― do over

The day before everyone headed back to their respective residences was bound to be sad and unfortunately rushed, but Dream was inclined to believe it was worse for his closeted boyfriend.

"Y'know, if you sat down and talked about it with me you would feel better," he pointed out to no effect. Dream crossed his arms over his chest.

"How do I go home to them now?" George kept stressing out, pacing the room with no end in sight. "There's no where for me to go and I-"

Dream grabbed his wrist and yanked him around to face him. "Call them. Right now. Tell them so they have some time to process it. If there's in an issue, it'll work out. Weren't you gonna room with Skeppy and Bad this year anyway?"

George nodded meekly. His phone was in his trembling fingers. "I can do it," he said more to himself than anyone. "I can do it." He even started to believe it.

Clay nodded and patted the bed beside him.

"But I'd rather go sit outside in the grass." It sounded like another excuse to delay the inevitable, but Dream couldn't refuse any of George's requests for the life of him. He looked imploring at the blond before departing the room entirely.

"Suit yourself." Clay debated saying "pop off I guess," inspired by his sister, but now was not the time for zoomer jokes.

The green grass seemed more comforting than Dream would have given it credit for, as George sat down and pulled at the stems of grass. Clay joined him and slung an arm around his shoulder. "You'll feel better when it's over."

George sighed, closing his eyes after he clicked his parents home phone contact. Dream felt George's breath quicken when his shoulders rose up and down, so Dream did his best to temper his own rhythmic breathing. It helped to an extent, as George cracked a tiny nod to him.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end belonged to a woman, sounding in her late fifties. Dream could picture her clearly from years ago- a stout lady with short greying hair.

"Hi," George responded as his free hand ripped up more grass. At this rate, there would be a bald spot on the grass.

Now that Dream considered it, it would be very fun to name that spot BaldBoyHalo.

"George! How's New Hampshire?" Her voice turned away from the speaker, calling out an invitation to someone behind her. Dream barely heard the arrival of George's father on the other end.

"It's good," his voice was quiet. "Um, listen, I need to tell you something."

"Are you in jail?" Was his fathers first presumption.

"I don't think you're pregnant," his mother added.

Clay wheezed but got forced to stifle it for the sake of George, since he couldn't even crack his nervous shell.

Dream would often have dinner at their house back in the day, cracking George-spiteful jokes at the table. George was always left a pouting mess, but Dream was quick to cheer him up afterwards.

"No- no, none of that. Um, you remember Ant, right? Anthony?" Dream raised an eyebrow in question but George didn't meet his gaze. Why Ant was relevant to George's coming out was beyond him.

"Of course! What a sweet boy. What about him?" His mother responded with a clap. Clay realized she probably would have met Ant in junior year, as Ant was a frequent volunteer for the school and assisted with fundraisers and student council.

"He's gay," George explained. "Um-"

"Oh, how wonderful. But do tell, what does that have to do with you?" His mother sounded so supportive, that Dream was having third degree whiplash. He found it so hard to believe they would be homophobic, truthfully.