Get your tickets now for the tour of band The Sex havers making a headline around the world. Opening for them will be the hot new alternative band 3:15.
Dream is the lead singer of a band formed during his high school years. After years of work the...
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"Oh, every time, it would bring me to life" I Can Only Imagine David Guetta ft. Chris Brown.
⚠️Drugs, Past sexual abuse discussion, minor panic attack⚠️ (Be safe happy reading)
"Wow."
It was seriously a bad idea if George looked like that. Leaned lazily over the frame of Dream's hotel doorway like he didn't have any hold over the public eye with that leather jacket, the grin reaped into his soul. The drummer was dressed to kill. Black jeans tight enough to see outlines, shirt ripped in just the right places, goofy sunglasses that surprisingly only made him look hotter placed in his hair.
"Stop gawking, rich boy." The smug look never left his lips and it forced Dream to reel with poisonous anticipation. "Is that really you're party look?"
Both eyes shot down to his clothing, which were perfectly normal if he said so himself. A black and white open button-up showed his minuscule sterling silver chain, and his dark performance jeans. It seemed common enough as Dream had spent far more time staring at the clothes before wearing them. This felt too important to mess up and any other fabric felt too itchy for him to deem them correct. George snorted at his sullen reaction.
"Should I change?"
George's cheeks tinted a bit, which was a bit odd when he hadn't said anything to cause it.
"No," his head gestured to the door, "ready?"
Pocketing his phone and wallet Dream grinned.
As they made their way to the lift, George was eerily quiet. A step behind him for most of their journey to the end of the hall Dream glanced back to find both brown eyes weren't ahead. Instead, they found home on Dream's ass spaced out with a self-satisfied resting expression, Dream huffed.
His knuckle lifted greedy eyes and caught the man in the act. He flushed so easily, it was Dream's favorite form of entertainment.
"So, every time you hate something about me," Dream punched the lift buttons but kept his gaze on George, "it actually just means you like it."
Complacent knuckles were smacked from his chin while the drummer scowled beneath pink and red.
"You're a fucking knob."
"Oh," Dream cooed entering the metal room, "watch out Washington, the next thing you know he'll be calling me a 'wanker'."
That fished a laugh out of him, "you're also an idiot."
"I like it," Dream admitted when the doors closed. "That you find me attractive."
"Don't beat yourself up about it," George snorted with a shuffle
"I think you know how attractive I find yo-"
"We're in an elevator," he reminded. "Now keep your dick in your pants and tell me how the fuck we're getting past security here."
