𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 // mcyt apply fic // ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ

⁰¹⁹ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴏʀᴛᴇsᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ (ᴇᴠᴇʀ).

𝟶𝟷𝟿. [𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 (𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛)]

𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚞𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗.

-

Rose loves how pinky promises have become their thing. They love how childish it is, heavy secrets locked deep, intertwined between their fingers. They love how he never breaks them — even when he promises to only have one brownie (because they have to take them over to Cora's later), he still keeps his promise.

He shows up at their door on Friday night, a hopeful smile on his face.

"Dream?" Rose says, confused.

"I skipped hockey practice," He admits.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Wanted to come over,"

Rose's heart flutters, but they ignore it. "Hot chocolate?" They ask, heating the kettle up after they let him in.

"Of course,"

They curl up on the sofa as he finishes topping off his drink with whipped cream a few minutes later.

"So? What do you wanna work on?" They pull their laptop off the coffee table and onto their lap.

"Um," Dream starts, scratching the back of his neck. Rose bats away the thought that he might be nervous. "I didn't come over for the project, I just wanted to hangout,"

Rose flushes.

"With you," He adds, as if it's necessary.

Oh.

Oh.

Rose manages an "Oh," out loud, too.

"That's okay, right?" he asks, searching their face.

"Yeah!" They respond a little too eagerly, and then, trying to tone it back a little bit, "Yeah, that's cool,"

They don't think it comes off as chill as they hoped it would, but he laughs, so they take that as a good sign.

"Disney movies?" He suggests, hopping over the back of the couch to sit down next to them.

They blink. "You're a frog," Rose deadpans, but flips through Disney+ until Aladdin pops up.

-

A couple of movies later, Rose is on top of Dream, tickling him useless, as The Princess and the Frog plays in the background.

Dream's strong, being both a football player and a hockey player, so why it takes him so long to flip them over so he's the one doing the tickling is a mystery to Rose. He's caged them in and they're laughing so hard their chest hurts. Rose is swatting his hands away but failing miserably until he gets fed up and grabs both of their hands in one of his and holds them above their head, still tickling her with his other.

That's when they kiss.

Rose isn't sure who initiated it (probably them), but one second, they were being tickled to death and the next they were in heaven.

-

Dream leaves late that night, but Rose stays up later. And as time ticks by, guilt starts to creep in, scratching and clawing at their skin.

Because if not for the list, they never would've had the balls to kiss him. He deserves to know, right?

Rose hugs their knees to their chest and sighs.

They'll tell him tomorrow. If they don't, the guilt might just eat them alive.

-

It's raining when he comes out of the building. By the time he gets to the car, his hair is dripping wet and Rose isn't sure if it's rain or sweat. Regardless, he looks hot.

They're leaning on the passenger door, umbrella slung over their shoulder. He grins when he sees them.

"Please tell me you baked something," Dream says, moving to stand under the same umbrella.

Rose frowns. "We need to talk." They hate the way they can see his heart drop into his stomach just from the expression on his face, but they continue anyway. They have to.

"How bad is it?" He says, looking down at his shoes.

"I'm not ending anything," They say, almost hopeful.

He looks up. "Promise?" Their pinkies link in the rain.

Rose takes a deep breath, and they tell him about the dare. He stays completely silent up until the very end, even when their voice gets all high-pitched and pleading.

"It was real, Dream. Even if it was for the list, it was always real," They tell him, their tone begging for him to forgive them.

He takes a big breath and clicks his tongue, looking around the parking lot, almost like he couldn't look them in the eyes.

"What the fuck?" He finally speaks, his words spitting and harsh in disbelief.

Rose bites their tongue and holds out a pinky finger, lingering with the weight of an unspoken promise. "It was real," They say softly — and they aren't lying.

He looks at their finger, then shakes his head, jaw hardening. "No. Fuck you, fuck this. I'm not a part of your stupid bet or whatever you're doing," He spits, brushing past them and into the driver seat. They step back off the car, wobbly, as he slams the door shut and speeds off.

Rain pools into puddles at their feet as their pinky hangs in the air. Their tears feel ice-cold as they run down their cheeks. 

-

[𝟶𝟷.𝟸𝟿.𝟸𝟹]