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The pub they’re sitting in is almost empty except for a few regulars at the bar, nursing their drinks.
Karl isn’t worried because the collective age around him is around fifty and he doesn’t think any of these people keep up with modern pop culture enough to know who he is.
Which is why he chose exactly this place to have a few drinks to celebrate the end of his tour in the calm company of his bodyguard and one of best friends, Chris.
He orders a few colorful drinks that taste like artificial fruits and enjoys the freedom of staying at a place where he doesn’t have to worry about someone with a camera ready to sell the latest pictures of Karl Jacobs and his life of a superstar. After finishing the cocktails, he orders a glass of whiskey to sip on as pleasant warmth travels through him, buzzing in his head slightly.
Once he starts feeling bored, he reaches for a paper napkin from one of the drinks and brings out a pen from his pocket, starting to write down words that don’t properly make sense to his muddled mind but that he knows he needs to get out of his mind.
Karl finally starts feeling the alcohol in his veins when his hand shakes enough for him to drop the pen. He giggles and clumsily grabs at his drink, nearly spilling it over the paper napkin filled with black ink scribbles in front of him.
„Okay buddy. “ A voice sounds from next to him and he turns his head to look at Chris, who’s now holding his whiskey. „You’ve clearly had enough now. “
„But Chris. “ Karl whines, trying to reach for the glass but failing when it’s moved away.
“No, c’mon. Up we go.” Chris says. Karl tries to use his infamous puppy dog eyes, but his bodyguard just raises his eyebrows at him and stands there, waiting. Karl sighs and moves to the opening of the booth, the red leather cold under his hand.
The other man holds out his arm for Karl who gratefully grabs it and hoists himself out the booth. Chris drops his arm and Karl stumbles a bit, catching himself on the table. At Chris’s stern look, he waves his hand at him.
“I’m fine.” He insists, the petulant tone in his voice not completely leaving. As he’s forced to exit the bar and enter the cold night in nothing but a flowy shirt and a leather jacket, he completely forgets about the hastily scribbled note on a paper napkin he wanted to pocket and take home. He shivers at the first gust of wind, turning his eyes to Chris. The man just sighs, holding up his arm to let Karl snuggle into his side and leech off of his warmth.
“Thanks.” Karl says, tipsy contentment bleeding into his tone.
“Yeah, yeah.” Chris grumbles. “When I got offered a job for the biggest musical sensation of the century, I didn’t realize that would mean being a babysitter and a personal heater all the time.”
Karl laughs and nudges Chris with his hip.
“You love me dude. I make your days so interesting and fun. You can’t get enough of me.” He answers, wiggling his eyebrows at Chris who laughs, keeping a steady grip on Karl’s shoulder.
“Sure. You keep telling yourself that.” He quips back and rummages through his pocket to bring out keys of the black car they walked to. Karl doesn’t even realize they’re there and Chris is already unlocking and opening the door for Karl.
“Hop in, I’m getting you home and then going to sleep a bit.” Chris says, walking around the car to get to the driver’s seat. “Remember about the interview tomorrow, 9am. I will pick you up 30 minutes before that and you better be ready.”
He turns to Karl, about to make sure he’s strapped in, only to find him already asleep in the seat. Chris just shakes his head, forcing the fond smile off his face as he starts up the car and heads towards the direction of Karl’s apartment.
-
Being a full-time musician has been Karl’s dream since he first saw Justin Bieber go from a nobody on the internet to a pop star in a few months. Because seeing someone like him succeed meant there was a possibility he could also try and if the destiny aligned correctly, he could live the life he yearned for.
So he put his everything into it. Started making up songs, learning how to compose melodies, figuring out lyrics, finding things to write about, finding muses. And he wrote and he practiced, and he sang and then, somehow, he started getting big on the internet. He started gaining fans, getting attention from people bigger than him, and then finally, a label reached out to him with an offer.
Jimmy, or as most people know him, the owner of MrBeast Studios, messaged Karl asking if he had anyone taking care of the more professional side of his music. If he had anyone that handled his socials, promotions, if anyone put their faith in him and tried to get him and his career further. At his negative answer, Jimmy decided to give Karl an offer, one that promised him everything he wished for and dreamed of since he was a kid. And Karl signed it. He talked to his parents about everything, about his love and passion for music, about his fear of the unknown, of not being good enough. Finally, at their insistence that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he took the first flight to California, leaving his whole old life behind for an opportunity.
When he talks about it or, hell, even thinks about it, it all seems unreal. It seems made up and fake and like someone will pull a string and confetti will start falling from the sky with a banner that says Gotcha!, revealing this was all a big scheme to an ultimate prank. But then he gets invites to fashion shows and to movie premieres and to award shows and he’s confronted with the fact that this is real and something he gets to have, as long as he writes and sings and shares his passion with his fans.
And so Karl loves his life. Loves the glitter that surrounds it, loves being the center of attention, loves seeing people scream his lyrics back at him, loves doing meet and greets and talking to people who enjoy his music and understand his lyrics. He adores when people tell him he motivated them to come out to their family or friends, that his words about being proud and unashamed, his painted nails and eyeliner and jewelry made them want to express themselves in a way they enjoy and they want to show. He adores knowing that these human beings heard his songs about being scared and feeling alone and being happy and amazed at what the world has to offer and thought I feel the same way you do.
He's happy. He’s so happy.
What he is not happy about is being woken up by his phone ringing loudly next to his head, tangled up in the sheets, wearing an old t-shirt and somehow smelling of alcohol.
With blurry eyes he looks for the phone and picks it up, squinting at the text on the screen. He’s expecting to find an alarm set up by Chris, maybe a call from Chris reminding him to actually wake up on time and get ready, but what he finds shocks him.
There are about four missed calls from Chris, which are normal, but there’s also one from Jimmy, and that’s a problem. Because Jimmy never calls. He texts or emails Karl, but he never calls him. Unless there’s an emergency.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Karl swears as he checks the time, immediately trying to untangle his legs while dialing Jimmy’s number. He stumbles out of the bed and straightens himself up as he frantically looks around to gather his wallet and at least something to wear for the car ride to the studio.
“-arl?” he hears from his phone that’s clutched between his shoulder and his cheek and he picks it back up, putting it straight to his ear.
“Yeah? What’s going on? Did something happen with the interview?” pours out of Karl’s mouth in a barely coherent ramble instantly and his voice sounds panicked even to his own ears.
“Not with the interview, no.” he hears from Jimmy and then there’s another voice on the other side of the line, muttering something to him. Karl wants to ask more but Jimmy talks.
“Look, just.” Jimmy sighs. “Get to the studio, Chris will fill you in on what happened, I need to start doing some solving.”
Karl feels anxiety rising in his chest and he can’t even get a word in before he’s interrupted by Jimmy again.
“Breathe kid.” He says, voice calm. “It’s nothing unsolvable. Just an issue. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? Now just get to the interview on time. Chris should be there soon.”
With that Jimmy hangs up and leaves Karl standing with his mouth open, unable to form a thought. Then, the doorbell is ringing, and Karl grabs the things he needs with him the most. He locks his apartment and calls the elevator to meet Chris in the garages.
He hopes there’s a good explanation for whatever is currently going on and making his anxiety go haywire.
-
When he gets to the car and asks Chris, the small space suddenly fills with complete quiet.
They drive out of the garage and Chris starts navigating the traffic, every once in a while checking the navigation to the studio.
When Karl tries to ask, Chris just tells him to calm down first. Only then does Karl realize his hands are shaking and his breathing isn’t as calm as it normally is. He focuses on breathing and tries to force out the thoughts invading his brain, counting to four while breathing in, then holding for seven, then breathing out for eight. He almost hears his mother’s voice telling him Good job for remembering the breathing exercise and suddenly he wants to call her, just to hear her voice. He doesn’t reach for his phone but he promises to call once everything’s okay again.
When he finally feels present again, he closes his eyes and starts mentally preparing himself for the worst.
“So.” Chris starts, trying to fill out the awkward tension in the car. Karl just takes a deep breath to quell his anxiety.
“Okay.” He answers. “Can you please explain now?”
“The bar, yesterday. You were writing something.” Chris starts slowly, the story-like beginning throwing Karl off. He thinks and blearily remembers writing something down on a napkin.
“Yeah, I guess. Probably something I thought could be used for lyrics.” He answers, then whips his head around to face Chris. “Wait, did someone see me at the bar? Are there photos of me drinking or something? Is that the problem?”
“No, not… Not exactly.” Chris stumbles over his words and switches the car lanes, keeping his eyes pinned to the road.
“The paper.” He starts again.
“Napkin.”
“Okay, the napkin.” Chris shakes his head with a fond smile, finally looking at Karl for a second. It calms him more than he’d like to admit.
“Do you… By any chance, remember what you actually wrote?” he asks.
“As I said,” Karl says slowly. “Probably some dumb lyrics. I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Well.” Chris stops there.
Karl waits and when nothing happens, moves his hands as if to speed up Chris’s thought process.
“One of the people working there were a fan, probably. And once you left, they picked up the napkin, to clean up the booth. And they noticed the writing.” Chris talks carefully, as if not ready to share everything. “So, they read it, thinking you were probably writing down something random or I don’t know.”
He stops again. Karl starts getting annoyed at being treated like a ticking bomb.
“And? Did they share it online? I mean, as long as it isn’t leaking any new stuff, it should be fine, right?” Karl questions, his short temper getting better of him as his words get quicker.
When Chris stops at a red light and finally looks at him, there’s something new in his eyes. Something that feels too close to pity for Karl’s liking.
“Karl, you were writing a letter. The thing you wrote was a letter.” Chris explains finally, words slow, letting Karl register all of them fully. “And, based on the signature at the end, it was Karl Jacobs’s love letter to Dream Wastaken.”
-
“Welcome back ladies and gentlemen! We’re here with the musician, songwriter and internet sensation Karl Jacobs to talk about his upcoming album 505 and also his shared tour with TinaKitten, a new artist that has been recently raising in the ranks of the musical world. So, tell us.” The moderator turns to Karl.
Her smile is pleasant, and Karl is used to this, to the too hot reflectors and make-up making it unable for him to wipe his eyes and hundreds of people watching, but today, he feels too vulnerable. He feels too cut open and exposed, the knowledge that people read words that came from the most private and secret part of his brain just because of a drunken mistake clouding his mind.
My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it.
God.
“How was it, touring with someone whose musical genre is quite different from yours?”
The moderator’s words throw him back to reality and for a second, he feels bad because he can’t remember her name.
“Well…” he starts, smile relaxed as if he isn’t going through one of those things that people have high school nightmares of.
“It was definitely something new. Tina is an amazing person, obviously we all know that, and she’s been one of my close friends since I found out about her music.” Karl continues, willing himself to stay present. Only fifteen minutes of this, then he’s free and he can go deal with the rest of the world.
“So when there was an opportunity for me to take someone on tour with me, I didn’t even hesitate and asked her immediately. Actually, funny story, the whole tour almost didn’t happen!” Karl points out and the moderator gasps gently.
“Yeah, exactly! Tina was supposed to be recording some new music, which is now out already by the way, stream Middle of the Night by TinaKitten, surely out on Spotify!” Karl interrupts himself and laughs a bit with the woman before returning to the point he was making.
“Yeah, so Tina was supposed to be recording some music and it was directly crossing with some of the tour dates in Europe! But then thankfully some reorganizing happened, and we figured out how to move everything around in a way that worked for both of us.” He ends with a smile.
“And we’re all very grateful for that, otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten some amazing memorable moments, such as Tina and you singing Don’t Go Breaking My Heart or all the gaming streams you’ve been blessing your collective fans with!” she says and points to the screen behind them which shows a picture of Karl wrapped up in a bisexual flag and Tina wrapped up in a rainbow one, singing towards each other with huge smiles on their faces. Then it switches to a clip which starts playing.
“To the left Karl, what don’t you understand about go to the left!” Tina shouts, controller gripped tightly in her hand as she focuses her attention on the character on screen.
“I forget which side is the left okay, I struggle Tina, you have no sympathy towards me!” Karl shouts back and nudges Tina with his shoulder, a smile on his face as they try to get through another round of Overcooked.
Watching the stream back makes Karl smile and something painful pangs in his chest. He hasn’t properly talked to Tina since the tour ended two weeks ago because they’ve both been busy, and he misses her god damn it. You can’t tour with someone for two months without becoming a bit too attached to them, especially if you’ve already loved them before.
“Ah.” Karl sighs and shakes his head slightly, a fond smile still present on his face.
“I miss Tina! I haven’t talked to her because we’ve both been busy catching up with work stuff, but I need to talk her into hanging out again. She’s just such an angel.” He explains to the moderator and to the audience.
The woman just smiles and nods her head.
“Truly she is! And since we’re already talking about her.” She starts and Karl groans inwardly. There we go.
“People have been noticing and pointing out some tension between the two of you.” She says, face expectant. As if Karl was supposed to out of nowhere admit to dating his friend.
On the screen flashes another picture, this one taken in a random European club in the last city of their tour when Tina and Karl finally sneaked out of their hotel to enjoy some fun while they’re still young and not back home. It depicts them close together, heads bowed and faces hidden, although paparazzi tried to have a completely clear picture of it being them.
Karl remembers this moment, knows that he was whispering to Tina about a cute girl that tried to buy him a drink beforehand and how he sadly had to refuse, since he can’t drink before travelling tomorrow.
He just smiles and inclines his head.
“What do you think?” he says, lowering his voice and looking the moderator in the eyes, one side of his smile quirking up in a slight smirk, forcing all his charm into the expression. From the way she laughs awkwardly before clearing her throat, he knows he got to her. If she’s nervous, she won’t persist on digging in his personal life.
After a second of her not saying anything, he straightens back up in his chair and smiles towards the audience.
“Just friends. Tina is probably my best friend, don’t tell her that though, so her head doesn’t grow bigger, and I would do anything for her, but strictly platonically.” He answers.
When he looks back at the woman in front of him, her smile doesn’t seem as pleasant as before. She seems happy. But she shouldn’t be. He didn’t give her anything.
Something in his gut churns.
“I mean.” She starts and Karl feels put on spot.
“People have been slowly denouncing their words about you two but especially after last night and the release of the infamous letter we all got to read through.” She finishes and Karl feels sick.
Oh.
Something flashes to his right and there it is.
A photo of the crumpled-up napkin, filled with black ink, and next to them, a rewrite of what it says.
“Obviously, everyone on the internet rioted! People immediately started figuring out what it says, everyone is now interested who is Dream and people have started digging. Is there something you might want to say to them?” she says, way too proud to have caught him off guard.
Karl doesn’t know what to say. He keeps looking at the photo.
And now the prospect of those kisses seems to wind me like when you slip on the stairs and one of the steps hits you in the middle of the back.
The notion of them continuing for what is traditionally terrifying forever excites me.
Karl looks at his own words, studies the loops and curves of his familiar scrawl, one that’s used to writing lyrics, about himself, about the world, about his muse, and he feels sick. Sick that people can see, sick that people think it’s okay to try to find Dream, sick to think some may have already. He’s scared of checking his phone and seeing messages from friends asking and he’s scared to call and ask if Dream’s okay because what if they ruined it, what if everyone has ruined them, ruined his Dream, and it feels so painful he thinks he may throw up.
But he has to answer because there’s nothing left to save now.
He looks over to the backstage where he sees Jimmy furiously talking to someone and Chris standing next to them, pissed off. Seems the question wasn’t allowed beforehand.
He has no idea what to answer. So, he laughs.
“Oh, that.” He forces out a giggle.
“It was just a joke. Dream is an old friend, back from high school before I moved here. We used to joke about me putting his name in songs and when I was writing that, I’m not going to lie,” he leans in conspiratorially, as if sharing the biggest secret with the world, “I wasn’t quite sober. And when I couldn’t think of a name, apparently, I just wrote down his.”
He ends his words with a smile and leans back, crossing his legs and holding onto his knees to stop his hands from trembling. The woman in front of him frowns and tries to keep her professional layer up.
“So… What you’re saying is that this clearly very personal pouring of emotions titled ‘Karl Jacobs’ love letter to Dream Wastaken’ is just a what… A random collection of lyrics?” she says, voice scalding, searching and unhappy. From her mouth it sounds incredibly fake, but Karl already dug this grave for himself, and now he has to lie in it.
“Exactly.” He answers and laughs airily, thinking that 15 minutes have never felt so long.
The moderator is clearly thrown off and opens her mouth as if to say something when something echoes in Karl’s and her ears.
“Ending in three minutes, roll it up.” Announces a bored sounding voice. Karl has never felt so happy to get out of the spotlight he usually so loves.
“Well,” she says, turning back to her cheery tone. “Sadly, we have to part ways soon, so I just wanted to say thank you for showing up in our show Karl, we wish you the best of luck in your upcoming projects and we hope to see you here with us soon!”
Karl feels sick from her sweet words, but he stomachs his anger and sends her a smile, one that almost looks genuine.
“Thank you so much! Hopefully I won’t be too busy, but in an industry like this you just never know!” he tells her. One sideways look at Jimmy and Chris in the backstage clearly shows they will not be returning here, and he feels relieved. That’s what you get.
The woman turns back to the camera.
“That’s it from today’s interview segment! Join us tomorrow as we talk to an upcoming designer known as The Onceler and his revolutionary pieces that are going to be presented at the Fashion Week in New York this fall. Goodbye!” she ends her speech and smiles to the camera, Karl doing the same.
Finally, the cameraman shows them a thumbs up which means everything is done and Karl exhales heavily, releasing all the tension from his body. In seconds there’s someone next to him and before he can even look, there’s a hand on his shoulder rubbing calming circles into it.
“You did great.” Says Chris and Karl takes a deep breath, letting himself focus on the circles.
“Thanks. I never want to come back here.” He says in a grim voice. Chris laughs and Karl’s lips quirk up slightly.
“Don’t worry, I think Jimmy wouldn’t let you even if you wanted. He’s threatening someone now I think.” Chris says and shuffles from one foot to the other. Karl closes his eyes and leans his head on Chris’ arm.
“That’s great.” He mumbles.
“Oh, also…” Chris blurts out, as if he just remembered. “Someone called you.”
Karl scrunches his nose and shakes his head lightly.
“I’ll call them back later. Not really in the mood to talk to someone.”
“Uhm, you should call them back now, I think.” Chris’ voice is gentle, and Karl sits up, frowning at his friend as he accepts his phone from his hand.
As he’s about to ask why, he opens the lock screen and sees two missed calls.
From Dream.
“Oh.” is all Karl lets out before he’s shooting up and startling his friend, giving Chris an appreciative nod. Chris responds with a supportive slap on the shoulder.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go.” His bodyguard tells him and Karl nods again before dodging between people until he can slip outside the studio through a backdoor, finding himself in an empty alleyway.
He stares at the notification. Locks his phone and puts it into his pocket. Reaches for it again and stops himself. Then he crouches and lets himself breathe for a second.
It’s just Dream. It’s just the person you wrote a love letter to while drunk and then had it leaked accidentally, with his full name. Just a person you haven’t spoken to in four years because you’ve been a coward. What’s the worst thing that can happen, he cusses you out and says he hates you?
Suddenly Karl feels like throwing up.
He hangs his head and runs a hand through his hair, breathing in slowly.
Okay.
He straightens up, the quick movement making him sway a little, dizzy from not eating anything the whole day combined with stress that’s been weighing him down.
Okay.
He grabs his phone, opening it again and clicking the notification, looking at Dream’s contact.
The contact picture is a candid Karl took during their last year together. They were holding an all-nighter, their little group of five, and decided to go watch the sunrise. The minute they sat down on the blanket, George announced he’s tired and made Sapnap act as his pillow, resting his head on Sapnap’s lap. Karl remembers how Quackity and him muffled their laughter together at Sapnap’s flustered and surprised look, mocking him for being a mess. Sapnap hissed at them, and they were going to tease more when Dream told them to drop it and just enjoy the sunrise. Karl looked over and Dream was just… Sitting there, golden light illuminating his face, his lips quirked into a gentle smile as he looked at all his friends. Karl swears his heart skipped a beat and he whipped his head around, red coloring his cheeks. When Quackity noticed, he just rolled his eyes, mouthing something along the lines of hating everyone and everything before bringing out a pack of chips and munching on them. Karl giggled at him and crossed his legs, leaning back on his hands and getting more comfortable to enjoy the start of a new day.
When he looked around, at the nature waking up around them, birds starting to sing, Sapnap flicking his gaze between the sunrise and George’s relaxed face, one hand caressing the sleeping boy’s back, at Quackity happily snacking and bantering with Sapnap quietly, at Dream watching the sunrise, he feels happy. Really happy. He quickly took out his phone, taking a few photos to commemorate this moment of tender happiness, one of Sapnap looking at George with the most lovesick look in his eyes, one of Quackity pretending to gag while watching them, and then one of Dream. Of Dream looking at the horizon, head resting on his folded-up knees, eyes flickering all over the sight in front of them, eyes filled with something loving.
This picture is something Karl hasn’t shown to anyone, something sweet and treasured just for himself, hidden deep in his gallery folder between all the pictures and videos of his life and his friends and random cats on the street and everything he cares about in the world.
He takes a deep breath and pushes the number. No going back now, he thinks as he hears the dialing tone.
No turning back now. You owe him this. At least this.
Something on the other side of the phone clicks.
“Karl?”
Karl’s breath shakes and he grips the phone tighter.
“Hi Dream. Long time no see. Or hear. I guess.” He stutters out, an awkward laugh following.
There’s a silence between them and Karl feels it weighing on him slowly.
“I- Okay, so I guess you know why- Why I’m- Uhm, why I’m calling. Why I called I mean. Since- Since you’re calling me. Now.” Dream’s voice responds and Karl gets lost for a second. Because the voice that’s speaking to him isn’t his Dream, isn’t the funny but awkward voice breaks and fragments of seconds of deep mumbling. But the cadence, the way the voice works around the words tumbling too fast from his mouth, the undercurrent of the tone, the hums and voice clears, those are Dream.
Karl has to remind himself they all grew up. They’re not seventeen anymore and their world isn’t the small city of Fort Pierce, and their group isn’t all that matters. He shakes his head.
“Yeah… Yes. I have my theory.” He laughs, trying to dispel the tension that’s surrounding them both. Karl looks at the wall in front of him and his eyes follow a crack that runs up, watching its shape as he waits for anything more. There’s a sound of breathing on the other side, then something that sounds like a sigh and…
“We never… We never joked about you using my name in- my name in your songs. I barely even knew what you wrote back then. So why that lie? And why…” Dream stops. Karl hears the unspoken words. The letter.
“Back then?” he asks instead, focusing on the peculiar phrasing.
“Well, I- I know your music now. I mean I- I keep up with you. Some people care, even when they’re left behind or- or forgotten, you know.” Dream says, the end barely audible through their phone connection and Karl feels as if a bucket of frozen water was poured on him.
Forgotten.
“Dream, is that… Do you really mean that? Do you really think that?” he asks, confusion filing his tone. “Do you really think I just, what, left and forgot about all of you? Forgot about our late nights at the beach and us getting too drunk to play video games, forgot about Quackity, the funniest person I know, working towards his law degree and Sapnap and George, those idiots that finally got their three brain cells together and realized they like each other, working on their comp sci degrees, forgot about the people closest to me?”
Karl takes a deep breath, something painful filling his lungs.
“Dream…” his voice sounds desperate. “Do you think I could ever forget about you?”
There is no answer from the other end of the phone call and something inside Karl breaks. He feels it cutting into his lungs, his ribs, crumbling inside his empty chest cavity. So, he opens his mouth and lets his words flood the space between them and hopes they won’t drown.
“Dream. They were all about you. All of them.” Karl takes a deep breath and wraps the arm not holding the phone around himself, maybe grounding himself, maybe holding himself together. “Every single fucking word. You said you know them so how could you… How could you not realise? When I- When I wrote I might need you or I’ll break, are we too young for this, when I said the goosebumps start to raise, the minute that my left hand meets your waist.”
Karl’s voice raises, frustration bleeding into his words, and Dream stays quiet.
Karl pushes.
“Who do you think I wrote you gave me the key and you locked every lock, when I can't breathe, I won't ask you to stop for? Even when the stupid song draft got leaked and it said when you stood up, walked away, barefoot, and the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape, I picture it soft, and I ache. It was all about you, always has been and is and will be because somehow, you're...” Karl blurts out and his voice catches, forcing him to swallow before he can continue to confess something he never said out loud before.
“Dream, you're the one person in my life that I can never erase. I can move to a different city and get a career and meet celebrities and fans and businessmen and yet I’ll still go home and think about you, how you've changed, how you've been since I left, how is Patches and your mom and if you still like eating ice when you’re bored and if vanilla is still your favorite ice cream flavor, I wonder how you take your coffee and if you'll ever forgive me.” Karl confesses and he hears something that sounds like a gasp from the other side of the phone. Finally, he thinks, maybe he can finally understand.
“And- And it's okay, of course it is, because it's you. It's okay if I can't think of anything else when it's you I’m thinking of. You're my muse Dream. Everything I’ll ever create will have a piece of you in it and other people may not see it, but I do.” By the end of his monologue, Karl is breathing hard, years of packaged emotions pouring out of him in seconds, and he’s unable to stop them.
“I know you never asked for any of this, to be... to be caught, in pieces, in half-assed word connections and poor rhymes and imagery of my youth, and you don't deserve to be, but I can't stop it. “ Karl explains, voice getting soft, tired, worn.
“You're... It's an ingrained part of me. It's a part that's been in love with you, that's been loving you, since we were 13 and you told me you like sunrises because you get to see the world wake up slow. And I...” Karl takes a deep breath, finally, feeling lighter than ever before after telling Dream his best kept secret. Something in his chest unlocks and he laughs lightly. There’s silence on the other side of the phone. Karl slumps against the wall behind him.
“I never said this to anyone because I knew I only wanted to say it to you. And I was so scared because I packed my bags and left you. I’m still scared,” he admits and laughs again, something desperate and reaching coloring his tone, leaning his head back until it rests on the rough bricks.
“And I understand if you never forgave me. I wouldn't forgive myself. I haven't forgiven myself.”
Karl runs one hand through his own hair, over his face, lets himself breathe in the fact that he finally said it.
“Because I left you. And... And that was a mistake because, Dream, you're the only thing that matters. In this dumb, beautiful world filled with half-assed people and stranger souls I’ll never get to meet and ordinary people I see every day, you're the one thing that always mattered to me.”
Karl feels like he’s run a marathon and for a millisecond feels bad for springing all this on Dream out of nowhere, but he thinks it had to come up one way or another. At least I got it out quickly. At least I didn’t waste his time.
There’s quiet and Karl fidgets with his necklace.
“If you wanted to say something, now would be a great time. Like, I don’t want to force your hand or anything but,” Karl laughs, nervous tension bleeding out of him. “I did kind of just completely throw around all our years of friendship and my career and probably totally changed your point of view on me, so it’d be cool to hear whatever you have to say. Maybe you don’t have anything to say, that’s fine, but it would be really cool to-“
“Karl.” Dream says finally and Karl shuts his mouth closed with an audible click. He feels the urge to make a joke, to dissipate the air of awkwardness, but he’s worried that if he speaks, Dream will never say anything to him.
“I’m just- I’m- Okay. Give me, give me a few seconds. I need to- need to uhm, work this all out. Okay. Uhm.” Answers Dream and his voice is reserved, calculating. Karl realizes his palms are sweaty and he rubs them onto his pants.
“So- So you’re saying. What you’re saying is that you have liked me…” Dream starts and Karl interrupts.
“Well, more like been in love but who even wants to talk about the semantics.” He jokes nervously, fingers twisting his necklace around.
“Yeah, uhm. That.” Dream stutters out and Karl’s cheeks turn red. This is fine.
“Since we were… Since we were 13.” He says and it sounds like a question so Karl hums approvingly.
“And when you were drunk. You just. Y- You wrote a love letter. And like, put both ours full names on it. No subtlety, no secrecy. Just bam, slapped them all on there.” Dream continues and his voice sounds disbelieving and it’s actually kind of funny when Karl thinks about it.
“Yeah… It sounds stupid but hey. It’s funny. A bit. I think. If you look at it from an angle, you know, it’s actually-“ Karl rambles out.
“Karl.” Dream interrupts him again and this time he laughs after it. Karl feels like he can finally breathe again. A smile pours on his lips.
“I- Uhm. Same. Here. I also. Uh. Yeah.” Comes out from the phone and Karl’s eyes widen. He moves the phone away from his ear, checking that the call is actually still going on. It is.
“-arl?” a slightly panicked voice sounds from the speaker and Karl remembers what’s happening.
“Uh, sorry, I was just.” He laughs. “This sounds stupid, but I was checking the call was still happening. That I wasn’t like, uh, making this up. In my head.”
Dream laughs, a chuckle turning into full blown laughter interrupted only by the iconic wheezes that make Karl’s chest fill with something light and airy.
“What are we- What are we even doing.” Dream forces out through his laughter and makes Karl laugh too, their chuckles mixing together to create a harmony to Karl’s ears.
“I don’t- I don’t know.” Karl hiccups as his laughter slows down to giggles.
As they both calm down, the silence that envelopes them no longer feel full of tension and awkwardness but just… Like old times. Like home.
“I think… I think I may want to visit California. Soon.“ Dream says, voice quiet but smile audible in his words.
Karl brightens up.
“I’ll pay for your plane ticket. I will pick you up at the airport and you can stay at mine or- Or you can get a hotel, if you’re more comfortable with that, and we don’t really have to spend time together, but it would be cool- I could like- I could show you my favorite breakfast place and you could meet Tina and Corpse, I’m sure they’d love to and-“
“Karl!“ Dream interrupts him and laughs and to Karl, there isn’t a prettier sound than this.
Karl grins.
“How about we start with figuring out a date and then, maybe, we can talk about the rest? And then. Talk about everything, once I’m there.“ Dream suggests, the calmness of his voice overtaking Karl. We still have time. We have all the time in the world. After everything, we finally have time.
Karl can’t stop a lovesick giggle falling from his lips.
“So,“ he starts, voice dropping flirtatiously, “are you free next week?“
-
“No Tina, I won’t wear that sweater, it literally looks horrible.” Karl answers and keeps pacing around his room, picking up random clothing items and then throwing them away when he’s not satisfied.
“Look, I’m just saying.” Tina says from her place on his bed, a lollipop in her mouth, looking cozy and at home as she scrolls through something on her phone. “I think the color looks nice on you. And it’s a very Karl sweater. Also, you’re not finding anything better as far as I see.”
Karl frowns and looks around, sadly realizing she’s right but unwilling to admit it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He tells her sarcastically and returns to rummaging through his closet.
“I mean, what do you wear to see someone after not talking to them for like four years and kind of confessing you’ve been in love with them for like eight years.” Karl says into the room and crouches down to look through a pile of clothes he already threw away once.
“Wait what.” He hears from behind him and freezes. When he turns around, Tina is sitting up and staring at him as if he has grown a third head.
He looks at her with a deadpan face.
“You literally know I like him. I talk about him almost always. I told you like every story that involves him. C’mon Tina. Get good.” He says, shaking his head slightly and holding up a forest green shirt. Well, that’s not so bad.
“No, I meant.” Tina rolls her eyes at him. “You confessed? You did not tell me that.”
Karl stands up with the shirt in his hand and looks at her. When he thinks about it, he truly didn’t tell her about the probably a confession that he didn’t get a full answer to.
“Oh.” He says, voice dumbfounded. “You’re right, I guess. So that happened.”
Tina rolls her eyes again and falls back into the sheets, resuming her doom scrolling.
“That shirt would look good with the black ripped jeans you wore with the like retro golf shirt during tour once.” She quips out and when Karl thinks about it, looking at them, she’s right.
“Thank you.” He says and her lips quirk into a smile even though she sighs out loud.
“What would you do without me.” She answers, quickly typing on her phone.
“No idea.” Karl admits, picking out the jeans from his closet and picking up a random jean jacket to go with the look.
“Exactly, you dumbass.” He hears from the bed as he turns to leave for the bathroom, and he only flips his middle finger in her direction before closing the door.
What follows him is the sound of laughter and he thinks yeah, really no idea.
-
Karl feels restless, shuffling from one foot to the other to let off some of his anxious energy.
He almost forgets he has drinks in his hands when he wants to check what time is it for the millionth time. He knows barely two minutes passed and he knows Dream has at least ten more minutes to show up and he knows there’s no reason to be nervous. He’s just restless. Too much energy. That’s all.
He’s about to try to handle the drinks while pulling out his phone when he hears hurried footsteps that suddenly hesitate and slow down. When he looks up, his breath catches in his throat, and he almost drops everything he’s holding.
Dream is taller than Karl remembers him, somehow. Karl considers himself tall but when he wants to look at Dream’s face, he has to tilt his head slightly and a pleasant rush runs over his spine at the realization. His hair is longer, falling in gentle waves as he runs a hand through it with a crooked smile directed at Karl. His cheeks are pink, either from the sun beating down on them sharply or maybe the wind or maybe for a completely different reason and Karl wants to reach out and find out if they’re warm to the touch.
When he finally looks into his eyes, his brain stutters. Because while Dream may have jawline that could cut through paper now and his hair is longer and he’s taller and he looks stronger, his shoulders broader, his eyes are the same. They’re still green with golden specks like sunrays trapped in them, the way they jump over Karl burning the same.
They stand in front of each other, two strangers, and yet they feel familiar. They feel known, they feel like time stopped when they parted and finally kicked back into running.
Karl smiles, wider than he remembers, and Dream lets his smile grow, watching him back.
They stand there, just looking, appreciating finally being close again, until Karl remembers what’s in his hands.
“Oh.” He laughs out, reaching out the hand with one of the cups.
“I got you this.”
Dream accepts it timidly, his smile turning smaller, more private, softer, as he takes off the lid and peers at the still warm tea inside.
“Green tea?” he asks, voice disbelieving.
Karl shrugs his shoulders.
“You used to like it, so I took a guess. A hopeful try, maybe.”
The smile he gains warms him up more than the hot chocolate in his hand could.
“Yeah.” Dream says, bringing the cup closer to himself, inhaling its scent.
“I still like it. I like it a lot. Thank you.”
The smile on Karl’s face doesn’t wilt for the rest of the day
-
“Okay.” Dream flops down on the couch, curling up in a corner opposite to Karl. “Hit me.”
Karl chuckles gently, looking at his boyfriend getting comfortable while fiddling with the pen in his hand.
“It’s not done yet, idiot.” He answers, tapping his finger on the back of the notepad with lyrics scribbled into it as he watches Dream smile patiently, something incredibly domestic in the way he slots his legs clad in sweatpants and rights the hoodie he’s wearing, one of Karl’s he got from a collab with Gucci last year. It probably costs something around a thousand dollars and Dream wears it like it’s a university pride hoodie. Karl loves him so much it hurts.
“Clearly. But you’re also almost buzzing with what you wrote, and I know you want to tell me. So just tell me the damn lyrics so you can go back to writing your little hits while someone keeps this household together.” Dream teases, eyes wandering from Karl to his right as he notices Buffy walking closer to the couch and reaches out a hand towards her to scratch her back.
Karl grins, partly at how sweet his boyfriend is when it comes to cats, cooing at Buffy once she comes closer to him and eventually hops on the couch to get her cuddles, partly at how well Dream knows him. It’s familiar, the thrill he feels in his chest when he realizes he gets to have this. After all the years he gets to have Dream in their apartment, in his hoodie, cuddling their cat on their couch, poking him about his music. It feels unreal and he pinches himself, just in case. He lets go and Dream is still there, Buffy is still there, the soft gray blanket is around him and the world keeps turning.
Karl sits up quickly, shrugging off the blanket as he unfolds his legs and stretches a bit, prolonging the moment before he finally says what’s laying in his mind. His eyes are probably sparkling with excitement since Dream’s face softens, one hand in Buffy’s fur stroking absentmindedly as he gives Karl the most sickeningly in love eyes. Karl absolutely adores it. Adores him.
“I really like the idea of this song. It’s like… It feels very free. Like makes me think about the 70s and hippies vibes free. I imagine it being a faster song, with a sort of echo in the background? I don’t know how much I want to play around with it. It’s not fully thought out obviously, but I wrote some lyrics and I think they’re really good.” Karl explains, hands moving quickly as ideas and thoughts flow out of his mouth. Dream is watching him, listening, nodding his head every once in a while even if Karl knows he probably doesn’t get half of the stuff Karl is describing, just because of how weirdly he’s describing it.
“That sounds cool.” Dream says when Karl slows down for a second, his smile not dimming. Karl’s heart beats a bit stronger in his chest.
“Okay, so the lyrics. I don’t have much, but I like what I came up with for the chorus.” He says and Dream nods, listening intently. When Karl doesn’t continue, he flicks his gaze to the notepad and back up at him.
“Well?” he asks, tilting his head to one side slightly.
Karl smiles at him, something amused and Dream frowns.
“I love it when you wear your hair down over your shoulder, 'cause I know where tonight is going.“ Karl recites and pauses, trying to gauge Dream’s reaction so far. All he gets is an eyebrow raise which clearly signals he has to continue. Karl keeps smiling as he sings the next part, adding a melody stuck in his head.
„You're the only one who makes me, every time we, I'll tell you what I like.“ Pausing at the end of each line, he watches as Dream’s gaze turns from interested to confused in seconds. Karl hurries to finish.
“My wildflower.” He sings out gently and just quietly enjoys Dream’s face blooming red as he recounts the words of the chorus, clicking them into each other.
Dream shakes his head, clearly willing his blush to disappear, especially once he looks at his boyfriend’s satisfied grin.
“Oh, shut it.” He scoffs, burying himself further into the couch as Karl looks at him. Once he’s done with his little temper moment, he asks.
“Why the weird pauses?”
Karl giggles, throwing the pen at Dream and watching as it hits him in the arm when he inevitably tries to catch it. That’s Karl’s dumb athletic boyfriend.
“Well,” he says, letting his voice drop low, leaning towards Dream slightly. “Just try to imagine what could fill those gaps.”
Dream is confused and Karl sees him running mental equations trying to figure out what could fit. When he realizes, his face colours again, redder than before and he lets out a small breathless Oh.
“Yeah.” Karl agrees, cheeks starting to hurt from smiling. “Exactly that, petal.”
When he hears the petname, Dream buries his face in his knees and leaves Karl in a fit of giggles, watching as his boyfriend mumbles something angrily into the fabric of his sweatpants, Buffy looking at them uninterestedly.
Karl finally can’t hold back and crawls to the other side of the couch, hugging Dream tightly and rocking them from side to side carefully, doing his best to not jostle Patches, who decided to join them at the other side of the couch, the place still warm from Karl sitting there seconds ago.
“What’s up angel?” Karl teases, feeling Dream groan into his chest. “Or should I say my rose? My butterfly? My wildflower?”
The emphasis on the last one isn’t missed be either of them, and when Dream reemerges from his little hiding spot, he’s glaring at Karl.
“Unfair. Un-fair.” He complains, his mouth falling into a pout. Karl can’t hold himself back and kisses him gently, once, twice, three times, making each one longer than the one before. When he pulls back, he stays close, breathing in the warm air between them, gaze flowing over Dream’s features.
“You’re cute.” He whispers and watches crimson flow into Dream’s cheeks. Then he kisses both of them, enjoying how warm they feel against his lips. When he leans back, Dream is smiling but rolls his eyes at Karl immediately.
“And you’re an idiot. Can’t believe I’m dating you.” He scoffs out jokingly, letting a happy smile spill on his lips. Karl brings one hand up and runs his thumb over Dream’s cheek.
“Yeah, I don’t know either. I’m pretty lucky.” He shrugs lazily, enjoying the quiet surrounding them, only disturbed by cars driving outside.
“Well, obviously, you’re a superstar, adored by millions, doing amazing at doing what you love.” Dream answers, his words teasing.
“That doesn’t matter.” Karl smiles and shakes his head, in contrast to Dream’s, his words ringing out honest. “All that matters is you anyway.”
Dream gasps gently and closes his eyes when Karl leans in, knocking his forehead against Dream’s carefully.
“It’s always been you. Idiot.”
The answering grin he earns feels like sunrays in his chest and Karl knows he would sacrifice every moment in the spotlight if he could just stay here, with Dream, for a single minute more.