thirteen

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dream

Never did Dream think it was possible for him to want to speak to someone for as long as he did with George that evening. The blonde enjoyed it so much that as he closed his eyes to sleep, he continued the conversation in his head, dreaming about the brunette that had fallen asleep beside him. It was frustrating for Dream, it was like George was nothing but a parasite, eating away at him, infesting every single thought that the taller one managed to conjure up throughout his days.

"I like that about you George," Dream said as he glanced over at the boy beside him. "You always try to see the good in everyone- you believe there's good in everyone."

"Well that's because there is, we aren't all born with negative intentions, we're not born with emotions and feelings for them to constantly be imbalanced. In order to feel hate, you must've known what it feels like to love, the same goes for every other emotion." The brunette always had a way with words, and Dream was grateful that the other was starting to feel more confident when it came to talking - especially to him. That way Dream could here more of what went on inside the outsider's head.

"But what if you've never disliked someone, how would you know you like someone?" Dream questioned, wanting to see how far George's theory went.

"The emotion in itself doesn't have to correspond with what you like and dislike, for example if I know what it feels like to like a certain type of food, then I'll know what it feels like to dislike a certain person. The emotion that you feel doesn't always have to correlate to the object or thing you're emotive towards." Dream laid there in silence for a moment, taking in the brunette's wise words. It made sense when one really thinks about it, there was no other way to rebuttal now. Not that Dream disagreed at all - he just wanted George to speak more, he wanted to listen.

That was also something Dream didn't know he was capable of. Listening. Wanting to listen.

The room fell silent again and Dream peered over to look at the other, to his surprise, George was already staring right back at him. Leaning in.

Dream felt his heart race, his breath now shaking with every exhale he took. There was no part of Dream that wanted to stop the space between them getting smaller, if anything, the hesitant pace the two were going at was agonizingly painful and slow.

"Can I kiss you?" Dream asked, glancing from the honey-brown eyes to the lips that parted beneath them. The other simply nodded, his face flushed red.

There lips only mere inches apart now and just as Dream finally caved in to break the space between them-

He woke up.

Dream still felt his heart racing, but as his eyes opened, he noticed the other's face - asleep but still close to his own, lips were parted in the same way as they were in the blonde's dream and the familiar feeling came back, however, this time, Dream moved back again to fully appreciate the boy's face.

Taking his finger, he traced the edge of the brunette's face, his finger tracing all the way down from the side of his cheek to the start of his jaw, running it along his jawline, up to his chin. Slowly lifting the boy's face, making sure he wouldn't disturb the other as he slept.

George looked so peaceful when he slept. Dream couldn't fathom the idea of a more beautiful face existing. A few dark spots kissed the boys cheeks - probably from the endless hours under the sun back home.

'Home.'

Dream started to wonder what George considered home now. Would he ever feel comfortable enough around here to think this as home? Did Dream want him to consider this his home, their home?

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