Chapter Text
“Hello?”
The sound reverberates through the darkness. It bounces off walls that aren’t there, echoes in ears that he doesn’t have. He opens his eyes, maybe. He gets to his feet, if he has them. He feels himself move through a space that doesn’t exist.
“Hello?”
It’s closer now, or maybe it’s farther. He closes his eyes--oh, yes, he does have those now--and tries to focus on it.
“George?”
His eyes fly open, and suddenly he’s here. He moves his arms, can see the vague shifting of shadows that make up wherever he’s standing. The voice is right in front of him now, and out of the darkness he sees a figure appear. It’s hard to make out, but he knows who it is.
“Ranboo?”
“Oh thank god.” Ranboo sighs and slumps to the ground, and things start to become clearer. It’s still dark--or maybe it’s an absence of light, never touched by it to begin with. He can’t see him, per se, but it’s something close to it. George sits as well, though his body still seems a bit too insubstantial for his liking.
“What is this?”
Ranboo looks around at the endless nothing.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he admits. “I’ve never been able to give it a name that makes sense. I’ve just been calling it The End.”
George tilts his head. “The end of what?”
“Heck if I know.”
George feels himself laugh, and Ranboo smiles.
“So,” he says after a moment, “what are we doing here?”
Ranboo is quiet for a second, seemingly gathering his thoughts.
“I think,” he says slowly, “we’re here to make a trade.”
George’s brow furrows. “A trade?”
“Mhm. I’ve never actually had another person here before, so I’m kind of just going on intuition right now.” He pauses for a moment before laughing. “I feel like I should be offering you tea or something.”
George chuckles, but the confusion swirls his figure and blurs his lines a little, so he quickly addresses it.
“Is this where you go when you write?”
Ranboo hums in affirmation.
“Yup. It’s...honestly, probably the most consistent thing in my brain.”
It feels like there’s something more to that statement. George waits for him to elaborate.
“I remember things here.”
Ranboo rubs the back of his neck, looking around again.
“Not everything--honestly, not really anything substantial. I think they’re here somewhere--my memories. Sometimes I try to catch them, but they’re always just a little bit faster.”
As if on cue, George hears a faint noise, like wind rustling through leaves. He thinks he catches a few words spoken by a familiar voice, but then it’s gone. Ranboo seems unfazed.
“What did you mean by trade?”
Ranboo looks at him then, and George can tell his expression is serious.
“You want your memories back, right?”
He’s caught a bit off guard by the non-answer, but replies, “I do.”
“Then there needs to be a trade; a transaction.”
It dawns on George what he’s saying, and his eyes widen.
“Are you--are you giving up your memories to give me mine?”
Ranboo shrugs.
“I guess? Like I said, this has never happened before. I’m just doing what my magic is telling me to do, honestly.”
He feels a little dizzy with the revelation; yet Ranboo is entirely calm, like they’re talking about the weather and not life-altering decisions.
“But...don’t you want your memories back too?”
He’s quiet for a few moments.
“I don’t know. I don’t think our situations are the same; I think for me, it’s just part of my magic. Part of who I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully remember, and to be honest, some of it seems too far-fetched to be actual memories. I’ve been doing some thinking lately, and there might be a different element in play that is less of a memory thing and more of a…”
He trails off. George waits for him to finish, but instead he just says, “This is important to you.”
“It’s important to you too.”
Ranboo smiles.
“Not in the same way.”
He stands, and holds out a hand to help George up. A few more memories run by in the distance, though they’re not his own.
“How did this happen?” he asks, taking Ranboo’s hand and letting him pull him to his feet. “I mean, how did I get here?”
“The gifts,” Ranboo answers plainly. George frowns.
“But...the gifts didn’t work.”
“They did. You just didn’t have all of them.”
It takes him a few seconds, but then he realizes: “The ring?”
“It was the last gift you needed. It held both Dream and Sapnap’s magic in it, and when they gave it to you, it became a gift.”
George sighs.
“This is giving me a headache, and I don’t think I even have a head here.”
Ranboo laughs. He holds out his hands again, both of them this time, and gestures for George to take them.
He reaches for them, but hesitates at the last second.
“You said you can remember some things here.”
Ranboo tilts his head bemusedly.
“What are they?”
Another memory flits by, a little clearer this time.
“It’s mostly jumbled up nonsense,” Ranboo admits. “There’s snow, a lot of it. And...fire, I think, or explosions? There’s a...a kid, a little kid, but I can’t see his face. Voices that I can’t quite pin to anyone. I don’t remember any of that outside of The End, though.”
“Am I going to be getting your memories?”
It’s a genuine question, but Ranboo chuckles.
“Nah, I don’t think so. More like the concept of a memory than the actual contents, you know? Though, let me know if you start hearing the words ‘tax benefits’ or ‘hamburger’ pop into your head a lot--I’ve still got no clue what those are from.”
With a smile, he grabs George’s hands. Without physical forms, the energy blends together, making George feel more solid and heavy.
“Will you be okay?” he asks suddenly, having to talk a little louder over what sounds like rushing wind.
“Don’t worry about me,” Ranboo calls, “I’ll be fine. Focus on yourself, your memories. You’re almost there.”
He can feel it. He grips Ranboo’s hands, starting to feel a little scared.
“I’ll see you on the other side, George.”
The first thing George registers is the pain--he’s aching everywhere, from his head down to the tips of his fingers and toes. There’s light coming from somewhere above him, and he squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter to block it out.
The second thing he notices is that he feels raw all over, like someone peeled off the first few layers of his skin. Everything touching him--his clothes, his hair, whatever he’s laying on--feels ten times more than what it should.
There’s a low hum of conversation from somewhere to his left, and despite the brightness, he slowly forces his eyes open.
It takes him a second before his vision clears, and he sees a smooth white ceiling above him. Something’s fluttering at the right side of his vision; a curtain, he realizes, being blown into his line of sight and falling back with the wind.
He turns his head, wincing at the ache in his neck. His eyesight is still a little fuzzy, but he can see a group of shapes against a soft eggshell background. He blinks a few times and they come into focus: two people in rumpled dress shirts and loosened ties, someone with glasses and two pointed horns, a person next to him with vibrant blue hair. There’s someone sitting on the floor as well, a blonde teenager biting at his nails.
He opens his mouth and tries to make a noise--maybe ask what’s going on--but all that comes out is a quiet rasp. Still, all heads whip up to look at him, and before he can process it the two men in suits are rushing over, one almost tripping over the kid on the floor before stumbling and catching himself on George’s bed.
This close, he can make out their features. A set of mismatched eyes, a pair of deep brown ones, both full of concern. And all at once, as if they’ve been sitting on the tip of his tongue for years, he manages to croak out two words.
“Clay. Nick.”
The looks of utter shock Dream and Sapnap give him would probably make him laugh if he didn’t feel like he’d been run over by a truck.
“What did you just say?”
Dream’s voice is hardly a whisper, as though he’s afraid speaking too loud might break George into fragile pieces. He swallows dryly and forces out some more words.
“Love you.”
Someone’s shouting outside the room; George looks over again to see the kid--to see Tommy--gone. Someone else shushes him, and then footsteps are rapidly approaching, and a head pokes in the door cautiously.
Puffy’s face glows with relief, and she walks up to George’s bedside. She has to shoo Sapnap and Dream out of the way a little, both of them still looking stunned.
“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” she teases softly, though her voice and the shadows under her eyes betray her anxiety. She holds a thermos up to his lips and he gulps down the sweet-tasting liquid inside.
He frowns in confusion.
“Is that...tea?”
Puffy scoffs.
“You underestimate me. This is a specialized blend of herbs and magical ingredients, mixed with a generous amount of honey and milk.”
She grins a little, eyes sparkling.
“So, yeah. Tea.”
He takes another few sips, the pain and stiffness starting to melt away until he can sort of push himself to sit up. Dream and Sapnap are at his side immediately, steadying him and helping ease him back to sit against the pillows.
“We’ll give you three some space,” Bad says. As everyone turns to leave, a thought pops into George’s head, and he blurts out, “Wait!”
He meets Puffy’s eyes, anxiety swirling in his stomach.
“Is Ranboo…?”
She smiles.
“He’s fine,” she assures him, “he woke up a few hours ago in about the same state as you. Both of you should be good to get up and eat something by evening.”
Relief washes over George, and he thanks her before she leaves, closing the door softly behind her.
Finally, it’s just the three of them. George looks closely at Dream and Sapnap, committing every tiny detail of their faces to memory.
“George,” Dream says quietly. “Do you...know our real names?”
“He said them already,” Sapnap points out in a low voice. Still, his eyes are hesitant when he looks at George. “...Do you?”
George just smiles, affection for the men in front of him making his whole body feel warm and fuzzy.
“You,” he says, pointing weakly at Sapnap, “got your nickname when you fell asleep under the willow tree and got covered in sap.”
Sapnap’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops. George turns his attention to Dream.
“You sang me to sleep when I got sick with a fever.”
They both grab his hand at once. He keeps going.
“When Bad’s baking didn’t let me leave the shop, we danced in the front yard to lighten our spirits. The first thing I wanted to do when I came back was hear Sapnap play the violin. Dream, you kissed me first; Sapnap, you got pissed about it, it was kind of hilarious. And--”
He would continue, but suddenly he’s being smothered by the two loves of his life, two pairs of arms wrapping around him and holding on as though he’ll float away if they let go. It hurts a little, but George is the farthest thing from upset; he returns their hug as good as he can, feeling their warmth and their hearts beating in their chests.
“I love you,” he says softly, squeezing them both, “I love you two so much. Always.”
“We love you too, Georgie,” Sapnap sniffles. Dream kisses the spot just below his ear.
The bed--which turns out to be Philza’s bed in the cabin--isn’t really big enough for three people, but that’s hardly going to stop them. Sapnap ends up squished against the wall, Dream huddling as close as he can to avoid falling off the bed, with George laying smack-dab in the middle. It’s cramped, and he’s probably going to wake up sweating, but he just sighs in contentment and pulls them closer.
He doesn’t know when he drifted off, but when he wakes up, the light from the window has dimmed into twilight. Dream and Sapnap are awake, talking quietly above his head with Dream’s arm slung over his waist and Sapnap’s hand on his hip.
Dream’s the first one to notice him wake up, and he smiles down at him gently.
“Hello, beautiful.”
George grumbles a little, hiding his face in Dream’s chest. He feels his laugh rumble under his cheek, and shivers at Sapnap’s breath brushing against the back of his neck when he chuckles.
“What time is it?” he mumbles, peeking up at them. Dream hums, looking towards the still-open window.
“A little after dinner, I think; we heard the others making food earlier.”
At the mention of food, George’s stomach audibly growls. He blushes, but grins sheepishly when they both laugh again.
“Do you think you’ll be able to get up?”
It takes a fair amount of help from Sapnap and Dream, but George manages to get to his feet. He definitely feels better than he did when he woke up the first time, but his knees are weak and he has to lean heavily on Sapnap while Dream opens the door for them.
“Watch your step,” he murmurs in George’s ear, tightening his hold around his waist.
The hallway is dark and quiet, but there’s warm light and muted conversations floating out from the living room.
Sapnap helps him shuffle down the hall, and Dream walks past them into the kitchen as they make their way to join everyone else.
A couple of heads turn in their direction, and they’re greeted with warm smiles. He takes a seat on the couch next to Philza, who gives him a big smile.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Shitty,” George admits, and a few people chuckle.
“Language,” Bad scolds, but there’s no weight behind it. Tommy looks up from where he’s on the floor, leaning against the couch, and gives him a purposeful look.
“Fuck.”
“Tommy! Language!”
Toby laughs loudly, then winces and looks over to where Ranboo’s sitting beside him. “Er, sorry.”
Ranboo looks like George feels; he’s curled up on the couch, bundled in a fluffy blanket and holding a steaming mug of what George assumes is Puffy’s tea. Both shades of his skin are paler than normal, contrasting starkly with the shadows under his eyes that make him look like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Still, he manages a tired smile and waves him off.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. The headache’s pretty much gone.”
Dream taps on his shoulder, and he looks up to see him holding a steaming bowl. He hands it to George and sits on the floor between him and Sapnap, leaning his head back against George’s knee.
He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he takes a bite, and suddenly he’s practically inhaling the food. Philza elbows him and tells him to slow down, which he reluctantly does, taking his time and listening to the easy conversation around him.
His head still hurts, feeling uncomfortably full. It’s not the same sudden rush he got earlier (yesterday, Philza informs him, which makes his head hurt more), but now it feels like something’s given way, letting his memories slowly trickle back at a more manageable pace.
A loud laugh from the other side of the room makes his head throb, and he looks up just as Wilbur bats Tommy on the back of the head. He smiles a little at the scene, then looks over to where Ranboo sits between him and Toby.
Something in the back of George’s mind nags at him when he looks at him--a familiar feeling of a lost memory. But for once, it’s a relief to just let it slip away into nothing and lose himself in the moment.
He leans into Sapnap, smiling when he wraps an arm around his shoulders. His hand finds Dream’s hair, and he watches happily as the ring on his finger shines in the light while he runs his fingers through the messy strands.
Out of nowhere, Philza exclaims, “Oh, shit!”
“Language!”
He ignores the scolding and turns to George, Dream and Sapnap.
“I didn’t get a chance to finish the ceremony.”
There’s a moment of silence before Sapnap snorts.
“Philza, you don’t have to--”
He cuts off Dream’s amused protest with a firm hand.
“Shut up, I’m doing it. We wanted to do this properly, so we’re gonna do it properly.”
He stands up, smoothing his wrinkled shirt and dramatically clearing his throat before speaking in a deep voice.
“Do you, George, take Dream and Sapnap to be your husbands, blah blah blah.”
George tries and fails to keep a straight face.
“I do,” he says, voice breaking into a giggle at the end.
“I do too,” Sapnap chimes in.
“I do three.”
“That’s not--ah, for fuck’s sake,” Philza says in exasperation, but he’s obviously holding back laughter, even as Bad scolds him in the background.
“Alright...I now pronounce you, husband and husband and husband.”
Dream wheezes, gripping George’s knee. George rolls his eyes, but after a moment he can’t stop himself from bursting into laughter.
“Oi! This is serious!”
Philza’s complaints only make them laugh harder, and the laughter is contagious. Soon the whole room is cracking up, and even though George head aches at the volume, his heart feels like it’s overflowing with love.
“Alright, alright. Kiss each other and shit, I think that’s all that’s left.”
“Language!” Bad calls through his giggles.
Sapnap bumps George with his shoulder, making him look over. He’s grinning, and he leans over to peck George’s lips softly, making his cheeks burn. Before he can complain, Sapnap bends over and holds Dream’s face in both hands, kissing him upside-down and very narrowly avoiding smashing his forehead against his nose.
He laughs and flicks a piece of hair out of Sapnap’s eyes before leaning back to look up at George. He rolls his eyes again and kisses him with a wide smile, fingers curled under Dream’s jaw.
Something falls on George’s head, and he yelps and sits up. Tommy’s standing over him, tossing a flower to Dream and one to Sapnap as well; George figures they must’ve come from the bouquets they’d abandoned after he passed out.
“Throw these at someone,” he instructs. “That’s all I know about wedding shit.”
There’s a resigned sigh from behind him, Bad apparently having given up by now.
They look at each other at the same time, and George can tell they’re all thinking the same thing.
Bad yelps as three limp flowers hit him in the face, falling down to where Skeppy’s laying his head in his lap. They both start stuttering, red-faced and flustered, and that just sends everyone cracking up again.
“You know what that means!” Sapnap sings teasingly. Skeppy grabs one of the flowers and chucks it at him.
The warm food and warm company settle in his bones, and even though he slept for several hours earlier, he starts feeling the drowsiness set in. He slumps heavier against Sapnap, and at one point Dream sits up on the couch and leans on him, wrapping his arms around his waist and tucking his head under George’s chin. He’s like a human weighted blanket, and George doesn’t even realize that his eyes are slipping shut before he’s falling into a deep sleep.
The next thing he registers is the feeling of being lifted, his cheek smushing against the rumpled fabric of a dress shirt. He hears Dream’s quiet voice from above him, and Sapnap’s laugh accompanied by the jingle of keys and the creak of floorboards. He feels himself being laid down in bed, feels the mattress dip on either side of him, and hears the soft murmurs of, “Goodnight,” and “I love you” before drifting off again.