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    “I just think it would be a waste,” George reasons, like this is some kind of problem he has to solve, “to not keep doing this. If we know that it’s good, and we’re not seeing other people… I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it again.”

    “You wanna be like… friends with benefits?”

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    28 Sep 2022

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    George gives him a wide-eyed look, feigning surprise. “You think I’m pretty?”

    “You are pretty.”

    It’s nothing he hasn’t said before, but George falters. Dream feels it in his slackened thighs and the limp hand around his neck.

    “You— You’re pretty, too,” he admits, voice sinking. “Is that— Can I say that?"

    Everything is better in person (bits and pieces of George's first six months in Florida, as experienced by Dream).

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    19 Sep 2022

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    George laughed, sincerely. “We can sleep without the blankets if you want.”

    “You’d want to?” Then, “sometimes I do that actually. Patches will get up on my bed and even that is too warm and crowded for me.”

    George formed a frown on his face. “I don’t want to crowd you.”

    Another pause. George could tell that Dream’s hand had covered his mouth.

    Then, very fondly, Dream whispered, “you won’t. I promise you that you won’t.”

    Somehow, close was not close enough.

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    24 Aug 2022

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    Dream hated how helpless he felt, watching his best friend throw up right in front of him and not knowing if he was allowed to touch him. Did George want him here at all?

    He got his answer when George reached for him, blind hands in his shirt, face still in the toilet. “Please.” The word echoed shaky, vulnerable, completely stripped of dignity off the white porcelain.

    There was no way Dream was denying him when he asked like that.

    George gets sick and Dream does anything he can to make him feel better, all while trying not to expose his ridiculously massive crush. The overworked college student sick fic you've all been waiting for.

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    05 Jul 2022

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    “Just listen to my voice,” Dream murmurs. The low smoothness of his words right in his ear makes George feel like he’s melting into his sheets. Ever so gracious, the raging thunder and lightning allow his heart to kick up its own storm in his chest.

    “I’m right here, George. You’re already here.”

    George has questions: what are you doing, why are you speaking to me like you’re

    But he doesn’t ask. Like the wise king who drank from the poisoned well to follow his people into the descent of madness, he plays along. There’s nothing else to do as the earth rumbles.

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    28 Jun 2022