It was times like these, George felt weirdly out of place.
“I mean, I guess ‘cause I know him like, the best, Sap-I mean, Nick, I guess.” Karl’s flustered words gave rise to relentless teasing, and beside him Nick sat, still as a brick, eyes focused on something beyond the circle, face masterfully blank.
“Nick, your homie wants to get homo with you, thoughts?” Mikael presented a fake microphone to Nick’s mouth, but Nick never got a chance to speak.
“No, no, not like that.” Karl’s laugh was loud, slightly off kilter, probably due to him being more and more off his face. “Just, I don’t know, it’d be the most normal with him I think, like I guess, I’ve already seen him naked and no feelings obviously.”
“Aw- Karl, stop there,” Mikael exclaimed dramatically, “You’re breaking the poor guy’s heart.”
Karl and Sapnap joined the hysterics, neither of the two able to face the other.
George took a note of it, to understand better when he was sober.
Then another turn taken, and then finally it landed on him.
George inhaled the liquid inferno, spewed back flame, “Dare.” . Lani flipped her braids to the side, cocked her head as she tried to think of something that’d cause a noteworthy spectacle. Beside her, Riya nudged her friend gently, a tint on brown cheeks, a secret look shared between the pair. Lani flashed pearly teeth, looked back to George, blissfully unaware.
“I dare you to kiss the prettiest one of us in the circle.”
Objectively they were all beautiful in their own way, subjectively, George turned to Morgan’s blue eyes, ever inviting lips. Morgan took his observation, his hesitation the wrong way, and nodded with the wrong understanding, indicating he didn’t mind if George didn’t want to kiss a guy here.
Why didn’t he mind? It was an unfair thought, yet he thought it nonetheless.
Karl’s friends didn’t seem the type to care in all actuality, but they were still surrounded by people from his school. Not that anyone was really paying mind to him, and oh, it definitely did things to George knowing how Morgan instinctively discerned the situation.
Morgan was so lovely,
too
ever so nice.
He thought of the way Clay’d mocked his message, and it caused something to burn within him, thinking of the blonde and his infuriating manner. He tried to displace the feeling onto his date.
Riya leaned forward, “Go on George,”
Sapnap’s phone rang, and all of a sudden, George turned to Morgan, pulling him down by his collar, and pressed their lips together. It was only a bit more than a peck, but it left him giddy with excitement, and he loved the way Morgan was left all disconcerted, eyes worshipping George, lips parted as if wanting more.
Cheers erupted from their circle as with all the other dared kisses, but Sapnap’s cheer was notably absent, the boy looking over to another area of the room. George was just glad no one outside the circle had seen it.
“Next, next, next!” George encouraged enthusiastically, leaning forward to spin the bottle. As it spun, George followed Sapnap’s line of vision to see what he was so interested in.
The bottle slowed.
His heartbeat raced.
His eyes landed on the newcomer in the circle.
The bottle landed on Clay Revaz.
Notes:
happy april fool's day :) (^if you fell for the meet up pics/face reveal)
LMAO how much u wanna bet dream's gonna blow his shit seeing george kiss that guy
KUDOS(es/i) ARE SO SO APPRECIATED! COMMENTS ARE SO SO APPRECIATED!
also if you ever wanna talk abt this fic or dsmp or just in general feel free to dm me on discord or twitter and id love to talk :)
ALSO QUACKITY IM SO WORRIED FOR HIM omg!
i really just use author notes as comments on my own fic, it's tragic, anyway
you're all beautiful, sending you kisses
- val <3discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 12: chapter eleven.
Summary:
"𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴
𝘞𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺
𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦"
- close to me, ellie goulding (throwback)
Notes:
trying out new dividers yay or nay??
um sorry for slow update im v busy at the moment (BUT I LIKE THIS CHAP SO U WILL TOO)
ALSO dream wanting to replace all the AMC on r/place with DNF (bc they removed georges face) is so protective boyfriend of him im shocked how this is real
ALSO lowkey wanna florida truth but im not
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter eleven.
For a public speaking exam, George had to write speeches on various topics. One of his topics had been Anger. He’d been inspired by a youtube video he had seen, discussing the science behind anger, and how anger was perhaps the most potent emotion in human beings today- due to various psychological factors and evolutionary reasons.
Anger was displayed by humans in a variety of ways, whether an emotional outburst or bottling it in to weaken mental well-being. His favourite study of how anger had been displayed was his primary test subject, unbeknownst to him , of course- Clay Revaz.
Clay, like most, had his fits, and responded to anger stimuli quite predictably. However, there were certain instances when his ego had been especially bruised or whatever other reason, when his display of the emotion was different.
Subtle to the unpracticed eye, but obvious to George’s, having treated Clay as an extension of himself for years. A version of himself to beat. He’d only seen this degree in a few cases such as the instance he had punched that boy.
It had surprised him, the lack of anger when he’d show up all bloody in the middle of the night, surprised him he’d never crossed into that realm of fury with George. He’d definitely tried to provoke him into it.
Stranger was how George instantly recognised the build up of that same anger now, and though Clay’s gold eyes shone his way, this wasn’t directed towards him.
“Truth or dare?” George asked, fighting the slur in his words, because he didn’t want to show any hint of weakness around the blonde.
Morgan turned to Karl, quietly asking who the newcomer was, but the rest of the circle just allowed him to join, almost parting a way for him to walk across.
It was in that half-lidded glare, in the way his chest heaved in and out slower than usual. George could tell there was a build up of something- because he knew his rival well, but he was either too drunk or missing something because he couldn’t figure out why.
“Come sit with me, blondie.” Lani gestured beside her, made a drunkenly flirtatious gesture, and Clay moved to sit down, though more towards Sapnap than Lani. “Answer George, then.”
He turned towards Sapnap, the two exchanging sentences with their eyes.
“Alright,” Morgan shuffled beside him, a sudden reminder that he was there and so close to George, and George had just kissed him. In public. “Let’s move on then-”
“Truth.” Clay interrupted, and there was searing heat in his gaze. A gaze which was locked on to the space between George and Morgan, or more accurately, the lack of space. Sapnap gave a look to Karl, who in turn, just poured him some more Smirnoff.
Eyes on the brunet waiting for a question.
Sapnap began to speak, “Let’s change the g-”, but Karl shook his head, an indecipherable pointed look.
George, after Clay’s arrival, didn’t really care about the rest of the people here; they were trifling in his life, not a constant he had to overcome, not a constant that had spun his year around, making him dizzier than any liquor could. He thought of mechanics he’d learned in maths, and modelled the others as particles, their mass insignificant, negligible.
“Why did you ignore me at the start of the year?”
A particle or two let out a boo at the banal nature of the question, nothing to evoke scandal or tension or drama. George was only focused on Clay’s response.
Clay raked his eyes over Morgan’s straying arm, met George with that same old scorching abhorrence. Not taking his eyes off George, he tapped Sapnap’s shoulder, who promptly gave him his shot glass, and the blonde downed the shot.
“My turn,” Vicious grin, a slash of white teeth, a slash against George’s sanity. He grabbed the bottle, spun it, but stopped so it would land on George. More particle discourse, a concerned question by another particle to his ear, but George’s attention was already captured, honed in on what really mattered. “Truth or dare, Georgie?”
He didn’t mind the nickname all so much.
Someone bristled next to him, but George placed an arm on him to hold him still. He had never backed down from Clay’s antagonism before, and he was no loser.
“Truth.” Because a dare might just ruin him.
“Clay-” Sapnap warns, but like everything George utters, the blonde takes it like a challenge.
“That’s Clay?” Morgan asks to no one in particular.
“I just want to know, who was the better ki-”
“REVAZ, my guy! You’re here!” Some classmate of theirs cut him off, tackling the blonde into a drunken hug. George winced, imagining the way the hug would reopen wounds. More of his beloved classmates gathered, pleased by the latest arrival, demanding answers to where he’s been, and scoured for morsels of gossip.
A particularly informed ravager greeted him with a happy birthday, and the wasted crowd erupted into wishes and and birthday bumps (that elicited another flinch from the brunet). Swept away into a medley of bad singing and lighthearted assault, Clay was dragged away.
Reality rushed in, and George blinked, adjusting.
Morgan was looking at him with worry, and George resented it.
He wanted to change the conversation, so he said the first thing on his mind, “Did you know when you’re stargazing you’re looking at ghosts?”
“I’m stargazing right now,” Morgan smiled, but George couldn't return it. It wasn’t the response he wanted. He never got the response he wanted to that observation when he was drunk.
The game continued, though George never fully settled back in.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“Get your coat, doll. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”
Having managed to avoid the blonde for the rest of the night, George had nestled quietly next to Morgan, letting him shine and converse whilst his soul remained back where he had met eyes with Clay for the first time that night. George nodded, wandering to one of the small bedrooms, he’d abandoned it in, hoping it was still there.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he let out a yelp, before turning to see yellow eyes. His stomach flipped at the sight of Clay, in his dumb jeans, and dumb tight black shirt. He thought back to the seeds of true anger that had germinated earlier that night, but they were no longer present now.
“What?” George asked, turning to rummage for his jacket.
“You kissed Morgan.”
George sighed tiredly, “Yeah.”
“People could’ve seen. You know how guys in our year are.” George didn’t know why he was talking like he wasn’t the worst of the lot.
“I don’t care.” He probably would tomorrow, not now, he was tipsy and exhausted, and confused on why Alex had abandoned him tonight.
“You owe me a truth.”
“Answer mine.” George dug through shoes and hoodies, “And I’ll answer yours.”
“Did you care that I ignored you?”
“No.” A lie, but he didn’t want the truth misinterpreted. “I just want to know why so I can make it happen again. So you leave me alone. Also that doesn’t count as an answer.”
“I don’t remember letting you dictate what does and doesn’t count as an answer.” He was behind George, his presence brazen. “You’ve really been pushing your luck with me lately.”
“Oh?”
“I think you need someone to put you back in your place.”
George met gold eyes, “Where’s that? I’m already ahead of you.”
“You know you talk big for someone so small.”
“You know you talk big for someone so academically stunted.”
“Mmm,” Clay further invaded George’s personal space, and the brunet forgot his coat, lost his even breathing, “ You talk big for someone who kisses boys wearing another guy’s sweater.”
Heat flooded pale cheeks, brown eyes lowering in bevvied chagrin. Clay hooked a finger under George’s chin, pushed it up gently so they were facing each other. George couldn’t help but remember their kiss, and his breath hitched.
Victory glittered in his rival’s eyes.
George wanted to test something, half knowing the result already, half afraid of what it would mean, “Do you think I’m pretty?”
Clay laughed, and oh , it was seafoam and starlight, and it bathed George in its glory, “Yeah, s’pose so. Not like I’m into you or anything, don’t get the wrong idea, but yeah, impartially sure.”
George wasn’t getting the wrong idea. “When you’re looking up at the sky at night, you’re staring at a graveyard of stars that have died. Staring at ghosts, isn’t that morbidly beautiful?”
Clay pulled back a little, “Oh c’mon you’re not passing that as your own idea, right, charity case ?”
George let confusion show on his face.
“We watched it, well I watched it for research, meaning you did too, but yeah we watched Cosmos by Neil deGrasse Tyson, and it was in there.” So that’s where George had remembered it from, that odd, unasked question in his head lulled, satiated. It was what George had been looking for, it was the right answer. “That was random.”
“It was a test.” Honesty because Clay had been honest.
“I bet I got full marks,” A smug grin and George wanted so badly to rip it off, “I always do.”
“Why did you ignore me at the start of the year?”
Clay sighed, didn’t answer, let the thumb resting on the side of George’s face trace the brunet’s jaw. George didn’t relent, “Was it to do with you showing up with those bruises?”
Clay’s grip on George’s jaw got tighter. George leaned into the pain.
“Tell me this Georgie ,” Clay’s voice grew quieter, “Tell me when you kissed your little friend did you think of me?”
George stilled, shook his head. Technically he had thought of Clay before the kiss, and maybe after, but not during it.
“Liar.” His face grew closer, till George felt the heat of his words against his face, “Tell me, who kissed you better?”
George didn’t answer, his heart rate soaring, desire overwhelming rationality. Clay’s grip tightened ever slightly more, and George bit out a quiet I don’t know .
“Speak up for me now, genius , where’s all your big talk?”
“I. Don’t. Know.” Irritation sept into the brunet’s voice, only seeming to bring light into the blonde’s eyes.
“I think you do.”
“I don’t.”
“Maybe.” Clay’s lips were a heartbeat away from his now, and George couldn’t think straight. “Maybe then you need a reminder.”
Any reply George could’ve mustered was swallowed by lips on his, eager and perceptive. George returned with concupiscence. Clay careened towards George, the brunet’s head hitting the wall, and the former’s hand swept up into George’s hair to hold him in place.
Only a few seconds in, someone knocked on the door, tried to open it, realised it was locked. George rolled his eyes at the thought of Clay locking the door, and they both pulled apart, catching breaths, inhaling oxygen, exhaling each other.
“George!” Morgan’s voice rang out, “You in there?”
George opened his mouth, but a hand pressed up against it, Clay shooting him a thunderous look of warning. It made George want to call Morgan in even more, but knew he couldn’t explain the comprising situation. Guilt filled his stomach, but really, how much did he owe to a boy he had just met two days ago?
He was a horrible person.
“Hello?”
Clay breathed out, loosened his grip on the brunet, whispered words dosed with poignant threat, “Not one fucking word.”
George shivered against the violence.
The blonde opened the door an inch, “Occupied.”, then for further measure, and because he was Clay Revaz, “Fuck off.”
Morgan was undeterred, “Have you seen George?”
“Maybe.”
A beat passed, until Morgan gave in, “Where have you seen George?”
“Oh. I see him all the time, in school, in his bedroom, in my bedroom-”
“I meant at this party.”
“If I were him and I was with you, I would’ve left, and gone home. So maybe you should do that now, bye.” Clay swung the door shut, but Morgan managed to get a foot in.
“What is your issue with him, huh? Is it because he’s not got a trust fund and he actually earned his place here?”
“My issue with him is between me and him. My issue with you, however, is that you don’t get the fucking hint. Get out.”
“I pity him if you’re what he has to deal with everyday.”
“You do that.” Clay opened the door wider, shut it against Morgan’s foot, and George heard a hiss of pain. “Oh for fuck’s sake, just leave me alone. And leave him alone.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I don’t like to share.” Clay opened the door again, but Morgan slipped his foot out as Clay slammed the door shut. Locked it.
“You’re an idiot.” George said at the same time Clay let out, “You’re welcome.”
“Why did you kiss me?” George crossed his arms, stuck out his chin. “I know you’re straight, so why?”
Clay didn’t say anything, didn’t deny the statement, only pushed a hand through his hair.
“ Clay ,”
“ Clay, ” The blonde repeated, teasing, “Always Clay this, and Revaz that, I know why now.”
“Just because you found out I like guys, doesn’t mean I have feelings for you-”
“Oh I know that.” His voice was sharp, “ George Davidson doesn’t have feelings at all. But you are attracted to me.”
George took him in from his position, slumped against the wall, looked up at the blonde and his juxtaposed face- angelic, sure, only to hide the villainy beneath. A mask that only George could unveil.
Clay was the type of beauty possessed by molten lava, cut glass, aconite, the type of beauty that you find yourself drawn to touch, caress, the type of beauty to kill you.
“You are attracted to me.” Inferred by the silence, inferred by the look on the brunet’s face. “So I have power over you.”
He pauses for a beat, takes in George, lifts half his mouth, gibingly, “I do so love having power over you.”
George scoffs, “Just because I find you attractive, doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you. Not everyone is in love with you, Revaz. I’m tired, can you just tell me what happened?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because you made this year different. Because I hate change.” George no longer looked at the blonde, focused on his own hands as he nervously fiddled with his fingers. “Because I need to know.”
Clay sat beside him, not touching - but close enough for vanilla, and George could sense eyes on him. Finally, “Change? I’m not the one who has changed, it’s two in the morning on a Saturday and you’re tipsy on the floor after being flaunted around by that guy , talking to people who don’t give a shit about you. Not your first party, no, that was at Karl’s with your new friend who, by the way, you really should stay away from- he’s part of some fucked up shi-”
“Don’t talk about him like you know hi-”
“Okay fine, later. Off topic. My point remains. You’ve changed, not me.”
“Everything you just talked about, from befriending Alex, to the last party, even to Morgan to some extent, was because you,” George didn’t know if it was the buzz left within him, or because Clay was making sense, or because he missed normalcy but he felt something burning in his eyes. He made sure to not let a drop leak, “Because you didn’t say miss me , charity case , because you showed up at school with bruises and because you hadn’t even done your Merchant of Venice reading.”
“You’re blaming me.” Clay’s words were dipped in anger, doused in gasoline, “ You don’t get to blame me. Not when you are what’s wrong with me, when you’re the reason why I am like this.”
“Like what?” George didn’t understand, couldn’t find the spark to toss onto the fuel.
“Nothing.” Just like that, a mask of indifference was back, and the blonde closed his eyes.
George wasn’t ready to let what Clay had just said slip by, “What was that shit about Morgan flaunting me?”
Eyes closed, head leaned up against the wall, head raised, George couldn’t take his eyes off of that jaw, the neck, the laryngeal prominence. “Talking to everyone with you on his arm, calling you doll , c’mon George.”
“ Doll .” George repeated, imitating Morgan’s accent. A kick on Clay’s lips, mirrored then onto George’s. Within seconds they were laughing, from his impersonation, from fatigue.
“Do you know he calls me Georgie , too?” George continued, watching, revelling, as that one muscle in Clay’s jaw clenched. “I hate that dumb name.”
It was a partial truth, but he’d said just to watch the spark ignite in gold eyes, watch those lips form the consonants, the vowels, hear Clay mock, “ Georgie . You hate it, do you?”
“Yeah.” Liar.
“Guess I’ll just stick with doll , then, doll, ” Clay smiled almost knowingly, and George hit his head against the wall, groaning, and they both repeated doll in Morgan’s accent, laughing at the word and then at each other’s laugh, and then being unable to stop.
Physics had never truly appealed to George, but of course, he knew the basics. He knew that opposites attracted. Both Clay and Morgan opposed George, and it fascinated him how he was drawn to both. Drawn to despise one, drawn to romance the other.
Whereas Morgan and him were opposites in every aspect of life, from subject interest to personality type, Clay and George were antonyms.
Antonyms because anyone who would see the two would think they were stark antipodes. Phenotype differentiation was clear, one blonde, one brunet, one tall, one short. Genotype differentiation was less so, but still apparent, with George and his pent up emotions, Clay and his impulsive detonations.
George, though he would never admit it, though he agreed, had thought about it further. He’d known about their twisted symmetry, known that some part of him resonated with some part of the blonde in ways that couldn’t be matched.
Clay and George were antonyms on the surface.
Dig an inch, probe further than skin depth, between basophils and tissue fluid, somewhere between bones and organs, were their souls. Synonymous.
Synonymous souls that understood one another, antonymous exteriors that incited havoc. George despised Clay in the same manner he couldn’t live without him.
Perhaps that’s why they repelled at the core, perhaps that’s why George found himself ready to shred Clay into pieces one moment, uncontrollably laughing the next.
It was a feeling he didn’t despise, being showered with starlight and seafoam.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
dream ~ online, hiding
update: kissed straight (not!) boy crush (a couple times)
404 ~ online, seeking
why are u back stay gone
update: didn’t ask
dream ~ online, hiding
i may or may not have perhaps blackmailed big q
update: fuck hes so fuckign fuck just want to fufvk him
update: he thinks im straight tho
update: didnt tell him i wasnt
404 ~ online, seeking
you DID what?? is this why i cnt get hold of them??
dream i swear if i stop getting jobs bc he’s down
and why TF does he think youre straight if YOU KISSED?
also dont u like hate him on the dl ?
dream ~ online, hiding
im so in love with him
i could never hate him when did i say that i never said it doesnt sound like smtg id say
hes so pretty when hes annoyed with me
“why did you kiss me” BECAUSE YOU CANT JUST go walking around in MY clothes looking like that and EXPECT ME not to kiss you
404 ~ online, seeking
ur situation reminds me of smtg that happened to me actually
i dont even want to think about it
dream ~ online, hiding
literally no one is asking u to think about it
ohfuckiwanthimsobad404
404 ~ online, seeking
yeah im going to go throw up now
if big q doesnt get me a job in next 12 hrs im coming for ur arse
dream ~ online, hiding
“arse” = british
british = HIM
him = his lips
his lips on my lips FUCK
404~ offline
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“-and thus Shakespeare manipulates stereotypes so that the Elizabethan and modern audience view Shylock as simultaneously menacing and misunderstood. As such, this evokes sympathy by drawing parallels between Christians and Jews and using humanity’s shared fear of isolation. This disillusion contributes to the theme of prejudice and judging by face value.” George received nary the standing ovation he might’ve conjured were he stood in front of brighter academics.
Still there was that sparkle in his professor’s eye and he knew his summary of perhaps, the most gutting Shylock monologue, was of standard.
“Well done, Mr. Davidson, as usual I am glad to see that at least one of you has learned something. Humanity’s shared fear of isolation is certainly an interesting point, though a little vague. Would anyone like to contribute?”
“George grouped together the Elizabethan audience and the modern audience, and I’m questioning to what extent would uneducated, indoctrinated antisemites have sympathised with Shylock-”
“That’s the whole point of the speech. He’s comparing things most humans have, hath not a Jew eyes-”
“That’s fair but it doesn’t link. If you’re going to be making a point about judging by face value and deceptive appearances, why not go for the casket tests?”
“Shakespeare’s not as bold with them. He’s literally unveiling ugly truths about societal norm, he is a hidden radical-”
“No doubt about that, I’m not criticising him, I’m criticising your analysis.” George could eviscerate the blonde right now. Why, suddenly, had he regained his wits? He would be lying if he said he hadn’t miss the debates but at that moment, he was so sure Clay had no backing, and was just doing it to piss him off.
“Loving the heated discussion boys, but you are supposed to be in one team for this project?” The professor attempted to intervene, only to receive glares from the duellers, and glares from the rest of the class at pausing their entertainment. “Perhaps we’ll wind this down a couple of minutes early, class?”
George sat back down, playing with his pen, casting his eyes outside the window as if Alex might just suddenly appear, wandering down the path in his dumb beanie. He’d woken up this morning, with a headache, bad memories, and a string of texts from Morgan, and he’d remembered his Saturday-special afternoon English lecture to present their group analyses.
He hadn’t a moment to go look for Alex. He wondered if he had the chance to have friends over the last years he’d have lost them all for not being present enough. He hadn’t lost Alex, had he? How had the boy gone from showing up at his life every minute of everyday to just disappearing?
Please be okay .
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
404 ~ online, seeking
not one single word from big q
not one single job from big q
dyk inflation rates rn? gas prices? i need the money.
all ur fault.
fix it dream.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Alex (my beloved)
george can we talk?
meet me in the library evening (the weird upstairs corner no one goes to)
Notes:
ajdjfkksfdkkffkdskkdk DREAM IS DOWN BAD im shaking
also gnf wearing DREAMS sweater bc it smelled the nicest huh?? r u stupid or-
anyway PLS DM ME ON DISC OR TWITTER BC IM LONELY :)
kudos and i will get on my knees for u
comment and i will pull out smtg special
bookmark/subscribe and i'll reveal george's visadiscord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 13: chapter twelve.
Summary:
"𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺, 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺, 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥"
- running on my mind, ali gatie
Notes:
this is kinda a rushed drop btw because i wanted to get this chap out really badly so if there are errors im really sorry ill fix it up in a bit. but its a nice and long chap so enjoy!
OVER 2K HITS AND 100 KUDOS !!!! i love you guys (real)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter twelve.
Alex (my beloved)
george can we talk?
meet me in the library evening (the weird upstairs corner no one goes to)
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Overthinking was, logically, a huge waste of time. Biologically, it got you panicked, raising adrenaline- triggering a fight of flight response, leaving you mentally and physically drained. George didn’t let knowing all of this stop him reading the texts for, surely, the millionth time as he paced amongst dust-collecting books.
His mouth was dry (adrenaline), nausea unfurled in his stomach (adrenaline), and he felt like he’d committed a crime (well technically, he had committed several).
This was ridiculous.
All the while, some part of him was relieved from the message from Alex, glad to see him well enough to message. No matter how odd the tone was, no matter the vague meet up message, he was relieved.
Relieved and a little scared, but most relieved.
It was in this very spot he’d been pacing around, had another MAD moment occurred, all those months ago, likely years at this point. This quiet area of the library had been debate space for George and Clay to prepare on each other, hack each other down, before competing cross-school against almost-as-talented opponents.
Firelight had cast the dark room into shades pretty shades that George, too, could appreciate, and they’d caused the gold streaks in dirty-blonde hair to shine, illuminated every aspect of the fitted school uniform Clay wore. Looking back now, George should’ve realised that the idiot had been attractive at least, for all his shortcomings.
It had just been Clay’s birthday, and George remembered him flashing about his expensive presents, and returning from a day off school with his family with a grin as large as his ego. George thought now, back to texts on his phone from his mother. He shuddered.
“George?” Alex’s voice was raw, the verge of breaking, and the brunet had never heard it like this ever before. Some part of him crumbled, and he turned to face the newcomer. “George. Hey.”
“Alex.” George didn’t know how to convey the emotion he was feeling, how to showcase the depths of worry, the flood of relief, the open arms he’d welcome him to. He wished he knew what to say, the perfect words to help his friend just a little. Morgan would’ve known. Clay would've known. “I- Alex.”
Nevertheless, no matter his inability to string together letters to form a tangible sentence, Alex nodded his head like he got it. “I need you to be honest with me.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“Are you Dream ?” Alex met his eyes, words delivered with none of the emotion previously present, monotone and hard hitting.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
George’s mind was nimble. Dream’s message about blackmailing Big Q, Alex’s disappearance, Big Q’s disappearance. And now this ? It was too big of a coincidence to be unrelated, but in no way could Alex be Big Q. No way the whole operation was headed by Alex of all people. No way so many people involved went to his school. Was he another fall out victim from this, an unintended casualty?
Why did Alex think he was Dream though? Had Karl told him he’d signed George up? Still no way Alex would jump to the conclusion.
George realised he’d been silent for too long, suddenly realised the implication that meant, the thoughts likely racing through his friend’s mind, “No. Karl roped you into the scheme too? Didn’t realise you needed the money so badly.”
He didn’t want to say his theory of the being one and the same, not yet.
Alex tilted his head as if trying to figure something out, then sat down, sighing, massaging his temples. “Fuck. Fuck. For fuck’s sake.”
George went beside him, face softening as he noticed the strain in his friend’s eyes. “What’s going on Alex?”
“I don’t know if I should trust you George.” Moist eyes looking across at him, and cracks splintered across his heart at the sight. “But- but I’m still new here, and-and you’re all I got, and I really liked you…”
“Listen, I’m here for you. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” George looked around the room for inspiration. He remembered Clay and his last meeting here.
Bright-eyed, still on his birthday high, he’d challenged George to some debate on something or the other, perhaps it had been the Hedonic Calculus and its relation to Utilitarianism, perhaps it had been over Florida against London. They’d tired themselves out, spinning anecdotes, and George had left to find a book with an accurate reference to prove a point. Coming back, he’d found Clay asleep on the large armchair - that Alex was currently on- and that was when the blonde had a nightmare. A nightmare of a memory.
George felt his insides swirl at just the thought. Either way, it ended with one of their MADs, and he realised perhaps exchanging a bitter truth about himself would make Alex open up too. It couldn’t be his hacking; Alex seemed to be acceptably informed in regards to that.
George pondered.
“Alex.”
“Y-yeah.” His voice was shaky, unstable. So unlike his composed usual demeanour, and it only solidified George’s intent.
“You know I went on that date.”
“Mhm, yeah.”
“It was with a guy.”
“What? Oh . Listen I-”
“I’m just saying this so you have something that if you told people, I’d probably, well, let’s just say some guy got outed a couple years ago, and due to parent complaints or whatever, for a totally different reason he got kicked.”
“George, I would never-”
“So I know you might not trust me, I get that. But trust this. And now you can tell me what’s on your mind without worrying.” MAD. Mutually assured destruction. George didn’t say that though; it felt reserved for him and Clay.
“Oh.” Alex laughed weakly, “You’re fucking bright aren’t you, scholarship kid.”
George exhaled through his nose, offered a frail smile.
“So wait, let’s get this straight. You’re part of Karl’s chain. Kinoko’s chain.” There was a different edge to Alex’s voice, more businesslike, calculated. The way he referred to Karl, to Kinoko’s chain, got George thinking to Big Q telling him about the way he’d barred Karl and everyone he recruited. Was Alex truly Big Q?
George nodded. Alex took a deep breath, “So you got barred then, I see, I’m sorry.”
“Wait so you’re part of the uh, community too?”
Alex shook his head, slowly at first, then frantically, “I’m sorry to break it to you, buddy. There’s no community anymore. There’s nothing.”
“What do you mean?” Panic surged, his mother’s face, his living expenses, piling bills, and part time jobs, and falling behind in classes.
“I’m not part of the community, George.” Alex sighed, “I’m the head of it.”
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“-then he ended with that fucking smiling emoticon, the little shit.” Alex Quackity, Big Q, showed the end of the messages to George in the former’s dorm. George had first ogled at the number of monitors, the ease at which Alex could navigate them, but now his focus was on a single line Dream had sent.
if u make that brunet friend of urs upset in any way i will leak anyway
and then i’ll find u and mess u up before you can lift a finger to call in reserves:)
“If it was me, why would I make it obvious?”
“Yeah, you’re not that much of an idiot, but, I- you get it, I needed to check. Especially because Dream was banned because he was part of the Kinoko thing so Karl might have known him in real life.”
“No. I asked Karl, because Dream and I had some contact and then he’d disappeared so I asked if Karl knew him, and Karl said he didn’t personally it was later on.”
“A node of a node.” Alex inclined his head.
George scanned the recent messages with Dream again, the hacker so far from the boy he knew. The boy panicking over his sexuality, worried about his homophobic parents, the boy he’d grown fond of. Who was Dream? Why did he want to protect George?
“Your worst nightmare? The fuck he thinks is, little shitstain.” Alex scoffed. George was still in disbelief over his friend’s identity. Alex, Big Q, Alex . “What’s your pseudo, George?”
George wanted to lie, wanted to not reveal himself, it felt innate within him, a self-protective mechanism. He couldn’t though, not to Alex, not when they needed to figure out what was going on. He’d already avoided saying he was still active for Karl’s sake, just for the sake of simplicity. “Um.”
“Listen, just tell me so I can unban you, set you up with any last minute stuff I get before I shut this down.” Alex looked towards George in understanding.
“Why do you have to shut it down?”
“If Dream leaks my name while I’m still active, while there are jobs running, I’m liable to get fuckin’ I don’t know, jail probably. But if I shut it all down, and dissolve it, it’s all a bit harder to be caught. I just have hundreds of people like you working, probably scraping through life with this, and I don’t know, I know it’s technically immoral and shit but I was proud of it. In the end it was a multimillion business, and I was proud .” Alex had his face in his palms, voice uneven.
“George, my parents are well off but they wanted to use me as a bargaining chip, wanted to marry me off to some daughter of some fuckin’ company to help monopolise some shit or the other. I wanted to prove to them I could help them too, I wanted to be the company lawyer, but they see me as a toddler. When I started, this was more ethical hacking, and I showed it to them- listen, I can’t code for shit, but I can connect coders to clients and well, I was proud. I’d made my first what, thousand dollars in revenue, and I showed it to them, and they laughed in my face.”
“Now I’m as successful as them, making as much as them, but I can’t-”
“I can’t fuckin’ get on a call with them because they act so ugh,” Alex huffed out, then looked towards George, “Hey man, I know you don’t care about this shit. I’m just tryna say, it pains me to end it too.”
Every inch of him ached to help Alex, every bone in his body touched by his hardship. George didn’t know how to express it, so he touched Alex’s arm, nodded solemnly. “You’re not giving it up. We’re going to find Dream and we’re going to make sure he goes and stays gone.”
“It’s risky-”
“I’m 404.” George interrupted, and Alex jumped back a little, tilted his head in shock, “My pseudo, I’m 404.”
“Oh of course you are.” Alex raked a hand over his face, shook his head, let out a string of words in Spanish- one of the few mainstream languages George had yet to learn, “Course you’re 404, course Karl lied for you, and course you’re one the stellar ones. Jesus.”
“Dream talks to me,” George pushed, “Like I think we’re friends.”
Alex tipped his head towards George, “Oh yeah, I got you to train him. Fuck . Does he know your real identity?”
George fervently shook his head, “No way.”
“Then why would he want to protect you?”
“Last time we messaged, he told me he blackmailed you- as in I didn’t know it was you you but yeah, and I asked him to fix it because you’d gone missing and I needed like jobs, and he said he did it to like get back on.”
“So he needs cash desperately. Do you think he’s a scholarship kid here, maybe year above or below?”
“He’s 17 though, last I checked, so maybe year below?”
“Shit. He’s 17 . I’m getting fucked over by-”
“It’s going to be fine, let’s focus. What do we do? What’s our plan?”
“You’re the genius here, George.”
“I’m not the one running a multimillion dollar operation on the dark web, not even in my twenties.”
Alex frowned, “I won’t be one soon, either.”
George glanced down at his hands, up back to Alex, “I think, I think I’ve got something, perhaps, potentially…”
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Morgan
miss ur face
u should come meet me
give u a proper kiss this time
also kinda irrelevant but want to check a few things with you so just let me know whenever u have some free time.
George
ur sweet :]
yeah um im kinda busy rn but there’s this ostentatious like posh school prom thing on friday if u wanna come
Morgan
like as your date ;)
George
well yh but just as friends to everyone
bc u know people here and shit
Morgan
ofc doll :) ill wear my most ostentatious tux j for u
but can we like call or facetime before again just a few things i want to check
George
sur-
“I’m literally on the verge of being imprisoned and you’re here fucking flirting.” Alex scoffed lightheartedly, peering over George’s shoulder as he texted. “I can not believe you went on a date with a girl and came back with a boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. And it’s not flirting. Considering our plans for Friday night, I just want to feel normal for a bit before.” George looked over at Alex who nodded in understanding, never losing the teasing smile. It was impressive how Alex could be so steadfast and optimistic when so much was against him.
It made him realise that seeing Alex on that, on the verge of breaking, with welled up eyes and an open heart, was even more heartbreaking. He needed, needed to help him.
“Can’t believe you went to Wilbur’s party without me,” Alex shoved George, who scowled back.
“I’m pretty sure Morgan thought I was making you up. We stood like, outside your dorm for half an hour.”
“You gonna blame me for thinking my life as a free man was over.”
“Shut up. Don’t pull that card. We’re gonna fix it, okay.”
“Yes, your majesty . Who knows, maybe Dream’ll take one look at his highness’s fucking face and faint at the sight of such beauty.” Alex laughed, “Fuck Dream, like seriously fuck him, stupid dickhead.”
George tried to fight the internal conflict of the Dream he knew, tried to burn Alex’s words into his head. Fuck Dream .
Dream was a faceless identity. Some coward behind a screen attacking his real friend. He had no attachment to Dream.
He had no attachment to Dream.
“So what you kiss him? Figured guys were for you?”
“Yeah I think kissing a guy helped me realise it wasn’t just me thinking guys aren’t just nice looking but like I’m actually you know,” George smiled, carefully wording it to hide the kiss that had really cemented his sexuality. Alex was already so stressed, he might actually collapse at the thought of what Clay had done. At what it did to George.
“Just be carefully, y’know. Motherfuckers here really batshit crazy.” Alex scrunched his nose, “I’m hungry , Georgie.”
“Ew, don’t call me that.”
Alex’s eyes widened at the newfound knowledge, “Georgie? Gergy? Don’t like the name, George.”
“ Shut up .” George drawled, leaning over to the bed to pick up a pillow.
“Oh you’ll regret that one, Gogy.”
George launched towards Alex, pillow in hand, letting out a battle cry.
“Gogy! GOGY! FUCK YOU GOGY!”
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“-making friends?”
“Yes mum .” George spun around in his chair, not glancing at his phone as the words spilled from the speaker. The weakest parts of him wanted to run back to England, run back into his mum’s arms. Forget Morgan and the repercussions of being in a sort of maybe relationship, forget hacking and its repercussions of causing such turmoil in his life, forget Clay and his astonishing ability to ceaselessly perplex. English weather, the blonde was like.
“And you’re eating?”
“Yes.” Irritation in his voice because he knew she cared, and guilt in his heart for lying to her about this those few years ago. She still didn’t know, it would break his heart if she found out and blamed herself.
“And you take a break from those books, George-”
“Yes mum, I will. Please, tell me about how you’re doing?”
“Missing you, love. Constantly. Your sister stresses me out because she’s the right opposite of you, and I feel like I’m failing the both of you.”
“You could never fail me and she’s so lucky to have you with her. And as for her um being unlike me, well, not all your children can be so incredibly bright.”
“Oh shush, you, at least if she never gets into university, she’ll be by my side, unlike some child of mine, so far away, I barely see him.”
“Tell her I miss her.”
“Will do, she sees those funny white goggles you used to wear when you were younger and she clings to them, so I’m not the only one wishing you were here. Have to go pick her up from a friend’s, you be a good boy now, won’t you?”
“I’m 18, an adult now mum -”
“Don’t say that, you’re my little baby, Geo-”
“Oh my God, I’m ending-”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you more, bye, call-.” The line disconnected, “Call Friday.”
George stared at the ceiling with a heavy heart, impudent homesickness annexed his body. The elation filling him getting 100%s on tests, the rhapsody thrumming within him at teacher’s praise, the jubiliance at surpassing all those entitled assholes who doubted him felt worth it in the moment.
Times like this, he just felt hollow.
“Never took you for a mommy’s boy, George.” Honey.
George sat up so fast, his chair shook with force, and swivelled to face the door he had left unlocked for Alex to enter in a bit. In its place was Clay Revaz, leaning effortlessly against the doorframe, still in his cut to fit school uniform, still with dirty blonde hair perfectly in place.
A memory flashed in his head, of the boy in the same position, but clutching his abdomen in pain, blood gushing.
Today, there was no mirth on his face, just cruel lines set in position. George replayed his conversation with his mother- embarrassing but not compromising. He was surprised at the blonde not making fun of anything in particular.
“Always took you for an eavesdropper.” George shrugged.
Clay entered his room, glancing around, and George realised he, too, was probably having the same flashbacks. He shut the door behind him, locked it, and George felt his breathing quicken.
“Why are yo-”
“Not in the mood to talk.” Noxious tone bleeding out of the words, poisoning George’s rationality, as always. Darkness flooded gold eyes, and a smouldering ire, not quite directed at George.
“What are you in the mood for then?” George’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Power.” Clay took George’s wrist, pulled him up and pressed him close, and George felt a rush of blood sweeping down.
This was a bad idea.
George reached up, pushed his hands into the styled curls, messing them up, the way Clay was messing him up, his emotions, his feelings. Clay leaned down, paused for half a second before pressing his lips against George’s, and pushing the brunet down onto the floor.
Clay dragged his lips down George’s jaw, to his neck, and burrowed his mouth into the crook, his tongue lowering down, his teeth grazing the tender skin.
“Fuck Clay, oh,” George breathed out, voice shaky, a whisper of ruin. “ Fuc- ”
“Shh,” Clay murmured into colouring skin, “No words now, Georgie .”
“You-” George unbuttoned Clay’s shirt with one hand, fumbling, voice still showing defiance, “can’t, can’t tell me what to do.”
“You told your mom you were gonna be a good boy, right?” Clay’s legs were either side of his thighs, his arms on either side of his shoulders. “So shut up for me now, and be a good boy.”
“I-” Words failed him as Clay returned to his neck, only able to muster sounds of pleasure. The blonde tugged on George’s top, whispered something like want this gone, now , and George went to comply, when he heard the doorknob twist, and the person on the other side, finding it locked, knocked harshly.
“Alex,” George sighed, not liking the disappointment he heard in his voice.
“Tell him to go away.” Clay gritted his teeth, bit out the words, yearning and ardour thick in his words - obviously for power and control, not him. “C’mon Georgie.”
Without Clay’s lips on him hazing common sense, without the cloud of desire blocking his good sense, George pushed Clay off, elucidated, “Can’t. S’important.”
Clay deflated, stuck out his bottom lip, and George shook his head at him. On his table, his phone rang, and he pulled Clay and shoved him into the bathroom. Lowering his voice, he spat out, “Be quiet, Revaz.”
“Fuckin’ tease.” Clay huffed, crossing his arms. George let his gaze linger for an extra moment on the curve of the blonde’s mouth, before he slipped out, shutting the door. A quick glance at the mirror- ruffled hair (he was sleeping), odd look on his face (he just woke up), light bruises forming on his neck (he- he- he tugged up the collar of his shirt).
He opened the door, and watched Alex notice how shaken up he appeared.
“Sorry, was sleeping.” He let out a convincing yawn for good measure. “Go to the library, I’ll meet you there in 10, just let me freshen up.”
“No, library’s risky. Let’s do here.” Alex scrunched his eyebrows, and then pushed past, settling into George’s chair. Heat rose in George’s neck, and he plastered a smile on his face. This was going to blow up, either Alex saying something he shouldn’t or Alex realising something he shouldn’t.
This was all entirely Clay’s fault.
“Why do you look all panicky Gogy? Are you stressed for Friday?” Alex helped himself to the open bag of skittles on the desk. George wished he could tape Alex’s mouth shut.
“I- uh, Friday?” George was trying his best to not glance over at the bathroom, didn’t even realise his slip up. If he was going to be confused about Friday, Alex would explain about Friday.
Alex gave him a weird look, dashed with confusion, and his phone buzzed. All blood left George’s face.
“Do not pick up said got me hard and dipped wtf am i supposed to do, ” Alex laughed out, shock in his eyes, and he looked up to George, “OH! So this is why you’re acting weird.”
“What?” George forced a laughed, “That’s a joke, haha, that’s-”
“Oh don’t lie to me, Gogy.” Alex smiled, and then gagged, “I totally understand now, even though it’s super gross and I don’t really get it.”
“What- what do you get?” George was half surprised he hadn’t drowned in his own sweat.
A chuckle, “You were having phone sex with Morgan just now, right?”
George didn't know if he wanted to die from relief or from mortification.
Notes:
dream coming out on the likes of his fanart account was honestly not even surprising :/
anyway how did u find the fic?? PLEASE DROP A COMMENT bc they make my day and i love to hear your thoughts/theories/ramblings
70 of u are subscribed to this fic so clearly u want updates so i better see 70 comments telling me what they did/didnt like abt this chapter !
im so tired its two am idk if im even making sense
hope u have a great morning/day/night
ilydiscord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 14: chapter thirteen.
Summary:
“𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵… 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥… 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥… 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰… 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸… 𝘩𝘶𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐- 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
- heartstopper, vol 2
- alice osman
Notes:
hi loves <3
twitter might be one of the darkest places on the internet so if you're active on there im sending a virtual hug :)
i really need some famous x nonfamous au reccs so if you have any please drop below, or if you have any fics that you think i would like definitely share :)
cw/tw: manipulation/gaslighting
physical intimidation/aggression
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter thirteen.
Time travel wasn’t possible- well, not in the conventional way that was displayed on large flatscreens and written about in comic books. Whether it was time travelling meaning you physically remained in the same spot but travelled back or forth however many hours, or days, or millennia- creating a displacement of atoms when you rematerialised (causing nuclear fission), or perhaps to do with varying timelines- oh for quantum superposition to make sense, all in all time travel was bollocks.
So perhaps that’d be the first thought in younger George’s head if current George were to return back and tell him that he currently was hiding Clay in his bathroom, after a somewhat homoerotic (possibly) encounter, from his sort of best friend.
Younger George would never believe him.
He could deal with breaking the laws of physics, but then to be told he’d been kissing Clay Revaz, but then to be told he had a best friend, but then to be told he’d been fucking kissing Clay Revaz-
George felt faint for both his current self and his younger self.
Alex looked queasy on the chair, as if just realising where George had partaken in the alleged phone sex.
“I wasn’t-” George tripped on his words, fell into a thorn bush of blushes and noncoherent mumbles, “Uh,”
“Nah, fuck it, we doing this in the library,” Alex’s eyes flitted around the room, “Ew, is this what I’m going to have to deal with on Friday? You definitely bringing him to the formal?”
“Well,” George was all too aware of Clay listening in to their conversation, “I haven’t bought the guest ticket yet, but-”
“What do you mean you haven’t? I’m buying the tickets-”
“Alex, no -”
“Shut up George, in light of recent events, you should be conserving money, I’m the one who’s loaded here.” George was glad Alex didn’t expand recent events .
“Yeah but I hate people paying for me, it’s so dumb .”
“You’re dumb, just pay me back by like, not dry humping him in front of me there, okay?”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to everyone will be there.”
“So you do want to? Oh- oh that’s it, I’m taking a piss and then let’s head to the library, we’ve got so much shit to talk about, none of it includes your horny ass.”
George watched Alex get up, mind still reeling from their current conversation, when he suddenly realised where he was going. “Fuck. Wait Alex, it’s blocked, like, uh, the toilet is clogged.”
Alex gave him a weird look.
“Like with like shit.” George didn’t break eye contact. “Shit. And it stinks. Uh, yeah so.”
“Um, you’re so weird. Anyway, fine, freshen up or whatever, and meet me you know where.”
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Clay was no longer annoyed, just seemed to be in a bit of a strop, and George didn’t care to ask why, because he was pissed. Who did the idiot think he was, just waltzing into George’s room, kissing him like that, leaving contusions on his neck?
Everything wrong was Clay’s fault. As per.
“You’re going to the formal with Morgan.” Disgust emanated off him. “Why are you even going to the thing, it’s a waste of time?”
George blinked. “You’re not going?”
“It’s obscene to pay that much to watch people I don’t care about do their mundane little socialising, networking.”
“Oh like money’s an issue for you.” George rolled his eyes, but it did peak his curiosity since Clay had been there last year- he’d seen the pictures, Clay with his gelled hair in a brushed back coiff, single strand falling to his forehead, Clay dressed to the nines. “Get out of my room. And don’t show up again.”
Clay simply leaned against George’s bathroom door, arms crossed, taking in George, frown on lips. “You know you don’t hate people paying for you right?”
His rage towards Clay was momentarily suspended, replaced with confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“You told your beanie friend, who I told you to stay away from, you told him that you don’t like people paying for you.”
George shrugged, “I don’t. I don’t like feeling indeb-”
“No Georgie.” Clay’s eyes didn’t leave his as he neared, a single forefinger on George’s chin, “I can tell, you love to be spoiled.”
George was too busy trying to find his breath to formulate words.
“It’s just you’ve associated money with evil. You think people with money can buy you, you think Alan’s trying to buy you, you thought I was when-” Clay chuckled, “But it’s not like you don’t like people paying for you, you just don’t like feeling like you don’t have control.”
You thought I was when-
The box wrapped in blue ribbon last year. A mockery, he’d thought then, a laugh in poor charity case’s face. It was what he’d convinced himself, because why else had Clay bought him that exorbitant suit when they both knew he wasn’t going to the formal. He hadn’t thought Clay was trying to buy him , he had just thought the blonde was being cruel. Right?
“I know you, George. I know the ugliest parts of you, George.” Words whispered right next to his ear, breath hot against his cheek. George thought that was the most terrible thing Clay could’ve ever said. “Go have fun with Morgan if you want. But we both know he doesn’t do it for you. He’ll never understand you.” Not in the way I do . Unspoken words drifted between them.
Next thing he knew, George was alone in the room.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
dream ~ online, seeking
404?
you’ve been offline a lot recently?
everything ok?
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Bundled in a scarf, and a too-large fluffy coat, George walked into the coffee shop to find Morgan already sitting down, sipping on coffee and looking at his phone. The look suited him, but little didn’t suit Morgan, and George tried his best to push Clay’s words from yesterday out of the forefront of his mind.
Once the blonde had left, newly formed annoyance (rooted from George perhaps not wanting to see the truth of the situation) had taken control and he’d decided to meet Morgan just to spite Clay, to prove him wrong. Morgan was lovely and sweet and he liked George.
Sure they didn’t understand each other yet but they barely knew each other. You had to put effort in to make a relationship work.
“You look so adorable.” Morgan beamed across at him as he sat down opposite. “How are you?”
How are you? What was it about such simple questions that made George’s heart flutter. How are you? Not eavesdropping and then proceeding to make out because you’re not in the mood to talk .
“Just had a super intense maths lesson, it was fun. We were doing trigonometric proofs of the sine and cosine rules but it was also done kinda like a competition.” He noticed how Morgan shared his excitement, nodding along, engaged instead of calling him a nerd , instead of picking a fight over him calling it co- sine rather than cos- sine.
Clay was wrong.
“Your intelligence is sexy.” Morgan complimented, and George felt a slight flush come on.
“I won too.”
“Oh? Which stupid rich kid’s ass did you kick?”
There was only one that was his level. “Clay.”
George wasn’t the best at reading emotion but he could notice the way Morgan’s smile slipped.
“I- uh, I actually wanted to talk about Clay.” Morgan sucked a little on his bottom lip, a hand on George’s, thumb stroking his knuckles. “I had a sort of odd conversation with him on Friday, like, at the party. You’re going a bit pale George, did he tell you about it?”
“Um-”
“Obviously you don’t have to explain anything in the past to me.” Blue eyes full with understanding. Clay could suck it. There was understanding- even if it was something nonexistent. “But I just wanted to kind of define what we are. And I know I’m being forward here, but I don’t want to see other people and I don’t want you to either.”
“I’m not. I never ever have seen Clay in that way. He’s as straight as they come and I think whatever he told you is just some way at getting back at me.” George was pretty sure he was being honest. The kisses weren’t romantic, they were hate kisses, and they were a thing of the past. “No one else either.”
“I- uh, okay.” Morgan locked George’s hand in his. “So you’re all mine, doll?”
George didn’t really know what to say. He just gave a little clench onto Morgan’s hand, and offered a smile.
“Really wish I could bust you out of there. It’s such a toxic culture to grow up in.”
George wanted to make a biology joke about bacteria and toxic culture but he didn’t think Morgan would laugh. Or understand.
He wasn’t a particular fan of the saviour complex line delivery either. He hated the academy but it was his adolescence, his development.
Perhaps George was just fucked in the head for seeing something bad in Morgan’s statement. George seemed to be fucked in the head a lot recently.
They talked, ate, Morgan paid, and talked some more. A feather kiss initiated by Morgan, the delicacy of a butterfly wing that George appreciated but did not want. A more fervid kiss initiated by George that Morgan definitely wanted.
George recognised they were shamelessly kissing on a random street, yes empty, still public. At least there was thrill in that aspect of it.
Morgan removed George’s scarf, George’s hands were at the nape of the taller’s neck. It was exhilarating, the height difference at least.
Morgan stopped then, for a moment, and George leaned in, but his date’s eyes were narrowed, annoyed, confused.
George followed his line of vision to see the fading bruises Clay’d left on his lower neck and collar bone. George swallowed, mouth dry.
“George. You said you weren’t with anyone else?”
“I’m not, I promise . It was just a little physical thing but it’s over.”
Morgan’s hand was on George’s arm, grip a little tighter George was comfortable with. He tried subtly removing it, but the boy only tightened it. George continued, “Honestly Morgan I didn’t even want it to happen, it was just-”
Morgan’s grip loosened, blue eyes widening, “You didn’t want it to happen?”
George shook his head, “No. No . It was consensual, oh definitely, consensual, but-”
The tightness returned. Morgan’s voice was confused, soft, awful , “George are you saying you were lying to me? Playing with my trust? Or is there something else wrong? Did someone do this to you?”
“Morgan, c’mon.” George nervously laughed, pulled his arm back, but Morgan used his hold on it to pull him closer. It hurt, and not the type of pain George could lean into. To the odd stranger walking past, they were a couple enamoured by each other. To George, something was wrong. “I didn’t- I’m not lying to you.”
Morgan nodded, and his expression was the polar opposite of his actions, and George just wanted to make sure he was okay. “Of course you’re not George. Just, last time I was in a relationship, and the guy, fucking loser was two-timing me, and he lied to me about it. For a month. Sorry I just don’t want to get hurt again.”
Stop fucking hurting me . George thought.
“That’s terrible, Morgan.” George said, and he realised Morgan probably didn’t realise that George was in pain. Of course he didn’t, Morgan was sweet and nice, and George kissed Clay, and seeing the guy he liked having hickeys probably brought back old memories and bad emotions. “Morgan, your- your arm’s a little tight.”
Morgan let go of him instantly, stepped back. “Sorry doll, are you hurt? I’m sorry.”
George reached out, hand on his shoulder. “Hey it’s okay, it’s okay. Listen, I’m not lying to you when I say this means nothin-”
“Who are you protecting George?” Morgan put an arm around George, and it felt like a cage. “You don’t need to keep things from me.”
“I’m not protecting anyone.”
“So you were lying. Lying when you said there was no one else? Was it Clay? Did Clay do this to you?” Betrayal deep in those blue eyes, and George felt horrible, guilt riding him.
“You can’t even fucking look at me. It was him wasn’t it?” Morgan sighed, but he brushed his lips against George’s forehead, “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Blame myself? Also he didn’t do anything to me? I wanted-” The arm round his body tightened again, and it didn’t seem so much of a mistake the second time.
“You wanted it?” It felt like a warning, but surely it wasn’t? Not from sweet, run out of a lecture for him, true blue-eyed Morgan.
Still George felt so very small, very trapped in his arm, so he lied, “Uh- I don’t know?”
“Oh Georgie.” Pity in his voice and that dumb fucking nickname. “My pretty doll, I’ll save you from that dickhead. It’s going to be okay, doll.”
Okay George definitely wasn’t imagining the saviour complex then.
Morgan kissed George then and their lips fit together like oil and water.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Conflicted with his own feelings, George sat at his desk next to a half attempted sheet of calculus. Morgan had been different today, bad different, but George had brought up something touchy. He hadn’t been in a relationship, and surely this was just normal.
Still, it didn’t feel right.
Who was he supposed to talk to about this? He couldn’t talk to Alex- it felt too personal, and God, this was so irrelevant and trivial compared to what his friend was going through right now. No, right now he was Alex’s support, maybe he’d talk to him later. After Friday, depending on how Friday went.
As soon as Alex crossed his mind, he hoped that the boy was okay, sent him a funny post he’d seen online to make him smile.
He couldn’t talk to Karl about this; Morgan was his friend , and George was probably overreacting.
There were the two amiable relationships he’d made in his 7 years at this school.
He couldn’t talk to family back at home, no, to them he was doing great . He didn’t want them to worry, especially over nothing.
Clay. Yeah, no.
George wished for a time machine now, even if just to dissolve back into quantum particles, forgotten and free.
Morgan liked him, called him pretty, was from a different life.
He looked over to his right arm, the two sets of bruises- one fingerprints, the other on his neck. If he had a time machine, if he asked younger George which set the guy who liked him and the guy who despised him had given him, the answer would have been instantaneous.
Then again, George bruised easily, and the fingers digging into his arm hadn’t been conscious. As soon as he’d asked Morgan, he’d backed away, apologised, with such earnesty in those blue eyes.
His head swam and nothing made sense.
George needed to talk about this, just to reassure himself he was reading into this.
Only one name was left, Dream .
Messaging Dream didn’t make him a bad friend- he would never tell the hacker of their plans, he simply needed to reach out to a stranger who didn’t know him, but knew him enough.
404, for someone who doesn’t know who they are, from someone who doesn’t know who you are, i think you’re pretty awesome
whoever you figure out you are, it’s a pretty soul underneath it all
and anyone wld be lucky to be friends with you
Dream was not a good person, and he would always choose Alex over him in a heartbeat.
But George didn’t know where else to go.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
404 ~ online, hiding
hi, need bit of advice…
dream ~ online, hiding
need a bit of advice… ?
where have u been
days w radio silence
404 ~ online, hiding
it’s not like we’re friends
im sorry
just keep it super impersonal and on track george
y’know the guy i went on that date with
dream ~ online, hiding
ur lucky i project my crush onto ur persona
yeah go on
404 ~ online, hiding
okay so ive never been with someone beforoe so idont completely get this
but we didnt make any commitments to each other or anything
and tbh weve only met irl a few times
but today we met and he was like lets not see other people
and i said okay there was no one else anyway
but then he saw hickeys on me and he took them the wrong way
dream ~ online, hiding
wrong way? what was the right way?
also why is ur love life flourishing 404 im proud
404 ~ online, hiding
like the person i got them from i def dont want to repeat it
as in not like it was non consensual it was def def v nice i enjoyed
but i dont like the person
and they mean nothing.
and so i told that to him
and his reaction was a bit odd. he like had this hold on my arm and it hurt.
dream ~ online, hiding
what the fuck that’s not ok.
404 ~ online, hiding
no no listen
he’s been cheated on and lied to in his last relationship
dream ~ online, hiding
did u want his arm on u
404 ~ online, hiding
well no
but i told him and he instantly removed it and apologised
so that isolated was okay its just
i was telling him and he made me want to say it happened against my wishes
even though i was totally okay with it
but when i went to say i was totally okay with it, his arm came round my body
and idk i felt kinda trapped and pressured
and then he said he’d like “save” me but theres nothing to save me from
i honestly dont know what to think bc hes so sweet and lovely
dream ~ online, hiding
people dont often show their real selves on the first date or second or third
sometimes years can go by until a bad incident forces you to see the worst in someone
404 ill be honest the way ur phrasing it sounds like you’re trying to justify what he did and u want me to help justify it with you
but im not justifying physical harm over anything (even if it wasnt just a misunderstanding, even if he caught u in bed with someone else, he shouldn’t physically harm you)
“oh it was because of a past relationship”
“oh it was not really him”
but again you said uve only just met this guy, how do you really know who he is
youve come to me for advice so im being brutally honest here.
404 ~ online, hiding
its not really “physical harm” he didnt hit me or anything
and he instantly moved back as soon as i said smtg abt it he probs didnt even realise
sorry i just realised it does seem like im automatically defending him
idk i just feel like im making a big deal over it
dream ~ online, hiding
you’re not making a big deal over it at all. if u felt uncomfortable ofc you shld address it.
also you said he wanted to make it seem like the hickeys you got were nonconsensual
he wants to victimize you, protect you?
thats a bit of a red flag, has he shown other instances of this?
404 ~ online, hiding
yh like he kinda has a little bit of a saviour complex i think idk
dream ~ online, hiding
you want my honest advice? you barely know him and he’s already irrationally possessive to the point he’s unwilling to accept you willingly were intimate with someone else.
run.
better to realise the truth of someone now than when you’re too emotionally invested to stay away.
George had been so caught up in Clay’s words. How Clay knew the ugliest parts of him, and how much he wanted to hide any bits of himself that Morgan wouldn’t like, he didn’t realise there were two sides to a relationship.
Was there a not-so-lovely part to Morgan? Behind the easy charisma, behind the charm, behind those blue eyes? Morgan who asked him how he was . George didn’t want to believe it.
But run , Dream had suggested him to run , and George imagined trying to call things off with Morgan right now, and he felt dread and anxiety. He felt fear at what Morgan might do. Surely that was not normal.
Maybe George was villainising him over a remote incident.
His fingers shook as he tried to type a reply to Dream.
dream ~ online, hiding
hey? you okay?
404 :/ im really sorry i wish i cld help more
404 ~ online, hiding
its fine idk we’ll see how it goes ig
thanks though :]
dream ~ online, hiding
please let me know whatever happens okay 404?
dont feel like ur ever bothering me and dont feel like ur ever overexaggerating how u feel abt shit. if it feels big it is big.
whats ur hacker understudy for if not to help shoulder ur burdens
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
George didn’t reply because he felt too grateful for Dream’s words and felt like saying anything more would make Friday worse. Dream was a bad person, he threatened to dox Alex. Alex could go to jail.
Dream was a faceless criminal, and George had to run before he got too emotionally invested.
For matters with Morgan, George leaned back on his chair, stared once again at the ceiling, for matters with Morgan his thoughts were still discordant. Gut instinct told him to cut ties, but that was messy, because of Karl. And just a modicum of fear at any backlash.
His eyes returned back to the calculus questions.
Fuck integration, no matter how simple.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Alex (my beloved)
booked venue for friday (an hour out from here)
talked to clients
sending mass msg out
msg dream with some “is this fr? sounds awesome” whatever bs
make sure hes coming
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Big Q ~ online, chasing <msg all_secure_pseudos>
Sorry to everyone who’s not received their usual flow of jobs but this is ofc a zero hours contract. either way i have been planning something for a while that will make up for this. (US members only)
Friday 11PM exclusive event irl mingling of very high end clients who will pay big bucks for their jobs. msg me for further details and if i deem you good enough and safe enough i will add u to guest list.
high risk, high reward.
(u will ofc remain anon further details provided in personal invitation)
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
dream ~ online, hiding
are u going to the thing 404?
404 ~ online, hiding
yh need the $
big q’s legit too so trust them
you?
dream ~ online, hiding
same. not a fan of big q tbh but desperate times call for desperate measures.
hopefully bag a few big ones and then itll be okay for a while
you doing ok?
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Clay (Do Not Pick Up)
george pick up
pick up rn
pick the fuck up it’s serious
Notes:
AH! so much is going to happen next few chapters im so excited!
also im not sure if there's a necessary trigger warning/content warning for manipulation/gaslighting but if there is please let me know and i'll edit the actual chapter and not just the note at the beginning.
PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT BC ITS REALLY ALL MY MOTIVATION :)
kudos are always so so so appreciated
and subscribe to the story if ur enjoying :)also may have gone a little overboard with the dividers it's just a lot of little bits put together this chap to lead to the build up for the next few big ones!!
really need some dnf fic writer friends so if ur one feel free to reach out :)
discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 15: chapter fourteen.
Summary:
"𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝘓𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴
𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩
𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘣
𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯
𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵
𝘐𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣"- robin hood, anson seabra
Notes:
imagine the only canon kiss in dtkq is KNF i am beyond flabbergasted...
anyway hi loves sorry for a late upload (IMAGINE THERE WAS A TIME I UPLOADED IN TWO DAYS)
here's an extra long chapter and i hope you enjoy
trigger warnings below but skip if u rnt triggered and dont want spoilers
TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-emotional manipulation
-sexual assault
-ambiguous consent
-domestic violence
-trauma response
-anxiety attacks
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter fourteen
“Fucking asking me to call you at 3am to babysit your dumb cat?” George had never wanted to throttle Clay Revaz more. “I’m going to kill you.”
“C’mon. Nick and I have something really important and I don’t want to leave Patches by herself overnight here. I’ll owe you one. And it’s just cos she likes you ‘cos y’know cats and bad taste.”
Remembering her large eyes, the adorable mewls, George knew he was going to say yes, but clearly he held all the cards, and George would never miss an opportunity to hound the blonde. “You’ll owe me one? One of whatever I ask.”
“Yes.”
“What about you answer a question of mine and I’ll keep that one favour for after?” George knew he’d say yes, knew he held the right cards.
“Whatever.” Grumble, and George couldn’t help but grin in victory, at the defeat in his voice.
He propped himself up, rejuvenated by the turn in events. “When?”
“Friday night. After the dumb ball don’t worry I won’t meddle with your frolicking.”
“Shit, can’t do Friday night.” George’s hazy mind raced to find an excuse, and he could imagine the way Clay’s eyes would screw up in annoyance and confusion.
“Why?” Before George could answer with some poorly constructed excuse, Clay went on, “Is it to go to an after party?”
“Um,” George should have just agreed, but the blonde latched onto the hesitation.
“Not an after party? So why are you busy on a Friday night?” Clay thought out loud, “You don’t have much of a social life. It’s fine, it’s not like you’ll busy the entire night-”
“I will be,” He refuted, and an odd silence passed in which the blonde awaited further explanation and the brunet was at a loss for ideas.
“George.” Darker edge in Clay’s voice, honeycomb, and George bristled at the way his name was said, at the way it made him feel, “You’re busy Friday night- all night ?”
“Mhm.”
George could feel the way Clay gripped his phone, could sense the tension in his jaw, “Friday night, after your little dance ? You’re busy all night with Morgan?”
Technically, no. But George liked the displeasure in Clay’s voice.
It gave him an excuse too.
“In what world would that be your business?” There was a light derision in his voice, and his satisfaction at the following silence was unparalleled.
“Fuck Morgan.” Whispered, angry words.
“Oh don’t worry, I intend to.” George whispered back, barely audible. It was 3 AM, in fairness, and Clay had woken him up, so George was allowed to have his fun. It was still a stupid move, Clay could still tell on him, get him kicked. It was too late in the night, too early in the morning, for George to care.
“You’re killing me.” Honeycombed words, rough, and George’s stomach curled. “ Fuck . Fuck you.”
“Sorry ‘bout Patches.” George smiled to himself, ended the call, went back to sleep.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
The suit was a rich navy, the colour of midnight, the colour of bad decisions, of late night calls and illicit desires. It fit him perfectly, and how the blonde had known it would was beyond him. He stroked the expensive material, the decadent texture, and it repulsed him.
Perhaps he’d wear it tonight, to spite Clay, to fit in.
His phone rang, and he answered it.
“Gogy!” Outwardly affectionate nickname to thinly veil the anxiety simmering within his friend. Tonight was the most important night of his life, and he was following George’s plan, and if it went wrong, who was to blame but George .
George swallowed.
“You good?”
“Of course not,” Alex scoffed, “I’m going to be third wheeling you and Morgan all night, ew.”
George rolled his eyes, “And about the other thing?”
A pause. “Let’s just have fun first okay? You do know what fun means right?”
“Hilarious, really.”
“I pride myself with my humour.” Alex replied, “Is Morgan driving us?”
“Yeah he’s picking me up at 7, and then we’ll come to you and then we’ll leave.”
“I can’t wait to meet your mans!” A giggle, but George felt his stomach drop. Their last meeting had still confused him. His conversation with Dream hadn’t helped.
Surely George had overreacted, and he wasn’t going to dismiss everything good about Morgan for one bad moment that was probably his own fault.
“Be on your best behaviour, Alex.” George sighed, and Alex said something about no promises and told him to get ready.
Fuck it, thought George, and picked up the suit and a white shirt.
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A knock on the door, and George felt giddy with excitement and simultaneously riddled with nerves. He opened it and met those captivating blue eyes.
“You look ravishing, George.” Morgan breathed out, eyes wide, smile on his mouth. It was the easiness in his eyes, the softness in his face, that enabled George to relax. This was his Morgan- normal and kind. “Oh, I got this for you.”
Flowers, all coloured a muted grey or an olive green. George forced a smile and brought them to his face, at least they smelled nice. It really wasn’t Morgan’s fault that he hadn’t noticed George was colourblind, and George hadn’t told him out of habit.
It was a weakness, and at the academy, with the boys there, with Clay, he couldn’t afford weaknesses.
Clay had noticed, found out, either way though.
“They’re so pretty.” George grinned, setting them aside.
Nothing compared to you , predicted George. Please let him be wrong, please let Morgan surprise him, please don’t disappoint him.
“Nothing compared to you, doll.” Morgan took George’s hand in his, and pulled him for a kiss. George led him towards Alex’s dorm.
“You always seem to have such expensive clothes.” Morgan noted, and it was casual, and it held just a slight tint of an accusation, “For a scholarship student.”
George was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Alex, who feigned puking at the sight of the pair holding hands.
“Oh tell me you’re not wearing a beanie with a suit.” George laughed, and Alex did a little twirl and a bow.
“Hey,” Morgan tenderly flicked George’s nose, “It’s individual, and fresh. I like it.”
“A man of taste!” Alex nodded, then cupped his mouth so George couldn’t see his lips, and stage whispered to Morgan, “What are you doing with George then?”
Morgan laughed, pulling George closer to him with one hand, and offering the other to Alex, “Morgan.”
“Alex.” He shook it, and gave a small nod to George.
Some part of George wanted Alex to hate Morgan. He didn’t know why, and he was shocked by his own thoughts, but it didn’t stop them from clogging his mind. George squeezed Morgan’s hand, and Morgan squeezed back, dropping a kiss on his forehead.
Uncertainty eased.
Morgan drove them to the venue, some private mansion in the middle of the woods, and left the two to talk as he parked.
“So what do you think of him?” George asked Alex.
Alex titled his head, “Do you like him?”
George nodded, because it was easier than words. Alex shrugged, smiled, “Then I like him, Gogy. Easy as. But to be honest, not who I expected your majesty to end up with.”
“No? What did you expect- not that lowly, featherbrained peasants know much?”
“He’s very charismatic, out conversation flowed well in the car. But I don’t know, it’s not quite fitting?” Alex scrunched his eyebrows, “Then again, I’ve known him for all of half an hour, I’m sure he’ll grow on me with time.”
“Like foot fungus.”
“Yes like-” Alex pulled away, made a face of disgust, “No, not like foot fungus, Jesus, Gogy-”
“Dumb nickname.”
“For a dumb idiot.”
“You ready for tonight?”
“Let’s go inside.”
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Inside was mind blowing . It was spectacular. Even with altered colours, the sheer artistry was simply bewildering; there were large fake trees set in corners with large branches and falling leaves, there was a grand staircase on the side covered in Autumnal decor, and there were people in such stunning gowns and suits. Music played, eloquent and still vibrant, and there were waiters working their way across the room with plates of starters and champagne glasses.
It was like a scene from a movie.
“God, George,” Morgan had appeared beside him, seemingly just as awestruck. George gave Alex a side look, and he seemed stressed. George held his shoulder but as soon as Alex realised he was being watched, the carefree smile was back, persona in place.
Dream was a dead man walking.
Karl spotted them, and moved to say hi, walking with a couple of friends. As usual, Morgan talked, having probably known them, and George nodded along. One of the girls whisked Alex away for a dance, and George excused himself to get a drink and a hors-d'œuvre.
Lush sounds of the orchestra accompanied him, and he longed for a dance. It would be such an unsettling sight, however, for a same-sex couple to ballroom dance at an event like this. He couldn’t imagine Morgan caring, however, and he vowed to return another year, after he was done with school, and dance to his heart’s content.
He had no clue how to, but he’d learn, and he excelled in everything he put his mind too either way.
He wondered for a brief moment if Clay knew how to ballroom dance, and it bothered him that he probably did.
Glassy violins, glittering harps, gallant oboes. Orchestral music was certainly an acquired taste, but as was everything truly worth loving.
“Dance with me?” A voice, melodious, and George turned to see a girl in a brilliant gown, a hopeful twinkle in her eye. George turned to look at Morgan, who was laughing and enjoying himself with Karl and their group.
He wanted to desperately say yes, for the experience, for the music. He didn’t know what Morgan would do if he saw him dancing with her- he’d take it the wrong way.
“I’m- I’m with someone.” He declined politely, and then as if to ease the blow, “I don’t know how to dance either.”
She had followed his gaze, and she looked back, smiling, “So am I.”
She tipped her head towards a corner, and he looked and saw a girl downing a glass of champagne. He snapped his head back, a little shocked, a little relieved. The girl’s smile had the warmth of fireplaces on harsh winters, “She wants me to enjoy myself, I’m sure he would too.”
“I’m sorry, but no.” George apologised, and returned back to Morgan’s side, feeling unfair resentment towards him. It wasn’t his fault that they had to hide their relationship, it was George’s for bring him into a situation like this.
“Someone asked me to dance.” George said to Morgan.
Morgan’s smile flickered, “Yeah? What’d you say?”
“That I was with someone.”
“That’s my doll.”
George did not want to be a fucking doll.
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Tipsy and tired of being paraded from one group to another, George snuck out into the bathroom- which was of course, excessively embellished too. He looked at his phone, praying for time to speed up, praying for it to be time to leave with Alex. Fuck he was going to meet Dream tonight, to demask Dream, to reveal Dream’s identity.
Dream who had caused such pain to Alex.
Dream who had helped George so many times, Dream who was just a boy in love with another boy and whose parents and whose own mind seemed pitted against him for just that. George would still rather deal with that right now, than go back to the main hall.
His phone suddenly rang, and he almost dropped it in the toilet.
“What is it?” He asked, picking up the call, waiting for the taste of honey.
“Oh George ,” Clay sighed, “What are you wearing, George?”
“What? Are you drunk, Revaz?” George spat out, eyebrows bunched in confusion.
“Karl posted a picture to his story. You were in it, next to Morgan. Tell me George, what are you wearing?”
George felt his cheeks colouring, and he knew that they both knew exactly what he was wearing. The silence stretched, and George knew he had to deal with it, “I didn’t want it to go to waste.”
“Maybe.” George could feel Clay’s smile through his tone. “But first you go to that party in my sweater, which you still haven’t returned by the way, and then you go to this formal in the suit I bought you.”
Pregnant pause teeming with barely-contained tension.
“You wear my clothes Georgie, you wear my clothes and go and kiss him. What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re so full of yourself.” George attempts, but it’s weak, and they both know it. George hates showing weakness, hates it especially because it’s Clay.
“I’m miles away from you, and I still have power over you. You know what that does to me, George, how that makes me feel?”
“I’m leaving.”
“You can remove me from this call but I’ll still be the only thing on your mind.” George ended the call, caught his breath, felt his heart racing. He looked down on the dumb suit, ran a hand across it, and shook his head. Clay was such an idiot.
He opened the stall door, and went over to the sink, when a hand shoved him back against the side of the stall. He turned to see pained blue eyes. Oh Morgan . What did he hear?
“Ow.” George let out a little laugh, “Morgan, obviously, that was so out of context-”
“Out of context? Tell me George, which bit was out of context . You escaping to the bathroom to call Clay Revaz who you promised you were done with?” There was steel backboning the words, hardening them, and George shook his head, but Morgan steamrolled on, “Or was that Balencia sweater that I complimented not really his? Or was it the part where my boyfriend is on a date with me in a suit that another guy he’s involved with bought him?”
Morgan’s hand was in George’s hair, pulled it up so he was forced to look at his face. George hated it, hated the lack of control, hated how he was pleading for Morgan to stop but no sound could escape his open mouth. Most of all, George hated the way tears burned against his eyes.
“No words now, scholarship kid? Thought you were smart, huh?” Morgan’s hand pressed against his chest, and there was so much pain and George hadn’t been expecting any of it. Morgan kissed George roughly, in all the wrong ways, and pulled back in a few seconds. “Was I not good enough George? Tell me what I did wrong.”
George couldn’t say a single thing. Morgan pulled him forward a little and slammed him back against the side of the stall. George let out a string of incomprehensible babble until he could form shaky words, “N-nothing, I’m- I’m sorry.”
“You let me think he fucking assaulted you. Forced himself onto you? Don’t fucking shake your head at me.” Morgan’s words burned, and burned, and burned, and left George as nothing more than a pile of ashes.
Why did he ever let the walls down?
“P-please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please let me go.” Soft words, gentle words, because there was good in Morgan somewhere, he’d seen it before, and surely he could coerce it back out. This was all just a misunderstanding, bad timing.
“You think you’re so fucking special.” Morgan scowled down and George tried to avery his gaze. He didn’t want to look at those blue eyes anymore, he didn’t want to be here anymore. “You’re not special, you’re easy. I got you, that Revaz guy got you, who else fucking got you huh? Who else you been fucking behind my back?”
“No one, Morgan. No one, I never f-f-slept with Clay, please, you have to believe me.” This had got to be bringing up bad memories for Morgan, his cheating ex, the broken trust. George felt for him, he really did, but was physical violence normal? It couldn’t be.
“Oh doll ,” Morgan stroked one side of George’s face, “I wish I could, but you’re a filthy liar, and you hurt me, and you lied to me.”
George choked on a sob.
Morgan kissed him again, against his struggles, and kissed him hard enough to draw blood, the consequent taste of copper.
It was disgusting, left George reeling, heart fucking pumping, terrifed, and it was Morgan, and it was the ugly truth revealed, and it was breaking George.
It was twisted, and wrong, and George hated it long after Morgan pulled away.
“Goodbye Georgie.” Morgan shook his head, frowning, and walked away.
George ran into the stall and threw up, and fumbled around to get his phone, and hovered on Alex’s contact name, and then decisively pressed Clay’s.
Clay picked up, “Knew you couldn’t stay away from me for lo- George?”
George’s breathing was unsteady, and his thoughts were even more so, and he didn’t know how to put together a single sentence, could barely manage a word, “M-m-MAD.”
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Out of the car window, scenery sped by, too quick for the brunet to recognise, quick enough to induce nausea. His skin was still crawling, head still pounding trying to understand what had happened.
George was no idiot, he’d done a seminar in psychology, he’d read books about domestic violence. Still it had felt so disconnected from his own life.
Morgan’s reaction to his phone call scared him.
How could someone so sweet, the type of person to give him forehead kisses, the type of person to run out of a lecture for him, hurt him so badly?
How had George been stupid enough to let it happen?
Now he’d abandoned Alex. Alex, too, who had such layers beneath his exterior. Alex, who was loyal from the start.
“I have to go back.” George whispered out.
Beside him was Clay Revaz, who, for all his talk and his snippy remarks, had simply let George into his car outside the venue, and not said a word since.
Resilience shone in yellow eyes, no expression on his face. Here was a man George had known longer than anyone else, and he too, was still a mystery.
It was a deeply unsettling thought.
“I have to go back.” He repeated, slightly louder. Clay didn’t reply, but his hands tightened around the wheel of the car so he had definitely heard. George openly stared at the blonde, took in his side profile, the determination on his face, the way his jaw was tensed.
“I thought you were going somewhere with Sapnap,” George mumbled out, “You wanted-wanted me to look after Patches tonight.”
Clay’s eyes were still on the road, and he had one hand on the gear stick to shift it, and one hand steering. George should probably learn to drive, but it was expensive. He didn’t like Clay knowing how to do yet another thing he didn’t.
“Can you ballroom dance?”
Clay didn’t react to the question at first, and George felt like sinking down into his chair, but then ever so slightly he nodded his head. “I had some lessons when I was younger, don’t know if I remember much though.”
George frowned, “I think you might be better than me.”
“At what?”
“Everything.” George went back to looking out the window, even though he knew Clay was looking towards him. He didn’t want to admit his reasoning behind the deduction, because George was brilliant at maths, and knew a great many things, ranging from the Iliad’s tragedies, to the inner mechanics of complex computer code, but perhaps it was all for nothing.
In the end he had no idea what to do, what to say when Morgan questioned him.
Clay would have salvaged it, would have known what to say to not end up with an aching back, with a spinning head, with a broken relationship, over before it truly began. Tears burned once again at the back of his eyes, and he couldn’t cry in front of Clay, and he couldn’t find his breath. All he saw was kind blue eyes, all he felt was Morgan’s arm on his gripping so hard, and Morgan’s hand on his neck, and his airways were constricted, and he needed oxygen, and he needed oxygen-
“Breathe, breathe , I’m pulling over,” Just a hint of panic in the blonde’s voice, trying to stay calm, and George didn’t realise he was gasping for air. How pathetic . How could he not manage to breathe, the easiest of tasks, something everyone could do. He felt light-headed, he felt nauseous, he wanted to blame someone but the only one he could fault was himself.
They were in the hard shoulder lane, and Clay had turned to face George, held onto George’s shoulders, and was repeating words that George couldn’t make sense of.
“I need you to take a deep breath, okay George, can you do that for me, just look at me, and swallow, it’s okay, it’s just me, there’s no one else, just breathe , would you please just breathe, George.”
Slowly, Morgan’s arms faded, replaced with Clay’s hands on his shoulder. George relaxed. It was no longer an arduous task to inhale. He asked into the newfound silence, “What was that?”
They both knew what an anxiety attack looked like.
“I don’t know.” Clay responded, “Are you okay for me to continue driving? We’re almost back at school.”
George nodded, and closed his eyes.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
They stood outside George’s door, silent, contemplating. George wanted to sit down, didn’t have the guts to tell Clay- he’d been too vulnerable already, and Clay might not use this against him, but he’d still see George as weak.
George cursed himself for ever letting the walls down.
Clay turned to leave, without a word, and George couldn’t bear to be alone in that moment, just needed his constant for a little while. “Where- don’t go.”
Clay shook his head, “I need to do something, I’ll be back.”
“Do what?”
Clay’s answering smile simultaneously exhumed icy misery and fiery wrath. “Kill someone. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
George’s face dropped, “What? Are you insane?”
Clay shook his head, and there was the sort of gravitas in his manner that made George truly believe he was being completely sincere. George rushed to shake some sensibility into the blonde, “Why? Who?”
“Who?” Clay raised an eyebrow, “George, don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you.”
“I- uh, Clay, can you just come inside with me for a bit, please .”
The blonde clenched his jaw, looked back down the corridor, looked back at George, sighed, shook his head, “Okay, let’s get you settled first.”
They entered, and George collapsed onto the sofa, breathing in the familiarity of his dorm room, the familiarity of the couch, the familiarity of vanilla. He opened his eyes a few minutes later to see Clay on the armchair opposite him, Morgan’s flowers in hand.
“I’d have gotten you hyacinths, anemones, and-” Clay shook his head, rolled his eyes, and George gave him an odd look. “What happened tonight, Georgie?”
“I messed up.” George pulled his knees to his chest, fixed his gaze on his socks, didn’t look up, didn’t want to face the truth. “Can you- can you just stay until Alex texts me?”
“George, I’ll stay as long as you need.” Clay crept closer, kneeled beside George on the sofa, close enough to be a comfort, far away enough for George’s sanity to be kept. “What do you mean you messed up?”
“Don’t- don’t you have to go somewhere with Sapnap?” George’s voice was still too quiet, but he didn’t have it in him to speak louder.
“Stop avoiding the question.” Clay pushed, and maybe if George diverted the topic again, the blonde would give up, but he felt the need to talk things out, to clear the confusion in his mind. He needed to get sorted before later tonight. He couldn’t let Alex down.
He couldn’t let Alex down.
“He overheard our call. I think he misinterpreted it.” George bit his lip, hoped the sharp pain would stop the build up of tears, “He already- already thought something was going on between us, and then me in your clothes, he just took it as something it wasn’t.”
“What did he do?”
George shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it any further, it was nearing the time he had to change and leave, and he needed to reset his mind. He had to be focused on Dream and focused on helping Alex. There was no room for weakness.
He looked over at the flowers on the floor, “What colour are they?”
Clay shifted, “Uh, some are pink, some are red, some are like violet-pink.”
“Hmm,” George tilted his head, because objectively, he knew what his perception of red was, but he wondered what red was to the average human. “What’s your favourite colour?”
Clay looked at him, “Green.”
“Green.” George repeated. “I think I see my green as your yellow.”
“I’ve read up on deutraponia, compared the spectra,” Clay nodded, “You- yours is blue?”
“Obviously.” George attempted a feeble smile, which Clay returned.
“I can’t believe he got you grey flowers.” Clay scowled.
“Technically he didn’t know I was colourblind-”
“Don’t defend him,” Honeycomb edge to his voice, and George found his eyes lingering on Clay’s lips a few seconds too long. “You want to see colour, Georgie?”
“What-” George’s words were forgotten as Clay reached up, hand hovering just under George’s chin.
“Can I show you? You can say no.” Clay’s hand lingered just out of touch, and George was openly staring at the blonde now. Intrigue pulled him closer, and he noticed how he’d stopped shaking, how he felt like he could breathe easier. Clay pulled his hand back, “Yes or no, angel?”
Angel . What the fuck? That was an issue for tomorrow, for today, his only problem was how far away Clay seemed to be.
“ Please ,” George rasped out, and that was all Clay needed.
Lips against his own, and a hand in his hair, and it fit like the last piece in a puzzle. George’s hands cupped either side of the blonde’s face, and he wrapped his legs around Clay’s torso. Clay pulled back, a sort of wild look to his eyes, a sort of wild adoration in his eyes. George knew this was probably a mistake, knew he was getting used, but it made him forget, and he needed to forget.
“That’s red. Kissing with that passion, the dizziness when I taste you, that’s red.” Clay’s voice was dusted with salacity. “Red’s fire, and red’s all I see when I look at you, Georgie, you drive me so fucking crazy.”
“I think I like red.”
“Pink.” Clay pressed a delicate kiss to his jaw, and George arched back as he trailed soft down his neck. “Pink is pretty fresh kisses, sweet and lovely, and it’s spring time, and it’s the promise of something you can never have.”
George blinked.
“It’s unrequited affection, it’s unyielding desire.” Clay chuckled, like it was an inside joke with himself. George tilted his head, unable to suppress the upturn in his lips, surprised at how he felt so much lighter. Clay was unbuttoning his shirt- and he had to change for tonight anyway, so he helped him.
Kisses down his chest, down his naval, and he shook off the navy blazer, shook off the shirt completely. Clay buried his lips down, biting down at his collar bone, and George let out a gasp. Clay pulled back, lips swollen, half-lidded gaze. “Purple. It’s the pleasure that comes with pain, it’s late night conversation you don’t remember with people you don’t forget, it’s lovebites on beautiful skin, it’s the wonder of discovering something new.”
“Purple’s pretty.” George had a new appreciation for learning, and this way of teaching colours was decidedly his new favourite. Clay let his hands reach round to George’s back to pull him closer, but the pressure on the bruises forced George to keel back, face twisted in discomfort. Clay instantly pulled away, stepped back, and George knew he thought he’d changed his mind.
The constant throb of pain on his back meant George had forgotten about the stupid bruises, and his rise in hormones had caused him to neglect how they must look. He had two options- to pretend Clay had crossed a boundary, or to let him see the bruises.
Though the first option was clearly more rational, it also meant an abrupt stop to their activities, and it meant George’s mind had to return to dealing with whatever happened with Morgan.
How bad could the bruises be anyway? He was sure he read somewhere than injuries hurt way more than how severe they looked. His voice had returned to its normal volume, lost its shakiness entirely, “I think I hurt my back, you’re fine to continue.”
Clay was still Clay though, no matter how their dynamics had changed, he knew George, and he knew when to be stubborn. “Turn round, George.”
George stood still, awkwardly exposed upper half, and he avoided eye contact. They were at stalemate, because Clay wasn’t going to force him, and George didn’t want to put his shirt back on, stop whatever this was.
“What’s green?”
Clay sat back, watched George carefully, “Green is seeing you with Morgan, green is shrivelled up darkness and mistakes and regret, green is headaches and confusion and not knowing who you are or what your purpose is. Green is disgust, green is-”
“I thought green was your favourite colour.” George attempted a joke, but Clay didn’t so much as smirk.
“Green’s what I see myself as.”
What could George do then but turn around, just because he recognised the loathing on Clay’s face, directed so many times towards him, but now it was upon something more self-imposed? George didn’t like Clay, but he understood him.
He knew when to not let self-deprecative thoughts rise.
It was the sharp inhale, the heavy breathing, the soft oh, George that sent alarm bells ringing in his head. The bruises were worse than he thought, and he’d just shown them to Clay Revaz.
“I bruise easily.” George laughed, turning back, hoping to spread amusement.
Never before had George seen such lividity in Revaz’s eyes.
Before he could say another word his phone buzzed, and he grabbed it, knowing it was Alex. Just before he read the message, he noticed Clay’s murderous eyes set on his arm. He followed the line of vision to see a fading bruise courtesy of Morgan from a couple of days ago.
He didn’t see what was so interesting.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Alex (my beloved)
Can’t see you or Morgan so you lovebirds are probably having fun…
;)
It’s 10.15 so I’m just reaching the place, and making sure it’s set up, you should probably head over soon too, so you can scope out the place. Everyone else will be there at 11 or later.
WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT GEORGE
NO STDS PLEASE I BEG
DONT BE SILLY WRAP HIS WILLY
okay seriously im fuckin shaking over here so hurry and get ur ass here
Notes:
UPDATE (SCREAMING) THIS CHAP HAS FANART WHATTT??? ITS A WHOLE COMIC STRIP BRINGING IT WCESNTY!DNF TO LIFE i am not okay, tears in my eyes, they're so beautiful <3
DNF FANART FOR THIS FIC!!!
https://twitter.com/AndyWasLost/status/1523272802807455747?s=20&t=e0jSnUbwrtmrZPWLeGIKLA
ANDYS SO COOL AND TALENTED PLS CHECK THEM OUT
so so many parallels to earlier which most of u have probably forgotten bc it was ages ago lmao
anyway yeah that was a heavy chapter to write and i had to keep changing up parts because they just didn't work and im still not full satisfied with bits of it but im never satisfied
COMMENT PLS PLS pretty pls with ur thoughts :)
kudos so appreciated always
subscribe because next chapter's fuckin crazy asANYWAY thanks for 3k hits on this fic thats insane lmao
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Chapter 16: chapter fifteen.
Summary:
"𝘞𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘴
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦
𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘷𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭"- i don't wanna talk (i just wanna dance), glass animals
Notes:
hey loves !! how are you today? :)
so this chapter is so so totally definitely unimportant (/s)
enjoy ;) and i'll see u after yayALSO twitter for updates : twitter
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter fifteen.
Smoke machines and bad blacklight lighting meant George couldn’t see much, but- adorned in his comical white goggles and black surgical mask- was glad he could barely be seen himself. He was wearing a standard black suit that Alex had gotten them both, and anxiety pulled at each and everyone of his heartstrings.
Tonight he was going to find out who Dream was.
People either had a neon purple or neon green lanyards to differentiate those selling their skills and those buying them, and there were members in reflective white circling the space- security. Alex had really pulled something so professional so quickly and it astonished him, though it shouldn’t have really.
When you had money, life was easier.
Big Q, himself, was wearing a breathable face hood with two cut out slits for his eyes.
Buyers, at least the ones worth talking to, usually had a bodyguard, and wore sunglasses but took no other safety precaution. Whether it was stupid arrogance or the veracious nature of their sacrosanctcity, George did not know.
How dangerous this whole operation was, George did not know.
“So fucking lucrative, it’s already seeing profits in the five figures and it’s only been an hour.” Alex whispered beside him, having appeared from seemingly nowhere. “Dream’s yet to check in though, but he probably realises that a lot of serious clientele will be arriving at the 1 AM mark once this place has been vetted.”
“This whole thing is insane,” George still couldn’t fully comprehend that Alex was Big Q.
“Mmm, I’m going to make rounds, there are some snags but nothing dire,” His voice was so formal, different and mature- George could only blink at him. “Get some jobs, you’re one of my best.”
“One of?” George gently knocked Alex’s shoulder with his own. Immediately, two tall figures were behind him, a hand on each shoulder pulling him back. His eyes widened as he gaped at Alex, and though he couldn’t see it, he just knew that his friend had that shit-eating smirk plastered on his face.
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“-iterating the function across.”
“I have to keep the function local though, otherwise if it’s global and I call it on separate files, you’re liable for a counterattack.” People were hard enough to interact with over text, but having to explain his solutions in real life, to some balding middle-aged dickhead who saw you as malleable playdough-
George didn’t have the height nor the age to be intimidating, but once he opened his mouth, once he started talking they all fell in line soon enough.
“What about you listen to what I’m saying, kid. I’m the one paying.”
Unless they were this guy, an older version of the boys at school- more money than brain cells, gliding through life and expecting the universe to trail behind.
“You can pay millions to any of us here, but with that closed mindset and that attitude, you’re not getting shit done.” George scoffed, “Even then, I can do the job you’ve set in my sleep a thousand times more efficiently than probably anyone else. Good luck finding a decent replacement.”
George walked out of the booth, yawning- then immediately coughing because of the smoke particulates, and adjusted his goggles. He’d signed so many contracts in the past hour, talked to so many shady people; it made his stomach turn, head spin. It was nearing one, and his back was aching.
“404.” One of his newly formed associates called out to him, “Some of us are taking a break in the side room- there’s a projector and we’re playing a video game.”
“A video game?” George inquired, following them.
“Yeah, minecraft, y’know that game that blew up when we were kids.” Nostalgia hit him, hard and heavy, and remembered his sister and him fighting each other with pixelated swords, and his mother telling him off for making her cry because he killed her dog that was attacking him .
“That’s so random.”
“Yeah, apparently someone wanted a bunch of cheats and mods, you know the shit, coded in, all baseline stuff, really. And now we’re just messing around for a bit.”
George entered the room, and sure enough there was a massive projector with split screens- the room was completely dark except for the light from the projector, and there was a new frenetic energy with whispers all around, cash exchanging hands.
“What’s going on?” He asked to no one in particular.
“Some kid’s got this challenge of beating the game with like 3 people chasing him.” A voice explained from the darkness, “Thing is, he’s winning.”
“I’m losing all my money over here. He just won again ” Another voice, and George couldn’t help but walk closer into the middle of the room, look at where all the drama was happening.
“Bet I can beat you.” George challenged out.
“Man I’m out, take my place, I’m done betting my ass served to me.” Someone shoved a pc in his hand, and brushed past. Around him, bets started taking place.
“I’m Bad.” Someone sat next to him, holding a controller.
“I can tell.” George chuckled, “Three of you and you haven’t managed to kill him?”
“No you muffin.” Muffin? Hadn’t Sapnap said the same thing all those nights ago? Was this new slang he was late in learning? “My pseudo is Bad. Badboyhalo.”
“Oh.” George flexed his fingers, toyed with the keyboard and mouse. “Nice?”
“Yeah and that’s Pandas. We have to beat this guy otherwise I’m down all the money I made tonight. You’ve got quite the accent on you.”
“Can’t believe you’ve not beaten him yet. It’s literally a dumb block game with the shittiest graphics, you just have to kill him?”
Around him the people who overheard his declaration laughed.
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George was not used to losing. Winning came easily to him, whether it was coming first in trigonometry exams or a staring competition- he could be so fiercely stubborn. So when his opponent had tricked him for the eight time this match, he was close to screaming. How the fuck were there so many trickplays in a 32 bit game? How the fuck did that stupid urine-coloured blob keep disappearing from right in front of them?
“This is ridiculous ,” George ground out the words as enderdragon died on the projector four times over, from four different perspectives. Bad and Pandas were arguing amongst each other, blaming someone for this misstep, blaming the other for another miscalculation. George wanted to bash both their heads in.
Across the room, he heard a faint wheeze, different to all the commotion he was in the midst of. He turned, readjusting his goggles, and could barely make out the tall figure lounging on a chair, laptop on their lap, mouse on their armrest.
He waded across the crowd to near them, and they were in a corner, secluded from the rest of the room- and he already knew this was his tormentor- the wicked urine blob dubbed “:)”.
“ You ,” He bit out, spite filling his words, “Why are you so good ?”
Closer, he saw the figure clad in an illustrious suit, and a ceramic mask on their face- a creepy smile crudely drawn on top. The ensemble gave off serial killer vibes, but George knew everyone present had been vetted by Alex himself- and with the way Alex’s bodyguards had protected him, he trusted the security.
Another wheeze, a kind of laugh he’d never heard before yet still sort of familiar. “Literally a dumb block game? Why can’t you just kill him?” Words whispered out into the dark in a poor british accent, and George couldn’t quite tell what their voice sounded like. He crossed his arms, huffed. Masked stranger tipped his head to the side, “How’s the arm?”
“The arm?” George instinctively touched his arm.
“Your dickhead date make it up to you?”
George froze, mouth open in shock, “Oh, God ,”
“Close.” Feral narcissism and guileless snark, “But I prefer Dream .”
Where was Alex? How had he come face to face to Dream without even realising? His heart sped, and his mouth was left behind to catch up, slow at forming words. What was he to say? How was he so unprepared?
“You recognised me?” Was all he could manage, and he hated how awkward, how squeaky his voice had come out.
“Hard to miss that accent,” Dream whispered out again, and George realised how easy it would be to just reach out, pull off the mask. It would end in pandemonium, however, faith destroyed in Alex for the promised anonymity, and who knows how Dream had fastened it on. George swallowed, mouth rapidly drying. Dream stretched out his arms, flexed his gloved fingers, “Made a killing in money from this, guess Big Q’s not too bad.”
“Why’d you blackmail him then?” George realised how resentful it sounded as soon as it was out of his mouth, and he quickly added on, “I was dry for weeks.”
Dream shrugged then, “Tough. How’s the arm?”
“Arm’s fine.” George was more concerned about the persistent ache in his back, more concerned about the boy in front of him, real and breathing and likely dangerous. Every part of him wanted to ask why he had threatened Alex to keep George safe, and it was hard to shut down the desperate curiosity. If there was one thing he hated more than losing, it was being out of the loop, having information withheld.
Especially when said information regarded him .
He needed to guide Dream towards Alex, lest he fall prey to his own mind’s incessant inquisitiveness, “Let’s head back to main room, sure there’s more pricks to hassle with.”
Dream made a noncommittal hum, and George tried not to be intimidated by his presence- it was hard when he couldn’t even see his face.
Dream probably got off on being a faceless deity, soaring above the ordinary. He and Clay were similar in that regard.
“You seem anxious, Four.” Dream’s words sent a chill up his arms, incited an involuntary shiver. What was genuinely wrong with George? “Tired?”
“A little, yeah,” George clung on to the excuse like a driftwood as he was stuck in this whirlpool of a conversation with Dream.
“Sit, then.” So easily he asked, with all the smoothness of gliding across ice, and George felt obliged to listen, to obey, to please. There was no chair next to Dream, and they both were aware of that, and George raised an eyebrow not even sure if he could see it. Silently, Dream moved the PC off his lap, and George stilled.
Was he suggesting-
“C’mere, rest your legs.” Perilous, tantalising whispers. George’s legs were feeling a little stiff after all night, and Dream’s voice was just so magnetic. It was ludicrous- sitting in a stranger’s lap, but, Dream wasn’t really a stranger, right?
Not giving a chance to second guess himself, George moved, settled down, and tried not to notice the palpations in his chest, tried not to giggle as an arm wrapped around his waist. It was too dark, even at this proximity to make out much of Dream except for the cut of his jaw behind the mask.
“Never thought you’d be so small,” Dream’s words were spoken into the crook of his neck.
“I’m actually,” George’s breath hitched, as lips just barely grazed his ear, “average height, thank you very much.”
“Sorry.” Dream sighed suddenly, pausing, and there was such tragedy soaked into each syllable of the word, that George reined in his hormones to turn to face the mask. If he was in his English lesson, he’d mention the juxtaposed smile and sad voice, and he imagined how Clay would dispute it by saying how smiles didn’t always mean joy, and he imagined his own rebuttal. “I’m so sorry.”
“Should I get off?” George wondered if he was getting in his own head- he remembered how Dream had talked about hating himself for being attracted to guys.
“No-no, you’re-” Words so soft, George could lay his head on them and fall asleep. “You’re perfect- just, huh- I’m still projecting him onto you and that’s unfair on you.”
“How is he, anyway? I remember you were oh so in love,” George teased, jabbing a finger into Dream’s suit. “Disgusting stuff.”
“I’m still in my love phase right now, he’s been not so annoying as of late, and some shit’s happened and I just-” Dream took one of George’s hands in his own, ran a thumb across his knuckles, “I’d kill for him.”
George chuckled, and Dream wheezed, but George didn’t know if Dream was joking or not. Dream sighed, “And then I heard your voice, and you English people sound the same, and you’re short like him, and you’re- I’m sorry,”
“It’s okay,” George laughed again, “Dream, seriously, it’s not like I have feelings for you that you can hurt. I’m just tryna live, and tryna forget ‘bout the dumbass date.”
“I really want to kiss you, Four.”
“You really want to kiss your crush?” George replied, smirking, and Dream was silent. “Isn’t kissing me cheating?”
“Cheating?” Dream scoffed, and the sound caused some chord of familiarity to strike with in the brunet. “He thinks I’m straight. He hates my guts. Rightly so, but still. He’s a fantasy.”
“He’s a fantasy, and I’m reality.” It was a morose thought but it made George smile, he didn’t understand why. It suited George, being reality, being grounded, rather than someone’s daydream. Morgan saw him as a daydream that he could manipulate, George considered, and Clay saw him as a headache he could tame. Dream didn’t see him as anything but 404, and he liked that. “I shouldn’t kiss you.”
“Why’s that?” Alex would murder him. But it was good to keep Dream in one place, instead of wandering around. At least that’s how hormones justified George’s next move, of placing a hand on the back of Dream’s neck, feeling the curls at his nape. “Oh fuck , alright, okay, um, you sure you wanna do this- I’m going to be imaging you as-”
George lowered his surgical mask, lifted the bottom of the ceramic, and leaned in.
Red.
He tasted the red of passion and raw lechery.
This was red.
The first kiss was weary, cautious from both sides, the second more explorative, tongues wrapping around each other,and by the third they’d found their rhythm, and they knew what they were doing, and they were connected by lips, lust, and longing.
“ Dream ,” George gasped out as Dream’s hand travelled up his thigh, up further. There was something so illicit about making out with someone you’d never even seen the face of, someone who you’d never see the face of, and it caused a flurry of emotion to rush across the length of him.
“Shh, you’ll get people to notice.” Dream’s voice was thick with libido, “Quiet for me, Georgie,”
“Mmm, sorry.” George had forgotten that in the room adjacent to their hidden little corner, people were still mulling about, playing fucking minecraft. It made him giggle, the way he was being devoured right next to people playing videogames, made his heart race at their verboten activities.
Dream’s spare hand, went to his back, pressing him closer, but he pressed directly down a bruise, causing George to flinch back in pain, let out a string of curses, pulling back. He tugged back on the surgical mask. George turned back to Dream, whose hands were up in the air, sort of confused what he had done, confused where to place them back. George smiled underneath the mask; his awkward pause was strangely affectionate.
“Sorry,” He apologised, “Back’s a little fucked.”
Dream was silent.
“Is everything okay?” A nervous chuckle. George moved back, giving the taller some space.
“What happened to your back?” Something had changed in Dream’s voice, a hint of alarm, of panic, and George got up off his lap, to let him have a bit breathing space. The darkness in his voice gave George a flashback to earlier in the night, seeing Clay’s murderous eyes zoning in on him, hearing Clay’s oh George .
“Well, I guess I wanted my b- my boyfriend, well kind of boyfriend, to break it in one way,” George had never referred to Morgan as his boyfriend, didn’t ever really even see him as a boyfriend, but for simplicity in explaining to Dream the term would do. “And, well, he misunderstood.”
George laughed, hoping to diffuse the random tension that had spawned in.
Dream was staring at him, and George wanted to rip off the dumb mask, because he couldn’t see any expression, only that nightmarish smile.
“It’s honestly not that deep-”
“I have to go.” Dream cut him off, walked past him, brushed him off.
Panic flared within George, spreading like wildfire across his nervous system, because yes, making out with Dream- the enemy, was bad, but at least he was holding him in place for Alex to unmask. Having Dream, and letting him slip out of his hands, was worse- way worse- unforgivably worse.
“ Dream .” George rushed out behind him, desperate to get his attention.
Dream pulled someone of the floor- and George vaguely recognised him as one of his teammates from earlier- Bad or Pandas? The person protested but Dream said something and they rushed off, following Dream. George raced behind them, pushing past the hordes of people in his way.
He was so grateful for Dream’s height, he wasn’t easy to lose track of, but in the middle of chasing him in the middle room, someone pulled him by his elbow.
“Woah, woah, Gogs, where you rushing to?” Alex’s voice greeted him, and guilt syphoned away George’s rationality, ate away at any drowsiness he’d begun to feel.
“Dream,” George said, pointing, and Alex instantly signalled for his bodyguards to tail the guy George was gesturing towards, but it was a lost cause, people were milling around everywhere.
Alex looked towards George, “You look- disgruntled.”
“I’m sorry,” George felt his throat close, and every pain he’d incurred recently began aching immediately, “I’m so sorry. I fucked up-”
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“Wow.” Alex blinked, “Wow.”
George waited for the anger, was prepared to grovel for forgiveness, prepared to do whatever it took to earn back Alex’s friendship.
Preemptively, he began his apology, knowing it was nowhere near enough, but he had to begin somewhere and George wasn’t good at putting his feelings into words, but for this, he had to try, “Alex, before you, I- I didn’t really have any friends. Obviously I’m not saying this as an excuse, but I just want to emphasise how important our relationship is to me. You were loyal to me, without me asking. You stood up for me without wanting anything back. I didn’t even realise there were people so selfless to do things like that for people who weren’t even your family. I wish I had met you earlier because you’re just so- you- ugh, and, and I know I messed up, I let my stupid fucking horniness, or whatever it was in the moment just sweep me away, and all I was thinking about was the way Dream’s voice was like so intoxicating- wait, I’m getting off topic. No, listen, Alex, I know he threatened to ruin your life, and he’s horrible, and I’m so sorry, but I don’t- I can’t lose you, you’re my first real friend, and yeah I fucked up, but I’m willing to do whatever you want for-”
“Whatever I want?” Alex’s face was stoic, voice emotionless, and George hated being the reason that all of his usual energy had been leeched from him. George nodded frantically. “Okay, so you’ll listen to me.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“Remember when I said Fuck Dream ,” Alex continued, and George remembered, and he remembered embedding the message into his head. He couldn’t meet Alex’s eyes, he was so stupid . “I didn’t mean literally .”
George’s eyes snapped up to Alex’s face. A crack of a smirk on his lips.
“You’re- you’re not annoyed?”
Alex laughed, tired- because it was 4 in the morning- but heartily, “George. You kissed him, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. We hate him.”
“Yeah but I get that hate-sex can be hot.” Alex shook his head, “Seriously George, it’s not like you threatened to dox me? He did- he’s the bad person, I don’t like. I don’t hate you for making out with him- it’s okay. Now he’s invested in you, maybe we can use that to our advantage? See, you basically made it easier for us to find out who he is.”
George still could not believe Alex was not furious. “You’re- you’re amazing.”
“I know.” Alex grinned, “Believe me, I know. Also next time you explore your sexuality, maybe not someone who could get me imprisoned, maybe.”
George shrunk back, even as Alex laughed harder. He needed to amend things.
“But wait-” George looked up to Alex, “If you weren’t mad at me, why did you let me go on that- ugh, do that word vomit?”
“Oh Gogy,” Alex sighed, rolled his eyes, “It’s been a stressful night, I needed some entertainment.”
George’s mouth parted in shock and embarrassment.
“Oh Alex, I can’t lose you- you’re my first real friend-” Alex draped the back of his hand on his forehead and put on a dramatic English accent. George wanted to die. “I love you so much Alex, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I love, love, love-”
George wanted to cry. “Please stop.”
“Quiet now, for me, please, Gogy!” Alex gently whacked the top of George’s head.
“Ew,” George cringed, “That’s like identical to what Dream said, and from your mouth-”
“ Oh ,” Alex waggled his eyebrows, “What? He said, Quiet now, we must be secretive about our perversions , 404? ”
George gagged, “No, he was like quiet for me, Georgie .”
Alex laughed, put on a falsetto, “Quiet for me, Georgie.”
“Georgie.” George repeated.
“Gogy.” Alex chirped back, not knowing what bit they were doing now.
“Georgie!” George felt his stomach plummet.
“Alex?” Alex parroted.
Notes:
yeah so yeah...
um yeah...
HERE's A LITTLE SKETCH I DID OF (maybe an upcoming story) enemies to lovers dnf :) im really shitty at art i prefer fics obviously but im just desperate for a dream fanart notice so if u have twitter i would so so love it if you'd rt or tag dreamfanart !!
DAGGER TO NECK DNF arhfhfPLS LET ME KNOW UR THOUGHTS ON THIS CHAP (102 subscriptions so if u want next chap i better see 100 comments /hj)
kudos always appreciated sm
subscribe to see them realise (or at least one of them...)love you guys to the oort cloud and back,
val <3discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 17: chapter sixteen.
Summary:
“You are", he says, "the absolute worst idea I've ever had.”
- red white and royal blue, casey mcquinston
Notes:
hello my loves <3
im so tired i have a big redox chem test tmrw ugh and imma fail i alr know
oxidation states more like oxikillmenow
okay im acc spouting nonsense im so sorry
u guys shld read SUCK A DICK FALLACY it is saur good i cannot even believe...check out the twitter
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter sixteen.
There was an unmatchable satisfaction gained from marking things done on lists made, whether it was a piece of homework, a book read, or getting tasks done. There was a unique sort of pleasure from making the lists themselves; organising chaos into precise little chunks to whittle at.
George had always approached monstrous projects which seemed like unsolvable messes by dissecting them down into manageable bite-size portions and devouring it piece by piece. No matter the level of the problem, he would find equilibrium by working hard on the solution.
Alex’s face was priceless as he walked in, a coffee in either hand, and took in the gigantic whiteboard and George’s neat scribbles.
Pride flared up in the brunet as he realised, yes- his situation was dire, but he was remaining calm, he was fixing the problem- one chunk at a time. It was vital to keep your composure, to face daunting situations with a witty quip and confidence.
“You,” George waited for a compliment to fall from his friend’s mouth. “You nerd , you-”
“Speechless?”
Alex placed down the coffees, turned to him, hit his palm to his forehead, “You’re going to crash. And burn. Crash and burn.”
George deflated immediately, “Excuse me?”
“What am I looking at? I leave for half an hour and what do I come back to?” Alex blinked at his work.
George bristled. He turned to the central flowchart, a binary sorting system that served both as a guide to understanding his sectioning, as well as a simple way to organise his main line of thoughts.
The titled header stood out, a vision of blue marker and post it notes. Deciphering Dream .
The initial question was capitalised and directly under the title- “Dream called 404 ‘Georgie’, what does this mean?”. Neutral and emotionless as such detective work should be, even if it was surrounding himself.
It branched out into two stems:
One; He knows 404’s identity is George Davidson.
Two; He envisioned 404 as his British crush- George Davidson.
For each of the initial divides, he’d made a list of why the option was likely or unlikely.
One; likely - threatened to dox big q, knows big q is alex quackity, knows george davidson is friend of alex quackity.
- is dangerous unknown individual in possession of creepy mask.
unlikely - why not be direct? why kiss? why say ‘georgie’ rather than ‘george’? why not care than 404 has no response to ‘georgie’?
Two; likely - “georgie” seemed to be a natural outburst rather than a calculated decision; you would moan the name of your crush when you’re making out with the guy you’re pretending is your crush.
- has shown vulnerability to 404 before.
- threatened big q to take care of “brunet friend” (george davidson)
unlikely - WHO WOULD HAVE A CRUSH ON ME GEORGE DAVIDSON?
- if george was crush entire time, would have to scour through old conversations and read in new light.
- world is small but not that small
Impartial- mostly and analytic, organised into two streamlined conditions. George was tempted to transfer into into code, itching to get his fingers working.
“You’re gonna crash. Crash and burn.” Alex sighed, “This is not right. This is not healthy.”
“Huh?” George spun the whiteboard marker round his left hand, brought the end to his lips in thought. “What did I do wrong- I guess I was trying to configure a standard hypothesis test but it’s not really a binomial dist-”
“No. No.” Alex took George by the shoulders, “I don’t mean the- the, whatever mindmap this is, I mean you , you’re just acting like you’re not emotionally involved.”
“What help does that do?” George had pushed out the thought of him as 404, cut out two separate identities, observed it all as a neutral third party. “We need to get to the bottom of this, and emotions delay, and emotions blind- literally every study will tell you that.”
“By removing yourself from all of this, you’re saying Dream’s not the guy that kissed you, you’re treating it like it’s a completely impersonal case.” Alex sighed, frustration and concern weaved into knotted brows, sunken into hickory eyes, “It’ll catch up with you eventually. And if it happens all at once, it’s going to hurt a million times worse.”
“I’m fine. Really,” George felt his throat close up a little, “Please, I’ll genuinely feel better if I talk through my perusal with you.”
“ Oh , George.” It was the same tone Clay had used when looking at his back. Sickening. It made George feel weak, made him feel small.
George was neither.
George was the top of his class, top of the school, through hard work and determination, through strength and perseverance. He was not going to let that be overshadowed by pity.
He retreated back from Alex’s touch, turned to the whiteboard, ran a finger down the diverging pathways, sucked on his lower lip as he thought.
whoever you figure out you are, there’s a pretty soul underneath it-
Temptation rose, temptation to break down into tears, into confusion over possibly losing everything he had. Last night had been-
Morgan and his bruises, physical and emotional.
Clay and his oxymoronic constancy.
Dream and how he’d uprooted George’s sanity.
Temptation to fly back to England, to find comfort in his mother’s arms, to return to his childhood- young, naive, happy.
“George, you can talk to me.” Alex’s words were understanding, careful. He appreciated it in ways he could never express in words.
Alex took a marker, drew a third line down, from the first question, wrote this is all a big coincidence, you’re not the george he was referring to. George couldn’t help but smile at that.
Given a bouquet of roses, Alex would find beauty in the petals whilst George would only see the thorns.
He relayed the thought to Alex, who rolled his eyes fondly and just replied with, that doesn’t make you a hopeless pessimist, you’re just colourblind .
George laughed then, Alex somehow managing to loosen knots in his stomach, to smooth cracks on his heart.
“If,” He coughed, voice crusted with building tears and broken down bridges, “If Dream didn’t know who 404 was, and said Georgie out of reflex, which is what the evidence suggests I think, that doesn’t mean he’s still unaware. Because like, at the end, he left a bit weirdly, cause we were kissing and he felt up my back, and I got up because of the pain, and I feel like he had a moment of I don’t know, almost recognition.”
“Wait, I’m confused, what do you mean - your back ?” George’s eyes widened then; he’d never told Alex about Morgan.
“Uh, nothing. It doesn’t matter anyway,” George turned , desperate to find another topic to latch onto.
Alex was no fool. “Don’t make me get violent. I have sharp elbows and I’m not afraid to use them.”
George stilled, and looked at Alex, the eye contact conveying there was something deeper about this. Alex’s lips curved further down.
“What happened?”
George took off his shirt, tried not to flinch as Alex gasped and then tried to hide the fact he’d gasped.
“What the fuck- which motherfucker-”
“Morgan. It’s fine. Anyway. Listen-” George tugged his top back on, picked up the coffee, looked back to the board.
“No. No, George. Are you okay ?”
“Yes. It was sort of my fault anyway.”
“Oh yeah, did you fucking kill someone to warrant the way he fucked your back up?” Alex scrunched his nose up, “I’m not joking when I saw I have contacts that can find him and make him suffer-”
“No. I- I kissed another guy while we were together- well, not really together, I don’t know, we weren’t exclusive, but the guy’s like, 100% straight, like for real, and Morgan took it out of context which I can’t blame him for because like he was cheated on in his last relationship and he’s got trust issues and he lik-”
“Oh Christ. You can fuck someone else and that still doesn’t mean he should have given you bruises like those? And you weren’t even together?” Alex gasped out, and it mirrored Dream’s words from so long ago. George’s head swam.
Dream who had supported him with Morgan- Dream who could’ve known who he was? He needed to re-evaluate every conversation between them.
Dream who called him Georgie .
Georgie , an unwanted curse from Morgan’s lips. Georgie , a deeper understanding of each other from Clay’s.
Georgie- what was it from Dream’s? It seemed spontaneous, an outburst that neither of the acknowledged, a moment born from pure passion, escapism, and desire. It drove him crazy, Dream was driving him crazy.
George could describe it as red.
An alert pinged from his laptop- the infamous notification of the messaging site on Alex’s corner of the dark web. George and Alex shared a look.
“I’m not talking about Mor-”
“But I am. I’ll deal with it later, let’s focus on this now.” George pulled up the message panel. He shot a side glance at Alex, his resigned stature. George knew what he was thinking- George was piling all this up, burying himself under Dream and Morgan and every trouble bothering him. What else could George do but move forward?
If there was one thing he knew about life, was that it moved on.
And George could either leave his troubles behind or dwell on them and get left behind too.
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dream ~ online, hiding
hey… sorry for running off the other day, i felt really sick probs something i ate haha
was just wondering what’s your favourite color haha
“This is a test.” George remarked out loud, and beside him, Alex nodded. “So he wants to confirm I’m colourblind maybe? Does that mean he didn’t know I was George until last night?”
“Or he’s just trying to start a conversation with you?” Alex guessed, but George shook his head. The wording was weird- off, different.
Did he even realise he had said “Georgie”?
His fingers hovered over the keys- blue was too true, obviously he couldn’t say he was colourblind-
Some part of him didn’t want to completely lie to Dream either, he didn’t know why, it just felt wrong .
404 ~ online, hiding
purple. that was random :] whats urs
return of the fever?
The pleasure that comes with pain, it’s late night conversation you don’t remember with people you don’t forget, it’s lovebites on beautiful skin, it’s the wonder of discovering something new
dream ~ online, hiding
mines blue.
no lmao just bit ill
It was awkward, stifled conversation. It was two people who thought they knew something, didn’t know how to address it, didn’t want to be the first to give in.
“Blue.” George sighed, “That’s- is that another mind game? Because blue’s the only colour I can see, and he knows that?”
Alex had gone back to the board, traced down various veins, cancelling out ones that were less likely. “It’s almost like he can’t believe you’re George? Like he’s double checking, in disbelief…”
“What do I reply?” Hair fell over his forehead and hopelessly, he tried to blow it off.
404 ~ online, hiding
i need a haircut
Why did he send that? He felt like he was losing his mind, losing autonomy. He wanted to scream, throw his laptop against the floor, and his back fucking ached .
“Wait,” Alex’s tone was sprinkled with confusion, garnished with perplexity, “So, if he- if he didn’t know who you were before, and this Georgie character is his crush, but now he’s realising that you are George- but he figure that out how?”
“Uh…”
“Well, I told you, he felt like, my back and I stood up because pain, and, yeah, I guess-”
“But George… how did he recognise you by your back? Who knows about it except me and ew, Morgan? No one because it happened right before?” Alex huffed, exasperated, “Could he have recognised you some other way? Did you remove your goggles-”
“No. And plus it was so dark I could barely even see him when I was on his lap kissing him.” George shuddered, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I kissed him.”
“So then what?”
“I mean, technically, one other person knows, but like it’s so definitely not him.” George sighed, and Alex raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Cause like after Morgan you know, I was kinda feeling you know, and I called them.”
“Called who ?”
“Okay but you can’t freak out.” Alex raised his arms and strangled invisible air, threatening to choke him if he didn’t hurry up. George bit hit his lower lip, winced in anticipation, whispered out, “Clay.”
“Huh. I think I need my ears checked.” Alex laughed without humour, all empty classrooms, and b-grade papers, “I think I need my ears checked, because I heard something that can’t possibly be true.”
“Alex-”
“Clay. Clay motherfucking Revaz. Old money Clay who calls you charity case . Clay as in imbecile who thinks he’s a fucking glacier, thinks that mountains will carve themselves into valleys if he so much as walks across them, who thinks-”
“Alex. You never told me.” George cuts in and Alex pauses his dramatics to singe him with a scorching side-eye, sighs something akin to never told you what , to which George shields himself before replying, “You’re a geography nerd.”
A moment of shellshock silence, before Alex grabbed the nearest chair and rushed towards George who was never one to shy away from screaming.
“Dios dame fuerza o matare esto-”
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“I thought this situation with Dream would break you buddy.” Alex’s mouth was ajar, “But you’re already broken. I thought you’d lose it, but you never fucking had it in the first place.”
“In my defence-”
“Do not defend kissing Clay Revaz.”
“That’s homophobic-”
“I’m pretty sure he’s homophobic.”
“Kisses boys pretty good for a homophobe.”
“ Padre Nuestro, que estás en el cielo- oh I’ve never doubted my faith, Lord, but I’ve never wanted to wrap my hands around someone’s neck so badly.” Alex looked near to tears, “It’s okay to explore your sexuality George, but with a bully , your fuckin’ bully .”
“I explored it with a cybercriminal too.” George offered, holding back laughter. It wasn’t even close to funny, but it was such a desperate, disastrous situation.
“They could, very well, be the same person now.” Alex threw a glance back at the whiteboard.
“Absolutely not. Dream is possibly in love with me, and Clay despises me. And why would Clay even need to do this- he doesn’t need the money. And he’s good at coding but not good enough- I’ve seen Dream’s work- hell, you’ve seen it- it’s actually really good and he has a steep learning curve.”
“Does that not mean, if he has a steep learning curve , that Clay could have learned quickly?” Alex bit back.
“He really doesn’t need the money. And Dream needed the money.”
“Everyone wants money, George. Millionaires, billionaires, everyone. Maybe he was itching for a new sports car that daddy didn’t want to buy him?”
“Oh my, listen I know Clay, and yeah sure there’s a little substance to him, but he’s still terribly sheltered. Dream’s gone through stuff, like deep stuff-”
“Oh because he’s rich, he can’t have deep problems?”
“Why are you defending him now? It’s like you just want to play Devil’s advocate. And my most important point still stands, Dream is likely in love with me. Clay indubitably loathes me.” George groans, because he can’t even believe this is a possible conclusion.
“Okay Mr. Statistics, here’s a null hypothesis for you,” Alex began, and George itched the urge to correct him on the maths allusion, “Clay, he’s a little kooky right, very self obsessed. Dangerous combo. You don’t listen to him, you beat him, you drive him crazy ‘cause he can’t control you. And he likes control. Because he’s a little egomaniacal shit. He finds out through um, Nick, was it, who found out through Karl that you have this little 404 thing going for you. He doesn’t like that, not one bit. He pushes himself to learn code, creates this persona of Dream. Gets assigned to you by me, bingo, now he can talk to you, learn about you without you knowing it’s him. This isn’t enough. He finds out about Morgan now, he doesn’t like that either. Kisses you to control you, that’s what you said, that he admitted the kisses were because he liked having power over you, do you see where I’m going here…”
“That’s crazy.” George sputters out, but what’s crazy is that his mind can actually follow the logic, can supply weird bits that support the evidence- things both Dream and Clay have said.
“This whole thing is crazy.” Alex supplies, and George thinks he might actually cry. He wants to curl up and sob. He wants unstable British weather and the smell of homemade cookies. He wishes, not for the first time, that he’d never come to the academy at all.
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“It just- it doesn’t make sense. There are so many holes.” George hit his head against the whiteboard, and behind him Alex nursed his fifth cup of coffee, “Why would Clay threaten to dox you if you hurt me? And Dream- the stuff Dream said about him being bisexual and neurodivergent and his relationship with his par-”
George’s mind transported him back to that night when Clay’d gotten that text from his mother. He walked over to his laptop, not caring how Alex’s eyes trailed after him. He opened the web browser, rubbed his palms together in thought. Cheeks sucked in, lips pursed, George let fingers graze the keys as he tried to find the correct words.
Eradicating neurodivergency from child (quick, money no issue)
Horrible forums, and disgusting threads piled on top off each other- some claiming how “autism was a lie concocted by drugged up teens to get more time in exams”, others offering everything from diets to drugs to fix the “despicable disability”. George scoured a little further, and something caught his eye- odd and sort of out of place.
An advert for a resort to help enable kids to be their true selves. Seemingly an innocent cover. George put the name in the search engine, but barely found anything on it. A last ditch attempt, he searched on the private browser where he’d input the dark web software- it was a little sketchy but he needed to find out the truth either way.
Honestly, he hadn’t been expecting much- he certainly hadn’t been expecting this.
Behind his shoulder, Alex made a sound of disgust.
There was again the same facade on the surface, but a new discreet but popular thread was unearthed.
A reformatory centre to fix up problematic children, to return them to their “true” selves before it was too late. List of possible “problems” they “fixed” included romantic/sexual attraction to the same gender/sex, misinterpreting puberty to think the child needed a change in gender/sex, “autism, ADHD, dysparaxia, and other mental-” (a horrific slur), fixing depression and other falsehoods made by today’s attention hungry youth -
George didn’t want to read on, he’d gotten the jist- he was shaken to the core. He turned to Alex who looked just as queasy. He didn’t know how he found the words to speak, “Can you find someone to take down the site- I can do it temporarily but I don’t know how long it’ll hold?”
Alex nodded, silent and solemn. “It won’t- it won’t help people who know. This kind of shit is word of mouth. But I'll get it done.”
“Still.” George sighed, because he couldn’t do nothing. “Oh fuck .”
“What- what’s this got to do with anything?”
But you’ve been skipping your appointments to help with your little quirk, and honey I’m just worried for you.
We think you should take a term off school, go to that little resort I found for you as a lovely holiday, right?
You’ll come back as my darling boy, the one I recognise.
Dread settled in his stomach, upheaving his organs, nausea unfurling. “It’s a suspicion. Alex, I’m praying I’m wrong…”
Alex swallowed, and neither of them could speak for some time after.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Brown eyes fixed on the message sent hours ago, the one he had yet to reply to, from the person he couldn’t remove from his mind.
Was this all a game to Dream?
Who was Dream?
Was Dream Clay?
Lateral thinking puzzles had always thrilled him- in a book he’d once read, there had been a puzzle proposed. A merchant travels down a well travelled road and passes a large tree sporting large juicy pears. He is hungry but he passes it by without second glance. Why?
At first glance, he thought it had been because the merchant couldn’t reach the branches, or because the merchant was allergic to pears. Neither answer was satisfying to answer the puzzle, in which their was often the true answer hidden within- a contradiction.
Heartbroken, his eyes trailed down to see the answer given through the narrative, when his eyes snapped back to the original question.
If the road had been well travelled , why was the pear tree still laden with fruit. Surely there was an issue with the fruit.
Ticking off every item in a list could not surpass the satisfaction he had felt in that moment- pure bliss, wondrous ecstasy.
George’s mind had returned to that memory as he thought of a way to ensnare Dream, to somehow make him trip up, reveal his identity or reveal how he knew George. His brain worked away, as he reread Dream’s reply for the hundredth time.
dream ~ online, hiding
i like ur hair like this
it’s easier to pull
404 ~ online, hiding
i know its you clay
dont bs me
who are u
i want to kiss u again
but in /neg way
you said u loved him
did u mean it
George knows he doesn’t need to clarify further.
dream ~ online, hiding
do u want me to have?
404 ~ online, hiding
wtfs that supposed to mean
dream ~ online, hiding
i wonder what that spectacular mind is thinking rn
ive always admired ur mind
George swallowed because it felt like Dream was talking to him now, it felt more personal than ever before. Yes, it could be brushed away as his superior coding skills, but George couldn’t shake the fact there’s something more.
Before he could reply, Dream had sent another message.
dream ~ online, hiding
ur wondering who i am.
ur trying to figure out what to say to get me to trip up
…
ik ur reading this 404, ik ur biting your thumb knuckle, furrowing ur eyebrows
George removed his thumb from his lips. Blinked once.
Surely he should be scared- and his heart was definitely racing, but not quite from fear.
dream ~ online, hiding
i was surprised yknow
at the same time it made sense
because its always you
George pushed his head back into his pillow, resisted the urge- just barely- to scream. Who was Dream?
dream ~ online, hiding
angel i told you already
i know the ugliest parts of you
He grabbed his phone, stared at the words, palms sweaty.
404 ~ online, hiding
ur not him.
Dream didn’t reply then, not for a while, and George was frozen, physically incapable of moving, knowing he should probably ring Alex, knowing he should respond somehow, in some way. He couldn’t.
All he could do was stare at the ellipsis, stare at his ruin.
dream ~ online, hiding
no im not.
George exhaled, letting out terrors and anxiety that had been festering within him. He didn’t believe Dream, but he also couldn’t bear a confession at this moment. He looked outside at the night sky, the blanket of gemstones spread across it, looked back to his shaking phone, typed with trembling fingers.
404 ~ online, hiding
would you stargaze with me ? would you look at beautiful ghosts , their last words immortalised as cosmic dust and bright light, with me ? would you find it disturbingly beautiful ?
dream ~ online, hiding
i’d take your hand, and guide it to some tiny speck. pretend it’s neptune. neptune’s bewitching y’know? easily favorite planet-
blue, so so blue, wrapped in ice rings, and it rains diamonds…
and you’d fall in love with neptune the same way id
id fall in love with you
Breathing was a concept entirely foreign to George, and truly, how did anyone manage to do it all? Oxygen starved, mind fuzzy, he pressed his forehead against the cool glass of his phone.
He wasn’t surprised, and it didn’t make sense, and it had never been Clay.
Not from the moment he’d shown his face in their first year, so callous, so cold.
Not when Clay had endlessly taunted him, challenged him, pushed him to his limits- past his limits, reaching higher than he’d ever hoped to have.
Not when he’d knocked on his door, bloody and injured.
Not when he’d rescued him from the Autumn Equinox formal, no questions asked.
Not in the moment they first kissed, and George acquired a taste for certain copper.
Not even now, when he began to bridge the gap between his cybercriminal understudy and his lifelong rival.
Dream had been honest when he had said he wasn’t Clay Revaz. Because George began to think his Clay Revaz was fast disintegrating, might’ve never existed at all. His constant no longer constant.
He didn’t realise he’d started crying until he tasted salt.
Notes:
AHH! im so sorry this is SLOWBURN i know i know i promise things are lighting up next chapter but i think george esp needed time to just figure stuff out, to speculate to realise
and dream well, he's down bad, he's down bad for 404, down bad for george...the book george was referencing is called the poppy war (by r.f.kuang) and its the book series i would recommend everyone to read once before they die. it's so-
it's so... potent. anyway, if u check it out DEF check trigger/content warnings- theyre a mile longALSO when qnf were having their little "exploring sexuality but does it have to be with..." i was basically writing it and it seeemed familiar and then i realised it was basically alex's mum's powerpoint presentation from red white and royal blue. IF UR LOOKING FOR A FEEL GOOD LGBT ROMANCE def try red white royal blue such a banger!!
anyway ive rambled on for far too long and im really tired and fucked for chem tmrw help me :(
PLS LEAVE KUDOS PRETTY PLEASE FOR DREAM AND GEORGE ???
(and maybe a little comment bc they motivate me so much :) ooh tell me what pov ur watching mcc )
(and also subscribe because it's all coming to a close soon AHH !! but there is a bunch more angst left to go im sorry :// )goodnight bc its like one am for me <3
discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 18: chapter seventeen.
Summary:
"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰
𝘐𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩
𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴
𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦"-take me to church, hozier
Notes:
im /gen kinda proud of this chapter so please show it a bit of love even if you hate me by the end of it :)
here's twitter in case you wanna scream :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter seventeen.
Dawn cast a golden glow across his dorm, and George had not slept a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was that damned ceramic mask, all he heard was that honey , and as he relived the moment again and again, he grew a particular fondness to death by the sweet substance.
His mind was a tumble of conflicting emotions, and his heart hadn’t pulsated steadily since before the Equinox Formal. Lazily, he pushed a hand through his hair to brush it out of his vision. His mouth dried as he felt purple words whispered to the back oh his neck, i like your hair like this, easier to pull. A thousand rhopalocera fluttered in his chest cavity, wings skittering across cardiac tissue, antenna poking at his nerves.
Alex had called, several times, but George had ignored him, had been ignoring rationality and logic, in favour of a particular blonde with yellow eyes and a red, red touch.
This was what Cl-Dr- he had done to him, upturned the axiom in which he’d revolved his very life around, uprooted the pegged ordinances he had strived to abide by. He’d talked to Dream about Clay, had spent the night hours scrolling through their old conversations, matching the moment he’d been at his first party to the moment where Dr-Cl- he had told him about being annoyed that people were flirting with his crush.
Every neuron in his brain had been on the verge of imploding as Dream he read back on when Dream had been describing his crush, describing George .
There was a violent adoration behind the texts, intense hatred born from vehement desire. George thought back to the blonde kissing him, to the look in his eyes, and he hit his head against the headboard of his bed.
Enough.
This was meaningless torment, and George had had enough.
And though the sun had just cracked open an eye, and though birdsong still danced in the wind, and though he had no plan of action, no diced and sliced breakdown of what order to proceed in, George grabbed his keys and his fob.
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Madness had caused him to knock on the door, lunacy rooted his feet to the ground, credulity caused the treacherous organ in his rib cage to hasten at unprecedented speeds.
Footsteps, too fast approaching, too slow dallying, and then silence.
On the other side of wood, stood the man he’d built his entire life around. In a way, it was his own fault to give away so much power, for when the blonde had crumbled, as had he. Now they were both in ruins, a hopeless wreckage, tarnished and together.
He did not unlock the door for George, and George did not make a sound to ask him to.
“Go away.” Raspy, morning, honey, the type he’d drizzle on toast and devour. George did not know Clay Revaz, but knew that the man’s words were a falsehood, nonetheless. “What- why are you here?”
George pressed a hand against the door, drew it back, closed his eyes.
A moment of nothing, and wood swung open, hinges creaking, and George was scared to open his eyes.
“You love me.” Not a question posed, because it was not a question, because George and the blonde both knew the veracity of the statement, didn’t know what quite was happening.
George didn’t open his eyes because he knew if he saw him, if he faced him, if he unmasked Dream, once and for all, he could never go back.
And he wasn’t lying when he had promised to himself to always choose Alex over Dream. Circumstances change, but loyalties, true loyalties held fast. And Alex was loyal to a fault. And George was already faulted enough.
“You say that George, like it’s special, like it’s not torture. You say that, like it doesn’t physically hurt me to look at your face, to be in your presence. You are the root of all my problems, but I can’t even get myself to hate you for it. Do you realise the power you hold?” George could barely believe the words, all but direct confirmation of all his darkest hopes. It’s sickening, it’s heartache, it’s the promise of something you can never have, it’s unrequited affection, it’s unyielding desire .
His words were coloured pink , and George wanted to open his eyes and see the colour in its entirety.
“Yeah I love you, but you’re all the parts of me I hate, I love you, George, but you’re thunderstorms and you’re bad dreams, and you’re everything wrong with me.” He leaned into the words, a mere moth to the blonde’s self-destructive flames. His eyes were closed, but he was seeing flashing colours. His eyes were closed, but his head was dizzy.
“You’re destruction, you’re ruin.” It was like he was forcing out words he’d repeated a million times over to himself, and George’s eyes were closed but they burn with unshed tears and unspoken emotion. “You’ve ruined me, George.”
George found his mouth curving upwards at that, something so revoltingly unfunny, so despicably ironic about this situation. It’s the only reaction he’d given to the blonde’s words, and he didn’t know Dream at all, but he knew Clay would misinterpret it, retreat back behind a shield at the first rejection of his vulnerability.
It’s all George needed to finally muster the strength to move the muscles in his tongue, an agonising task, nonetheless, “I made a promise to myself, somewhere between our first encounter and the start of this year, took an oath I would ruin you and-”
George hesitated, seeing the forthcoming innuendo, but too late to change the trajectory of his sentence now, “and bring you to your knees.”
A drop of a pin would echo between them, a drop of a pin would be drowned out by the noise of their wordless screams. Silence weighed on them, a heavy blanket that muted sound, but did nothing to stop the rampant flames.
“Open your eyes.”
George could never really say no to him.
He’s a vision in that faded top, too tight for him, with sleepy aureate curls, and sweeping lashes. Perhaps better a marauder than a scholar, for he’d raided George’s mind and set up permanent camp, for he’d stolen George’s breath numerous times, for his presence alone was enough to stir up trouble.
“Can I come in?” George knew this was a temporary establishment of no-man's-land, a place to sort out conflict, to configure a treaty.
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Early sunrays have a way of affecting the cerebrum, George concluded, because the tether on his rationale was frayed and weak. Every glance at his waking nightmare, snapped another tendon on the link, tugged on a tendon within his heart.
He’s refused to look at the brunet- and it reminded George of earlier in the semester, when he’d revoked any conversation with him. It pained him then as it did now. He wanted to pick up a scalpel and dissect the blonde’s thoughts, feel the fleshy truth, unearth any hidden lesions he was not privy to.
Nothing felt right to say.
Which was inane because George could scream- had screamed, and fought with Clay, had verbally wrestled with him a thousand times over, and it had felt like the most apt thing ever. They had kissed, studied, argued- Clay Revaz had shown up to his house at 2AM in the bloody night and it felt more fitting than this.
Beams of amber daybreak danced in the living room with little regard for their concerns. They tickled the top of the blonde’s nose, cavorted across the nose bridge, unveiling a glitter of hidden secrets.
A constellation of freckles.
“Why are you- smiling like that?” Nectar words catching him off guard.
“Your freckles are like anti-stars, because they only show up in the presence of the sun, and stars only show up in the absence of it.” George loved stars, but they were nothing compared to those dusted freckles. “Or a thousand tiny anti-moons.”
“Not anti-moons.” He’d turned to face George now, quasidisappointment buttered across his expression, “We can only see the moon because of reflected light from the sun- so if there was an absence of the sun, there’d be no moon.”
George grinned, because he wasn’t an idiot, because he’d embedded the afterthought as something he knew Clay would counter, natural instinct at this point. He knew they needed a platform first, to stabilise them, before it all blew up. Still, his reply was so on brand of him, that George wanted to bury his face in his hands smiling.
Though not a part of him wanted to skirt away from this easy flow, he knew it was time. “Who gave you those bruises, Revaz?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I saw the texts from your mother the night before your birthday.” George held out on saying because I’m so worried for you, because you’re Dream, because-
“Mmm. It’s a bit textbook, isn’t it?” They both knew he was referring to the pellucid manipulation. “I bet that’s what you thought, gosh, it’s so easy to see, it’s so transparent. But George, imagine- it’s at the point I know it’s all insincere, know it’s disingenuous, and yet I’m desperate for it. Do you know the way I just- my hopes skyrocket when she messages me, and that’s the thing with having such high hopes,”
Acerbic eye contact, following words coated with double meaning, “The harder, higher you hope, the more distance there is to fall. I’m sure if you graphed it out, the bone evisceration would be exponential.”
Depending on whether you reach terminal velocity, George’s mind instantly supplied, but he didn’t dare relay the thought. This wasn’t just a thought experiment, this was Clay- Dream walking on a tightrope that decayed a little further with every step.
“My parents don’t beat me, George. If that’s what you’re wondering.” He sighed, absently pawed on the side of his chest that had received the worst thrashing. “They’re too sophisticated for that.”
“But you didn’t fight back.”
“ You didn’t fight back.” Eyebrows arched, referring to Morgan’s goodbye. George resists, tells him not to change the subject, and the blonde settles saying it’s a big discussion point for right after.
“I didn’t fight back, at first, over the summer, because I thought they were right. Because I thought it was my own fault I was attracted to you, and it was unnatural and wrong.” His eyes are downcast, picking at the material on the sofa. “My parents thought it was to do with my ADHD, because apparently having attention-deficit disorder makes you want to make out with boys.”
“Bisexual and neurodivergent,” George echoed Dream’s text from what seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Mhm. Dream child, I know.” He laughed and there was no starfall, no seafoam, only cobwebs and desolation.
“Do you still think it’s wrong? You said you hated yourself for it, wished you were straight.” George feared the answer, reckoned it would fracture him to learn their intimacy had been a mistake. George could understand if it had been about power, because it made sense, because at least then, it had been deliberate.
“If, fuck , if it was wrong,” He was looking up at the ceiling, right leg bouncing, breathing uneven, “then you wouldn’t fit so perfectly into my arms, would you Georgie ?”
George shivered at the words, aching for the blonde to reel him in, to prove their verity. For all claims were baseless without ample evidence.
“If kissing your lips,” He carried on, “was immoral, if you’re my test George, if you’re temptation, I’ve failed. Let my parents’ God send me to hell, as long as I get to keep tasting you, keep tasting heaven.”
George’s eyes were fixed on parted lips, and he fought to put together a coherent reply, “You- you read too many romance novels.”
A chuckle, and it’s a spray of seafoam, and it replenished the brunet, “You’ve said that to me before, when I told 404- told you, that you were going to be my undoing.”
“Did you just, memorise our texts or-?” George enjoyed how his comment lightened the blonde’s face, cleared out thunderclouds gathering.
“What about the second time?” George looked away, unable to watch as the other’s face inevitably fell.
“I’ll tell you one day.”
George made whining noise, opened his mouth to refute, but closed it unsure of how hard he should push.
“That’s unfair, don’t give me that look.” A tired sigh, “C’mere, you’re so far away.”
George let the blonde clasp his wrist, and pull him closer, let himself be surrounded by vanilla. Quiet words fell from lips now above his head, “How’s your back, angel?”
George angled his face up, hoped the pounding of his heart was inaudible, “Angel? No charity case , you gonna just stop being a dick like that?”
“Tsk. Never, it’s fun to watch you get all bothered.” That typical Clay taunt seeping into his voice now, but then George felt the energy change, a twist for the melancholic, “Plus, charity case doesn’t make much sense anymore. Maybe it’s your turn to use it on me.”
George rolled his eyes, “You’re so dramatic. Are you going to get the entire class to pick on you next?”
“I don’t care what any of them do.” He scoffed, “But yeah, I’m glad to be out of there in some ways, because with the money, with their support came invisible ties. Invisible ties that wrapped around my neck cutting off my circulation for so long, but now it feels like I can finally breathe again.”
“Oh my gosh, your arguments make so much sense.” George shook his head, “I thought your preference for Wuthering Heights and the Romantics was just because I enjoyed Neoclassicism and you wanted to go against me, but in reality, you’re just a hopeless romantic.”
“I am not a hopeless romantic.”
“You’re hopeless.” George countered, but the blonde shook his head.
“Stop trying to erase my original question. How’s your back?”
“It is fine .” George leaned closer, wanting to bury his face in his shoulder.
“It is not fine- ” George tugged down the faded shirt, letting their faces near, letting their lips rest just a heartbeat away from each other. To give the idiot credit, it was an awfully effective tactic to get someone to shut up.
George closed his eyes, waited to taste red warmth, to taste rousing elation, taste his rival.
An awkward few moments after, George opened them to find him pulled back, colour on his cheek. “What?”
“You should go.”
“I should’ve never come. I’m here now, kiss me.” George didn’t want to sound desperate, but really, they’d made out at many more inopportune moments.
“Can you just go. Please.”
“What- Clay?”
“I’m going to take a shower. If you’re hungry, kitchen’s yours, but you know your way to the exit after.”
“Dream?” George’s eyes were wide with confusion, his words dipped in hurt, but the blonde was stubborn, had fixed his mind and wasn’t about to change it. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You can tell Big Q- Alex- I’m sorry if you want. If it helps ease any issues between the two of you.” He stood up, walked to the edge of the room.
“Are you?”
Dream chuckled at that, “No, angel. I’m not sorry.”
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George knew you never appreciated things until they were taken from you, he'd read into that aspect of human psychology because it had fascinated him. Previously he'd grouped it in with nostalgia, like missing home, in the way he missed England. But Dream had been ripped away from George with no time for the brunet to recover, vanished like he'd never been there. Cruel, for once he'd have hoped for Clay to disappear, and now all he craved was a touch from the boy, to converse further, to understand this messy situation.
In the days that followed, George didn’t see Dream, not a glance of him in a lesson, not a word from him over text. George avoided Alex like the plague, spare from dropping maths notes, and strained greetings. George didn’t want to lose either of them yet, didn’t have an outlet to go to. His previous choice had been-
George ground his teeth in frustration at the thought of that pseudo.
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george
hi karl
do u have sapnaps number?
karl
george! hi :) i heard morgan broke up with u, hope ur okay :/
always here if u need to talk
but um just saying ik sapnaps like super funny and awesome and i guess attractive , i dont think you should rebound with him if like thats what ur thinking
not that *i* care per say haha
lol
george
thank you i think
uh yeah lmao not planning to get with him
sounds like you should though???
karl
why not? there’s nothing wrong with him? he’s a fine specimen if i say so myself from the pov of his best friend and best friend only.
he’s can crack anyone up and the way he sings is so charming
there’s nothing wrong with sapnap
george
wtf is going on
yeah totally! can i have his number please
karl
by “yeah totally” did you mean-
George swiped out of the conversation with Karl, and debated about the ethics of his following plan for a solid moment before deciding he didn’t particularly care. He had access to Alex’s database, and pulled out information regarding user Sapnap . It, of course, showed him as blacklisted and didn’t have a contact number, but with some fiddling, George accessed the IP address. A few of his builds let him through his wifi system, and find the particulars of his phone. The sim attached had a number linked to it, and the encryption to find the number was a piece of cake compared to the shit clients had asked him to do.
It was a rough job, probably traceable back to him, but George didn’t have it in him to clean up the edges- was on edge enough already.
george
hi sapnap. this is george, karl’s friend and clay’s classmate.
you met me a couple of times if u remember haha
sapnap (hopefully)
ik who u are george…
george
so terribly astute of you.
um i was just wondering if youve had a visit from clay recently because hes disappeared and we need to do our um english project
sapnap (definitely)
generally when people disappear, they don’t want to be found
george
im not asking for your generic insights into life and human behaviour
im asking if clays with you
sapnap (remember to delete)
he told me youd message me. he told me to instantly block u.
george
yes or no. two or three fucking characters.
no need for the dramatics
sapnap (remember to block)
yeah he’s w me
no sweat
George wondered how someone could be so fist-to-face inviting over text.
sapnap (remember to block)
bro where tf are u. ur loverboy msged me fuckign annoying little cunt and now hes got me worried.
just call me yh
george
…
sapnap (...)
…
Panic surged within George, and he rushed to grab his fob and keys, heading to the door. He swung it open to reveal a familiar beanie, and he jumped back at the shock. Alex’s fist was raised as if about to knock, and he too, was surprised by George. A week ago, they would have laughed until their bellies hurt.
All that remained now, was painful silence, stretching and searing, like salt on open wounds.
“Alex-” George started, because he missed Alex, missed his humour and his quips, missed his presence. He didn’t have an excuse for keeping him at bay, spare for wanting to grip onto those memories for longer.
“Do you have feelings for Dream?”
“What?” George backed up a little, the words catching him by surprise.
“If our friendship was worth anything, George, you’ll just answer me. Do you have feelings for Dream?” Torment tinged Alex’s words, grappling George’s emotions, making him feel weak. Guilt burdened down on him, as self-loathing laced its sanguinary vines across his mind, restless and incapacitating.
“ Alex ,” George hadn’t thought of a way to explain everything to him yet, and now he’d made a mess of something good.
“Oh.” Alex nodded, almost to himself, “Oh. So you’ve chosen him then…”
“Alex-”
“No, no. I understand.” Alex backed up a little, then furrowed his eyebrows, “No. Wait, actually I don’t. I understand you making out with him, I understand sexual tension. What I don’t get is you having fucking feelings for the guy who has continually fucked with both our heads. He threated to dox me George, threatened to imprison me. George, you should have seen yourself that day he said your name. Imagine that but a million times worse, because he has a soft spot for you, maybe. He’s got nothing but spite for me. And I expected you to at least have the courtesy of-”
“Alex, please.” George shoved in, because he couldn’t bear the rain of arrows spiked with repugnance showering down from his best friend’s mouth. “Alex, I swear, when I knocked on his door, I told myself I would choose you over him, I had it set in my mind.”
“Who’s door?” Alex shook his head, scrunched up his nose, “When- I- what?”
“Clay-”
“Oh so it is fuckin’ Revaz, then. Thanks for the heads.” Alex scoffed, looked at his hands like he wanted to use them to strangle Dream, George, and then himself.
“I don’t want to lose-”
“Yeah, you don’t want to lose me, George. So you keep saying, and for someone with such an impressive IQ, you’d figure they’d know how to stop making the same mistakes. You don’t want to lose me, and yet I still keep getting hurt.” It’s deserved, George knew, long deserved, and yet it didn’t hurt any less.
“It looks like you were in a rush,” Alex scoped George’s ensemble, giving him a small smile that embedded into George’s heart like a the pin of a grenade, “I don’t want to make you late.”
“I-” It’s nothing, come in, let’s talk…
“It’s Dream isn’t it? That’s why you’re in such a hurry.” George doesn’t say anything, and Alex laughs, setting the grenade off, letting every muscle in George’s body turn to jelly. It’s unbelievable, how guilt can cripple, how a single laugh can make you want to wish you were never born.
It was in part, George’s fault for every problem Alex had encountered ever since joining. Whereas Alex had been his solution, he’d been the issue.
Give them a bouquet of roses, and Alex would be the petals, and George would be the thorns.
“You’re no better than the rest of these shallow, self-obsessed children. You’re the same but broke, and you let your lack of money be the excuse for every-fucking-thing.” Alex couldn’t even look George in the face, and the latter knew that these words had been simmering inside him for a week at the least, probably had thought them for a lot longer.
George was so sorry, wished he could revoke his feelings, wished he had never spoken to Dream. In another world, Alex and him would have met when they were younger, and become friends without the hanging sword of any externalities.
Were his words true? George didn’t want to let them linger for too long, because some nights, laying awake in bed, he had wondered what truly separated him from his peers bar finances. He’d always agreed that money was the root of all evil, but here he was across a multi-millionaire, with a hundred thousand times bigger bank account than George, and a hundred thousand times bigger heart. Alex was one of the most genuine people he had met, and he operated a huge business on the dark web, so that was saying something.
George couldn’t help but sink to his knees, the tears in free fall.
“Don’t- ugh, don’t cry, George.” Alex sighed, kneeling down to be on his level. “Sorry, okay, maybe that last part was a bit too much, you’re not a bad person. I just don’t think we should be friends anymore, and I’m transferring from this school anyway.”
“What?” George’s head shot up to meet Alex’s careful expression.
“Yeah, and, fuck, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this but, for what I thought we had, I’ll tell you. When I told the head I was dropping out, he was like another one, and I asked who else and he said Clay. So, just, yeah.” George hadn’t thought he could sink any lower into the ground, but he was past bedrock now, floating in the void beyond- empty, reeling, scared.
“And,” Alex hesitated, eyes softening for just a second to look at George, “And don’t ever talk to Morgan, again.”
It was the genuine concern, even after all this, in Alex’s voice that was the final straw on the camel’s back. Alex walked away, and George raced back into bed, under duvet covers, shivering, shaking, crying, praying that he’d go to sleep and simply not wake up.
What had he done to Alex- broken trust to someone who'd only shown unwavering loyalty and almost lost him his entire career?
What had he caused Dream to suffer- through a sexuality crisis that lead to his parents sending him to who knows where and ending up with gnarly bruises?
If he hadn’t ever existed they’d both be better off.
Notes:
"im sorry for disappointing you" DREAM STFU I LOVE YOU W ALL MY HEART!! sorry i had to get it out, because he seemed so sad and i wish i cld hug him so bad
anyway oh this chapter and next chapter so so hard to write and i really tried with both of them... you'll get what i mean in a few days haha :) um argh just want to hug wcesnty!george so bad, my darling :(
hoped you guys liked my attempt at comic relief before depression times in middle of chap oop
anywayy
comments im such a slut for them (real), like even if u hated a part (or the whole story) tell me (my degradation kink thriving xx) but EQUALLY if you loved it LET ME KNOW (my praise knk thriving xx)
kudos PLEASE because they're actually so hot of you
subscribe because there's going to be so many more emotional rollercoasters coming up u are just not ready!! and then some heated scenes maybe ? maybe not ? maybe dream's just gone forever now. who knows except me and future you but only if you subscribe!love you guys (unless ur name starts with m and ur bad at battleships) <33
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Chapter 19: chapter eighteen.
Summary:
" 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧
𝘈 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 "- illicit affairs, taylor swift
Notes:
GUYS THERE'S FANART FOR THIS FIC! i love andy and their artwork so much check them out RIGHT NOW. it's a comic of that scene you know like dream teaching george colours "this is red, this is pink" etc. ANYWAY PLS SHOW IT LOVE BC IT'S THE BEST THING EVER?? wcesnty!dnf coming to life in REAL TEARS!!
DNF FANART FOR THIS FIC!!!
um so the first part of this is a huge focus on gnf's character, how it's developing, i think it's so interesting to see how he's processing everything and just being in his mind is so cool! also just a reminder, this is third person pov yes, but there's a lot of indirect discourse, LOTS OF BIAS, i (omniscient narrator) am not like thinking half this shit george is lmao anyway ENJOY
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter eighteen.
Pretending, George found, was his new hobby. It was unfathomably easy- much easier than mechanics homework, or a computer science essay, or dealing with reality. George pretended he had no problems, and that he was okay, and that staying in bed the past week was normal and healthy.
George learned that if you pretended hard enough, you’d almost believe it to be real. The first day was a mountain of guilt, until he used the hammer of pretence to break it into a million insurmountable pieces. The following days were easier because, George was no longer the George incapable at making friends, and worse at keeping them. George was no longer easily swayed and confused by frightening blue eyes that flickered between endearing kindness and biting ire. George was simply a boy in his bed entertained by his phone and the shadows on the ceiling.
That was the inevitable truth about life; it went on.
It passed days of giddy glee and grade As, technicolour kisses and laughing so hard your belly hurt.
It passed days of toil, of tears, of the feeling a part of you had been ripped out, your internal organs decaying at an exponential rate.
George knew this fundamental truth, had accepted it, was okay with it, in fact turned to this pillar in his time of need, because it would pass like everything did.
He hadn’t realised, however, that sometimes life moved on, and left you behind.
Cowering in the shadows of old memories, blanketed underneath a duvet of wistful retrospection, between the sanguinity of what could have been and the misery of what was. It was against everything he had stood for, this wallowing and self-pity, he had been a strong believer of doing exactly what he needed to get what he wanted- but everything he wanted had fallen apart at the seams.
The purpose of his life for years- to bring down Clay Revaz had wilted- much like the bouquet of flowers Morgan had gotten him, now lying there on the little table- an apt allusion for his flourishing life now putrescent.
George had studied the Kübler-Ross Grief cycle, in fact had written a few essays analysing it in relation to prominent literature figures. He didn’t know quite what he was grieving, bar perhaps the man he thought himself to be, but it seemed to apply to him nonetheless. He knew his pretence was denial, for as much as he longed to be that put-together, resilient George with friends galore, in reality he was not. He knew soon it would treacle to anger.
Would his anger be directed to himself? To Alex? To Dream?
Perhaps he’d settle to be angry at the world, at the universe for steering his life down this direction. Perhaps he’d delude himself that the universe was conspiring against him, as if the universe cared for its residents, like humans cared for the microbes in the air around them.
He’d never found it hard to stay motivated, hard to get up in the morning and go to lessons. He wondered if his teacher thanked their deities with silent prayer every time he didn’t walk in to their lessons- he wondered if they felt the nature of their class shift. He wondered if they noticed his absence at all.
The two people who would have definitely noticed his lack of attendance would’ve been Alex and Clay, and both of them he’d driven away. Driven away to the point they were leaving the academy.
Still there was a bitterness within him for them for doing so, for having the means to be able to move out of this school. Time and time again, George had been pushed to the brink, to the point where every muscle in his body screamed for him to leave, and yet the invisible manacles of his scholarship tied him to this school. Tied him to his rivalry.
It hurt to think of his beanie-enclad friend, because all the buzz of every good moment was drowned out by the sound of their last encounter, the sound of Alex’s face of disappointment, because Alex understood him, sympathised- but Alex had the self-respect for himself to know when to cut a friend off.
George clung to things until they were taken away from him.
He hung on to his academic feud with the blonde tightly, pulling the rope to his side in their tug-of-war, even through cuts on his hands, through friction burns on his fingers, through lactic-acid build up in his calves. So when Clay had let go, of course he went flying back.
He hung onto Morgan for nothing more than the few acts of kindness and hollow compliments, and hung on past the first bruise on his arm, and the bruise on his heart when Morgan kissed him with the wrong kind of resentment, and hung on past the soiled artwork crafted onto his back. Even past all of that, Morgan was the first to leave.
George craved validation, from teachers- through his grades rather than their words, from people around him- needed them to show him with attention, even if it was negative, because his mind could twist it into something prettier.
It was a torturous thing for him to be as alone as he was, when he was built to be part of a set, built for camaraderie and conversation. It was torture and George could do nothing but pretend.
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His feed on the social media apps he was cycling through began getting so repetitive that it made him want to throw his phone across the room. He hadn’t eaten enough in too long, and he had slept too much, and he wanted to get out of his stupid bed, but couldn’t bring himself to remove the damned covers. He pulled down the page to refresh it, and nothing new popped up, and there was no short burst of dopamine released to satiate his brain.
George rolled over, face in pillow.
It hurt him to be so unproductive, to be wasting time like this, and yet he couldn’t find it in him to actually do anything. Nondescript music hummed from his phone, bland in the way he thought himself to be, for he tried so hard to be anything more than mediocre and still had fallen into the pits of nonention.
His phone buzzed, and he looked at the notification, half hoping it to be a message Alex, half dreading it to be an email from the school. It was neither.
Morgan
hey doll :/
shame we left it on such bad terms…but i forgive you, mistakes happen i guess and ur too pretty to stay mad at
there’s a little art gallery my friend’s hosting tn, and they asked me to bring a date
you down? i miss u
George slammed the back of his head against the headboard of his bed.
George
LEAVE ME ALONE
go away
please please stop messaging me
do you really miss me
wtf morgan
you fucking hurt me
Morgan
me? hurt you? ur joking.
george you were fucking another guy whilst we were dating
after i told you what my ex put me through
if i was a little rough whilst catching you on our date talking to him, is that not understandable? you certainly just went along with it. like deep down you knew u deserved it.
you broke my heart george and im still here willing to give u another chance when no one in my position would.
George went off their messages, heart pounding, head spinning. There was an incomprehensible way, Morgan’s messages managed to make his skin crawl, because he found himself thinking they made sense.
Even though he hadn’t kissed Clay after Morgan and him were exclusive, even though there was no excuse for the bruises- but even those… Did George fight back, tell him to stop? He couldn’t quite remember, had blocked out that memory enough to have let it fade. Did George secretly think he deserved it?
im still willing to give you another chance when no one in my position would
There was definitely truth in that. Every inch of his current situation, from missing school, to being glued to his bed showcased that. He wasn’t going to go with Morgan, obviously- he wasn’t stupid, but he’d be lying to himself if a part of him didn’t sort of want to.
There was a rush of knocks on his door, causing him to jump- bolt upright. This was definitely the school, kicking him out for not upholding his terms of the scholarship.
He got up, glanced at the mirror, and tried to fix his hair- too late to change into nicer clothes than his old sweatpants and Clay’s balenciaga sweatshirt. Excuses were on the tip of his tongue as he opened the door.
“George.” Alex’s voice was a punch to the gut, and he tried not to double over. He blinked at his best friend, blinked at Sapnap stood next to him, mild panic in his eyes. George tried to speak, but he was still processing Alex at his door. There was something in Alex’s eyes, an unspoken understanding, that George couldn’t really figure out.
“You’re still here.” A question in his tone, another glace to Sapnap, who’s tapping his foot, impatience evident. He wondered if this was a sick nightmare, taunting him with what he no longer had.
“I was- I was leaving, literally today, and I see Nick, or Sapnap, who by the way started this whole blacklist thing, because he’s an idiot.” Alex rambled, and George noticed how Sapnap took the words instead of refuting and arguing as if it would take time that he didn’t have. “Yeah, and he’s freaking out, on a call with, uh, Karl, and I hear your name, so I ask him, oh what’s going on? He needs to find you, so I offer to take him to your dorm. It was an awkward journey but uh, now we’re here.”
George knew there was something else, could tell through Alex’s words. He turned to Sapnap, who couldn’t quite meet his eyes. He recalls their last texts, of his panic message to Dream, to George rushing to the door, and his consequent talk with Alex.
“We need to go.” Sapnap’s words were directed towards George. “Thanks Quackity, bye.”
“I’m not leaving.” Alex gave Sapnap a pointed look, and there was a heated exchange between frustrated looks. George hated being outside this bubble of knowledge.
“What is going on?” An open question, and Sapnap ground his teeth, refusing to speak in Alex’s presence, and Alex- George didn’t know why he was so adamant, rooting his feet to the floor outside George’s door.
“I know your priority is Dream.” Alex hissed towards Sapnap, and even the mention of that name sent sparks flying across George’s skin, “But you’re going to dump this onto George, and he’s not going to be able to handle it.”
Sapnap scoffed, “What do you care? You had bags in hand, ready to leave this place. Leave George.”
“That doesn’t mean I want him to suffer through this. He’s going to blame himself.”
“I am right here.” George intervened, “Sapnap what the fuck’s going on?”
Sapnap cut a look to Alex, who rolled his eyes. “Fine. Go in his room, and once you’re done-”
“There’s no time for that, I’m telling him on the way.”
“He’ll need a minute to himself-”
“Let’s ask him, shall we?” Sapnap turned to the brunet, who was watching the exchange as dread unfolded his stomach. “George would you rather Dream sign away his fucking soul, or have a minute to process this information- a minute that would-”
“Oh fuck you, that’s unfair.” Alex tried to speak over Sapnap but he kept on going.
“A minute that would potentially stop him making the worst decision of his life.”
George rushed to grab his keys and wear shoes.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Alex and Sapnap bickered constantly to the taxi, whilst they were in the taxi, arguing for what George needed and what Dream needed. Sapnap piped in with how much Dream had helped him throughout his life, and Alex had shut him down with something or the other about doing things for people because you felt like you owed them. George had stayed quiet, too scared to ask Sapnap to explain what he’d meant by Dream signing his life away, too scared to ask Alex why he was still here, why he was supporting George.
It felt shaky, this situation, unstable, but George had grown accustomed to this new unsteady lifestyle. Secretly, George was just glad Alex was here.
He tried not to let his thoughts wonder, tried to keep them contained within this taxi, in fear they’d stray to Dream and what idiotic decisions the blonde had now made. In debates, Clay’s emotions led him, a frightening advantage on the whole- having that passion and zest behind words, but it meant he could get carried away, a subtle weakness not many could utilise. George could, of course.
In their old encounters, too, emotion had sparked Dream to do the many things he had done. If emotion had had its way with Dream now, taking rein of his actions, George didn’t know what to expect. He knew why Sapnap had come here, why he believed George could reason with Dream, but he knew in his heart, that Dream could, would say no to him especially if it was matters of his own self-destruction.
He snuck a look to Alex sniping a comment back to Sapnap, and it brought back the downpour of acid he’d thrown at George. Some part of Alex cared for him, yes, a larger part of Alex, had thought George was no better than the shallow boys he’d grown up with.
There was a sudden silence, and George looked up, not having paid attention to the last thread of their conversation, not knowing why alarm was painted across Alex’s face, and confusion across Sapnap’s.
“What?” He faced Alex, who simply swallowed, his mouth parting in discomfort.
“I don’t like him at all George, but he doesn’t- he can’t, but you can’t-” Alex looked back to Sapnap, back to George, “You can’t let his parents take him away to the resort .”
George’s stomach dropped then, queasiness plaguing his insides. “W- what ?”
“What’s going on?” Sapnap jumped in, anxiety spilling into his words. “Seriously, George what? He just told me he’s going with his parents- and I’m sure you realise that can’t be good, you know that George because last time he visited them, I had to drive to your dorm for six hours to find him in that fucking state. So that’s shit, but-”
The taxi slowed outside Dream’s old penthouse.
“Why are we here ?” George scowled.
“Because I have his find my phone and it’s here.” Sapnap replied, exasperated, “Now, explain-”
“No time.” George rushed out, letting the other two trail behind.
The man at the lobby recognised George as soon as he walked in, his nose wrinkling in distaste. George did not have time to waste on the receptionist’s bullshit, he needed to talk to Dream, and he needed to talk to him now.
“You.” Words dripping pompous disrelish, and George fought a losing battle to roll his eyes.
“Clay Revaz.” He bit back, “Now.”
“Christ, kid. He fucking moved out.”
“Maybe but he’s here now.”
“Maybe he is. Can’t give out that information to just anyone. But uh, something could you know loosen my tongue.” He waggled his eyebrows. Behind him, he noticed Sapnap’s frustrated sigh, his reach to his pocket for his wallet.
“Listen here, you bottom-feeding bastard, I can have your entire digital footprint sent to your boss, to your partner in less than three minutes. I can have your credit card information sold to the highest bidder in less than that. So, Roy Fletcher, give me the keycard for wherever Clay is right now.”
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Moments later, in the elevator up, penthouse keycard in George’s hand, there was a stifling silence, the three mulling over what they were about to witness and George’s bout of aggression.
“Why did you both get so freaked out when I mention he said he was going to a resort with his parents? Over the resort bit rather than the parents bit?” Sapnap asked, and neither of the other two replied.
Alex reached out and held George’s wrist, and George hadn’t realised his hands had been shaking so violently until he looked down.
“ Guys , c’mon. He’s basically my brother , please.” Sapnap pushed further, but George didn’t know how to explain. A few hours ago, he had been under his duvet, in his castle of pretence, and now he was next to Alex, about to see Dream.
It still felt so unreal.
And now he had to discuss this with Dream, to stop him from whatever had possessed him in thinking that killing a huge part of himself was okay, or whatever was going on.
A quick succession of knocks on the blonde’s door, and there was no response. He peered back at Sapnap, stress in his eyes, at Alex, conflict clear on his face, and took out the keycard, inhaled, exhaled.
He stepped in, shut the door behind him.
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“Dream.” George called out, voice shaking no matter how hard he tried to keep it level. Again, no response, so he wandered further in. Even though this penthouse had been Dream’s home so much longer than his shared childhood home with Sapnap, it didn’t radiate his presence the same way the other place did.
Though the receptionist had told him last time, this place had been sold, it didn’t look like it- still covered in bits of Clay all around. The interior was modern yet decadent, minimal yet exhumed money. It was cutting and simple and sharp, like Clay and so unlike him all at once. He opened a door, and heard the shower running, and he realised that’s why the blonde hadn’t heard the knocks nor his call. George scanned the room- Clay’s bedroom , and in the centre Clay’s bed .
He swallowed once.
The atmosphere reflected him better than the living room, at least, and George went over to his bedside table, decided to delve in. Clay hadn’t seemed to have much of his stuff at his other place, and it must’ve been weird to have all your possessions just out of reach, free for hostile opponents to dig through.
If he had no qualms about rummaging through Clay’s things- for he was sure Clay would do the same to his room, his parents would have surely done worse. There were headphones, pens, giftcards, and a few worn children’s books on something to do with Greek mythology. George reckoned he’d seen the movie adaptation of them once with his sister back in England. Nothing unexpected.
He opened the second drawer, a kindle with a cracked screen protector, some minecraft figurines, and a little pocket book. He picked up, leafed through the pocket book, and it was some random ongoing thing to do with Sapnap- an inside joke, he presumed. He placed it back, and opened the third.
There was a polaroid camera, and a bunch of developed films beside it. Curious, he picked them up- most of Patches, adorable and mewling, and some of him and Sapnap when they were younger and some of random scenery and wildlife. George chuckled, shaking his head. The polaroid camera had unlocked a memory he had forgotten from when they were younger and in the library, and he’d felt eyes on him, so he had turned around to see Clay with his camera pointing it at him.
He’d gotten all flushed when George had angrily stomped over asking why he was taking pictures. He said it was because George had looked particularly ugly that day, and he wanted to show the picture to him to make fun of him. George had shoved him and walked away.
Looking back now-
George’s cheeks warmed.
He wondered where that one had gone.
“George?” Honey.
He’d been so caught up in the random memory, he must’ve not heard the door open, and he twisted round to face Dream, polaroid pictures in hand, mumbling a poorly stitched together excuse, when suddenly, sound stopped coming out of his mouth.
Dream was shirtless. Everything-less, to be more precise, the limit of his modesty being the towel hanging low from his hips. His torso was slick, defining each muscle of his lean stature, his straw hair, was pushed back, darkened by water. George’s mouth felt too dry all of a sudden, and he longed for a drink.
“George,” Dream’s voice went a little high, dragging George’s vision from the v-shape cut across his waist, to his fazed face, flushed cheeks, parted, full lips- looking almost embarrassed. George didn’t see why he’d be ashamed when George was the one rifling through drawers. It took him, then, a few seconds to remember everything, remember why he was here, and that was a sobering realisation, sucking out every needy thought from George’s body. Most of them, at least.
“What the fuck’s up with you?” George stood up, crossed his arms, because it was easy to be angry with Clay, easy to shout and argue- he’d spent a lot of his life doing it.
Sensing the shift in mood, Dream’s face blanked, a mask of stoicness upon it. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t act stupid. Why are you here?”
“This is my room. Why are you here?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, what are you thinking, going back to your parents?” George huffed.
“I’m sorry for wanting my parents' attention, and for them to look at me with anything but horror in their eyes, George. I know, I’m a horrible person.” Clay shook his head, grabbing clothes set aside. Tragically, he wore them, piece by piece. “Doesn’t concern you. Go away now.”
“So that’s why your going to the resort then? You want your parents to love the version of you who is barely you, is leached of all his-”
“What the fuck do you know about the resort , charity case?” Dream pulled a top over his head, a dull yellow colour. Out of the corner of his eye, George noticed a line of suitcases, packed and ready. He baulked.
“I- Dream . It’s not wrong to be attracted to guys, you told me that. You said that you’d- you’d- the whole thing about kissing me and it being worth-”
“Ugh, listen to yourself. You sound pathetic.” Dream rolled his eyes. George tried his best not to let the words affect him, because Dream’s confession is new and confusing, and for him to pull it back, to speak the way he did, made George want to shrink back.
“Pathetic is deluding yourself that you’re straight in order to fit into their mould. And maybe you could, I guess, pretend to be straight, but how are you going to magic away the ADHD, huh, Dream?”
“Stop calling me Dream. Can you please-”
“The second time.” George interrupted, watching, hating , the way Dream’s hand subconsciously went to the part of his chest where the worst of the wounds had been. “Sapnap told me the second time was after you visited your parents-”
“They don’t beat me, c’mon I told you this. I wasn’t lying.”
“I’m not saying you were. I just- you’re going to them now, and if like, one night could do that to you. Please, Dream, don’t be stupid , don’t kill yourself for them.”
“Oh shut up, George. Like you know what it’s like to have your mother not want to look you in the face after you tell her, oh I like guys. Like you know what it’s like to have your dad drinking, asking where the fuck he went wrong in raising me, blaming himself- but indirectly me, for my shortcomings. My sister is sick of them fighting over me, and why should she suffer when I’m the fucked up one? It’s not that deep, I’ll just go-”
“You’re not going.”
“I am going. I’m not ruining my family.”
“What changed?” George referred to the time between the last they’d seen each other and this moment.
“Nothing changed. That was me speaking from my heart, because in an ideal world George,” Dream’s eyes roamed George, “In an ideal world, I’d fuck you till you saw those stars you’re so fucking obsessed with.”
George wanted to cry.
“This isn’t fucking fair Dream. You say this stuff. You kiss me. You show me colours that I can’t see with anyone else.” George screamed out, gasping in exasperation, “And now you plan to fucking leave. You can’t just leave.”
“But, alas.” Dream laughed. “Alas, I’m going to hell whilst I live, and I’m going to hell once I die.”
“ Dream .”
“Alright, this has been painful, to be honest George. I liked our last meeting, it was a fitting goodbye, and this is beneath us, really . Either way, I love you- you remember that, Georgie, and goodbye-”
“I’m meeting Morgan.” George didn’t know why it slipped out, it couldn’t be further from the truth, but Dream’s hands were on the handle of his suitcase, and he needs to stop him, needs to just get him to listen to him.
“That’s not funny.”
“And I’m not joking, you can check our messages.” George tossed his phone across, which Dream caught in a single hand. Dream scanned over the recent messages, face souring.
“Oh c’mon, you’re not going.”
“You don’t know that. If you leave now, I’ll just go and meet him.” It was cruel and manipulative and mean, and it was a lie, and they both knew it, but they both knew Dream would never risk it, either.
Dream weighed his options, because the threat had no expiry date, a clever trap half-configured by George, poorly executed but seemingly working.
Dream sighed, typed out a reply, shaking his head, mumbled. “Things I do for you.”
George got up, looked at the text sent, can’t wait to see you , and his face paled. “I-I-”
His mind went back to the bathroom, to the kiss, to the way he’d been pushed against the stall, the way his back had screamed for too long after. “ Dream , no- I-”
“Relax, charity case .” Dream moved a little away from him, apparently not liking- or rather not trusting himself with their close proximity. “It’s fine, I’ll just make a quick stop before the airport, at the art gallery.”
“What?” George whipped his head across to the blonde.
“Yeah, c’mon, let’s go. Good luck meeting him after this.” Dream pulls George by the sleeve of his sweatshirt, of Dream ’s sweatshirt, and tugs the suitcases behind them.
“After what?”
“After I break his legs.”
Notes:
JUST IN CASE YOU DIDN'T READ NOTES AT THE START! DNF COMIC STRIP FOR THIS STORY BY ANDY- love them so much, fav person ever!!
DNF FANART FOR THIS FIC!!!
sorry for the slow update! surprise! ANOTHER CHEM TEST TMRW! yeah that's what going to an overachieving all girls grammar school gets you. toxic academic mindset and hyperfixations...
anyway i really hoped you enjoyed this, worked so hard...
angst is soon coming to a head and then an end, and well you will see what happens <3 not too long now maybe 4-5 chaps ? if that. possibly.
PLS LEAVE COMMENTS THEY REALLY REALLY MOTIVATE ME AND JUST IM SUCH A WHORE FOR THEM
kudos always so so appreciated (we hit 5.5k reads wtf u guys!!)
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Chapter 20: chapter nineteen
Summary:
"𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘵
𝘕𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶"- hate u, love u olivia o'brien
Notes:
dnf mcc woo! excited!
content warning:
SUGGESTIVE CONTENT (no explicit smut, steamy scenes though)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
chapter nineteen.
To nobody’s surprise, Alex and Sapnap were squabbling when Dream opened the door, but they both fell silent at the two arrivals. Dream took one look at the two of them, and scoffed, rubbing his temples with his forefinger and thumb. In all fairness, the pair were headache inducing. Sapnap’s face transformed, softened in a way George had never seen on the man, and it made his heart hurt just a little.
Alex avoided looking at Dream, landed his eyes on George instead, a question in them.
“Where are you going?” Sapnap breathed out, looking over at the suitcases Dream was lugging behind.
“Alan.” Dream turned to Alex, revelling in the way his mouth twisted downwards in indignance. “You know about George’s uh- encounter with Morgan?”
Alex nodded once, eyes squinting in distrust.
“Want him to regret it?” A mutual interest, a temporary olive branch, for a common enemy. If it got capitalism and communism on the same team prior the cold war, George reckoned it’d work for even Dream and Alex.
“We fuckin’ him up.” Alex grinned, tossed a look to George, who remained gaping at Dream and the sudden wrench in his plans causing this odd tangent. Before he could protest- not sure if he wanted to protest, because it meant a little longer with Dream, a little longer to make him realise what he was doing to himself, Sapnap made a sound towards the blonde.
Dream ignored him, as he had been doing to reason recently.
“Can I talk to you? Alone.” Sapnap hissed quietly- though George was unsure why since they could all hear him anyway, and Dream tilted his head down. George noticed the way his features tightened similar to when George had tried to kiss him last time. Why was he fighting? Choosing his parents over Sapnap, who seemed to care for him unconditionally? George could understand his desire for their affection, of course he could, but he wasn’t going to let Dream bend over backwards, just so they could pick and choose the parts of him they liked.
“What is it Nick?”
“It’s just- tell me you’re not seriously going back to them.”
“They’re my family-”
“ I’m your family.” Sapnap pushed forward, so he’d be directly in Dream’s eyeline. George shot a look to Alex who seemed equally out of place.
“You’re so dramatic, I’m not leaving forever, just half a year, we’ll be fine.” Dream’s words seemed practised, almost as if he’d repeated them to himself before. To convince himself . George’s heart cracked a little at the thought. He felt cyclones of anger directed to Dream’s parents, an insurmountable wave of rage ready to take them on.
How could you wish to erase a part of your child’s identity like that?
“I-”
“C’mon. We got a date to keep-” Dream’s voice was low.
“ Dream ,” George grabbed Dream’s hand to pull him back, because he didn’t want there to be an argument, because he didn’t want to face Morgan. Especially with Alex and Dream there. God, he was so embarrassed . It was horrible they’d seen what he had let the man do to him, and for them to see him- all mild-mannered, all charming, George couldn’t bear the thought.
Dream just shook George’s hand off like it was poisonous to touch, and it made George roll his eyes. So offended he was by the brunet’s touch now, as if he hadn’t kissed George senseless a week ago. It reminded him all too much of their previous years, where Clay’d find excuses to touch George, with what George had thought to be animosity, only for him to fiercely reject any reciprocation.
It was an annoying trait that kept reappearing, even when George had thought to initiate a kiss, he’d run away to shower, then run away entirely. Dream needed a degree of control, especially when it came to being intimate. George wondered about the underlying reasons.
“Alex, you’re not seriously considering this.” George turned to Alex.
Moments later, they were all headed to the elevator, following Dream’s purposeful stride, his suitcases clunking along.
As they waited for it to rise to the top floor, George noticed Dream’s gaze flitting between Sapnap and Alex, mouth parting as if to say something, and then shutting. He knew him well enough to know he wanted to know how the three of them ended up here, knew that not knowing would eat him up, acidic curiosity eroding sanity.
George smirked.
Finally- predictably, he caved, asking with that honey voice of his, “Um, so what were you two arguing about?”
It was a toe-in-the-water question but George knew better.
Sapnap and Alex exchanged an odd look, before glancing towards George. As they stepped into the elevator, the former replied, “Well when we arrived in the lobby, the guy at the desk was kind of a dick and said he wouldn’t tell us where you were unless we paid him. Then George did this sick trick where he like threatened to like leak his darkest secrets all badass, which was okay, whatever, but then he said his actual name, which really pushed it over the edge.”
George shot a puzzled look at Alex and Sapnap- they’d resorted to bickering over this .
“Yeah,” Alex piped in, his words more directed towards George than Dream. “We were just genuinely so confused how you knew his name. Sapnap thought you were a mindreader, and I thought you had just guessed and were somehow right-”
“You’re both such idiots.” George couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Tell us then.” Sapnap prompted.
George caught yellow eyes in the elevator mirror- faint humour lining them. Dream knew, because of course Dream knew.
“He’s not a psychic, you dumbass.” Dream smacked the back of Sapnap’s head.
“Yeah, because if he’d read your thoughts about-” Sapnap muttered, rubbing the spot where Dream had hit him.
“Shut up.” Dream grumbled, and George had never realised how fascinating the toecaps of his shoes until that very moment. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Sapnap and Alex exchange another look.
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“Roy Fletcher.” Dream’s remark after the stretched silence leaving the building and walking to his car surprised the boys. Sapnap gasped, looked over to Alex, similarly perturbed.
“Oh come on, you know it because you lived here.” Sapnap shrugged, “That’s whatever.”
Dream hummed noncommittally not rising to the bait, which only fed Sapnap’s agitation. It was endearing, George considered, how Sapnap wouldn’t let go of this menial flection.
“Tell me, tell me , ugh, for fuck’s sake,” His childlike pleading was considerably less so.
George gave the blonde a look, how do you deal with your best friend ?
“Y’know my magic trick arc,” George knew the blonde’s words were for him, and so he nodded, remembering the young blonde, gaining height and gaining brain cells at an inversely proportional correlation.
“Your bloody card tricks,” George shook his head, remembering at Dream’s hands expertly manoeuvring the cards almost defying gravity. They’d reached Dream’s car, and instinctively Dream opened the front door for him, paying no attention to his own actions only to their conversation. George, still immersed in their shared memories, subconsciously, fished out Dream’s key from his front pocket, because Dream was typing the address in his phone with one hand, rallying the other two to back with his other. “You were convinced you were Houdini.”
“Houdini wished he was me,” Dream took the keys from George’s hands, letting his thumb brush George’s knuckles, “So basically winter break, I’d just seen Nick and we were so bored and so I decided to learn some tricks-”
“To impress George,” Sapnap piped in.
“No.” Dream snapped defensively, “Because magic is about illusion and distraction and I wanted to distract you from your studies so I could beat you in the end of years.”
“To distract him with yourself ?” Sapnap’s words remained unreplied to.
“So yeah, and everytime I learned a trick, Nick would talk my fucking ear off, begging me to explain every mechanism behind it. So I’ve learned to live with the chatter.”
“Mmm,” George nodded, paying no mind to Dream automatically increasing the temperating because he knew George got cold, “I beat you in those exams, didn’t I?”
Dream didn’t reply, settled on putting on music but George swore he heard, because you’re the biggest distraction, idiot , under his breath. George felt his face flame up, and it wasn’t because of the car heater.
In his pocket, his phone buzzed, and George took out the phone.
“Dream, it’s fuckin’ boiling, bro.” Sapnap bugged.
Dream undid Sapnap’s child lock on his door, instantaneously shutting him up.
Alex (my beloved)
icb i ever thought u staring at clay was born of hatred rather than fucking lust and pining
oh my god is this fucking heatwave bc of ur british ass
“ Dream ,” Sapnap whined, because his mental capacity of a 4-year old had extended to his actions, “Tell me how’d you know his name? How did George?”
In response, Dream turned the volume of the station up by one.
“I hate them so much.” Sapnap turned to Alex.
“Something we can agree on.” Alex shook his head towards George.
The brunet chuckled, “You didn’t have to tag along.”
A moment of nothing, and then Dream blessed the car with a shower of seafoam, a deluge of starlight, catching on instantly, because he was Dream, and this was George, and they were synonymous souls. “Oh c’mon George, no need to badge-r them.”
“What, name me one thing I did wrong.”
“I’ll label your entire personality as wro-”
“Oh my Jesus fucking Christ,” Sapnap screamed out, only further provoking Dream to wheeze, and George to double over in a fit of giggles. “I can’t deal with this. Didn’t the two of you fucking loathe each other, at least George, you, when I met you- I’m pretty you were annoyed you didn’t get to beat Dream up yourself.”
Sapnap put his head in his hands, “Now you have dumb inside jokes, and-”
“And I think you should both shut the fuck up, because you’re starting to give me a headache.” Alex finished.
George made giddy eye contact with Dream for a moment, before Dream unlocked Alex’s child lock too, resending the pair into a fit of laughter.
George’s belly hurt from the unexpected hysterics, George’s heart hurt because he was going to miss it. The shift in the air around him was not unnoticed by Dream, who wore off the air of humour too, mouth twisting downwards.
In the car mirror, George spotted Sapnap, who had shrunk back, because for all his theatrical hatred at them, he’d prefer it in a heartbeat to this.
Dream couldn’t go, couldn’t leave them, couldn’t .
Without warning, George’s phone rang, causing him to jump.
Beside him, Dream tightened his hand around the steering wheel, clenched his jaw. It reminded him of that first party, so long ago, when- Dream had-
George swallowed.
“Pick up.” Honey, so unnervingly calm, so flushed with silent, screaming rage. The tone sent a shiver down George’s spine, caused increased waves of excitation through his atrioventricular node, myocardial muscle contracting with heightened celerity.
“ Georgie , hey.” Morgan’s voice was curdled milk and George felt his stomach twist. Beside him, he noticed Dream’s hand twitch, as if wanting to reach out. The effort was enough to allow George to offer a reply.
“Morgan, hi.” Grey words, grey emotion, grey tension corded between them tethering George to the call.
“You headed here?” George imagined the sparkle in blue eyes, the half smile on full lips, and it made his head wade in pewter, swim in slate- drown in raku.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dream and Alex shared a look of lividity.
“Yeah.” He hated the way his voice seemed so small.
“Can’t wait to see you.”
“ Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you- ” George screamed in his mind.
“Neither.” George squeaked out, hoping the anxiety would be mistaken for excitement.
The call ended, and George felt sparks light up his back.
“Wait,” Sapnap breathed out, “Where are we actually going?”
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Vapours of murderous intention steamed from three of the four boys inside the car as they pulled up to the art gallery car park. The fourth wanted to run away, wanted to melt into a puddle of tears, but didn’t want to let Dream slip out of his sight, slip between the fingers that the blonde seemed to newly despise.
They were a formidable trifecta, Dream’s height intimidation, Alex’s barely contained violence- compact and chaotic, and Sapnap’s fierce gait, fiercer glare.
“George, stay outside.” Dream turned to George.
“What? Why -”
“Because you could barely handle a call with him, and if I see what he does to you, fuck -” Dream’s ground out his words.
“I’m good at law, but open murder’s pretty hard to defend.” Alex added on, helpfully.
“Plan of action?” Sapnap tapped Dream on the shoulder.
“I see him, I beat the shit out of him. Two step, done and dusted.”
“Wait, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” George sighed, “What if you get into trouble?”
“What’ll they do? Send me to hell?” Dream laughed like he’d invented humour, none of the others joined in. George wanted to throw his arms around him and simultaneously strangle some sense into him. Dream spotted something- someone, and groaned, “Is this gonna be a problem, Sap, because if you’re out then I don’t actually care?”
George and the others faced Dream’s line of vision, laying their eyes on Karl, champagne stem in hand, laughing to a group of people George vaguely, possibly remembered. George faced Sapnap, who’s stony faced had managed to brick up further, then to Dream, who was, of course, looking at George, knowing what they both knew.
“Let’s go in, before he sees us.” Sapnap ushered in Dream and Alex.
George followed them until the entrance, before realising he’d be in the same building as Morgan, and instantly backing away, pulling his hands back under his sleeves. This whole situation was fucked.
And yet a part of him truly, truly wanted to see Dream rattle Morgan. A horrible, little part of himself, that was selfish and thrived off his enemy’s suffering, but a part of him nonetheless. In fact, it whispered to him even now, to follow them, to take a part, reclaim the story.
An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind , he rationalised with himself.
You’re already fucking colourblind , it sent back, and what if Morgan gets a swing in? What if Morgan tackles Dream? Hurts him -
George rushed inside, abruptly convinced.
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Ticking every item off on a list, solving tricky lateral thinking puzzles- everything, everything took the backbench on satisfaction, when George heard the first punch thrown, the gasp of shock from Morgan. He hadn’t quite seen it, but presumed Dream had tapped Morgan on the shoulder, and when he’d turned around, graced the man’s face face with not-so-gentle knuckles.
Around them, gasps rung out. George flushed.
“Menace to society, kids ,” Someone sniped beside him, and he couldn’t help but agree. This was so, so public.
“W-What?” Morgan stuttered out, nursing his cheek with his hand.
“Morgan, is it? As in Morgan Carraro, owner of a beat up 2011 Ford Fiesta, occupant of flat 1902, as in the Morgan Carraro failing his classes right now, and taking the stress of classes out on the guy you’re seeing.” Alex scorned, every word scorched with hatred, with vengeance. George flinched at the tone of his voice, at the brutality of the ordeal, at the information Alex had gartered somehow. Flinched because Morgan’s eyes were wandering the room, scanning for- scanning for him, and he felt so exposed, and his back felt numb and his back screamed, and he wished for the atoms on the floor beneath him to all position and align themselves so perfectly that he could fall through.
Please don’t let Morgan see him.
“Listen,” Morgan laughed, chuckled as if this was all some sort of lighthearted misunderstanding, “Guys, c’mon, I don’t know what this is about, but there’s clearly some miscommunication here-”
“Miscommunication like someone asking for you to stop, and for you to ignore them?” Sapnap bit out, “Yeah, Morgan you seem to be an expert in miscommunication.”
“I don’t know what you guys think you know, but there is probably a simple explanation for this. We should discuss it in private .” Morgan looked around, looked to the crowd as if the three men in front of him had lost their minds, and it was pretty convincing, the way he could manoeuvre the majority into believing him with a few hand gestures and facial expressions.
It was sickening to see it, George realised, because it was so blatantly obvious what his intentions were, and yet George had succumbed to the very same thing.
George had just heard what he wanted to hear.
Because it’s such a nice thing to be loved, isn’t it? To be wanted?
“We can go somewhere private if you want.” It was the first time Dream had spoken, and his voice was low, threatening, the kind of barely sheathed wrath that even George had never encountered.
Morgan was turning very pale very quickly, looking around for help, but half the crowd was staring as if this was part of the artwork the gallery was showcasing, and the rest waiting for them to be kicked out. George swore he could faintly hear the sound of someone eating popcorn. His stomach groaned, and he realised then how long he had eaten so little for.
“Wait, you’re Clay, right?” Morgan wore a shaky smile, “Surely this isn’t about George?”
His stomach dropped at the sound of his name.
“Because like, it’s really not that deep. He’s pretty and everything but he’s not worth fucking brawling over dude. It’s okay, you can have him if-” Morgan was on the floor before another syllable was out, words lost in grunts of pain. Alex glanced around, then threw in a quick little kick. Sapnap glowered at any members of the crowd who looked like they considered intervening.
Dream, ever controlled by the moment, ever ruled by his emotions, was raining down green bolts of savage retribution. In the instant, gold hair spewed across his face, blood splattered across his top, wisteria blossomed across his knuckles, he did look a little like a deity.
Someone had gained sense to call security, and George spotted the guards making their way towards the scene, struggling against the horde of watchers. George waded across, desperate to warn his friends, pull them away before they were confronted.
“Go, go,” He signalled to Alex and Sapnap, gesturing towards the nearing guards, and the two tried to get Dream’s attention, before whispering something amongst each other and then heading directly towards the guards. George wondered how either of them passed primary school.
After shoving and elbowing his way into the epicentre, George finally made his way to Dream, who was sporting various new contusions due to the brunet’s darling ex.
“ Clay ,” George exclaimed, causing the blonde to shoot his head towards him, opening him up to a frightening punch from Morgan, which he just barely avoided. “Let’s go, now .”
“He doesn’t even realise what he’s done.” Dream spat out at Morgan, but getting up nonetheless. Morgan turned to George, black eye and brilliant, bloody smile. It made his insides twist.
“You enjoy this, Georgie. Enjoy the attention?” He mouthed, and the only thing stopping George from collapsing was the thought of the security guards catching Dream. He took hold of Dream’s wrist, and rushed to the nearest bathrooms.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“I can’t believe I’m stitching you up again.” George had grabbed an emergency first aid kit, stuck them in the fancy bathroom so they had a moment to breathe, undisturbed.
“I can’t believe he lay there fucking laughing. As if hurting you was a fucking joke.” Dream winced as George spread something across his wound, and at George’s annoyance, shrugged, “What? Should’ve seen the other guy.”
“You love me.” George said as he rinsed off excess blood.
“I love you,” Dream rolled his eyes, “And all it’s gotten me is bruises. Again.”
“How do you say it so easily?” George asked, careful to not press too hard on wounds, whether emotional or physical.
“Because life’s hard, because maths is hard, because concentrating is hard.” The blonde tucked a stray strand of hair behind George’s ear, “Fighting’s hard, especially with parents. But loving you is easy, easiest thing I’ve done.”
“Easy?” George teased, “So easy you made it your life mission to make my life hell.”
“Hey,” Dream tutted, “Had to get your attention somehow.”
“You’ve always had my attention.”
“Not always.”
“ Oh ? Like you can talk, coming back to school and deciding not to talk to me-”
“For fuck’s sake, it’s not my fault you’re so needy -” At the last word, Dream’s gaze fell to George’s lips, and George felt that erratic speed up of his heart again, felt the best kind of dizzy. Yeah, he was needy . He expressed the thought out loud, perhaps, just to see how Dream would react.
“Don’t play this fucking game with me, George.”
“Or what?”
“I’m leaving.” Dream’s words held a note of finality, but George was convinced he could make the blonde bend.
“So? You’re not gonna wish me a proper goodbye?” George whispered out the words, looked up at the Dream through framed lashes, revelling as he saw his breath hitch, giggling as he heard the soft, honey fuck it, under his breath.
Before George knew what was happening, Dream pushed off against the bathroom sink, pushed George against the wall, holding both wrists together- with a single hand above him. “You wanna do this, Georgie? You want a special goodbye?”
The world was splashed with red, and purple, and pink again, and the world was green, and beautiful, and blue, and blue, and blue.
George nodded, all too enthusiastically, “Unless you’re too scared. Unless you’re convinced this immoral sin will convince you to stray, convince you to stay. Unless you can’t handle-”
George gasped as Dream’s hand slid under his sweater, the tantalising warmth against his cold skin. Dream towered above him, lips revealing a slash of white, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about what I can handle.”
“Arms up, angel.” Dream pulled George’s sweater over his head, pulled his own top off. “Fuck, I love seeing you in my clothes. You’re so pretty and small, drowning in them..”
“Yeah?” George acted like he hadn’t already realised.
“Bet you’d look even prettier in my-” Dream kneeled down, planted kisses across George’s hips, causing him to buck forwards, causing them to blossom bright across his cheeks. Dream let his tongue slide up George’s torso, let George bring his mouth to Dream’s, dissolve themselves in kisses.
Kissing Dream was a whirlwind of emotion, it was nostalgia and it was new, and it was something George could see himself getting so very addicted to.
Dream toyed with the buckle of George’s belt, and as soon as the brunet caught wind, rushed to help, causing the taller to chuckle. “Eager little slut .”
George positively keened at the sobriquet.
Dream tugged down the waist of George’s jeans, breathed across, “Want me to suck your dick, Georgie? Is that goodbye special enough for you?”
George nodded emphatically, a pleading look in big, brown eyes. Dream pulled away his hands, but before George could complain, he sighed, “Beg a little, angel .”
“That’s not even kind of funny, Dream .” George moaned, pulling Dream’s hands towards his body, towards his waist. Dream didn’t budge, sly smile on his lips. “Fucking please, fucking please suck my fucking dick, alright, just hurry up,”
“Filthy mouth on you,” Dream wrinkled his nose in mock distaste, and George was getting all too impatient, had wanted this for all too long.
“ Please , please Dream.” He looked up at the blonde, eyes wide, “I need your hands on me, need your lips-”
“See, manners aren’t tricky, now, are they, princess?” Dream pulled George by his hips, sending waves of pleasure rippling across him, and went down with intent to please.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“Yeah, what colour was that?” George toyed with Dream’s fingers as the blonde finished smoothing out his hair.
“What colour?” Dream ducked to avoid George’s hand shooting up to tousle it again, “It was, oh stop it George , it was, it was uh- ugh, I can’t be fucking poetic all the time.”
“No?” George smacked Dream’s shoulder, “Then what good are you?”
“Good enough to make you scream, Dream, don’t stop, Dre- ”
George scowled, “You’re horrible.”
A moment of nothing.
“Please don’t leave me.” George whispered out, letting the words steal the air of the space between them, leaving the two boys to suffocate. Dream turned away slightly, shoulders slumped. “I don’t know who I am without you.”
“I’m sorry, George. I am but-”
“But what? But fucking what?”
“But I can’t do this. You deserve so much better than me, anyway, George, in five years, you’ll be glad I’m gone.”
George opened his mouth to reply as Dream attempted to open the bathroom door, and scoffed, “What’s up with this door?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you unlock it?”
“Um, I didn’t even lock it. I just put a sign outside that said out of order.”
Dream pulled it harder, twisting the knob, panic rising at every passing second. “George, what did you do?”
“Why did I have to do anything? What happened?”
“It’s fucking locked. It’s like genuinely, seriously fucking locked. From the outside.”
Notes:
ahhh! oh my gosh i get like no comments anymore so idk if people are just no longer hyped/enjoying this book but if u read the tags literally this is so self indulgent and reading back what i wrote i think i fall in love w my writing its just so my type lmao (im acc so insecure abt my writing but self confidence hides it FUN)
ANYWAY im so tired its 2am and i have work tmrw morning ffs so yeah comments ARE SO SO welcome and loved and appreciated and i will hug u fr
kudos will get u kisses and irl dnf content
and subscribe bc WE ARE NEARING THE END ajdofejejfokay fr so tired might edit this later idk
love all of u who r reading mwah xx,
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twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 21: chapter twenty.
Summary:
"𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯' 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘓𝘦𝘷𝘪'𝘴
𝘋𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘐
𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵
𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘐
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯
𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦"
- cardigan, taylor swift
Chapter Text
chapter twenty.
“Holy shit, I just gave you head, George.”
“Well. We’re locked in here, and I’m an opportunist.” George spread the palm of his hand flat across Dream’s lower abdomen.
“It’s Nick.” Dream shifted towards the door, rattled the handle as if it would magically unlock, and kept facing away from George. “He really thinks sticking us in here together is gonna make me change my mind.”
George grew a little fonder of Sapnap in that moment, and he slid his hand under Dream’s top, feeling the warmth, the familiarity. Dream tensed, not strong enough to remove the brunet’s hand, not weak enough to follow through either. George pulled away, not wanting to torture the blonde, not wanting to diminish the moment, and he ran his tongue against his teeth in thought.
When in doubt, he fell back to his roots, built on his various philosophies he’d adopted, he fell back to eighth grade debate class, fell back to the intense desire to prove himself.
“Descartes or Voltaire?” George prompted an unceremonious groan, as the blonde shook his head with zealous vigour.
“No, no . George, not right now.”
“When have you ever not been up for the Golden Age Frenchmen duel?” George attempted to further tempt him.
“Since I began losing them.”
“You’ve only ever lost one.”
“And still, the words taste bitter.” Dream yawned, checking his phone for the umpteenth time in case he’d suddenly got signal. “Also I know exactly which argument you’re going to use to try and convince me it’s not worth it, and I don’t care. I don’t think my parents would be swayed by your intellectual mice traps.”
George rolled his eyes, and turned away from Dream- because if he wanted to spend this time in utter silence, so be it. It was probably painful for him too, to be fair, to have so much of something he wanted, and for it to be ripped away.
He turned over a coin in his pocket, flipped it in the air. Heads, I convince him to stay, tails I don’t-
The coin, landed on its side rolling down behind the sink, and George laughed because it was so on brand for his luck, as of late. Outside, there were faint voices, and Dream instantly stood up, banging on the door- causing George to wince at the pain inflicted on his bruises. Nobody heard.
What had turned this last hour from something burning, something beautiful, to something so bittersweet?
In which the pair had words upon words to exchange with each other, but were divided by a flagrant silence. In which George could not find courage to look at the bathroom mirror and see he had failed so stupendously. Or, as Voltaire had spoken, the mirror is a useless invention, the only way to truly see yourself is in the reflection of someone’s eyes . Perhaps that’s why George could still peek at the silver edge of the mirror, yet couldn’t turn to face yellow eyes.
Dream loving George had pushed the brunet to his limits, to supercede them, to find parts of himself he’d never be able to access without him. Dream loving George had caused the latter to find his best self, a version of him polished by careful hands. Dream had loved George and yet George was unable to return that succour, had caused Dream turmoil and self-hatred, had caused Dream to return to his parents, pushed him back when the blonde had tugged him forward. Every cycle of George’s thoughts took him back to his bed, his fortnight under a duvet prison, the lowest trough of his mental wellbeing.
Dream loving George had been his worst mistake.
“Stop it.” Gentle words, because Dream could sense his internal distress. “Oh George , I don’t. I won’t. Ever.”
“What?” George played with his hands, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the lavatory floor.
“Regret you. And the way I feel about you.” Dream pushed a hand through his hair, “I’ll only regret not being comfortable with myself enough to tell you earlier.”
George let out a soft chuckle, felt his eyes burn, “Yeah, oh, oh- we could’ve- what were we even doing? Spending so long fighting when we could’ve-”
“Been making out?”
George rolled his eyes, as the blonde continued.
“In my defence, you can be scary. She may be little, but she is fierce .”
“Me, scary? Dream, you- you- wait, so you’re okay with citing Shakespeare, but not Voltaire?”
“You were- are so intimidating, so ludicrously clever- making my brain hurt from the amount of work I did to keep up with you, so ugh, so nauseatingly beautiful.” Dream screwed his nose up at George, who in turn returned his gaze back to his fingertips.
“Don’t go.” George pleaded for the hundredth time out loud, millionth time in his head.
“ Angel , I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because I want my parents to look at me as their son again. Because I want to be allowed to talk to my sister.” Dream hunched forward his shoulders, and George places a hand on his knee softly. He raised his head to meet the brunet’s gaze, tilts it ever so slightly, “Do you love me?”
George shuffled closer, in between Dream’s legs now, letting them cage him in- a fortress of unrivalled security. He peered up at Dream, at soft, butter eyes, placed his thumb against them to absorb the sparse moistness. “I don’t know what love is.”
But I know I want you next to me. I know I want to stargaze at your freckles every night before bed, I know I want to let you tease me about how much I love academics, I know I want to keep arguing with you till we’re sick of each other, and kissing you to remedy it all. I know I like who I am when I’m with you, and I know that you’ll always be a constant- even if you decide to leave now-
“Oh.” Dream raised his eyebrows, twisted the corners of his mouth up, locking his arms around the back of George’s neck. “George doesn’t know something. That’s a first.”
“How long?”
“Long enough for you to forget, Georgie.” Dream’s smile waned a little, “I’m serious, don’t wait, and don’t try and find me. Promise me.”
“Alright, alright-”
“Promise me, George.”
“I don’t want to.”
“ Please .” And though he hated the thought of just letting him go, it’s Dream’s decision, and George cared about him enough to not make him undergo even more misery, and George can never really say no to Dream.
“I promise, Dream.”
They stayed there for a while, in that position which made George ache to keep the blonde with him forever. George took the time to study his features, the curve of lips, the sweep of his lashes. George took the time to memorise the feeling of being loved despite all his flaws, because, truly Dream had seen the worst of him throughout the years, and was still here, hand in George’s hair.
Too soon, there’s the shake of the door, a cleaning lady, entered in, turning up her nose at the two ruffians who had locked themselves in a bathroom to do who-knows-what . George and Dream exchanged a look of quiet humour, of decaying realisation that the sand in the hourglass had come to a slow, and all of sudden George remembered the way Dream’s lips had felt, so soft around his-
“Out, out.” She jabbed her mop at them, and Dream pulled himself up, and then hauled George up and took the pair out, in a fit of giggles and wheezes. “Stupid children, oy,”
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Outside, the hallway is empty, a mockery of George’s own heart emptying with every passing moment, every heated glance. Neither of them say a word, because it’s painful to do anything but stare and hold hands, and hope that this feeling will pass. “You find Sap and Archie, now, okay?”
“Alex.” George corrected, faint smile lighting up his face. “ Dream , you’re so horrible , such an- such an idiot , you’re- I-”
“I love you too, angel .” Dream thumb ran across George’s lips, and George couldn’t quite make eye contact, couldn’t bear to see the undercurrent of pain shadowing the face he knew better than his own. Dream laughed a little then, quiet and shaky, as if this was all stupid and George knew it was.
“I don’t- you’re not green.” George’s words, too, were quiet, burst from his lips without much prior thought but with conviction, with avidity. “Not to me.”
Dream, catching his line of thinking almost instantly, stroked the brunet’s jaw tentatively, “No?”
“No.” George shook his head, caught those eyes at last, because if this was a goodbye, then he wanted Dream to understand how much he meant what he said, not just because of the shift in their dynamic, but because of the cardinal awe he’d always felt towards the blonde. George had competed against Dream, because he was a spirit to reckon with, and what George was saying now was not simply infatuation. “You’re not shades of disgust, you’re not shrivelled up darkness. Dream, you glow. You glow golden.”
“Golden?” Amusement lined his voice. “Pray tell, charity case.”
“It’s true; you’re yellow all over, from your dumb windswept hair , to your eyes that walk the line between feverish dijon when you’re annoyed or moping and soft butter when you’re trying your best to keep in a smile- no , see, like now, ugh don’t purse your lips, you can smile, idiot.” George giggled, flush with adoration, “To even your voice, that gold honey that convinced like three professors to push back tests because you knew I had prepared more than you-”
“Hey-”
“Don’t even try,” George rolled his eyes, “Your honey words, like a venus flytrap, so sweet to ensnare us unknowing arthropods into your trap, infect us, get under our skin until you’re all we think about.”
“ Parnassian , really, who would’ve thought-”
“Shhh, don’t interrupt.” George pressed his finger onto Dream’s lips, “Ugh, you made me lose track but, Clay, honestly, you’ve never been green to me- and not only because I’m colourblind. Even when I despised you, god, I still envied you, golden boy- golden charm…”
“Hmm,” Dream exhumed that rare light ecstasy, shared with George that sort of high you’d feel on a hot air balloon drifting up with no direction, never wanting to come down, “I think my lesson in colourography was better.”
“Well,” George sighed, “Everything sounds better when you’re aroused, I bet if I was blowing you and saying oh wow this is yellow, you’d love it it too.”
“You wound me.” Dream dramatically doubled down, hand on heart, before looking back to George with a smile that put Sirius to shame. “George Davidson.”
“Clay Revaz.” George mocked his accent.
“Georgie,” Dream chuckled, “I like it. I like being golden. I like being yellow in the way you describe me, but honestly, I can’t say I don’t I execrate you for it.”
“What’s new about that?” George shrugged, still fiddling with the blonde’s face.
“It was already hard enough for me to go, but it’s like you’ve made it your damned purpose in life to cement me here.” Dream groaned, twisting his mouth to try and nip at George’s lithe fingers. George pulled his hand back, pulled a disgusted face, pulled Dream closer by his waist, pushed his own face into a chest of vanilla.
“This,” Dream’s hand explored George’s hair, “isn’t helping.”
George’s words came out a little muffled, “I know.”
“Wicked boy.” Dream planted a kiss on George’s forehead and George ignored how it felt too close to a final goodbye. Dream pulled a little away, held George at arm’s length, and then tilted up his chin with a forefinger, “My angel.”
George dissipated at the words, broken into quintillion atoms, reformed into someone somehow capable of the fortune of being loved.
Their last kiss was lost moments and lost years, was fleeting glances across the library, was rage-driven glares across the classroom, was mutually assured destruction, and it was secret unspoken promises and vengeance driven oaths, and it was teeming self-hatred, and it was a dance of felicitous psyches.
It was something now, visible to them now - a myriad of stars splattered across the sky, ablaze and brilliant and true, ghosts of what could have been, ghosts of what should have been years prior. Old emotions pent up, old feelings re-evaluated and dug up and examined.
It was a goodbye.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
404 ~ online, hiding
i miss you every single day
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Come hell or high water, George graduated. His mother, far prouder than him, shedding more tears than he thought capable a human of her stature was capable of holding. His interest in academics had sunk- as had his interest in breathing, in living, in everything, for a while, but this time he never got the opportunity to retreat behind the fortress of a bed, cower under duvet covers.
This time, he had Alex Quackity, who wasn’t taking his shit, wasn’t the slightest bit interested in hearing tales of self pity, of woe. He would eventually remodel his business, in a couple years, into something more legal , with branches for ethical hacking, branches for freelance solution based technologies and softwares, and he put George in charge of so much of the initial change, so many of the people, he didn’t have time for wallowing.
It was to be set up to be a company that could be sold when Alex became a qualifying lawyer, but George secretly thought that his best friend was a little too attached to it all to actually let it go.
Not that he would tell him that since he actually valued his head.
Alex knew what George needed, and even though George cursed him as he strained through tasks, swore at him each dawn he had to wake at, and spewed profanity at him every late night he’d undertaken, George was inexpressibly grateful.
George was best when he was busy, when he was excelling and when he was using his brain. At least, that was when George was happiest, because it was at nightfall, when memories made a return, like sleep paralysis demons they froze up every inch of his body, forced him to replay the cruellest moments of his life- those all too brief moments with his very own recurring nightmare.
And yet he couldn’t pity himself for it, for he knew whatever discomfort he was feeling, the blonde would be experiencing issues triple-fold, stuck and imprisoned and forced to play a character he had no intention of being.
As the weeks went by, it did get easier- or at least more usual, more familiar.
George fell into routine, George tried falling for someone else. One helped, the other was a spectacular fail, a near embarrassing disaster.
In the end what had truly helped was a chance meeting of a friend at a library he had visited because it reminded him of his time at the academy. To think he’d spent so many years resenting the place for him now to wonder if that was when he had peaked, if it was all down from there.
“George?” Karl’s voice was familiar and shocking and the brunet turned to see his old companion donning a purple sweater with an orange spiral. The outfit suited him, and George couldn’t help but smile at the man.
“Karl, hello.” He waved, nearing. “How are you?”
“How am I? You were nominated valedictorian and never dropped out of school after that, you didn’t come to a single celebration class or-” Karl waved a hand, not knowing George had actually graduated, “That’s all a year ago but, seriously, you, Alex, and Clay, Wilbur all just dropping out one after another.”
“Wilbur?”
“Yeah, that might’ve been for drug dealing- or for fear mongering- I think he started an anarchy society or something-” Karl shuddered, “Maybe not related to the rest of you?”
“Maybe he is.” George waved his fingers around- trying to hide the way his heart had seized at the mere mention of the blonde, “Maybe we’re all secretly anarchist drug-dealers.”
Karl didn’t quite seem to realise George had been joking, and his mouth parted in shock, as he took in George in a new light. George didn’t know where to begin to correct him. Luckily they were saved by a newcomer turning round the corner.
“Karl, these bags are so heavy . Let’s go , already.” George had spoken too quickly- this was not luck. The words were spoken by Sapnap, and George could hardly face him after the last time they’d seen each other.
Disappointment drowned every feature on Sapnap’s face as George returned to Alex and him in the museum. One look at the brunet’s face, and he’d instantly been crestfallen. George had been his last hope, and George had failed him, had robbed him of his best friend. They’d made uncomfortable eye contact, said a million things through that inaudible tether. Desperate emotion had been shared, and fear for what would come to Dream. It was the type of shared feeling that could only be known through experience, and so niche that perhaps if they’d discussed it, they both might’ve healed quicker- but after that day, after that meeting, they’d parted ways .
George had for the longest time being trying to suppress Dream and any consequent thoughts, and here was a man who he was only connected through via the blonde. Every time he’d even look at Sapnap, his stomach clenched, acid rising.
Sapnap looked up, saw the pair, and his gaze widened with something unexpected.
Guilt.
George’s face grew puzzled.
“Yeah, yeah, that can wait. Look it’s George .” Karl opened his mouth to show faux surprise and excitement. Sapnap forced a smile to match his energy. “Okay, honey, can you sit here for a minute, I’m just gonna drop these books off, and I’ll be back.”
Before Sapnap could even protest, Karl was off, with a quick pat on the other’s head as he passed by. A silence pursued.
“How are you?” Sapnap said at the same time George rushed out, “It’s been a while.”
Vexatious tension between them, as George wanted to implore Sapnap to get him in contact with Dream, as Sapnap’s face flourished penitence.
“ Honey ?” George settled on, waggling his eyebrows a little, because it was a light-hearted joke. Definitely not because he thought he’d get the following reaction from Sapnap.
“I’m sorry, George. I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry.” Sapnap huffed, “I know. I know I should have kept in touch, and I talk to Dream still, and I know you would want to know he’s doing okay. But- but, I can’t look at you and not see how they’re killing him inside.”
George wanted to rip out his own internal organs, tear out every strand of hair on his head.
“We should be doing this together, I know, and sometimes I find myself talking to you in my head, because you’re the only person who really gets what I’m going through.” Sapnap continued, “I’m sorry, fuck.”
“It’s okay.” George pacified him, even though it really wasn’t okay, and each word made George want to throw up. “It’s fine, Nick. Let’s breathe?”
Sapnap settled a little, shook his head, and buried his face in his hands “I’m sorry, I’m already so nervous today, and meeting you is like a bad omen-”
“Nervous for what?”
Sapnap’s head shot up as if realising he had made a mistake, “Nothing, I- why can’t I- I don’t know how to talk to you.”
“Neither, to be fair. But it’s okay.” George stroked Sapnap’s shoulder, hoping to calm him down further, “You talked to Dream, did he-”
Say anything about me?
“No.” Sapnap picked up his trail of thought and upended it, but George can’t even be mad at him when he’s clearly suffering just as George was. “But, but I think that’s his coping mechanism.”
“Oh.” George nodded, “Okay. So- what’s this thing your nervous about?”
“Um,” Sapnap backed up a little, clearly avoidant, “I don’t want to trigger-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Nick.” George deadpans.
“Fine, okay. I’m just telling you because I already told the version of you in my head, okay.” Sapnap threw his hands up in the air, and George could hear Dream whisper dramatic in his ear. It’s the first he’d spoken to him in a while, because George had been so busy shoving him down, he’d forgotten how much comfort it brought him to remember the way Dream behaved, the way he actually spoke. “I’m going to ask Karl out, like on a date. And I’m sorry because I know you’re probably sensitive-”
“That’s fantastic, Sapnap.” George exclaims with about thrice as much enthusiasm as he feels, but even though it makes him ache, he knows it means a lot to Sapnap. And he deserves something after actively watching his best friend rot. “I thought, y’know with the honey and everything, you’re already-”
“No. Fuck, no.” Sapnap’s face has definitely darkened, and it elicits a near genuine smile from George. “He’s probably going to say no, and that’s okay, but- but I talked to Dream about it-”
“You did? You talk to him often?”
“Less often now, they’ve become more strict, and I have to say Kylie instead of Karl, because y’know, but- but he was so supportive and I don’t even know how he has it in him to be supportive, and sometimes I think he definitely resents me inside-”
“Stop it.” George shoved him gently, “It’s Dream, if he resents you, he’ll be obvious about it.”
Sapnap laughed then, a burst of unexpected guffaws, and George swears in his mind he can hear Dream kettling with them. It’s the beginning of something, George could feel it, because the first time, in a long time, he felt a little lighter.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Angel,
How cruel of me would it be to send this letter (via Nick and his nosy ass, hey Nick I know you’re reading, no this isn’t sappy, go kiss kylie or something yeah)- how cruel would it be to send this to you knowing you can’t see me, possibly ever again?
I’ve been horrible to you before, but perhaps this would take number one, possibly beating that time I sent that email to you in year 9 telling you that there had been room changes in labs and you were in the wrong place the entire week…
There’s that smile, Georgie, warms me from wherever you are. (Or if you’re frowning and annoyed and scrunching up your nose then pretend you were smiling, okay?)
Fuck this was supposed to be sweet and I’m here writing this and I can’t stop myself from crying. I won’t lie to you and tell you I’m having fun, you know (and deserve) better than that. It’s horrible but I see my sister every day and (though she doesn’t know what I’m enduring) she makes me laugh and she teases me and it’s worth it all over again.
My mother’s weird around me, but she’s softer when I’m with her- probably because she's grateful one of her children isn't an "abnormality of nature". And my dad- he says words to me so- that’s an improvement.
I tell her about you, Georgie, she wants to meet you, though she thinks you’re a girl.
Maybe you can wear something feminine if you ever see her- easier access for me if you’re in a skirt, and I bet it would accentuate your curves…
Fuck now I’m sad and horny- what a mix, see angel, you just turn me into a mess. I wonder what you’re doing, and I hope you’re happy. I hope you’ve found you’re purpose without me, I hope you’re thriving and laughing, and I hope you and Ajax are having the time of your lives.
I don’t think I can keep this letter, the risks of it being caught-and the punishment that’ll follow are too high, so I’m going to burn it now, but I really enjoyed talking to you Georgie.
I miss you every single day.
yours before i ever even had a chance,
dream
Notes:
okay so that was last chapter!
GUYS STOP IT IM JOKING RELAX i would kill me if that was last chapter.
okay basically whats happening next is two epilogues- one like special one, and then actual LAST CHAPTER (epilogue II- dream pov)) so AHHHHHHH are you guys excited?
anyway how did u find this?? was it too happy? shld i make it sadder? :)
lmao anyway,,
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Chapter 22: epilogue i
Summary:
"Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable" (Leviticus 18:22)
"If a man lies with a man as one lies with woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads" (Leviticus 20:13)
Notes:
first thing i want to say is that im not trying to demonise christianity (as a religion) at all but moreover the concept of religion dictating and overruling humanity and the autonomy of one's feelings. this chapter is quite personal to me from both the religious guilt aspect in my own way, but also one of my closest friend's battle with her faith and her sexuality. she was sent to an actual conversion camp when she came out to her parents (and it was definitely a lot different and more complex than the one i've written about) but a lot of dream's feelings have stemmed from her thoughts and her messages to me. she's obviously comfortable w me sharing this, and also incorporating in this story (hi lmao ik youre reading this ily). anyway if you ever need to talk about these kind of things (esp because people irl wouldnt understand) then feel free to reach out, i can even connect you with her if you'd like.
secondly, this is fiction.trigger warnings for this chapter:
suicidal thoughts (not at all explicit)
self-depreciative thoughts
parental neglect
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
epilogue i; stars around our scars, still we're bleeding
•a series of unsent letters and one unread message•
george,
in my weakest moments, under scrutiny for every breath i take, every word i say, condemned for a wrong look, in those moments i wish to die.
and it’s stupid i know, because we’ve discussed mortality before, discussed how having a limit on how long life is makes humans motivated to strive for excellence, to optimise their time. it led to me asking you if you’ve ever wished you were dead, or at least no longer in existence. i’ll never forget the look you gave me.
i realised then that the thoughts that sometimes dipped their virulent toes into my mind were probably not normal. it was comforting in some ways because i’d never have wanted you or my sister or nick to have ever experienced them, but a disarming realisation nonetheless.
i don’t actually want to die.
however that’s because i am a little scared that they’re right.
that all that’s waiting for me on the other side is fucking eternal damnation…
it’s harder to gather my thoughts every time they force me to listen to preachings on preachings, and it’s only been a week. i think my mind’s so malleable- you’d know exactly what to think, you’d be so set in your own way. it’s a strength, but it’s also a weakness, because you’re mind will hear and interpret only wants to.
i bet you’re thinking “i could’ve convinced dream to stay- i should’ve done xyz…”
i bet you’ll think that for a while even though there was nothing you could’ve done.
i think about you every waking moment even though they try to skin it out of me, but you’ve embedded yourself into my soul, there’s nothing they can take from me to remove you. and i carry on, day after day, stupid lecture after lecture because if i stop now, if i give in and fail my sister, then what was leaving you worth?
sometimes i think what it would be like if i stayed…
it’s funny because i can torture myself better than they can, and they’re trying and im not.
they’re checking dorms soon, so this letter will have to burn- like me, maybe, one day :)
yours in every hellish flame,
dream
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
g,
tired today. been hard month. forgetting the exact taste of your lips, some of the expressions you make at me are blurred now and it kills me. got to hug my sister today, unsupervised alone time. she’s blind to what they’re doing still…
she’s so old now, so mature.
i feel like ive missed her childhood.
eyes cant stay open, but need to write to you, need to feel our connection…
i think you’ll have graduated today, im so proud of you darling
wish i cld give you,
d
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
charity case,
i wish i could wrench you out of my mind. it’s like our years at the academy all over again, your dumb “i’m so effortlessly better than you look” is pinned to the forefront of my mind and it overcomes
any
everything. i mess up some community work we’re forced to do (alongside actual bloody people who are serving time can you believe) and i can practically hear your smirk.
but it’s not all bad, honestly, as long as i do what they expect of me it’s fine.
i dont know why im trying to lie to you, you see through me as if im glass
i see you every time i look out of my little window at night in the stars and i see you in everything i see that is blue and i hear you in people’s soft laughs, and i remember the way you taste everytime i close my eyes. it’s fading a little every day, but the feelings i had for so many years are insoluble precipitates, steady and indestructible no matter how corrosive and concentrate the acidity of this place.
george never in a million years did i expect you to return my feelings because you are so clever in so many ways that such a witless mistake is so beneath you. you are perseverance where i am resignation. i’ve resigned to this half-life i am living and i think im deluding myself every day a little more that i can be content with it.
you compared me to the romantics that day. and perhaps i am a hopeless romantic. i believe that once the higgs-boson particle accelerator proves the existence of parallel universes (shut up i know the way you’d scoff at this- if ur so confident then disprove the theory why dont you… yeah exactly).
im a romantic because i see us in one of those parallel universes, one where im brave enough to stand up to my parents and brave enough to pull away my sister from them, and brave enough to want to be with you, and you’re stupid enough to want me too, and i see us together.
and call me a romantic but i feel like we’d find our way to each other in every universe.
fall in love in most.
but in this one, im truly, honestly so so sorry george that im not the one for you as much as i want to be. i find peace in the face you’re probably forgetting about me and soon i’ll be just a sudden flashback when you a case in a charity shop or when someone tries to describe colours to you or when you see the color yellow…
they tell me im too old for this program now, they’re going to make the last segment more concentrated and extreme. it’s funny they think they can religious away brain chemistry, religious away what my dick rises to, but oh well.
i hope they religious away you from my mind at least.
hugging you in some other universe,
dream
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
apple,
i cant do this anymore. it hurts. it fucking hurts.
eve
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
blue,
they make me hate who i am over and over again. it’s so hard to have so many people resent you for something you can’t control- even i resented these parts of me for so long. for so long. and i see it in their eyes, it’s disgust and it’s pity and it’s looking at me like i’m a freak.
they don’t stitch me up with the care you did…
their hands are invasive and forceful, where your fingers were gentle and sweet and alight with concern and precision.
i miss your touch, i miss arguing with you, i miss proving you wrong.
i miss putting you in your place.
it was such an integral part of me- you were such an integral part of me, and now i am condemned for it. i never told you about how i came out to my parents, because honestly it’s like my mind has tried to erase it to save me from going through it again and again.
i wonder how it’ll erase all this time.
this experience has carved a valley in me, a river of holy water syphoning a deep rift, causing the best (“worst”) parts of me to erode away.
always tired but never of you,
green
ps. as i write green, i remember the way you described me as your yellow, as your gold and it makes me smile. i miss smiling. i miss you.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
g,
fuck me. i saw sapnap today. do you remember that stupid psychology seminar (which i only did because you were doing it)? im sure you remember it, you wrote this fucking stellar essay on like rosy retrospection or something and i was in awe. but anyway, they had that phenomenon- they compared it to how you’re not hungry but then you have just a little of something and you realise how starving you are..
i really thought i was coping (well relatively)
i saw sapnap and i fucking disintegrated. not while i was with him, obviously- he had been through enough if he had somehow managed my parents to let him see me.
(they blame him- because of course homosexuality is a contagious disease, won’t you know. a communicable virus. wow, who would’ve thought my parents were such pathologists?)
yeah so i saw him and it was monitored so i couldn’t hug him and i couldn’t talk to him freely. but still it was everything, and it was a fleeting taste of freedom and afterwards i went back to my room and just collapsed and broke down.
if nick saw my reaction he’d break in and break me out, because of course he would.
but my time here is nearly over, and it’s fucking hell, but it’s nearly over, and then-
idk what happens then, idk how my parents will see me.
i dont know.
it terrifies me if this was all for nothing.
i wonder what you’re doing now. you’ve probably got a job, maybe you’re doing a masters…
i hope and i believe you’re thriving.
d <3
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
georgie,
you came to me in a dream today, and it was strange because i haven’t dreamed about you in a while. it’s been so long since i’ve even written to you because it’s begun to hurt so much to put pen to paper.
whoever coined time heals all wounds was fucking stupid.
i feel worse every day and worse still if there’s the smallest chance you feel a tenth of what i do…
i dont really remember the dream but i remember it had your face and i remember you were smiling. it was the highlight of my time here. it’s the last day tomorrow, marking 9 months since i came here. 9 months because- get ready for this poetry- nine months to rebirth you. yeah so now my head is just popping out of the womb, fixed of its abnormalities, i am no longer in love with you. sorry to say.
nick hasn’t come by in a couple of months- i think they’ve stopped him from seeing me…
i miss you. every time i attend a sermon i can picture you picking apart the speeches looking for rebuttals with that dead serious face you get when you concentrate.
i hate myself for not taking you up on your advances in that bathroom oh so long ago, i was an idiot. i am an idiot.
wanted to write more today but the tears are in freefall so goodbye angel, i dont know if i’ll find it in myself to do this anymore.
still yours,
dream
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
angel,
my parents smiled at me. my mother hugged me. my father talked to me as if it didn’t kill him to do so…
a part of me felt like a traitor because i still was not at all who they thought i was.
but i can mask it, and i’ll take the pills (even though they fuck me over) if it keeps this up.
i really can’t keep writing to you. it’s dishonest to them, it’s dishonest to the character i’m playing.
i hope you’re happy now and at peace. this really is goodbye, but before i can begin to shut you away, i need to confess. (confessions are a big thing for my new persona)
i promised you once to tell you where i got the bruises from that early autumn term in school- they were from a special preacher my parents had called. every time i showed signs of (very stereotypical) “adhd”- whether it was bouncing my leg or not focusing on the conversation in hand, he’d struck me with a cane. you asked me why i didn’t fight back- and god, george, in those moments with that bullshit he was spewing at me, i’d honestly believed i deserved it. he’d given me a test to pick out faces i found more attractive and every time i chose the more masculine one- yeah.
anyway so i had definitely had enough so i left.
then that night i showed up to your place, just before I’d gone to see my sister- because I missed her. whilst sneaking out of the house, i was caught and a similar ordeal happened- my parents asked me to sit in a room so i did because they’re my parents, they called this guy over, he fucking beats me up because of whatever reasons he can concoct and i can’t do shit back because my parents were there and if they thought i deserved it then maybe i did…
and don’t fucking look at me like that george.
so as a massive fuck off to him, i came straight to you.
(okay maybe because i just wanted to see you because you’re you )
so there we go, nothing left between us now. i'd say no debts but i'm pretty sure i owe you like fifty as 404….
oh george.
goodbye george, i love you.
goodbye dream.
probably the devil,
clay revaz :)
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
404 ~ online, hiding
just saw sapnap today and i realised i never said something to you.
and i dont know if i’ll ever get the chance to now.
but dream
i love you
and im an idiot for not realising it sooner, and im an idiot for wasting so much of our time together, and im an idiot, but im in love with you. i was a year ago when i saw you last in the museum, i probably was when i saw you covered in blood that night, i probably was half way there when i saw your dumb stupidly pretty face and decided it was hatred. and i am now, it’s sad how long it’s taken me to say it, a whole year since we even seen each other.
still, i love you.
i love you.
i love you.
i love you so much it hurts.
i love you and i can’t have you. i love you and you’re hurting and i can’t help.
we were the smartest boys in our year and we were the biggest idiots too…
y’know that series of advanced physics lessons a couple of years ago- you’ve probably forgotten but it’s etched in my mind like most of our moments together, where you were so adamant about the idea of parallel universes?
who am i kidding- you’ve probably forgotten but yeah, you marvelled at the mere possibility… and i thought it was the most idiotic concept to exist?
well i still think it’s ridiculous but
but i hope if parallel universes do exist, then at least in one we aren’t idiots, there’s one in which we’re together and in love and not complete fools…
just one, please.
i love you, dream. more than i ever thought was possible, more than i should.
Notes:
guys...it's literally the penultimate chapter...
i had a chemistry test today... yeah another fucking chemistry test dont even talk to me...
anyway i have my FINAL week of exams on the 6th june that determine my predicted grades that decide which uni i get to on the sixth im fucking shaking...
(btw this is when dream team will meet up because i am just that unlucky hehehe)this was just a short little bonus chapter because a. i wanted to incorporate themes close to me b. just some gel between the v long final epilogue c. i felt like crying
pretty please leave kudos.
and maybe a little comment xo :)
ALSO SUBSCRIBE TO MY USER because after exams ill maybe do another fic i have some ideas :)
but rn im wholly committed to wcesnty!dnf <3discord: valyrie#3873
twitter: dtkqv
Chapter 23: epilogue ii.
Summary:
" 𝘖𝘩, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺
𝘐 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘊𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘬𝘦 "- line without a hook, ricky montgomery
Notes:
hi this is SUPER long chap (10k words) also LAST CHAPTER omg.
i'd REALLY REALLY super appreciate it if youre here and you liked this fic at all to like, comment and rt this tweet here just bc im so proud of this fic and i'd love it if more people saw it:
https://twitter.com/dtkqv/status/1531073886573449218?s=21&t=lEAOUmCRyh9YU61gvM1E2A
who could ever say no to you
anyway, please enjoy <3
thank you so much for being here till the end :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
epilogue ii. four three eight six.
He was destined for hell , Clay Revaz knew it couldn’t be true, that hell was his one destiny . Yet was a fact instilled into him since his first diagnosis of ADHD as a child.
Clay Revaz knew, in fact, very little, didn’t understand why religion meant he couldn’t act a certain way, nor the inner mechanics of why his parents talked about him marrying a girl when boys were just as pretty, but perhaps what he was versed fluently in was simply that colourblind brunet, too clever for his own good, George Davidson.
George Davidson. Vice given skin, all savage iniquity and conceited eyerolls, Clay’s seraphic nemesis, Clay’s walking crisis, perhaps the only thing Clay knew well. His shrewd gaze and ambitious recalcitrance had acted as a lure to draw Clay in, tempted him to study him, learn the scholar. Clay hadn’t known much but he knew George was a problem, and he knew that problems needed to be put in their places.
Clay had made it a target, made George his goal. And he was going to score, because he was a winner, through and through.
That was until he lost. His heart, to be specific. Clay wasn’t quite sure when it happened, how exactly it had happened, between- what he was absolutely convinced was- disgust-driven glares and tense arguments. Somewhere between the need (and then actual deed) to near eviscerate a boy for being a dick to the brunet, and between the way his stomach plummeted at the sight of him with someone else.
Clay knew George would ruin his life from the moment he’d seen him, looked at him with that calculated gaze, assessing whether befriending the blonde was a move he wanted to make.
Clay just hadn’t realised then that he would let him. Enjoy it, even.
Oblivious he was, to what would follow, when he played his counter back to George. Oblivious he was then, to just how good George was at chess. And where he’d been defending a rook to keep his sanity, George would sidle his way into checkmate, corner his king.
Thus, a silent game of bullet chess had decided their relationship before they’d even finished a conversation. Risky and high speed, forcing adrenaline to enter the bloodstream- signalled by the hypothalamus. Clay had lost himself to George right then, right there, but neither of them had realised yet.
Falling for George was easy- he was beautiful, too clever, witty and endearing.
Keeping those feelings for him was more of a challenge, and Clay had lost count how many times he was ready to throw the bratty brunet out of a window. Initially, he hasn’t even realised the reason George could so easily get under his skin was because he was so infuriatingly beautiful, that it tipped Clay off balance. George, who all his friends , had been talking about as the underprivileged , poor , charity case , was brilliant, intuitive, quick, and so , so pretty. He’d observed the way George could respond to social cues so naturally, observed his jokes that weren’t funny because none of them could really understand them yet, observed how he had a drive within him.
When George had finally approached him, he was intrigued and equally annoyed. Why had he waited to approach him? Did he think he was too good for Clay? Maybe all these thoughts rose to hide the way he felt so overwhelmingly flustered.
It was a hostile introduction, and Clay knew he couldn’t let this charity case name thing run on with his friends, so he took the nickname upon himself. It transformed from something mean and callous to something more.
Their entire dynamic did.
The summer he told his parents about his sexuality- how had he been so brave, so stupid- he had perhaps indirectly been confronting a mirror, reflecting on his own feelings for the brunet. He didn’t know if he liked George, but he knew he loved him.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Bruised and battered, mentally and physically, Clay Revaz had found himself staring at a dorm room door wondering if this is when everything would change. He had nowhere else to go, couldn’t haul himself across to Nick, could definitely not go to a doctor. If George had turned him away, he didn’t know what he’d do.
But he knew George, and he knew George would open the door for him.
A part of him knew George had that same nauseating obsession with him, as he did for the brunet. They were intertwined, linked beyond either of their control, foils for each other.
George was his strength- had been for the longest time, pushing him to new limits, making him accept parts of himself he was taught to loathe. George was his weakness because his life seemed to revolve around him, and there was nobody who could affect his day to day mood like the brunet, and because he’d managed to throw a boy out of school because he’d assaulted George.
The last action was done on a whim- he’d heard the news, then seen the hurt on George’s face, and suddenly there had been such malignant violence flaring through his core. He knew how much it took for George to outwardly display emotion at all, and for such a reaction.
He would never regret what he’d done to that piece of shit.
But it showed how little control he had of himself when it came to the brunet.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
A reason why it had all been so confusing was because, in the earlier years, Dream didn’t understand how George worked, didn’t understand how he conveyed emotions. Dream had wanted to believe George was that unfeeling shell he portrayed himself to be, Dream wanted to believe that he hated George.
“You’re nothing.” He would spit out towering over the brunet, not because he’d meant it, but because it ignited a version of George that peeled back the layer he’d put between him and the rest of the world. When they were arguing, when they exchanged ruthless comments or academic blows, he saw emotion run amuck on pale features, and he revelled in it.
Perhaps that was why he particularly enjoyed their combats.
It was an odd sensation, having a part of George nobody else could see. All to himself.
Clay did not despise it. Not in the slightest.
Near the end of their first year was possibly the first time, he’d seen this transformation.
“You look lost, Revaz. First time in a library, is it? Realising you can’t pay your way through end of year exams?” Young George had still been crudely blunt, an admirable trait to be so sure of yourself at that age. George waged into conversations like a general leading troops into war, each word specialised to deliver careful strikes. Clay stumbled into conversations with George like an olympic sprinter, words often straggling behind- and delivered in a tangle of emotion.
He’d always been so good with people, but George was different. (This anomaly briefly caused Clay to theorise George was an alien for a solid two months.)
“It must get so boring needing to study all the time? Shame how I’m on par with you but do no revision.” Clay had shrugged, enjoying how it had caused George to grit his teeth.
It was an outlandish lie. Just to keep up with George, Clay had to put in such ridiculous hours, had to scavenge the internet and books to find retaliations to George’s ingenious arguments. But George didn’t know that, and Clay was desperate to keep it that way.
This was the first crack of that obstinate, unappealing wall.
“Do-” George’s face looked to be in physical pain just to push out the words, something different in his eyes, “Do you really not study?”
Fuck.
Just the edge of vulnerability and Clay had been ready to drop to his knees.
“I-” Clay had been caught off guard. “Um-”
A triumphant smirk back on George’s face, a self-satisfied air to the way he crossed his arms. “What I thought, dickhead.”
“Watch your words, charity case, they’re reaching.”
“Watch your grades, they’re slipping.”
“It must be so boring when you’re only personality trait is being ‘clever’.” Clay had churned out, and again that flash in brown eyes. It began getting easier to know what actually got to George, easy to know what to avoid .
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Then there were those too many, too real conversations with Sapnap.
Around Clay had been an evening breeze, entering through a penthouse window. In one hand was a mug of ice that he was snacking on, the other held his phone on facetime with his favourite in the world.
And Nick.
“Missing me? Oh I know you are, oh look at you…” Clay had touched his nose to the screen, relishing the little mewls his kitten made.
“I swear you only call for her, and not to catch up. Idiot.” Nick had grunted moving aside Patches and taking centre screen, causing Clay to back away from the screen immediately. Nick scowled. Clay grinned.
Without him, there was no chance he could have made it through his years at the academy.
It was only with Nick that he could really be his true self, and he got tired off putting on an act day in, day out. And Nick had known him for such a long time, knew him well enough that sometimes words just weren’t necessary for their communication. Clay needed that sort of bond, and he was forever indebted and grateful to the tiny prick.
“You seem stressed, what’s wrong?” Less of a question, more of a demand. This was the downside of their propinquity, this ability to pick up on each other’s feelings hundred of miles apart.
“Nothing.” Clay lied because Nick didn’t deserve to stress.
“You gonna bullshit me? Really?” Nick shook his head. “C’mon, Dream.”
Clay had simply stayed quiet, knowing he’d give in if Nick persisted anymore in the slightest. It wasn’t like he could really keep anything from Nick.
“Is it your parents?” There was a darker sort of tone to Nick’s voice, and it had made Clay’s stomach turn. He understood Nick’s protectiveness, but they were his parents in the end- he’d had so many fond memories with them when he was younger. And they were his parents.
His parents .
“Not this time.” He admitted begrudgingly, and then unable to make eye contact with the phone, he whispered out words he was so terrified would rip his life apart. “Nick, how- how did you realise you were y’know?”
“How did you realise you were…” The word seared his throat like it was raw flame, and he imagined his soul alit the same in the afterlife. “That you um, liked guys? Romantically.”
There was a frightening quiet in which Clay wished he had Patches in his lap to embrace, wished he was next to Nick- in his presence.
When the silence had stretched so thin it approached Planck’s length, Clay had given in and looked back to the screen, to his brother’s face. He feared pity, for they both knew what was to come for him.
Instead he saw pride, a shine in Sapnap’s brown eyes, a reserved, knowing grin. “ Oh, Dream.”
“No, as in, I don’t know,” Clay rushed out.
At the same time Nick snickered, “Was it George?”
Clay’s face dropped. The corners of Nick’s mouth lifted.
“W-what?” Clay gagged, hoping the light pink dusting his cheeks would be mistaken for horror or disgust. “What do you- what do you mean by that?”
Nick feigned innocence but there had been amusement in his eyes, affection in his tone, “ Oh Nick, George beat me in this today, waa, oh Nick George this, and George, and George, and George, and can you believe what George- ”
“I-” Clay turned to face away again, considered ending the call. “I don’t sound like that.”
“It’s okay,” Nick had turned a little more serious, “But you think you have feelings for a guy? Who may or may not be George?”
“I, um,” Clay hadn’t thought much further than the initial question, was too scared of Nick’s initial response then to carry on further. “I d’know.”
“Mmm,” Nick had hummed in quiet thought, and off screen Patches had contributed a very insightful miaow. “Well, he’s always in your head…”
“Because he’s an annoying little-”
“And he definitely evokes strong emotions within you… have you ever thought about kissing him?”
“Um, I mean- well, okay listen, well- no , I mean kind of, I mean, like it would be like kissing I don’t know-”
“So that’s a yes. Do you enjoy the time you spend together?”
“Absolutely not-”
“But don’t you make excuses to spend more time with him?”
“Okay, that’s out of context-”
“So that’s a yes. Do you plan your future together?”
“His future is my future.” Clay had churned out like it was obvious, but started shaking his head when he realised how it sounded. Nick only widened his eyes. “No, I mean, like, I have to beat him, I have to prove to him I am better than him.”
“Do you find yourself missing him when he’s not around?”
Clay had stayed very quiet at that question, because he didn’t miss George as much as felt empty when he wasn’t in his presence. A sort of opening in his heart, specifically shaped for a short British brunet. Like an active site and a substrate, they fit together perfectly, tore each other apart almost like it was their nature. And so finally, “There’s just a hole that he fills…”
“There’s just a what that he what s?” Nick exclaimed, and Clay’s head had snapped back to the facetime. Nick’s lips were pressed together, as if trying not to break out into laughter.
“Oh fuck’s sake, I’m ending this-”
“No, no . C’mon, dickhead, almost over now.” There was a smile in his words. “Do you get jealous when George is with someone else?”
“He’s never with anyone else.” Clay had declared almost triumphantly, and then immediately shrunk back after Nick had delivered a pointed look.
“God, you’re so…” Nick rolled his eyes, “Okay but imagine someone smarter than you joins the school, not that that’s unlikely, and George decides to devote all his time into competing with this new guy.”
Clay felt green hands tighten across his neck. “I wouldn’t get jealous. I’d just be annoyed that y’know he’s spending his time on this other guy, who’s so obviously not as good as me.”
“Oh I know exactly what you need. One second.” Nick angled the camera towards Patches and left.
Clay had bunched his eyebrows together, wondering what physical item would help him now. Then again, it was Sapnap, he was probably going to bring a crucifix or something.
Nick returned, that sleazy grin in place, and Clay rolled his eyes preemptively. Displaying the new item in outstretched arms before him, Nick gave a sickening grin. “A dictionary.”
“Maybe I’m not into George. Maybe you’ve lowered the quality of humans I spend time with so down, that even George seems a paragon in comparison.”
“Ouch.” Nick tilted his head, “What does paragon mean?”
“You’ve literally got a fucking dictionary in your-”
Clay had no doubt that Sapnap regretted helping Dream explore his sexuality and feelings for George because in a year’s time, their conversations had transformed into something more like-
“Stop smiling like that. It’s creepy.” Nick’s first words to him after picking up the call.
“I bought George a suit.”
“You fucking- you what? ”
Clay had lain down on his bed, a smile on his face as he continued talking to Nick. “I bought him a navy suit. For the formal.”
Nick had looked appalled, and that only confirmed Clay had made the right decision. “You called me last week telling me how much you wanted to shove him off the library roof. In fact you made me research how to make deaths look like suicide?”
“Yeah but that’s because he got one mark more than me in history. But a couple nights ago, fuck, y’know how I like shit myself because of thunderstorms.”
“Oh I hate George stories.” Sapnap had winced.
Clay had continued on, as if not having heard Nick, and perhaps in that George -dazed state he might’ve actually not. “Yeah we were in the library, and there was this random ass thunderstorm just y’know, appeared out of nowhere. And clearly he’s picked up that I don’t like them, I don’t know how, but he kept me distracted the whole way through.”
“Okay, listen. This next bit’s important,” Nick stared at Clay’s face through the phone, so Clay did the same. “Distract you how.”
Clay had rolled his eyes like the answer had been obvious, “Intellectual debate on just because we can make people live longer, does that mean we always should . It was like stellar.”
“Intellectual debate.” Nick raised an eyebrow, “And he didn’t ask you about the thunderstorm or your reaction or anything?”
“No?”
“So maybe, just maybe he didn’t realise, and he just wanted to have the debate?“
Now Clay knew there was something deeper, because obviously he’d had the exact same thread of thoughts during the evening, but it was the parting line from George that had caused something to seize in his heart. Mad, okay ?
Mutually assured destruction never sounded so sweet.
But it was their thing, sacred, and it felt wrong to share, even with Nick. Plus, Nick would laugh and Nick would cringe and-
“You zone out of our conversations to think about him. This is nauseating.” Nick faked a dramatic sob. “Can we talk about my problems now?”
“Literally who can ever stop you from talking about your problems ?” Clay had refuted.
“Okay fine, fine , if you insist.” Clay listened closer, because Sapnap’s heightened sarcasm was to balance out something deeper, something he was nervous to ask about. Protectiveness took hold of the blonde, and he listened astutely as Nick carried on, “Uh, so, I just wanted to ask um, what was the name of that guy- y’know when I visited last time, and he was with Karl and they were hugging.”
“Is someone jealous ?”
“No? Jealous? What?” Nick scoffed, waved a hand like the notion was preposterous, “I just, I don’t like the idea of him being so close with someone like that.”
Clay had shaken his head slowly, tutting, “Now, hmm, where’s that dictionary?”
“You fuckin’ bring this up and I’ll use that shit I learned about making deaths look like suicide.” Nick was going red, and Clay chuckled. “Wait, wait, you never finished, I just realised how did him possibly staying with you in the thunderstorm lead to you buying him a, probably fucking designer, suit?”
“Stop using George to change the subject,” Clay had sighed, but then because he couldn’t help himself, “Because he looked so beautiful in the library, and he would look even prettier in something that I bought him. Oh, George in navy, oh ,”
Nick ended the call.
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It was tragic, after the summer he came out to his parents and consequently got cut off and kicked out, because Clay had tried to evict the feelings housed in every cell of his body. His master plan was to avoid George, because if he didn’t face the brunet, wasn’t in his electrifying presence then surely everything would subside.
Perhaps there was even a chance this might have worked were it not for two new additions to their lives. Both shockingly intertwined but nobody knew that yet. First was the arrival of Alex Quackity, and the way George and Alex gravitated towards each other. Their whole friendship made Clay want to crawl into the nearest bathroom and puke out all his wretched feelings. Second was Clay’s new financial circumstances, forcing him to have to get an actual job. Luckily Nick had come in clutch and set him up in this shady dark web hacking service. Thus was born in binary code and brokenness was Dream, the hacker, working for the organisation headed by Alex Quackity, himself.
Dream was pretty sure he was cursed.
Worse still was 404. Years and years would pass, but the pure mortification Dream had felt finding out George Davidson and 404 were the same person would hold centre stage.
Second only, and even then just slightly, to his love for 404, George, the brunet in any and every form.
George had taken it upon himself to making losing feelings for him an impossible task. First, he broke pattern. He went to a party . Dream wanted to blame Alex for this, but he knew that if George truly hadn’t wanted to go himself, he wouldn’t. George had gotten wasted, Dream felt like every second he wasn’t with the brunet was a moment wasted. George had been flirted with, and Dream felt his resolve dissipate like he wished his feelings would instead.
And he’d texted George about it. Referred to George as his crush because it was easier than explaining everything. Dream couldn’t think about it without wanting to kick himself, without realising it wasn’t even the worst.
im so in love with him
i could never hate him when did i say that i never said it
hes so pretty when hes annoyed with me
“why did you kiss me” BECAUSE YOU CANT JUST go walking around in MY clothes looking like that and EXPECT ME not to kiss you
Dream wondered how George had actually realised it was him who sent these messages and still willingly cared about him. Perhaps he was in too deep at that point; Dream knew he was.
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All of it, their relationship, everything about them- what had it meant in the end? Dream had never wanted to make George upset, felt the brunet’s pain triple fold unto himself, but outside that bathroom, in that museum, George had been hurt. Because of him.
He wasn’t stronger than his worst desires- to be loved .
Loved by his parents for who he was, or at least who he could pretend to be.
He knew he was weak, and though he was certain there was nobody else in the world more a perfect fit for George, he was certain there were people who would treat him better, who were better themselves. And George deserved the best.
It killed him to think, as he met his mother’s dilated eyes across dinner tables (the antidepressants rather than emotion towards him or emotion at all), that there was some other man whose fortuitous hand held George’s. It massacred him to realise, as his father drove their family to church on Sunday, that as he grasped every liquid memory of the brunet, George would allow himself to forget their shared years, shared kisses, shared secrets.
Worst of all, as he found himself suddenly seeing something that threw him back, violently, into a memory with George, he thought of the same happening to George, thought of George’s mood souring after. He would, in an instant, prefer George forgetting him in his entirety than to the brunet ever having to shed a tear because of him.
It had been three years since their parting, it felt like a millenia and a millisecond all at once to the blonde.
Newton’s first law, the law of inertia, states that an object in motion will stay in motion unless acted on by an unbalanced force. Following the same reason, an object at rest will stay at rest until acted on. Dream felt like that- an object at rest, simply existing- through restless thoughts and pills that made his personality flip, and so when the unbalanced force came, sending him spinning, he was unprepared. Judgement day was upon him, and he was unprepared and dazed and confused.
His sister had turned 18, and though there wasn’t much in his life he savoured, time with her was something that he cherished. She’d been so sheltered away from the full extent of their parents’ behaviour- or so he’d thought.
She’d entered his room six minutes past midnight, the day after celebrations, and said to him words that he never thought he’d hear. “I want to leave, Clay.”
It was in that moment the tether had snapped. Everything in the shell of a life he had been living felt more shallow, because he’d gotten his parents proxi-love only to realise it changed nothing, because his tie to this place was her.
“What?” He asked dumbly.
“I’ve packed passports for the both of us. Please Clay, we’ve got money, we’ve got each other, let’s not stay in this hellscape anymore.” She persisted.
“Where- where is this coming from?”
“You’re not the only child in this family who can wear a mask.” Her eyes were welled up, and Clay pulled her into an embrace. She hugged him back and then pulled away, walked over to his drawer, opened it and pulled out the stimulant pills and opened a window, tossing them out. Clay watched it all in a sort of daze. It felt like a fog had been lifted. “I know you think of me as your little sister but I’m 18, I’m not under their rein. I know they’ve done to you, you don’t even know what they’ve-”
“What did they do?” Clay could forgive his parents for damning him to hell, but if they so much as had ruined a single of his sister’s dreams with one of their trademark disapproving looks.
“It doesn’t matter-” She exhaled, dropped her shoulders, walked over to his desk and started moving things aside, “I need to leave. We need to go.”
“I- listen, you have to tell me what they’ve done-”
“I’m not asking you about what they did to you, am I?” She snapped her head back to him, eyes wet, and gave a humourless chuckle, “Please, not now. Let’s leave. Just take me anywhere in the world, let’s escape.”
“Okay sweetheart, where’d you wanna go- oh, what are you doing, don’t move that- you little bitch-” Clay rushed to get beside her, just as she uncovered his hidden shrine safe. Her victory smile was vicious.
“I’m almost finished packing for you. But I know you’d want whatever’s in here.”
“Drista-”
“ Clay . We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon.”
“4386.” Clay sighed, “What do you mean we don’t have a lot of time.”
“I booked a taxi, it’s coming in a couple of hours. Go shower and change, we’re heading to an airport, c’mon.”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re insane,” She turned to him then, undiluted, raw affection in her eyes, “For staying so long, and I know at least a part of it was for me. Thank you Clay, thanks a million times over.”
“ Drista .”
“Go fucking shower, you stinky shit.” She shoved him away, trying to hide her face because of the tears running down them.
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Four AM, Florida airport. Suitcases trailing behind them, Dream and his sister were waiting for the flight, having just passed security. On the taxi there, Dream had been buying seats.
“Where are we going?” His sister had asked him.
“To Nick.” He’d responded immediately, because to him it was obvious. They hadn’t seen each other in two years, but Dream knew it could’ve been ten and doors would be wide open for him. Dream had missed Sapnap just as much as he missed George but in a different way. Whereas missing George had been profuse maelstroms of heartache, and maniacal attacks to his core, and an ensurient void, an inextinguishable emptiness, missing Sapnap was a quiet mortal ache. It followed him day and night, a trail of guilt and misery. Missing Sapnap was television static blasting through his ears for so long his only coping mechanism was to tune it out, for if he let it affect him, he’d simply fade away.
“You always talk about him, but I was never allowed to meet him.”
“Yeah. I’m shocked you were allowed to see me half the time.” Dream scoffed.
“What about the boy in your safe?”
Dream had just smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned back into the car seat.
As they boarded, Dream expected to feel at least a sliver of sadness.
All he was met with was a wash of relief. And his sister’s not so quiet snores.
Finding out where Nick currently wasn’t exactly hard, and Dream’s stint at hacking had proven useful so many years later, because he cracked Nick’s password and got into his Apple ID, allowing him to see the position of his phone and other devices. He took his sister into another cab and they drove to the house.
The nerves hadn’t hit until he was right outside the door. Beside him, his sister looked to him, then adjusted their suitcases that leaned against the back wall. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“Yeah.” Dream replied with more confidence than he felt. “Yeah, it’s Sapnap .”
“I don’t know what that means, I’ll be real with you.”
“I don’t think he does either, it’s okay.”
“Okay, I’m done.” She sighed, and shoved him aside, ringing the bell and then knocking on the door. “I’m too tired for your indecision.”
It was still early, too early, and it was a weekend, and Sapnap was a heavy sleeper. Dream rolled his eyes and pressed the doorbell a few more times, for good measure, smiling at the way he imagined Sapnap groaning and walking over to open the door.
But this wasn’t just an idea, or a memory, this was real, and Dream’s stomach was left behind in Florida as the door opened, and he shied away.
“Oh, good morning , are you here for-” Only his sister was in Sapnap’s line of vision, and of course she’d grown and he no longer recognised her from photos. “Are those suitcases yours?”
“Um,” She looked alarmed, and turned to face Dream. Following her direction, Sapnap turned to do the same. Dream blinked.
Before Dream could even react, or even open his mouth to speak, Sapnap rushed into him, tiny but in full force, a hug for the ages. Dream didn’t realise he was crying until he tasted salt. Sapnap pulled back a little and whacked him on the arm, hard , “You, you fucking asshole, you- why- I sent you so many-”
Dream chuckled but it came out like a choked sob.
“Are you okay?” Sapnap asked, looking over Dream as if not quite believing he was actually there.
“I am now.” Dream felt like it was the most honest he had been in a long time.
“Oh.” Sapnap turned back to the bags, and back to Dream, and he grinned, “ Oh . Please tell me you’re moving in. Please, at least for a while.”
And because Dream still didn’t have the words to reply to Sapnap, he leaned around to address his sister, “Told you.”
“What do you mean, told you ? You stood outside his door for ten minutes looking like you wanted to run away and shit yourself, in either order.” His sister scoffed, “And I knocked in the end.”
“Oh my God, you must be Drista!” Sapnap raised a palm to his mouth, “Holy shit. This is, oh my God. Get in, both of you, just get in. What do you want Drista, tea, coffee? Dream there’s ice in the freezer-”
They found themselves on sofas talking for hours as Sapnap supplied them with endless snacks. His sister had gone to bed an hour in, and so Dream allowed himself to talk more freely and he explained everything, and he explained how little it had helped with anything. By the end, he felt sick to his stomach. “Please, tell me how you’ve been, Nick. I want to smile.”
“Well.” Nick bit his lip, “Dream- oh my God, this is such perfect timing. I needed someone to talk this through with, and ugh, it had to be you.”
“What?” Dream prodded, smiling because Nick’s was infectious, “What? Go on then, don’t be annoying, say…”
“Okay.” Nick ran a hand through his longer brown curls- he looked different, Dream was convinced, but at the same time, he looked the same. “I’m thinking about asking for uh- someone’s um, someone to marry me.”
“Oh shut up.” Dream’s mouth dropped open, “You’re fucking with me.”
“Three guesses who?”
“I know him?” Dream crossed his arms across his chest, before scoffing, “No way. No fucking way. Karl Jacobs?”
“No, Bad .” Sapnap shook his head, “Yes, Karl Jacobs.”
“Karl?” Dream wheezed, “Nah, man, I have to have a conversation with him, how is he so deluded he’d going out with you .”
“Shut up-”
“Kylie Jacobs, Nick, buddy.” Dream shook his head, still in disbelief, “21 and engaged? You? Never thought I’d see the day. But Nick Jacobs has a ring to it, yes?”
“Oh I’m taking his last name now, just because I said you’d take-” Nick cut himself off, but Dream waved a hand.
“You can say his name. George. There, I said it. George.” Dream smiled, “It’s okay, really, I’m not going to explode because of his dumb name.”
“I have to tell you something, Dream-” Sapnap began but Dream’s stomach groaned.
“Okay, before anymore serious talk, can I make us some real food, something warm and heated?” Dream asked, and Sapnap nodded enthusiastically, as if remembering Dream’s previous meals.
He made his way to the kitchen, washed his hands, and laughed at Sapnap’s organisation. He opened the fridge to see what he was working with, and saw it decked with a blue drink George had been obsessed with back in the academy. “You really like this, don’t you?”
He turned to Sapnap who was watching him carefully, and as if realising the question had been directed towards, he nodded. Dream smiled fondly, “Mmm, mind if I make some pancakes? My sister loves them.”
“Yeah.” Sapnap’s lack of words raised a bit of suspicion within him, but Dream tried not to read into it. He was probably just taking this all in, hell knows, Dream definitely was.
“Everything ok, Sap? I know this is a lot.”
“Shut up, Dream, I should still be asking you that. After everything-”
“Yes, key word, after , let’s focus on the now-”
“Oh so profound.”
“So what do you do now, this apartment is really nice?” Dream questioned, marvelling a little more at the interior of the kitchen. “And it’s really spacious for one person. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms. You’re living like a king.”
Sapnap laughed, “I was just waiting for you to move in.”
“Yeah?” Dream began mixing the batter.
“Nah, I do some video game design.”
“That’s really cool. My work these past few years has just been shadowing my dad’s company-”
“Dream. Are you out of there, for real?”
“Yes. Why-”
“You should talk to George.”
Dream used his forearm to brush his hair out of his eyes, “I don’t want to talk about George.”
“Tough.” Sapnap pushed, “You talked to me for hours, told me about everything in your life, and Dream, you didn’t mention him once. If you dropped him in, maybe I’d think you’d moved past it. But not a single mention.”
“Why do you care? You didn’t even really like him.”
“ Dream .”
“Is it because you’re with Karl? You need me to find someone too?”
“Dream-”
“Or is it because you’ve moved past me, Nick? You just want to push me away to something else because I’m a reminder of the past and you want to move on,” It spilled out of Dream, words describing his true underlying fear. He loved Nick, had loved him for so long, but there was a devastatingly large possibility Nick no longer needed him.
He didn’t realise he was shaking until Sapnap neared and placed his hand on Dream’s arm to steady him. “Hey. Hey, Dream. I’m here for you, man.”
“Nick. Has it been too long?”
“For us? Never.” Dream knew that and yet hearing it from Sapnap helped so much. He felt a little like a burden, but tried his best not to, knowing that if their positions were swapped, he’d always always welcome Sapnap. Sapnap continued holding his arm, “The reason I ask is because- well-”
“I smell pancakes!” Dream’s sister bounced into the kitchen, a twirl in her step. She seemed brighter now, than she’d ever been in that household, and Dream’s face melted into a smile looking at her. “I’m famished , starving.”
“Of course you are, I told you to have something before bed.” Dream stuck his tongue out at her and she rolled her eyes, cringing away as if she was embarrassed to know him. Dream scoffed.
“But I was sleepy, the plane was loud .”
“Loud because of all of your snoring.” Dream muttered beneath his breath, but Sapnap heard and couldn’t help but giggle.
“Oh just for that, I’m just gonna put this out there. Y’know your boyfriend ?” She teased.
“My what ?” Dream spun towards her, at the same time Sapnap cried out, his what ?
“Y’know the guy. All over your private little safe. 404.”
“I can’t believe you know I’m bisexual.”
“She doesn’t know you’re bi?” Nick plugged in, “What safe? 404 as in him ?”
“I know he’s gay. And I know you’re bi. I’ve heard our parents-” She shook her head, and met Dream’s eyes- they weren’t taking it further, “Anyway, yeah, so the guy who you have photos of, like a lot of photos and like all that other stuff.”
“Yeah?”
“I think he lives here.”
“What?” Dream stepped back.
“Yeah, I didn’t see you in the living room so I was checking the other rooms,” His sister made a poor excuse for being nosy, “And I was in this bedroom, and I saw like a huge collection of polaroid pictures and most of them had one person in particular. The boy in your safe.”
Dream turned to Sapnap, “What is she saying?”
“What safe?” Sapnap turned to his sister, trying to avoid looking at Dream. Dream took him by the shoulders and made him face in his direction. “Pretty up close and personal, hey, Dream, mind if I just, y’know step back.”
Dream let go off Nick and thundered towards the bedroom his sister had been talking about.
“You’ve done it now, mini Dream.” He heard Sapnap say to his sister.
It was stepping into George’s dorm for the first time all over again. His presence underneath it all, the faint smell of him, the walls with the pastel azure accents. A study corner with a desk and monitors, a bed- Dream didn’t look at it too intensely, and the wall of polaroids. Dozens of pictures of him laughing with Alex, with Nick, with Karl, with a few others he didn’t know. He neared the pictures, near tearing up at how beautiful, how ecstatic, how George George looked. A smile spread across his lips, as he took his forefinger and touched the brunet in one of the polaroids.
“Hey, angel .” He breathed out, and he closed his eyes remembering how perfectly George fit in his arms, remembering the way George had kissed him almost reverently, as if Dream was a deity in his own right. It all came back in a rush of red, purple, and pink.
“Dream?” Sapnap called out by the door, “You good?”
“What the fuck is this?” Dream turned to Sapnap, sinking down to the floor.
“George and I, uh, we got close, mostly because of you, in fact, missing you, that is.”
Once upon a time, Dream would have had no qualms about walking around in George’s room, poking his nose in drawers and digging through his closet. George would’ve done the same. But that was then, and now it was invasive. “Where is he?”
Dream thought about the date then, and before Sapnap could even respond, answered his own question, “His mother’s birthday. He’s in England?”
“Yeah, him and Alex. Alex, for business though- legal now, totally legitimate, and he’s still doing law and everything, but yeah. George is his like, right hand man, I think initially it helped take his mind off… everything, but now he’s really grown into the role.” Dream couldn’t believe it- couldn’t believe Sapnap and George were this close, best friends, roommates. It made his heart swell, because he’d always wanted them to be, but at the same time, every part of him felt like it was decaying, like he missed this huge arc of their lives. It felt like his worst fears come to life, like everyone had moved on without him.
“This, this is,” Dream leaned his head against the wall.
“It’s a lot, I know. Sorry I didn’t want to spring it on you.”
“It’s okay.” Dream didn’t know if it was okay, didn’t know if it would ever be okay. “I just didn’t actually ever expect to see him again.”
“I’m sorry Dream, I didn’t realise-” At his sister’s voice, Dream’s head snapped up and he immediately shook his head at her.
“Hey, it’s okay, really, oh, sweetheart.”
“Wait.” Sapnap sat opposite Dream, “But what is this safe?”
“Why?”
Sapnap shuffled and reached under the bed. Dream looked away, didn’t feel like probing into George’s new life.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, are seriously turning your head Dream? You’re probably more entitled to be here than I am.” Sapnap scowled, and Dream rolled his eyes and faced Sapnap cradling a large safe in his arms.
“That’s like exactly a bigger version of what Clay had!” His sister remarked.
“Yeah. We made safes in product design- they took us an entire year.” Dream shrugged, “George put a lot of hours into making his bigger than mine, which I told him was just because he was compensating elsewhere.”
“Was he?” Sapnap asked, words laced with easy humour.
“Surprisingly n-” Dream answered on instinct, then realised the company he was in, and what the question suggested. George really stole all rationality, didn’t he?
“Ew, what?” His sister screamed, and Sapnap winked at him.
“Okay, so what about the dumb safe? Most people have safes, especially when they have prying roommates.” Dream gave a sharp look towards Sapnap, who looked like he’d wear the badge of prying roommate with honour. It was so on brand of Sapnap that it made Dream miss him all over again.
“Most of people don’t have safes. And definitely not matching safes, that’s cringe-ass couple shit.
“Stop swearing, you’re a child.” Dream had no better argument than that, and his sister and Sapnap exchanged a glance. He hated their dynamic already.
“What’s the code then?” Sapnap’s voice was up an octave, all giggles and mischief, and Dream wanted to whack him.
“How am I supposed to know?” Dream rolled his eyes.
“Try, shit- what was it? Um, 2568.” His sister smiled at Sapnap with confidence.
“It’s 4386, how can you not remember four number dumbass.” He corrected without thinking, and only realised his mistake when Sapnap’s grin grew.
“He won’t tell you,” His sister watched as Sapnap entered the first digit, “even if you beg.”
“But he’ll correct you if you’re wrong in an instant.” Sapnap finished entering the next two digits.
“You’re both wrong. And crazy. His is obviously not going to-” There was a double beep, and the safe door swung open.
“Oh I’ve been wanting to see what’s inside since he moved in.” Sapnap shook with excitement. Dream was not about to let Sapnap snoop through George’s stuff no matter how close they were now. He marched over to Sapnap, hauled him of the floor by the back of his collar. “Up, let’s go.”
“Oh, what why ?” Sapnap whined like he was five.
“You’re no fun, Clay.” His sister joined in. Dream had not signed up to babysit two adults acting like toddlers.
“Go wash your hands, get ready for pancakes-”
“PANCAKES!” His sister squealed, locking eyes with Sapnap, who matched her manic energy, and repeated the cry. Then, like the mature adult humans they were, began chanting, pancakes, pancakes, pancakes . Dream wanted to knock their heads together to shut them up. In the back of his mind, he knew they were both doing this to distract him- especially Sapnap, and he was grateful, but if he was going to let himself be distracted, he had to let himself be pissed off.
As they set up plates, Dream slipped back into George’s room to lock the safe and put it back where it belonged- or at least those were his intentions. But as soon as he caught a glimpse of a navy suit, he was beside the safe, and pulled it out, fingers on the expensive material.
“Georgie.” He whispered out, imagining his fingers running through soft brown hair, imagining the sounds escaping his mouth as he tugged on it. His breathing grew shallower. He moved aside the suit, ready to see what else was in there- was it to do with him ? What did it suggest that this box of his stuff was locked and shoved under a bed? What did it mean that it even existed?
Beneath the suit were some joint assignments, some pictures of them from the school website, were some printed out screenshots of conversations between 404 and Dream- Dream turned away from the safe, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.
More digging and he brought out a lapel, a grin plastered on his face. In script, written, Roy Fletcher . The dumb nametag, how did George even have it? Alex and Nick had practically torn their hair out trying to figure out how they had somehow known the receptionist’s name. Both the idiots had missed the obvious name tag.
“ Mon Dieu , George- oh you’re disgusting .” Dream pulled out an old pair of fluffy socks that he’d given to George when he had been over for an english project and been cold. He’d completely forgotten about them. Thankfully, they seemed washed. Dream wanted to cry into them. He couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t probe any further, so he locked the box, shoved it back under and walked outside.
They needed to leave before George returned. There was no way he could face the brunet.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
“When’s he returning?” Dream asked Sapnap as the latter dried the dishes that the former washed.
“Fifth amendment.” Sapnap replied almost instantly.
Dream wrinkled his nose bridge, “You’ve spent far too long with Aaron.”
“You should thank Alex . He really helped George after you up and left us.”
“And Karl helped you?” Dream asked softly.
“Sort of.”
“I am sorry-”
“Don’t. Don’t apologise. Maybe to George. Never to me. I’ve seen your parents. I’ve grown up with you, Dream. I get it, I really understand.” Dream put a soapy hand on Sapnap’s forearm, enjoying how he pulled back. “But you can apologise to me for whatever that shit was earlier in the doorway. You really thought you couldn’t come here? I thought we were better than that.”
“I don’t want to burden-”
“But we are, Dream. We’re each other’s burdens. You put up with my shit, I put up with yours. We work, we’ve worked for two decades. We’re tried and tested.”
“Oh fuck, you make us sound old , two decades…”
“And y’know what else Alex did?”
“No but I’m sure you’ll tell me-”
“He got Morgan into mandated therapy sessions and community work. Which is insane with minimal proof of anything and Morgan’s weasley tactics.” Sapnap made a face at the mention of Morgan, and at the same time Dream gagged.
“Good. Fucking prick. Hope the people George has moved onto are better.” Subtle , he scolded himself.
“Nice try. You can ask him yourself.”
“I’m not staying here that long.”
“Oh Dream.” Sapnap gave him a shocked expression, and Dream took a breath to prepare himself for the tomfoolery that was about to follow. “You shackled yourself to this place as soon as you stepped in. I’m not letting you leave now, I’ve sunk my claws into you-”
“Is this supposed to be sweet, because I’m just a little scared and not the slightest comforted?”
“This is a threat.” Sapnap lifted a kitchen knife up, screwed his eyes at him. “You leave, it’s in a bodybag.”
“What the fuck does Karl see in you?”
“I ask myself that every single day.” Dream spun around to see Karl, who set aside keys on the kitchen counter. “Hey, Clay.”
“You’re not surprised to see me?”
“Every move you’ve made in your life is a surprise to me, I’ll be honest with you, Revaz.” Karl smiled, and placed a large bag on the kitchen counter. “Hey honey, I’ve just got the cake and some decoration, when are they- why are you doing that gesture- are you trying to DJ with your neck? Why are you sticking your tongue out, Nick?”
Dream spun back around to Sapnap, whose arms were suspiciously just moved to his side, and was looking at the ceiling and the floor and everywhere but Dream.
“What is going on?” Dream asked nobody in particular, “What’s the cake for?”
“Oh.” Karl replied, “George and Alex coming back.”
Dream shoulders dropped down in shock. “Today? What are the chances?”
“Quite high. You two are like magne-”
“Shut up, Sapnap, I need to go um, go um, just tidy up.” Dream rushed towards his suitcase, and as he brushed past Karl, he paused and lowered his voice, “Hurt him and you’ll end up as someone’s cake.”
“What the fuck does that even me-”
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
In the depths of his time at that despicable camp, he had never allowed himself to hope to be reunited with George. Never once, at family dinners, or forced events, did he let himself dream of ever seeing his brunet ever again. He kept his memories of George close, an endless fuel to let his will to live burn on. There was enough drive from a single blurry, pixelated kiss with the brunet to fuel Dream through another arduous conversation with his father, in which he seeked so desperately for his approval and his father distanced himself even more.
The bathroom mirror highlighted the dark bags beneath his eyes, highlighted the way his hair had lost its gloss and his face had been weathered into something less. If George was to see him now, would there be pity in molten ochre eyes?
Dream didn’t know much, didn’t even really know who he was anymore, after he’d lost so much to pave way for what his parents wanted him to be, but he knew George. George would accept him, would know exactly how to react. He didn’t have faith in himself, but he had faith in George.
It was a terrifying realisation that George could honestly walk into the house at any moment. Though he’d never dreamed of their reconciliation, he’d certainly had nightmares about it. They’d meet at the gates of hell, destined to be each other’s forever torture, Dream would meet him just as George was falling in love with someone else- someone better than Dream, that Dream would meet George and George wouldn’t recognise him.
Each fissure in his composure was amplified in the bathroom mirror.
George could make being a mess, beautiful. And Dream, who George had once thought beautiful, was a mess. They were antonyms. How could antonyms complete each other?
He left the bathroom to get a glass of water, when he saw a note on the kitchen table.
dre,
Left w/ ur sis. Msged Alex separately to let George arrive home by himself.
Don’t run away, I have your sister and I’ve got a knife.
Karl said that was too aggressive but hopefully you get the idea.
Have your alone time with George, make up. Don’t ruin it.
Karl said there are condoms in the guest room drawer, and I’m saying don’t use them.
And that doesn’t mean do it raw, that means DO NOT FUCK him.
seriously. i have your sister and i have a kni
hi karl here, sapnap’s stupid. you got this, clay. you’re meant for each other, it’ll work out!
karl & nick
nick & karl
(karl isn’t reading this but does nick and karl sound better on a wedding invite or karl and nick- need your opinion to help with future fight <3 love u bro)
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
Every second that passed was like the guillotine getting an inch closer, and Dream was pacing and Dream was desperate for that feeling to stop gnawing at his intestines. He needed something to take the edge off, but there was no way he was going to deal with George drunk- he needed to be sober. He turned to the freezer, and let out a soft chuckle.
His beloved ice.
Just as he began walking towards it, he heard the dragging of suitcase wheels outside, and quiet murmur of conversation. Dream glanced at the window, and calculated his chances of survival if he jumped out. If this was minecraft, he would pull out a water bucket and survive. However since real life wasn’t a 64-bit block game, he would just be nightmare fuel for some unlucky child.
The voices grew more clear.
“Listen, George I really need to check it out, you get in and say hi to everyone and I’ll be back.”
“But we need to make our grand entrance together. And you have to show them your rejuvenated british accent.”
“ But that’s our little secret, your highness .” Alex’s british accent was so atrocious that Dream had to bite his wrist to stop himself from wheezing.
“Whatever, loser.” George’s voice was rays of sunshine, and angel halos, and celestial bodies. Dream almost fell to his knees at just the muted sound of it. Again it was that phenomen, in which you didn’t realise how fucking starving you were until you took a bite, and then realised you could eat the entire menu. Dream was certain he could eat George.
Not ashamed of his next action, Dream dove behind the counter as George walked in, and peered out so he could see him. It was a different angle than usual; actually looking up at George.
He still looked empyrean, with his starspun cheeks dusted with rose, with his soft lashes, soft lips shaped like a cupid bow, ready to aim true. Ready to pierce Dream, pierce through his sanity and leave him crawling. He wondered how those lips would look wrapped around-
He tossed aside keys, rolled back his shoulders, raising his arms as he let out a yawn. Dream stood up, closed in behind George, and before he realised what he was doing, placed his hands around George’s eyes. Why had he done that?
George stiffened for a moment, before melting back. “You’re such an idiot, Sap.”
Dream wished to time travel back to a minute ago when he hadn’t put himself in such a stupid precarious position. George placed his own lithe hands on top his own. Electricity skittered across his skin so potent, he knew George must have felt at least a fraction of it. He knew George should’ve heard the way his heart was thundering.
George, obviously realising something was off, from the way Dream’s hands felt or their size, or the size of the body behind him. Instead of stiffening again, George melted further back, almost as if exhausted. Dream was terrified to move.
“Nick if this is a fucking joke, I will disembowel Karl.” George tried humour, still a little unsure of what was going on, but his words were shaky, uncertain. When he got no response, he leaned his head back into Dream’s chest.
“Oh my God ,” George whispered out.
“Not quite.” Dream replied, because it was cyclical, and it was poetic, and it made him feel like they weren’t just two men but something more. His fingers grew moist as George’s eyes grew damp. “Don’t cry, angel.”
George mumbled something he could quite understand. Dream coaxed him to repeat it.
“Crying because I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’m not leaving,” Dream didn’t add the quite yet that he felt.
“I’m gonna miss you after you die.” George added softly.
“What-” Dream doubled over as George elbowed his stomach, “ Fuck .”
George turned around, put both his hands on either side of Dream’s face and looked into his eyes. Dream remembered his words as clear as crystal- feverish dijon eyes , is that what he was looking at right now, or soft butter . George’s own were glazed over. Again they stayed in that position for a moment, long enough for George to get a grip that he was actually here, in front of him, that they were actually touching, then the brunet pulled away, rained down a storm of weak sideways fists to Dream’s chest.
“I love you.” George gasped out as he carried on, “I love you.”
Dream had found his new favourite words uttered from George’s mouth. “Yeah?”
“I have to say- before, in case you, you just disappear.” George spoke in between sobs, in between almost desperate grabs towards Dream. “Never got to say, it. But I love you.”
It felt like the words had been desperate to leave his tongue for too long, and it made Dream’s heart ache. Perhaps that was George’s pounding.
“George,” Dream sighed after he’d let it go on a bit, “George, ow -uh.”
He enunciated it even though it didn’t really hurt, but he wanted George to stop and look at him again. George didn’t listen, it hadn’t ever been one of his best traits. Dream, tired, took George’s wrists and held them up, restraining the shorter’s movements. George struggled a little, then looked up at Dream, alabaster face, through those dark, dewy lashes, his mouth ever so slightly parted. He was a vision.
A work of art.
“You left me, and you never came back.” George choked out, “To be honest, I’ve been so mad at you for so long, but now you’re here, and the only thing I want is to keep you.”
“I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you.” Dream put both of George’s wrists in single hand, then used his free hand to touch the side of George’s face. “Is- is me touching you okay?”
“Yeah- yeah,” George automatically leaned into Dream’s hand, and it reminded him of Patches, and how she’d lean into someone stroking her. Dream let his thumb run over George’s lip.
“How do I make it up to you?”
“Don’t leave.” George implored, “And if this right now is temporary, and you’re leaving. Don’t come back because this, this is hard enough Drea-”
“Shh,” Dream pressed his thumb over George’s lips, liking how quickly he went quiet, “‘m not going anywhere.”
George wrestled his hands free, and wrapped them around Dream, hugged him like he was going to float away, and George was his only anchor to solid ground. In some ways it was a true enough description. “Tell me, tell me everything. Dream, I need to know, and I’m not letting you keep it all to yourself.”
“Everything that’s mine is yours, George, problems included.”
“Oh wow, you’ve become all poetic again.”
“Doing time does that to you.”
“You went to jail, what?”
Dream chuckled, “Close enough, go sit on the sofa, I’ll tell you. I’m just going to get ice.”
“Ice.” George laughed a little, then sobered his expression, and rushed to the freezer. Dream followed behind, even though George attempted shooing him away.
“N-no-no-no.” George blocked the freezer with his body. Dream shook his head at George like he expected better, and placed both hands to the brunet’s sides tickling him. As George let out ridiculously high pitched squeals, Dream had little trouble displacing him. He opened the freezer, saw the dispensable ice with a little post-it note on him.
george. stop. you’re going to get another cold.
chewing ice won’t bring him back.
you’ll just keep catching feelings and keep catching colds.
It was Sapnap’s handwriting, and he turned to George whose face has transformed into candyfloss. Dream was tempted to bite his cheek.
“That’s-”
“Your friendship with Nick, like, what the fuck? You live with him.” Dream was still astounded by the concept.
“I think it’s because we were the last things each other had that tied back to you.” George shrugged, looking down, “At least that’s how it began. But he’s- we work, it works our friendship.”
“He’s proposing to Karl.”
“He’s what ? I leave him for a week and this happens.” George’s mouth dropped open.
“I’m gonna be best man.” Dream filled a cup with ice.
“Oh, you think you can just reappear and be best man?” George rolled his eyes, “It’s fine, you can be his and he can be yours. And I’ll just be flower boy.”
“You’re gonna be flower boy at his wedding?”
“I meant at yours.” George took a piece of ice from Dream’s cup and sucked on it.
Dream laughed and shook his head.
“What’s so funny?” George asked.
“That was a joke right? Flower boy at my wedding?”
George took another piece of ice, “What else would I be?”
Dream raised his eyes towards the sky, “I know you’re sending me to hell because I’m into this guy next to me, but you might also have to send me to hell because I’m going to murder him too.”
“Okay, shut up, I don’t care. Tell me everything, please,” George took Dream’s arm and took him to the sofa.
“You’re dealing with this- better than I thought.” Dream commented.
“I knew you’d come back. I knew it. I didn’t tell anyone but I knew it.” George spoke with such confidence that it dazzled Dream. Where Dream had been avoiding any hope of ever seeing the brunet, George had been expecting him to waltz in any day.
“George,” Dream sank into the sofa.
“Dream.” George brought Dream’s hand to his mouth, pressed a soft kiss, “Tell me, love.”
Love . How had Dream ever thought he could survive without George?
Everything spilled out, the guts and brutality, and the lies and the facade, and his sister, and his parents, and his worries and his despairs. Told him about the nightmares, how he hadn’t hoped to dream, told him about it all. Less of a filter then even with Sapnap, because it was George , and George knew how to mediate anything when it came to Dream.
Somehow it helped, it eased, every knot in his body loosed as he shared it all with George. And George, oh George , absorbed it all with that delicate smile, with soft kisses of reassurance, with gentle cajoling.
“Did you ever- ever find someone else?” Dream asked at the end of it all, because he needed to know, because it had been plaguing his mind for so long.
“I mean Alex tried, and so did Karl- but I’m never listening to Karl- he’s lovely, but his judgement is, well, yeah so Alex tried. But then the day came and all I wanted to wear was your dumb Balenciaga sweater, and all I could think about was the other guy’s reaction to me in some dude’s sweater. I think Morgan’s ruined anyone new for me.” George mimed puking at Morgan’s name, “It doesn’t matter anyway, because there was a part of me, a part so integral to me that belonged to you. I don’t think I could ever be with someone wholly unless it’s with you.”
What could Dream do then but kiss him, let their joint inhibitions dissolve into their joint saliva, as they became whole again.
“I was so scared you’d hate me because I left.” Dream admitted, “Scared you’d ask me to leave.”
It was a distant echo back to the night Dream had come to George’s apartment in need of desperate fixing. George shook his head, “You always think that. You say you know me, then you should know this. I love you, Dream.”
“I don’t think I will ever get sick of hearing that.”
George kissed Dream on both corners of his mouth, whispering I love you every time his lips left skin. His hands slipped under Dream’s top, explored the hard lines and ridges, pulled him close as if still relishing the fact he was material, that he was right there. There was nowhere else in the world Dream would rather have been.
“You wanna know something crazy?” George’s hand was around the back of Dream’s neck.
“Go on.”
“Do you remember, oh this was so long ago, um, that party we went to. Wilbur’s I think, or maybe before that. It was,” George teetered, “when uh, your hacker persona was pissed that their crush was being flirted with.”
“George, baby, I love you, but you mention those messages one more time, and I’ll fucking rip you apart.”
“What if I want you to?” George runs his free hand down the side of Dream’s body, enjoying how responsive Dream is.
“Dangerous game, angel.”
“Scared to lose?” George challenged. “Anyway-”
“Tease.”
George pressed a kiss to Dream’s jaw, “Anyway, do you remember?”
“Course I do.”
“There was this one girl there, I think Karl’s friends- who all seem to just like me for some reason-”
“ For some reason -”
“And you talked to her, and I was like, fuck, there’s my chance gone, and I talked to her and it was a bit of weird conversation.”
“Oh shit I just remembered what I-”
“Did you tell her we were together?” George asked, “Because I saw her a couple months ago, and she recognised me, and she said, oh my God are you Clay still together, it’s so sweet how he was jealous of me trying to make a move on you or something like that.”
“I thought nothing about you was a turn off, but Georgie, that American accent-ow don’t hit me,” Dream made a move to lick George’s cheek, causing the brunet to flinch back. “And okay, maybe I was like, don’t think you should go for George, I think he’s kind of accounted for?”
“I can’t believe how jealous-”
“Listen I just didn’t think you should be with anyone, that’s problematic yeah, it’s not jealousy.”
“Mhmm,” George pressed a feather kiss to Dream’s collar bone, “I think you’re lying, Revaz.”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, charity case.”
They both stilled at the nickname that had slipped out of Dream’s mouth like second nature. It had been an age since he’d said it, an age since George had heard it.
“Y’know,” George sighed quietly, “She asked me that, and I just broke down into tears.”
“Oh, angel .” Then, because it had been bugging him, “Y’know that safe we made in product design?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of my memory box of you now.” George flushed, pressing his lips together.
“Mine was too. But at least I didn’t have socks in there.”
George pulled back a little, mouth open. “Tell me you didn’t fucking rifle through there.”
“Look. I didn’t even want to touch it. Sapnap brought it out and was like, Dream, Dream what’s the code? And my sister was like oh try 2305, or something, and I’d told her the code of mine, like just before and I was annoyed she couldn’t remember-”
“So you corrected her. Typical.” George snorted.
“How does everyone do that?” Dream stuck out his bottom lip. “Yeah so I instantly went no, it was 4386-”
Dream felt George still, look up again at Dream, blink. “Yours was 4386?”
“ Yours was 4386.” The miles between London and Florida- it’d originally been 6969, because he was 14, but after putting George’s things in it, he changed it to 4386.
“Americans,” George’s eyes grew damp again, “Americans don’t even use miles, I swear.”
“Yeah, but miles made me think of you.” Dream kissed George again, and it was a reminder that they weren’t thousands of miles apart, that they were next to each other. It was a reminder that they shared a connection, that they fit, that there was something there, something that religion, fate, even their own demons in their head couldn’t pull apart.
“I remember something else.” George’s eyes lit up, and Dream raised an eyebrow, “I remember I owe you.”
“Hmm?”
“I have a sort of vague recollection of maybe something in a museum bathroom,” George continued, and Dream felt his heart start to speed. “Yeah, I just remember thinking, I never returned something.”
“W-what didn’t you return?” Dream’s breath hitched. George’s fingers tugged the waist off his jeans, a flutter of kisses across his hips, causing Dream to moan, which only encouraged the brunet.
“Why don’t I show you?”
And who could ever say no to a face like that?
And who could ever say no to George?
Notes:
and that's it. done and dusted. and it's over...
im literally so freaked out that i finished my first fic ever?? THANK YOU FOR EVERYONE whether you've binged read 20 chapters in a day or whether you've been here from the start. honestly i love you all so so much!
again if you enjoyed this fic please show some love to this tweet and feel free to share your favourite moments in the comments of twitter or under this chapter.
who could ever say no to you
https://twitter.com/dtkqv/status/1531073886573449218?s=21&t=lEAOUmCRyh9YU61gvM1E2A
huge shout out to @andywaslost for his STUNNING comic and just a reminder to check it out on their insta or twitter if you want to see wcesnty!dnf come to life <3
for the last time:
comment pretty please since this is a goodbye and i'll cherish these last words to my grave
kudos always so appreciated
SUBSCRIBE TO MY USER because after exams i WILL RETURN (ahh) with new ideas (which you can help me choose if you are following my TWITTER)
BOOKMARK AS WELL LOVES 🫶🏽🤭love you all,
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