Chapter Text
Sweaty fingers slid uselessly over sun-warmed guitar strings. Oppressive mid-August heat curled blond strands into sweaty clumps against pale skin.
Dream sat on his bed, eyes closed as he mindlessly strummed the warm strings on his acoustic guitar. Beside him, George was sprawled out like a starfish. Softly, and completely out of key, he hummed along to the quiet notes from the guitar.
Sapnap, his best friend, had gone to Greece for the summer, and his grandparents' countryside villa had shit reception and a mere 2GB’s of Wifi each month. But he was almost home now, just a few hours away in an overheated car with his family.
Dream looked to his window. The blinds were half-closed to keep out the sun, and it was firmly shut to allow the AC to do its job. The AC in his apartment complex still sucked. His mother hadn’t stopped complaining to the landlord.
Sweaty fingers let go of sun-warmed guitar strings, and the small, murky room fell into silence. There was nothing but Dream and George’s heavy breaths and the hum of an AC struggling to cool the air.
Dream shut his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyelids. The guitar slid off his lap as he rose with a groan. The sweat pooling against his back made his shirt cling awkwardly, and he was quick to pull it off.
Heat did things to people. It made them slow and content.
Standing in the middle of his sparsely furnished bedroom, located on the 19th floor - Dream felt like he had never been more of both.
Stubborn was practically Dream’s middle name. And that's why there were boxes labeled "NYU" piled high two sets of bedrooms, why there was an email sitting in some administrator's overflowing inbox and why a secretly proud Karl was rooming with someone else come fall. That’s why there was a short brunet in beige shorts and a navy t-shirt laying in his bed with a small smile and sweat-curled hair. That's why there was a short brunet in grey sweatpants and a too-big t-shirt at the dining table, laughing with his sister; why there was a pastel blue toothbrush leaning on a dark green one in the bathroom. Why the car suddenly needed to be refilled ten times more often.
George was everywhere.
He was in the cherry blossoms that bloomed so pretty and pink. He was in the cooling glass of homemade lemonade, provided by his mom. He was in the glittering of dewy grass. He was in every breath, every look, and every touch. Every thought. Every thing .
And there, right next to George, burned into Dream’s brain, were the three little words that had made Dream open his heart and let him stay - forever or however long he wanted to.
I love you.