"What?!" Dream almost yelled, eyes widening as a smile formed on his face.
"I know!" George said back, almost as shocked as Dream.
Dream covered his face with his hands and let out a laugh. "Oh my gosh, that's so weird," he mumbled as he dragged his hands down his face.
George smiled, leaning his arm onto the blonde as the two sat on Dream's bed.
"It's really weird," George said, Dream leaning his head on George's shoulder. "I don't get why my mum hates your dad, still."
"Jealousy. That's what I think makes the most sense," Dream said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why did they break up, though? That's so sad."
The brunette nodded in agreement. "We should ask them about it," George said.
"Not my dad," Dream said before lowering his voice. "He's scary, I'm not asking him about this."
"Aw, come on," George said, nudging his shoulder against Dream's head.
"No, George," Dream said back, leaning his head off George's shoulder.
George nodded. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Dream mumbled, leaning onto his other side with his arm on his pillow. "Anyways. Want to spend the night?"
The brunette looked over at Dream who had a wide smirk on his face, George rolling his eyes at him.
"Yes," George said and lay down on the bed onto his back, Dream hovering over his face.
The blonde lowered his head, pecking George's lips and a couple times on his face.
Once Dream pulled away, their eyes kept in contact, the blonde seemed like he had something on his mind.
"What are you thinking, Dream?" George asked, his hand trailing up to the blonde's jaw. "Are you okay?"
Dream hummed in reaccuranse, giving George another kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the other ones.
"Don't worry," Dream said with a warm smile, George returning it.
***
The next evening, George was back at his house eating dinner with his parents as he waited for Dream to come over.
They ate in silence, no one speaking a word for almost the whole time, broken by george as he cleared his throat.
"Dad," George asked, looking up from his plate with both of his parents' eyes on him. "Why did you and Clay's dad—"
"No. We're not talking about that," his mother cut him off, striking him by surprise. "We don't talk about that man in this house."
George shut his mouth as he straightened himself up in his seat, eyes gazing back down onto his plate.
"Sorry," George mumbled.
The family returned into silence, an awkward silence now instead of a peaceful one.
George excused himself from the table shortly after, going back up to his bedroom to spend his time waiting there instead of the awkward atmosphere around his parents.
For around ten or fifteen minutes George spent his time sorting out his room, since he had nothing better to do.
After a while he heard his mother open the front door, heart stopping before he ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
At the time he was down to the bottom of the stairs he saw Dream standing in the doorway, George's mother glaring daggers at him, looking similarly at her son once she heard him.
