Matches In The Rain// DreamNotFound

Chapter 2: Term #6

George felt like his stomach had been left back in London. The nerves of seeing his two best friends in person were absolutely killing him. Waiting in customs also wasn't helping. He had heard that the United States customs were very rude and incredibly strict. George hated the thought of getting on their bad side.

There was one thought however, that sat on a golden, mighty throne ruling over all the others. What if he doesn't like me?

George spent about two hours thinking about all the reasons why Dream and Sapnap—mostly Dream—would dislike him.

What if they think I'm annoying? What if they dislike how much I sleep? What if they dislike that I can't cook anything besides cake, fries, and mozzarella sticks? I can't even pitch in on making any meals...

What if I act differently in person and they hate me?

As another hour came to pass, George changed the ruler of his thoughts. This time it was the Master of Escape.

He stared at all three possible exits beginning to come up with thousands of scenarios all along the lines of: 

I could leave behind my two suitcases of clothing since I could just buy new ones-—or maybe Dream would buy some for me? Eh maybe not since he's letting me live with him for free. Yeah, I better buy the clothing. Then I can call and ask Dream to bring the car around front, no questions asked. Then I would run. Run for my life through these bunches of people like a pinball hoping to distract the guards until I feel the grasps of humidity and warmth on my face as I make my way outside and finally see my first real palm tree. I would of course only look behind myself every so often to see if guards were still following me as I would search for Dream's car—which would hopefully pull up to the curb at the perfect time for me to grab the handle, open the door, jump in, and before even thinking to put in a seat belt I'd yell ,"Step on it, Dream!"

The scenarios made George smile; he would definitely be telling Dream about it later—if he ever did make it through customs.

Finally, after three and a half hours, George made his way through, without any problems at customs—aside from fumbling his passport and paperwork as he tried handing it over to the worker through the smallest little slits at the bottom of the glass. They really need to make these wider, he thought, so people like me don't continue embarrassing ourselves.

He was finally scanning the conveyor for his luggage and texted his group text with Dream and Sapnap.

George:

I'm waiting for my luggage now. Shouldn't be too much longer.

Pissbaby: (aka Dream)

Jesus George, if I knew it was going to take this long, I would have left the house thirty minutes ago.

Sappattus Nappatus: (aka Sapnap)

Honestly, I wouldn't have even come at all.

George laughed, thinking of the perfect reply to Sapnap's answer. He attached a song that Quackity had created, one that could be used when someone did or said something, that the other did not give a rat's ass about. 

George:

Sapnap, https://soundcloud.com/quackity/where-are-the-askers

*Sappattus Nappatus left group chat*

Pissbaby:

I don't think that was a good idea considering Sapnap's the one driving rn.

George:

But you'd never leave me behind Dream.

His fingers typed the message so fast that George had no time to rethink what he was sending before it had already been sent. Was that too bold? Omg, surely, he'll know it's a joke. Right? Ah! How am I going to survive here? I should have been rude to the customs worker, so he'd send me back home.

Pissbaby:

You're right I wouldn't.

George couldn't stop his pale cheeks from reddening. He visibly smiled as he began to stare down at the message only stopping when he heard the long blare of the baggage claim signaling the luggage would be coming through.

George was lucky that he had been late to his flight. It meant that he got his luggage sooner at the baggage claim. His mom, who traveled frequently for her job, had told him that "hack" years ago, but George never had the opportunity to try it. He hadn't even purposefully tried it today—he was late because he had overslept.

Too many late nights talking with Dream.

Speaking of, George had never even seen Dream. All he knew was what the latter had told their fans: dirty blonde hair, green eyes, light freckles, super tall, and a muscular build. 

Every time he laid in his bed on FaceTime, George wouldn't see Dream's black screen, he would see his concocted version of him. George sighed. Now he was even more nervous. Maybe if he had seen Dream at least once before now, maybe he wouldn't have such a large pit settled in his stomach. And it's all his fault—tracing back to The Deal.

Even ten years ago when they first started messaging and playing Minecraft with one another, somehow George knew he would end up meeting Dream. So, when they decided to make The Deal, seven years ago, George put in, Term #6: Dream will wait to reveal himself to George until it is done so first in person.

George pocketed his phone and grabbed his two suitcases off the conveyor. He then pulled up the handles and began to head towards "Passenger Pickup."

He walked slowly with a confused expression as everyone kept moving around him and glaring.

These people don't know me... what the heck did I do?

He cautiously kept his head down avoiding eye contact, quickening his pace.

"Why is he on the wrong side mommy?" A whiny voice broke through the muffled sounds of others.

The wrong side? What do they meant the wro—Oh. They mean the wrong side.

George had indeed been walking on the left side of the airport going against every other person. He quickly gave himself a minor scolding, moving to the right side to continue his path. He glanced around looking at all the differences and similarities between English and American airports. One thing in particular caught his eye.

Right near the automatic sliding doors stood a tall, dirty blond-haired boy. He leaned against the wall lifting his eyes to search every face. He wore dark jeans and a plain blue hoodie, that may or may not have been purple.

As George inched closer, he could clearly make out the boy's face. A structured jaw, lightly chiseled cheekbones, and eyes that were a little wary.

George's heart fluttered.

The boy's arms were crossed, conveying that he did not want anyone to speak to him, and his fingers fidgeted. His eyes finally connected with George's and his fluttering heart stopped, limply falling to the ground.

He's the most handsome man I've ever seen.

The boy dropped his arms in response to meeting George's eyes. He pushed off the wall walking in the latter's direction.

Oh no. I'm all flustered. Why the hell am I flustered? Oh God, he's coming closer. I- I-

I need to go another way. I have to avoid this.

George turned to the left and began following an older couple out of a door that read, "Parking." He figured that once he was outside, he'd be safe and far, far away from the dashingly handsome man that made him question everything he knew about himself.

And everything he felt about Dream.

🌧~🌧~🌧

{Edited}