Talk Fast || DNF

Chapter 3

Dream's favorite part of soccer has always been the adrenaline rush he gets. The lights of the stadium beat down on him, beads of sweat run down his tan forehead as his breathing gets less and less controlled. The whoops and cheers of the crowd become nothing more than white noise the moment that whistle blows. It's moments like this he remembers why he continued on with the sport. The game now is almost over, it all comes down to Dream and the penalty kick that could win it for them. A slight breeze runs a chill down his spine; he's hyper-aware of every single person's eyes on him. Taking a deep breath, he reels back and kicks the ball with enough force to send it sailing into the left corner of the net. The goalie barely even stood a chance.

Immediately, he's swarmed by his teammates with whoops and cheers and pats on the back. His best friend, Sapnap, wraps an arm around him and pulls him in for a side-hug before he's swept away by his team. Normally they would rush back to the locker rooms and prepare for an afterparty that even Dream would attend, but he notices off to the side that Alex has stopped to talk to someone who came down from the stands. Getting closer, he sees that it's George and Wilbur. So, he did show up after all. He's not sure why he's surprised, maybe because he doesn't think he's ever noticed George at one of his games before. Maybe he just wasn't looking hard enough.

"Hey, nice one," George greets with a slight grin on his delicate lips. His hands are tucked in his pockets as he breaks away from his two friends to go talk to Dream. "You had me scared there for a moment, it veered so much I thought you were gonna miss the net completely."

"I don't miss," Dream replied with a shrug. It was true and he worked his ass off to make sure it stayed true. "Did Alex invite you to the afterparty? Alpha Sig is letting us use their place so it'll probably be crazy."

The brunet laughs at this, nodding his head softly, "Thought you weren't a partier?"

"I am when we win," the blond nodded towards the locker rooms where most of his team had disappeared to. George followed him without question as they carried on with their conversation. Normally, Dream would shower after a game like this, but considering he was about to spend the remainder of his night surrounded by sweaty drunk people, the point of a shower was moot. Instead, he just opened his locker and started getting changed. He received multiple pats on the back and assurances from his team about how well he played and it warmed his heart.

"You're quite the favorite," George observed as he leaned on the locker next to him with his arms crossed. He seems almost skeptical, looking Dream up and down as he pulls his jersey over his shoulders. The blond pretends not to notice the way that George's eyes linger on his toned torso. Part of him wants to make a comment, but he decides against it last minute.

"They only like me when I'm winning us games," he shrugs as he pulls his t-shirt over his head, shaking out his hair as he pulls off the headband that had been holding up the pesky blond locks that love to fall in front of his eyes.

A piece falls into his face and before Dream can fix it, George reaches up and does it for him. The brunet pulls his hand back like he's been burned, mumbling a brief, "Uh, sorry, my bad. Um, ready for the party?"

He nods, trying to act like he can't still feel the way George's fingers brushed against his skin. Dream motions to his team and the group of them start to flood out of the locker room save for a few stragglers who opted to shower. Most of them are more focused on getting absolutely wasted than they are on their hygiene and Dream can't really blame them. Even he'll let himself drink a little after a strong win. It's just nice to let loose a little, to be proud of himself for a moment.

The party is already in full swing, but it gets even louder once the team arrives. Immediately, they're all separated into the crowds as most of them go to get drinks. Dream loses George right away, but he's not surprised since this is more his scene than it ever will be Dream's. He doesn't mind, though, he just heads towards the kitchen to look for a drink that isn't too heavy. Since it's a frat house, the only kind of light option is White Claw and he guesses that's good enough.