Work Text:
A letter to you,
Sometimes, I wish I grew up in the same place as you; in the same town, going to the same school. Because you, George, you with your fluffy brown hair and even softer brown eyes, are nothing but good to me.
Your eyes are gentle towards me, filled with love and the largest amount of infatuation that it makes even me, the certified romantic, blush when I catch your gaze towards me. They linger on my being, drinking me in as if you're always starving, starving for a taste of my freckled face bursting into the softest hues of pink. It drives me mad in the best of ways, how just a simple look could unravel me at the seams.
Your petal-like lips, a sweet strawberry hue and soft to the touch, stretch into the most dazzling of smiles when I walk up to you. Your stupid perfect teeth, though stained with the smallest hint of coffee and tea, blind me when you ask me what I'm doing there at that moment. They bite the flesh of your bottom lip in hesitation when I lean in too close to your face to tease you about something trivial, making it oh-so-tempting. Your strawberry lips, usually paired with the most subtle chapstick, press concerned kisses against the skin of my shoulder when I have my rough days.
Your pale hands, kissed with blush at the knuckles, gently hold mine when I finally break apart; they're probably my favorite thing about you. They hold me as if I'm the most precious out of all of your precious possessions that you pick up from your outdoor adventures. Cold fingers dance across the skin of my arms as your hands come to rest against my back, pulling me close into a warm hug to keep me safe from the racing thoughts that are sometimes too annoying to ignore. Those careful hands of yours, when holding my face as I would cry, have never felt safer.
Sometimes, I wish I grew up in the same place as you: in the same town, going to the same school. Because you, George, should have been my first kiss. You should have been my first love.
If you were, would the heartbreaks I had on my way to you still happen? Would I have let you go for one of the ones I thought loved me with their entire soul? With who I am we are now, I don't believe so, but if it were us back then? In the past riddled with the trials and tribulations of making new friends and trying to figure out who we were as ourselves, I can't help but think maybe it would; and that's one of the reasons I'm glad we didn't meet until we did.
If we met back then, back when I was still unsure of what and who I liked, back when you were unsure on if you liked anyone at all, it would have been a mess. We always joke about how if we ever fell in and out of love, we'd tear each other apart to the point of no return. Though it may be untrue, as our bond is deeper than just one of casual lovers friends, it might've been true back then. If I had said one wrong thing, and I did that a lot, it would have been over. If you pushed me away like you pushed past admirers away, I would have left you be and it would have ended there. I don't think I'd ever forgive myself for letting you slip from my fingertips, even if I were just to be but a teenager who made mistakes.
Sometimes, I wish I grew up in the same place as you: in the same town, going to the same school. But I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad I met you when I did, glad I was able to grow beside you for the years we've known each other, because I love you.
I love that you were able to teach me things during probably the most important years of my life: from coding to morality lessons. I love that I was able to know you during the final strands of your toughest years, that I was able to support you at least at the end. I love that we somehow ended up at the same college, as if the universe knew we'd be a good fit for each other after all. I love that we became best friends, and that you became friends with Sapnap as well. I love that I got to wake up and fall asleep to your voice on our sleep calls before we started sharing a place. I love that we got to have friendly banter, teasing each other to no end in our own ways. I love that I know almost everything about you, and vice versa, yet we still have so much more to learn about each other. I love that you're willing to drop everything for me. I love feeling like I'd do the same for you in a heartbeat.
I love that I fell in love with you… with your eyes, your smile, your laugh; the way you pout to get your way, the way your grin turns sharp when you're standing up for yourself, the way you laugh a little louder when I start to wheeze, the way you make stupid noises with Sapnap and create chaos that only I can put up with because I adore you guys, the way you coo at Patches and give her soft kisses, the way you'll meow back at her when she cries for attention… I love you.
I'm in love with you… George.
That was… relieving to write. Now you know the truth, and though I'm mostly sure you feel the same, I can't be completely certain yet unless I ask. If you end up reading this, maybe I finally had enough with our "pushing the line" game, or maybe I just finally wanted to tell you all that I wish to let you know (at least, all that I could put into words… you make me speechless, sometimes).
But I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
My best friend, the one with the pretty brown eyes and snarky yet gentle attitude, George. I love you.
Do you love me too?
Yours always,
Dream :) ♡
Dream folded the piece of paper after the ink settled and dried, and slipped a cute smiley sticker on it to hold it closed. He let out a soft sigh of relief. He doesn't know why he wrote that letter. He had been brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed, when a thought struck his brain.
I need to tell George I love him.
It was a simple thought, one that's popped up multiple times now throughout the years of knowing the brunette. But for some reason, it wouldn't go away this time. No, it nagged at him, screamed at him quietly as the bristles of his orange toothbrush brushed against his teeth. Called to him as he zoned out, staring at his reflection as his hand slowed to a stop, crowding his thoughts and forcing him to think about it more and more. When he zoned back in, he blinked a few times with a heavy sigh (as heavy as it could be with his mouth full of toothpaste) and started wrapping up his brushing session. It was time.
At first, he wasn't going to write a letter per se. No, he was planning on talking it out with George the next day since they both had nothing to do and Sapnap would be busy and out of the house. But no, no no no. His heart was next; it begged him to write everything down, claiming that if he didn't, he'd forget to mention something. And funnily enough, he word-vomited over the page instead. He wrote down everything he could think of.
George is so going to make fun of me for this.
And now the next day, with the letter in hand, Dream stood at George's door. The plan was: give George the letter, say he doesn't have to read it immediately—just to let him know when he did, and then make up an excuse to lock himself in his room for the rest of the day or until he heard back from his best friend. Well, as the universe tends to make fun of Dream and his plans, the plans changed as soon as the door opened.
George stood there, wearing his custom black hoodie and a pair of sweats, wavy hair fussed and eyes sleepy as they stared up at Dream with a silent question.
"Good morning," George mumbled, his accented voice scratchy with disuse as he had just woken up ten minutes prior. "What's up? You're usually not up on Mondays so early."
"Good morning!" Dream smiled nervously. He shuffled in place before carefully holding the folded paper out towards George. "I uh, I wrote you something."
"...Oh?" George mused. His sleeve-covered hands reached out and gently grasped the paper between fingers. "What is it?"
"You just woke up, so you can read it later. It's just something I've wanted to tell you for a while and uh, you know how my brain gets sometimes. I just wrote it all down." Dream scratched the base of his neck and let out a chuckle.
George blinked once. Twice. He held the letter in one hand and grabbed Dream's shirt with the other, tugging him into his room. "I wan' read it now, and I want you here with me."
See? The plans have changed. And the universe was laughing at Dream for thinking George would just let him leave so easily.
"W-Wait what?" Dream stuttered, stumbling after George as he almost tripped over his own feet, trying to keep up with the latter who still held onto his shirt. "George, I uh, I have stuff to do-"
"It can wait." George quips back.
He crawled back into bed, careful not to mess up the letter, and reached up to tug Dream down next to him. He waited for Dream to get comfortable before he also got situated, practically throwing his body against Dream's arm, snuggling closer with a soft sigh of content. Dream tried hard to tone down the raging blush he felt coming on, but to no avail. It consumed him. His freckles stood out against the redness of his cheeks and oh gosh, he hoped George didn't look over at him yet.
"Can I read it to myself?" George asked quietly.
Dream nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, of course you can. It's yours."
"M'kay."
And then it was quiet. All that Dream could hear was the beating of his heart and it increasing by the second, and the gentle, sleepy breaths George let out as he read. His chocolate eyes trailed over Dream's mess of words slowly, as if taking in every speck of ink that escaped the letters it was used to write. Dream tried so very hard not to tense up when he felt George choke back a noise of surprise.
After a few more minutes of quiet reading, George, now with red cheeks that rivaled Dream's, meticulously folded the paper back up and sat it on his bedside table. Dream held his breath as George stayed bent towards it for a few seconds before resting back against his spot. Dream's breath hitched when George looked up at him.
"You noticed me staring at you?" He whispered.
"I did." Dream answered, voice matching his.
"You noticed how I bite my lips when I'm nervous?"
"I did."
"You noticed how I hold you differently from Sapnap?"
Dream couldn't help but let out a shaky giggle. "I did."
"You wish I were your first kiss?" George asked.
"Sometimes, yeah." Dream felt the blush rise again, as if it ever left to begin with.
"Like you were mine…" George mumbled, leaning closer.
"Y-Yeah." Dream shuddered and forced himself to stay still. "Didn't know you counted that."
"It was a dare, but it meant everything to me."
"Oh."
"I'm glad we met when we did, too. Teenager me wouldn't have ever talked to you."
"Too rowdy?" Dream joked.
"Maybe. You know how I was."
"Yeah…"
A beat of silence passed, and George moved to sit up on his knees. The press of them against the mattress made it dip, bringing him closer into Dream's space and the blonde turned towards him. After he sat criss-cross, Dream reached out and placed his hands on George's waist to keep him steady as he slightly shook from the unstableness that was the tipping mattress foam.
"You said you love me, love how I am." George whispered. His voice was thick with emotion now, eyes shining as he stared into Dream's green ones with awe—disbelief.
"I did."
"You love me."
"I do."
"You're in love with me."
"I am." Dream breathed easily, heart constricting inside his chest.
George bit his lip. Dream's eyes caught the motion before trailing back to George's brown eyes. George leaned closer.
"I love you." Strawberry lips whispered against peach ones and Dream feels like he's free-falling. "I'm in love with you, too. God, I have been for a while now, Dream."
"George," Dream whimpered.
"Please kiss me?"
And who was Dream, a weak man for the one who held his heart in their hands, to deny such a lovely request?
"Yeah, I can do that." He mumbled before pressing his lips against George's with surety.
It wasn't magical, yet Dream felt as if roses had bloomed in his heart and as if the world around them had slowed down. George brought his hands—his caring, gentle hands—up to cup Dream's face as they parted from their first kiss. After a few seconds of hesitation and letting it settle in their bones that wow that just happened, he reconnected their lips again, and Dream had to move one of his hands behind him to steady the two of them at the force of it.
George kissed Dream this second time like how he stared at Dream; as if he were starving. And maybe he was—desperate to have Dream to himself in more than just a friend way for once. And Dream felt the same way as he did when brown eyes would trail after him—as if he were unraveling right below the brunette's hold. It didn't feel real. He never thought he'd get here so soon. Well, "soon".
And when George finally let Dream breathe, pulling away and quietly panting into the air between their faces, Dream couldn't help but stare.
"I love you." He said lightly, his heart still swollen with red roses and the most beautiful of pink hues.
"I know you do." George replied. His mouth twisted into a small, teasing grin, and he let out a giggle at the whine his best friend gave.
"George."
"I love you, too, idiot." George hummed, pressing a soft kiss against Dream's freckled cheek. "Thank you for the letter. It was cute."
"You're welcome…" Dream trailed off shyly.
"Cute." George whispered against his skin before pulling away fully. He sat down on the bed properly now, eyes full of love and adoration. "Can you make me breakfast? I'm hungry."
"Yeah," Dream breathed out with a smile. "Yeah, of course."
He slipped off the bed onto his feet and stretched before making his way towards the door. When he reached it, he turned back to face George with a cute smile.
"Hey, George?" He asked.
George looked up with rounded eyes, letting out a hum in response.
"I love you."
George's face softened, and he sighed out a giggle. "I love you, Dream."
Dream was glad he wrote that silly letter to him. To George, the one whose friendship he cherished dearly, and the one who deserved all the love he had to offer.