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"Are you a touchy person?"
Dream doesn't know what inspires him to ask. Well, that's a lie. He knows exactly what it is, but it would be embarrassing to say he's asking because of a fan tweet and so he'll never admit it.
"Am I what?" George says.
They hadn't even been talking about anything related to this before Dream asked. They hadn't been talking about anything at all. They've been sat in a comfortable silence for the past hour, like they do most days. George is sharing his screen while he plays— something. Dream checks. Hypixel parkour. And Dream had given up on his email inbox a while ago and has now been scrolling Twitter for twenty minutes.
That's when he'd seen it. 'idc what anybody says gnf loves hugs and touching and you can't convince me otherwise'. There's a gif underneath of his hug with Quackity.
Dream has never thought about it before. Not in those terms, anyway. He's thought about touching George, about hugging him when they meet, but never about how that relates to George as a person.
"Doesn't matter," Dream says.
"No," George says. On his screen, in-game, George has come to a stop. "Why do you wanna know?"
"So you do know what I said?"
"Yeah."
"Then why did you ask me?"
"Shut up. Why do you wanna know?"
This is their usual back and forth, Dream can do this part. "I don't," Dream says. "I just asked. I dunno."
There are so many things that George will ignore if he doesn't want to talk about it. But when Dream wants to slide past something, so often, George will just not let it go.
George is silent for a moment, for so long that Dream thinks maybe he is going to forget about it after all. Maybe they can just let this be another instance of Dream being weird and George refusing to join in. It wouldn’t be the first time.
But then George clears his throat and says, "Not really. I dunno."
"Not really?"
"I mean… I'm not against it. If people do want to… whatever. I just— I don't initiate it."
"Oh."
"It's been an issue, actually. You know, before."
Dream knows he's referencing an old girlfriend. George's stories about how that ended and her reaction to it are stuff of legend in their group chat. Obviously it had been played up for comedic value, because it's easier to joke about your ex-girlfriend than it is to say how cut up you are about it, but it was still well-shared and referenced often. It isn't fair, probably, but Dream can understand it.
But, the jokes are all George has ever allowed them on the subject, so he's surprised that he's giving this insight into it now.
Dream wants to find a way to tell George that it isn't a problem for him, but doesn't really know a way to do that without comparing himself to George's ex-girlfriend. Which is… ridiculous.
"Are you?" George asks.
Dream is taken back by the question, but he supposes it's only fair. "I think so, yeah. A fair amount, I guess. Not like— Not if people don't want me to be."
Do you want me to be? Dream wants to ask. You don't initiate, but what if I did?
"Anyway," George says, moving them on.
It feels unfinished, but there's little Dream can do without forcing George to talk about something he clearly doesn't want to talk about. All he can is say, "Right." and let the conversation drop.
They fall back into their comfortable silence, and even though Dream ponders it for a few more minutes in his own head, when he's done he files it away. Just another tidbit of George data stored in the bank inside his brain, just in case he needs it later.
He doesn't really think he will.
***
Dream is playing Geoguessr again. He's been doing that alot. It's a habit he's fallen back into in the last few months, here alone in his room, staring at the world on his computer screen in an attempt to guess where he is.
It isn't that he feels lost, exactly, it's just that in the past few months his friends have been traveling and gone are the days when they'd be on call for hours at a time. He's still here in his old pattern while they're out there creating new ones.
He doesn't miss the irony of that. That he's traversing the world on his computer while his friends are out there experiencing it for real.
At least he has George for the most part. George, who is in his own pattern; waiting for a visa that feels like it will never come. So, while Dream wouldn't wish this perpetual status on anyone, he had at least been able to rely on them sharing their misery and anticipation for the next phase of their lives to begin.
But even George had been gone this past weekend.
Dream had spent the days alone, still looking at another part of the world on his computer screen, except now his best friend was in the pictures instead of in his ear, and Dream had never felt the pull toward him so keenly. It hurt, franky, like a knife already lodged in his chest being twisted.
It shouldn't be possible to miss a silence, but he misses the ones filled with George's breathing in his headphones. No matter how many new friends he makes over a new game, how many people's streams he hangs out in, there are hours of his day he'd usually spend with George and nothing feels the same without it.
He spends more time than he'd like to admit looking at the pictures and clips on Twitter. It's hard to miss it, honestly. He gets tagged in it all even if he doesn't go looking for it.
He doesn't watch the streams live, because he's self aware enough to know that - as ridiculous as he is - his jealousy wouldn't be able to handle that. It's more than simple FOMO, it's feeling like something he holds dear is more out of his reach than usual.
He doesn't own George. George is his best friend, but he has other friends too and that's fine. It's Dream's own choice to not meet up with people, and George has every right to make his own decisions. Dream is here and not over in Amsterdam with the rest of them, and that's his own choice too. No one forced him to create this impossible situation where his entire future hangs off the presence of one person and the decision of the US Embassy, but it hurts all the same.
He's still jealous. He'd like to believe he's a good enough person to just feel this way because he wants to be doing those things too, but he knows - though he could never tell anyone else - that it isn't that. There's a dark, secret part of him that's jealous because he wants George to join him in his misery, to be alone with him until they can be together.
It's a shitty thing to want your friend to be miserable just because you are, but he can't help the ugly thoughts in his head, the ones that say he's putting his life on hold until George gets here and the least he could do is the same. It's unfair, because Dream had been the one to encourage him, and he hated it when George was depressed at the start of the year because of their plans falling through. But still, it gnaws at him.
And that makes him feel worse than being jealous does.
When George gets back he does the decent thing of acting like he'd never been away. Except of course, for the stories. They resume their daily calls, the comfortable silences, but now they're punctuated with reminders, tale after tale to jab Dream through the heart.
"Oh, did I tell you about—"
"Yes," Dream interrupts, his tone completely out of pocket. "You did."
"You don't know what I was going to say," George retorts.
"Well, you've probably told me anyway," Dream says. "You've told me everything."
George makes a 'ooo' noise at him, mocking him for how bitchy Dream's voice is. He deserves it, honestly. "Well I am sorry," he says, still laughing. "I thought you might want stories about the outside you fucking hermit."
"That's right George," Dream says, his tone even icier than before. "Please, tell me again about everything you did in Amsterdam while I was stuck here waiting for you."
"Dream," George says, voice empty of the previous teasing, like it's just clicked how pissy Dream is being.
"You know," Dream says, steamrolling over George's concern and his own better judgment, "I don't know why the fuck you told me you weren't a touchy person, sure looks like you are to me."
"What?" George says. "What are you— You can't seriously be bothered by—"
"I've seen the clips, George," Dream says when George runs out of words to explain his complete out-of-the-blue anger. He's cursing his own mouth for running away to places he doesn't intend it to. "I could show you exactly what I mean."
George laughs. It isn't cruel, not really, George would never be cruel to him regardless of how absurd he's acting, but Dream still flinches at the sound of it. "You want to… what? Vod review people touching me?"
Dream feels hot under his collar, his skin itchy. His anger is dissolving, swallowed by the shame of having acted this way in the first place. "Well, when you put it like that—"
"No," George interrupts. He sounds like a mixture of angry and amused, which with him can be a dangerous combination. Dream hates being on the receiving end of it. "Go on. Let's go through it. You can tell me exactly where I'm too touchy for your liking."
"It's not for my— George. This is stupid."
"You brought it up."
"I didn't… Well, I mean, I guess I did, but not— not. I don't want to vod review."
"Then what do you want?" George asks. And isn't that the question of the hour.
He hears George typing on the other end of the call and wants to ask him to turn on his camera but he's got no excuse for it besides how much he wants to see him.
"It's dumb," Dream says. "It just surprised me. Because I remember you saying you weren't… but whatever. I don't care."
"It sounds like you care," George persists.
"Well, I dunno what to tell you, George. I don't."
He hates that this is almost becoming an actual argument. They have them, occasionally, but usually it's about something stupid where they both won't back down: work, or the conditions of a bet, a random bit of trivia or their opinion on which pizza topping is best. When it's something like this, something about them, it feels so much worse.
They lapse into a silence that doesn't feel comfortable like it usually does. Dream knows this isn't permanent; this one conversion where he's being an idiot and George is irritated by it isn't going to be the end of their friendship, but he doesn't know what to do to expedite the process of getting over it.
"You know, I've seen clips too," George says.
"What?"
"You think you're the only one that gets tagged in things? You said people could have me for ten seconds, Dream. You quizzed someone about going to Nandos with me then you got all buddy buddy with your new friends. And then— And then, you said I guess George is for everyone. I mean— as if you're not for everyone too. You're like… possessive."
This isn't the first time someone has called him that. Hell, it isn't even the first time George has said it. It's just a fact Dream knows about himself. He has dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and he's possessive of the things he loves.
What most people don't know, what they don't include in their little jokes about Dream sliding into their DMs if George spends more than five minutes in a call with someone else, is that it isn't because he thinks George belongs to him, it's because he's so, so scared - absolutely terrified - of losing him.
Dream knows he's a lot. He knows that he's clingy and dramatic and a bit too cocky for his own good. He knows that George takes all of that in his stride and has never once done anything to insinuate that it's too much, but— Dream worries.
"I— yeah," Dream says, sighing. "Sorry."
"I didn't say I disliked it."
And that makes Dream's brain stutter to a halt. Pausing for a second before it reboots and comes back online. "What?"
"It's… whatever," George says.
"You like it when I'm possessive?"
"I didn't say that."
"You pretty much did."
"Shut up."
And Dream's smiling now, and he can hear the curve of George's mouth too. "You like it," Dream says.
"You're an idiot," George tells him. "I just mean that I, like, don't care. You know? I'm in on the joke. You can say what you want."
"Sure, George," Dream says. Then, just to make sure, "You know I'm not entirely joking though, right?"
George huffs, but doesn't answer him.
Dream is going against one of the basic tenets of their relationship. They keep the thinly veiled joke in place so that they have deniability, so that the veneer of it can protect them from the hurt that comes from admitting it might not be one.
This weekend, and before when George was in Ireland, gave him a lot of time to think. To see what a world would be like without George on the other end of the phone, to watch him in the arms of someone else, touching someone else. All the times that came before didn't feel so bad, even when George kissed Karl it didn't feel like this. He doesn't know why.
"I missed you," Dream says.
He's pushing it now, knocking up against their silent agreement about how far they stretch their conversations. Don't mention the distance too much, don't talk about the promise of what happens after. Just in case. Don't jinx it.
"Yeah," George says.
"Did you—" Dream starts, but he doesn't really want to ask, scared of what the answer might be.
"Yeah, Dream," George says. "I missed you too."
Dream doesn't know how that's possible. Dream had been alone with all the space in the world to miss him, hours of time to fill without George's presence. George had been with all the people that love him, surrounded by fans clamoring to see him; how could he possibly have had a spare moment to think about missing his online friend?
"Oh," Dream says.
"I pretty much always miss you, actually," George says.
Dream can imagine him waving a hand as if to dismiss it even as he says it. He keeps his tone detached like he does when he confesses things that are a little too close to the boundaries of vulnerability that he's drawn for himself.
"George," Dream says. It isn't his fault. George's confession has pushed all other words out of his head save for George's name.
How is he supposed to respond to that? What on earth could he ever say?
"Have you thought about—" George cuts himself off with a grunt, seemingly changing his mind about what he wants to ask. "I didn't know you would remember me saying I wasn't touchy."
"I… remember a lot of things," Dream says. "But I guess that particular fact was, um, important."
"Why?"
"Put your camera on," Dream asks.
"Could I… could we not?" George says. "I want— I don't think I can keep having this conversation if you can see me."
"Alright," Dream nods to himself. Of course he understands that, not wanting to be seen. How it makes it easier, sometimes. "Well, I guess it was important because I wanna know if I can… you know, when you're here."
"Touch me?" George asks. "You want to know if you can touch me?"
"You said you don't like to initiate," Dream recalls. "So, I guess, it'll be up to me, right?"
He can hear the way George's breathing hitches for a moment before he continues. "I don't," he says. "You can see… If you ever do review— I don't initiate. Not even in the clips. Not in any way that counts."
"You do a bit," Dream says. He thinks about laying out exactly which moments he's seen that George was the one to reach out to someone in all the clips he's seen over the past few days, but he doesn't think it will do any good. If anything, it just proves George's point. Dream doesn't need to review, actually, he's done enough of that.
"Not in any way that counts," George repeats.
"What counts?" Dream asks.
"Not that."
"So…" Dream says, scared that if he asks for clarity, if he picks up what he thinks George is laying before them, that he could get it totally wrong.
"For God's sake, Dream," George says, getting in before Dream can summon the courage. "Yes. When I get to Florida, please touch me."
Dream's mouth does open, like he expects words to be in there, but none materialize. What the fuck?
"Okay," George says. "I didn't— That sounded… you know what I mean."
"Do I?" Dream says. For once he's not trying to tease him, he genuinely doesn't know whether he's understood that right.
"You're annoying," George says.
"I know," Dream admits. "But… would it count?"
"What?"
"If I— When I touch you. Will it be in a way that counts?"
"I dunno," George says, and Dream can hear the nonchalant shrug. Whether George is actually as nonchalant as it would appear, he doesn't know. "I guess that's up to you. You're the one… initiating."
"Lazy," Dream says, fond. "I guess I have to do all the work. As usual."
George treats him to a real laugh and Dream feels like he's being washed clean. Of course their earlier disagreement didn't matter. Dream has yet to do anything that will drive George away. He has no idea how, but George is still here. Still his.
"Have you thought about it?" George asks. "Uh, touching me, I guess. Or… whatever."
They've left all their pretenses behind. There is now only a tiny thread tying them back to their previous jokes; they could find their way back to them if they had to, forget this conversation ever happened, but Dream doesn't think he wants to.
"I have," Dream admits. It feels heavy, but also like a weight has been lifted. "I wanna hug you when you get here."
"Oh," George says. "Yeah that's… well, that's a given. I meant— never mind."
"George," Dream says, because surely George can't be this stupid. Surely he knows. "Come on."
"Oh ha ha, Dream," George scoffs. "' Come on'. You said the thing. No one is here you know, it's just us. You don't have to be all… Dream-like."
"Dream-like?"
"All persona-y," George reiterates. "Like you're expecting this to get clipped or something."
"I'm not."
"You are! So like, talk to me properly or I'm going to hang up."
"Fine," Dream says, knowing it's an empty threat and smiling despite himself. Because George is right, as usual, he knows him too well. "I've thought about it, okay? About… more than hugging."
"Alright," George says, his voice is quiet, mumbled into what sounds like fabric. He takes a breath, and although his next words come out clear, they aren't any louder. "Me too."
"So, we've thought about it," Dream concludes. "That doesn't— people think about stuff all the time."
"How much more?" George asks.
"What?"
"How much more than hugging?"
Dream really hates him. Except that he doesn't, actually. He's just infuriating when he gets like this. That hint of glee in his tone that says he loves to make Dream say revealing things when if the tables were turned there is absolutely no way he'd ever do the same.
"George," Dream says.
"No," George says. "I wanna know. How much more?"
"More."
"Like, what kind of stuff?"
"Like—" Dream sighs, loud enough that George can hear it. "Like… stuff that counts."
George is quiet. While they've gone back and forth on that word, now there's no disputing what it means. And for a second, Dream thinks he's gotten it all wrong, that he's completely misinterpreted the situation and George has just been joking the entire time.
But then George hums, warm and content and vaguely tantalizing. "Yeah," he says, his voice rough. "Yeah, me too."
Dream pulls his microphone a little closer, as if he's pulling George closer too. "What—" he starts, and then fumbles the pass, getting lost in what on earth it is he's supposed to say now.
There's no script for what happens when you've confessed that you'd like to touch your best friend in a way that counts and had the sentiment returned.
"It wouldn't have to be just… you," George says, eventually. Before he says it there's silence, where Dream tries to wrap his head around the revelation. It doesn't feel like an awkward one. It feels like things are shifting, resettling into some new configuration they will have to get used to.
"You don't initiate," Dream says. "That's… that's fine. I'm not— You said that had been a problem before. It won't be a… you know. That's not— not a problem. For me."
Sometime soon, Dream will be able to construct a full sentence to George without tripping over what it is he wants to say. But for now, he's just figuring it out as he goes, and George is letting him with no more than a warm, fond chuckle.
"That was before, I guess," George says.
Dream nods and then remembers that George can't see him. Not that it matters, George will understand anyway. "Before?"
The sound of George's chair moving drifts into his headphones. He knows that sound. George is sitting up a little straighter, preparing to say something.
"When you asked me if I was touchy it was— I gave my answer based on the facts I had at my disposal."
"The facts you had at your disposal?" Dream repeats, unable to stop himself from mocking George's choice of phrasing.
"Shut up," George fires. "Yes. Like, I hadn't thought about it before you asked and so I looked at how I was at the time and realized I never had been. Like, with the people I knew. Not even my family, really. And I still don't think I'm like, touchy. That's not how I'd describe myself. I'm not Karl."
Dream chuckles. "Okay. So, how would you describe yourself?"
"Well, after two years of a global pandemic and being separated from the people I— the people that mean the most to me… I guess I'm… situationally touchy."
"Situationally touchy," Dream repeats. "Like when Sapnap and Karl visited you in London, or when you saw everyone in Amsterdam."
"Yeah," George says. "Like those times. I'd wanted to meet them for so long that I guess that overrode my reluctance to… initiate."
"And when you come to Florida?" Dream asks, feeling like he's baring himself, slowly. "When you see me?"
"I've wanted to meet you more than anyone," George says by way of explanation.
"Okay," Dream says. "I understand."
"It might not last," George adds. "Like… I might not— It could wear off. The situational stuff."
"I told you," Dream says. "That isn't a problem for me. I'm… touchy enough. For both of us."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Dream says. "I told you, not when people don't want me to but… you want me to. Right?"
"Right," George says. "I want you to."
Dream smiles. "Okay. Then I will."
And that's enough.
It isn't like anything changes. They aren't ready to move the parameters of anything while they're still thousands of miles apart, but time passes and they keep the conversation close.
Then one day, not too long after but long enough to rub up against their impatience, Dream finds himself standing next to a luggage carousel in a bustling airport with George's face pressed into his neck while Dream inhales the scent of his hair. If asked, Dream wouldn't be able to tell you who reached out first, who initiated their first hug, or any of the other things that came after. It all counts; it's all important. But in the end, they meet in the middle.