GEORGE
My room is unfamiliar.
Even though it's been a week or so, the guest room has that unaccustomed touch, with its tightly-drawn bedsheets and spotless floors. The amount of time I've lingered in here- for a place I'm supposed to be spending my nights - it's so sparse that even the mere layout is foreign to me.
For half a minute or so I can't even remember where I tucked away my suitcase but I stumble upon it in a hidden corner. Rummaging through, I'm careful not to disturb the uniformly-folded stacks until I uncover a hoodie I still haven't worn yet. I hold it out in front of me, watching it unfurl before hugging it to my chest. It smells like home.
It's larger than the one I've been wearing, a darker hue and oversized to the point where it's draping over me, rather than hugging. I take a tentative seat at the edge of the bed, barely creating a divot even as I shift my full weight onto the fitted sheets.
My gaze lifts to the door, scrutinizing my unchecked effort to shut it completely, allowing a fracture of the outside hallway to be visible from here.
Farther down that hallway, is his room. Somewhere I do know, somewhere I don't know if I want to go back to.
A breath lodges in my throat and my head drops, looking down at my lap and the sleeves that have swallowed up my hands.
What has been happening there, I have the bizarre urge to laugh, what could possibly happen tonight? Truly the defining moments of this trip, the memories I'll remember over all else, of both good and bad and today has been a wonderful demonstration of the latter.
It would be so easy, so easy, to just stay here tonight. Save myself from whatever awaits me there, get used to this intactness of where I'm supposed to be spending my nights anyways.
It's not the first time this has crossed my mind, of course. It is the first time I'm truly considering it.
I sit there for one, two, maybe ten minutes. Maybe more. And the decision is closer to a compromise but I'm getting up and my feet are moving and before I know it, I'm standing right in front of the imposing doorframe.
My eyes trace over the shallow carves in paled wood, hand slowly grasping the brass doorknob, silently wishing I didn't care so much.
I force out the knots in my shoulders, even though my stomach still flips at what feels like my own betrayal.
My wrist turns. There's unexplainable relief that he's not there yet, and I fumble blindly for the remote I know he keeps on the nightstand. My fingers close around it, hitting the power on and switching them to white.
Clean, calm, I need that tonight. Taking the remote with me, I wander back over to his set-up and set it on the desktop, right besides the speaker. His chair is slightly off-center and creased from years of use but there's a strange reassurance in the imperfection as I take a seat.
Leaning back, I hunch my legs up to my chest and my fingers close around my phone, the cool glass a heavy weight in the front pocket. I'm in the process of figuring out how to work the speaker settings when I hear footsteps approaching.
From the staircase, slowing as they near the door and I unknowingly tense in a breath as he nudges it open with a quiet creak.
He takes in the lighting first, the absence on the bed second, before he meets my eyes and I force myself not to look away. "Oh."
I flatten my lips into a half-hearted smile. "Hey."
"Hello." He shuffles in, closing the door behind him, passing me another skeptical glance before I hear him heave onto the edge of the bed. My eyes remain firmly on the dimmed screen, ignoring the taciturn air that's only an all-too-accurate representation of how the entire day has been.
It's uncomfortable, to say the least. But so is the idea of trying to speak to him right now.
The buffer next to the speaker's address, it disappears and I see the Bluetooth symbol materialize in the upper right-hand corner.
"Hello?"
My heart thuds and my shoulders jump. I force them down, swiveling in the chair to face him again. "Hi. You already said that."
"I know." He's sitting cross-legged, arms propped behind him and watching me warily. "Why- what's this?"
My fingers hook into the hem of my hoodie, tugging it up to my mouth. "Hmm?"
He gives me a shifty grin, eyebrow slightly arched. "What are you doing over there? Come here."
The lack of a reaction is unsettling. Even from across the room, I see his shoulders tense and there's an awful, lowly scrape of satisfaction when he takes it in.
I let the fabric drop, pressing two fingers against my lips. "Dream."
There's an uneasy chuckle from him.
My wrists wring together, with laced irritation. "I... can't deal with you right now."
"What?"
The shock in his voice thuds dully into my chest. I don't stir.
He tenses, letting his legs slip underneath him. "What's up with you today?" I can hear his attempt at humor.
Sighing, I shake my wrists so the sleeves fall over my hands. "Just... too much sometimes, you know that?" Through the hazy lighting I lift up a heavy arm, seeing how my fingers barely peek up out of the cuffs.
"What, me?"
It drops into my lap with an unexplainable wash of impatience. "What?"
"Too much? You're talking about me?"
I look back at his stupid, stupid face and for a moment the genuine concern in his expression begins to work its way in. His features morph- I see his real smiles, his real laughs, see him happy and remember how badly I want to be the one who makes him feel like that.
And then it falls away coldly and the threatening bloom sears to a crisp; he's replaced by the version of him last night, faking their way through half a day, so sickeningly convincing and then words spilled from my mouth and I'll never be able to take them back-
"Of course it's you." The sting of a reply is up and out before I can even try and stop it. "It's always you."
The bitterness, intensity, everything in between, all of it's compacted into a matter of mere sounds until a stunned silence slams into the room.
I shove off the nightmare. "Just... don't."
"Talk to me," he says quietly. "Please."
"About what?" I'm aware of the tremble in my voice but steady resentment supports me firmly.
He shifts on the bedcovers, tucking his legs up. "What- what's with all this." He gestures at me messily. "Work it out with me, come on."
"It's you," I flare. "You know what you did. I don't need to tell you again."
Hurt seizes across his features. And I know what he's going to say now, I didn't mean that, I meant this, tripping through useless apologies and I can't stand the thought of hearing him try so I just stop him there.
My chin tilts back, eyes tracing over a blurry carve of shadows as muted frustration renders me exhausted. "Just... leave me alone. Tonight."
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, the fraying edges of my vision making it difficult to read through the smear that is his expression. "I need a break."
"From what? Me?" There's quiet disbelief brimming under wounded spirits.
Of course it's you.
The words pass silently between us, carried by the faintest, unspoken tremors in the air. I swallow. "You're a lot."
"You've- you've had a break from me for an entire day," he blurts out. "Today. You practically ignored me throughout it all, and I gave you that."
My gaze drops, fidgeting with the sleeves as I try out the words first. "You brought that on yourself."
His flinch amplifies tenfold in the silence. Some part of me automatically searches for guilt to feel but I still can't bring myself to look at him.
"Tonight," he finally manages. "You still need... more time?"
I feel an invisible force unclamp around my chest. Words fail me and all I can muster is the slightest nod.
My eyes close slowly, shutting out the light, the room, him. "Just a night," I whisper. "They've been a lot too."
The shared breath sustains, in titilating balance as the tension approaches its breaking point- and falls.
He draws me back, blearily parting the black curtain of my eyelids . "Are you gonna just stay over there?"
Carefully I slip my phone back out of the front pocket, setting it on the desktop with a fragility akin to handling glass. "I'm listening to music."
"Not going to sleep?"
I push myself up from my slump, ignoring how my arms shake when I reach an outstretched hand. "I will, eventually." Nudging the speaker towards me, the confirmation of its power-on is deafening in comparison to our subdued tones.
"You really want to stay over there?" he asks again, a painful attempt at humor that barely obscures the rawness in his voice.
My eyes close, fingers delicately bumping over the speaker's textured exterior. Balancing my options-
Real? Not real.
-and the decision rushes far, far ahead of the memories.
I play the first song, pressing the phone against my chest. The opening chords adorn the unmoving air, our immobile statures.
"I still haven't added any to our playlist," I say, facing away from him. "I'm actually going to try, at least."
"Not a single one," he observes with a hoarse laugh, "this entire time?"
Trying to ignore the ache in his voice, undoubtedly strained by my decision, I grit my teeth and steer the conversation astray. "We've only been listening to your songs, and I like those. I'm just looking through completely new ones today."
His gaze hurts, his silence hurts but there's going to be hurt no matter what we do and I'm done being the one who takes it.
Just one night. Just one, just one, just one, I stress again and again, a quiet firmness in the mantra.
He moves like a ghost, just as silent and just as cold, slinking around the room before he settles down. It's so foreign, so unfamiliar, and the distance he holds me to feels so wrong but it's what I asked for, isn't it?
Is it? And then I listen to the songs, and there's still nothing right.
I don't even know what's wrong - maybe it's the playlists I choose to listen to even though I pick solely from the ones related to his.
More likely, is the doings of tonight as a whole. It's impossible, impossible to find comfort and evade my worries in mere music, when the real one eyes me from across the room, with a stare I feel boring into my back even though I'm facing away from him.
He's right there, and I don't even want to imagine what emotions his eyes display now. But I can't lose myself in the songs when none of them resonate, none of them leave an impact of any sort.
And he's there, he hears me skip song after song after song, in tune with my increasing frustration that slowly slips through sloppy fatigue.
I shove past it, fighting to stay awake in an artificial, manic fervor, because still I've yet to add a single fucking song. Likewise is the awful mindset, something I can't even wrench free of until I realize I haven't sat through a full song for the past 10, at least.
At least. Or however many fills the uncountable hours.
My hand snakes out, landing sharply on the speaker's power button and the music snaps to an abrupt end, cutting off mid-riff. I eye the phone screen balefully, reading over the name of a song just as forgettable as the rest before tossing it on the desktop with a clatter.
I shove myself up from the chair, not caring about the noise because it's not like I can wake him up anyways.
He's not asleep. Of course he's not. He could have tried to pretend he was, at least.
I fidget with the remote, pressing it flat against my palm as I hear him roll over. "Hmph, you miss me already?"
An exasperated, exhausted sigh heaves out of me but it's this, of all things, it's this that gets me and it's so utterly stupid, it's so him.
The most reluctant hint of a smile twinges onto my face, and he catches it as he peers up at me, grinning cheekily. I shake my head but it's hard to hide something so genuine.
I glance down at him, half on my side and arm splayed, his intentions shining on through his fatigued mumblings. Something between a scoff and a groan is smothered by my palm. "You're so dumb."
"You're so stubborn," he muses. "I'm impressed."
I shake my head, grumbling quietly. "Move, I can't even get on."
He gives a grouchy laugh but the gratitude runs true as he scoots back over a few inches. I tuck myself under the bedcovers, scrunching up my face at him disapprovingly and hearing his tired chuckle before the lights snap off.
Darkness cloaks us thickly, but there's slivers of moonlight yielding from the sloppily-drawn curtains. Sloping over the rise and falls of the covers, casting angled outlines on the walls and crawling slowly across the carpeted floor.
One crescent-like beam spills right over my forearm. I stay seated, eyes tracing over the chisel before I feel a tug at my sleeve. "Come on."
The words threaten another, equally reluctant smile, and I look over at him even though the darkness is overpowering. Shaking my wrists again, until the hoodie swallows up my hands and I flop backwards onto the pillow, barely missing his arm.
After being cooped up in a chair for several hours, laying down is the most unimaginable feeling in the world. I can physically feel my tension sinking away, lost in the subdue of bedsheets and bodily warmth that lull me all too easily. Taking several, detached breaths, I tug the covers higher, shifting into a comfortable position that readjusts a few stiffened joints with muffled cracks.
Sleep works fast, and its subjection is the only reason I'm too tired to shrug off his arm when I feel it wrap across my shoulders. As the warnings flare weakly in my brain before fading away entirely, he's pulling me closer until I'm practically hugged onto his upper chest.
I'm sure I mumble half-hearted objections but the heaviness of my eyelids is incredibly inhibiting. And.... it's not that bad.
Warmth seeps through the fabric- a textured, golden glow against my cheek. His exhales sinks his chest, the inhales raise it and faintly I can hear his heartbeat as well.
It's... not bad. It's nice.
"We have to work this out anyways." His quiet murmurs brush right past my ear and if I wasn't so loopy I'm sure I would have at least had some sort of reaction. The world's warping dangerously, in and out of my subconsciousness and just staying awake calls for a momentous effort.
"Mm?"
"We can't act like that, you know," he explains patiently. "Sapnap. He... think of him. Where did we leave him today?"
The mere fact that the guilt is strong enough to register, even through the heavy, heavy hamper of fatigue. "Oh..."
He laughs, light and airy and I feel it rumble against my cheek. "We'll do better tomorrow, 'kay?"
"Tomorrow," I repeat, slurring my words messily. A thought manages to thread itself together. "What are we doing tomorrow?"
His chest heaves with an amused sigh. "You're really out of it, aren't-"
I mumble interjection, a muffled string against his collarbone. "No. I mean, tomorrow's New Year's Eve, isn't it?"
"Oh, right." His hand that's holding me close- I feel his fingers knead over the fabric, gently massaging my outer arm. "Well. What do you want to do?"
"Stay up," I reach for blindly. "And... well. I don't know." Stifling a yawn, I sink more and more on him and I'm too tired to pick myself up. "I can't think."
The smile is evident in his voice. "That's okay. I... kinda have some plans."
"Really."
"Yeah. Well, just stuff I used to do with my family. Traditions, you know." His heartbeat is so, so steady, and I find myself shifting against him to hear it better. "We're definitely going to stay up, but that's just a must, isn't it?"
I've long lost his words. His heartbeat, his voice- I let them cover me like a blanket and despite how I blank on every other thing he says, I still know I've never heard him like this.
Losing myself as well, it's so easy with him. Until the softest laugh, one I feel before I hear, rouses me away from the verge of slumber. "You're really out of it, huh?"
My breath brushes off his chest, then back against me. "Hmm?"
"I asked you some questions and you weren't answering."
When you talk like that.
The words spill, out of clumsy, sleep-delayed reach. "I was just listening to you."
"Ohh," he muses. "I see."
I smile wearily against him. "Shut up. Wait, no. Keep talking."
He laughs again, and the sound is so, so sweet. "I'm tired too, you know. If you didn't wait it out this long, maybe we wouldn't be."
"If I wasn't so tired, there's no way I'd be letting you do this right now."
"That's probably true," he answers, true sincerity gracing his whisper. There's a brief pause before he speaks again. "You're- do you want me to stop?"
I smile against his collarbone. "I mean, if you want to-"
His hand shifts against my arm again and I feel his chin brush the top of my head. "You're such an idiot."
We wake up like that.
And the day begins, checking the night behind us. Wrapped and packed like a present I don't want to open, a memory I don't want to delve back into. From the moment his morning whisper flutters through the stillness, telling me the sun is shining, and then he ends up letting me sleep a little longer anyways.
I coax myself awake and out on my own accords, letting the sleeves drop fully over my hands as I shuffle down the stairs. The hazy endearment of the night, it's still clinging to me. The hoodie smells like him.
From the very beginning I can see how much he means his word, when I curve into the kitchen and catch eye of his light-hearted back and forth with Sapnap. Both of them are clasping steaming mugs with shoulders slightly tensed, undoubtedly from the contrast of that warmth and the morning chill. They've started the coffee machine for me, even readying a mix from the pack Dream got me on Christmas, one I don't want to admit how much I've grown to like.
His apology is unspoken, he never verbalizes an 'I'm sorry'; instead it's conveyed through those forms outside of words. Even though some things aren't necessarily fit to be forgiven, I can see how hard he's trying to stay on my good side and and his bumbling attempts at kindness are charming, in their own clumsy way.
I hear him hum behind me as we wind through the snack aisles of the nearby retail stores, calling me to wait when we pass a row that had my favorite brand of chips in them. And then, of course, he jumps on it, wandering over to take a number of bags that's far more than necessary but I'm smiling too hard to protest anyways.
He catches my expression, returning it cheerily as he dumps the abundance unceremoniously into the metal cart. "There. Set for at least a month."
"You're so dumb."
Gift-giving, physical embraces, terms of endearment. Those are the languages he speaks, and while I'm zoned out, half-listening to him contest with Sapnap on who's going to pay for the pizza, I wouldn't want it any other way.
We reach the lake at late afternoon, with about an hour to spare. The family tradition Dream had mentioned- a steady, serpentine drive into the nearby nature reserves, a stretch of woods that easily concealed this breathtaking view, a body of water that stretches far as the eye can see.
Willowy branches become our backdrop, the forest stopping just a few feet behind the car. The ground in front of us slopes slightly, putting a thick of brambles and undergrowth between us and the water. At the outskirts of the lake, I can see small-scaled silhouettes of other people, walking alongside the circumference or sitting on the bordering sand.
It's more popular than such a secluded spot would suggest, but the vastness of the area allows a remarkable spread for everyone. Other groups find clearings just like ours, the front of their cars peeking just out of the woods, and I can see them outlining the girth of the lake as the time draws nearer.
There's cars to our left and right, both several yards away. One's a family with two kids and the other's filled with a group of teenagers who even wave at us eagerly. It just goes to show the contagious excitement, how truly universally everyone's come together to watch the last sunset of the year.
After seeing how so many others are doing so, the three of us also resort to sitting atop the car instead. Sapnap and I settle carefully on the hood, sorting through the plethora of snacks and cracking open the pizza box. Dream sits higher up, practically on the roof, wanting to get a better view to take the video for his family.
Basking warmly in the sun's very last rays, up until the moment it touches the water. It's incredible, how so many people are captivated by a singular development, the hushed alerts that I can hear from those nearby and I'm sure ricochet all around the lake.
I squint through the blinding flare, watching it sink, sink, sink, and the last crescent disappears into the rippling surface. Cheers erupt like fireworks, a grin sparks onto my face and Sapnap whoops loudly, yanking me a little too violently into a one-armed hug but I couldn't care less.
But that's just the beginning, Dream tells us as he clambers down onto the soft earth. And then orders us to give him a slice of pizza.
It's as if a picnic and a campout was combined into one. We stuff ourselves full, guzzle down cheap fountain drinks, jokes and smiles as cordial as the warm-toned sky.
The enthusiastic buzz extends beyond the three of us and it's a sort of effect on everyone nearby as well. Sometime later the teenagers from the adjacent car bustle over to us, offering trades in snacks that everyone agrees to easily. None of them look over the age of 17, but they're friendly enough, with eagerness that's undoubtedly the result of the night to come.
We remain on the hood a little longer, waving at passerbys and anyone else who comes up to us, before the daytime's warmth truly fades all out. There's still several hours until midnight, several hours we spend back inside the car, and even as the families -especially the ones with younger kids- they leave early, their spot is quickly taken by another group and it further surprises me on how widespread this tradition really is.
I've leaned the passenger seat back, swaddled with a blanket and Sapnap hovers right behind me. He's planted himself on the headrest, elbows propping up his head as he watches me scroll through Tiktok and other social media. We share laughs, watch a movie at one point, he steals from my chips and I pretend not to notice.
Dream only joins in midway through the second, and there's a brief skirmish on where to place the screen so all three of us can see but eventually we work it out, even though I have to crane my neck a little. He's been on his phone for the majority of the passed hours, calling and texting his family, he says.
The credits just begin to roll when in a jolt, we realize there's less than five minutes left. Clambering back out into the nighttime air, there's revelling remarks in how time has passed by so quickly but at the same time it's what everyone's been waiting for. Both parties on either side of us are also up and out, chatteringly noisily, an excitement that trails further down the line of trees and all around the lake.
It's impossibly more busy now, even more than sunset. Headlights flare in the distance, flashlight beams project far, but the moon is abnormally bright tonight with not a single cloud to shroud it away. I see its reflection in the lake, distorted by the rippling surface but everywhere else is bathed in a silvery glow.
Sapnap grabs my blanket, stealing it from me and hoisting himself onto the hood with a victorious crow. The effect isn't immediate but I still use the bagginess of the hoodie to its full advantage, balling up the end of the sleeves in order to block off the invading chill.
I sit down right beside him, legs crossed and arms hugged to my chest. Stifling a burp, the fizzy drinks I downed earlier still expand an unpleasant sensation in my nose. He laughs at my screwed expression, pulling out his phone to take a video that I'm sure has absolute shit quality. Eventually he settles to taking a series of selfies, and neither of us can keep a straight face but in my eyes, it does make the memories better.
The countdown starts at just over 20 seconds. It originates from somewhere dead across the lake but easily catches fire, traveling rapidly over to our half in the matter of a few seconds. I slip out my phone from the front pocket, holding it up with frozen fingers and seeing the 11:59pm dangle right on its edge.
It reaches 10 and an unseen instinct draws my eyes backwards.
I peer over my shoulder, look past Sapnap who's carrying the chant, and to him. Still sitting higher up, not mouthing the numbers but instead trapped in an unreadable expression as his gaze collides with mine.
5. His face is soft in the moonlight, easily exposing the rushed blinks that flutter over his eyelids, his lips that are slightly parted. The strangest sense of peace dawns over me, my countdown falling to a low murmur as the rest of the world falls away.
Three. Two. He catches the unexplainable smile on my face, features softening as he finally joins in, and the one is no more than a whisper.
I'm frozen, locked in the eye contact, the ghost of the number still on my lips. Neither of us move for the most limitless of seconds, but I'm just trying to figure out how his dark gaze is simutaneously so intense yet unsure.
And then the deafening whoops and applause fade back in, the earth-shaking cheers that I can still hear from impossible distances, they tear me away.
The moment passes.
Lost in my own awe at the roar of the sheer amount of people, I blank out for a bit. I don't remember the three of us getting off the car, or waving a goodbye at the teenagers a few paces away.
His expression sears itself into my memory; I don't remember when he drapes the blanket over my shoulders, don't remember him pressing a hand to my lower back, don't remember ever getting back in the car or the winding drive through the woods. There's flashes, though, of the once innocuous willows now replaced by their omnious nighttime counterparts.
It's not until the car courses onto the highway and the very thing that draws me back is music, of all things. Maybe it's what I get from spending so many nights like that, with him.
He fidgets with the radio, settling on a station that's currently taking us all back on the highlights of the decade, as a peppy female voice announces. The song that follows is one of those, one with that upbeat, catchy rhythm and words that practically everyone knows by heart.
Both of them pick it up at the same time, churning out the first verse with an enthusiasm I can't help but smile at. It's impossible not to at least hum along, even though the blanket's cozied me to the brink of sleep.
At first I'm merely mumbling the words and then I let myself sing freely just to keep up with them, laughter beginning to bubble in my chest. Each passing second our tones grow pitchier and as the chorus swells to its heightened thrill, both front-row windows burst open and the wind surges in.
It slams into my face like the coldest wave, waking me up for real and both of them roar with raucous laughter at my reaction. Breathless and battered by the sudden rush, it's even harder to hear either of them or the song.
Car flying past the outlining streetlights, in the lanes of the virtually empty highway, we trample blindly through the second verse. The lyrics are belted into the open night with only the stars to hear, even though they're half-drowned out by the very same wind that grates our voices to the absolute limit.
We're on top of the world, not really watching the road, and so, so, so off-key but I'm grinning from ear-to-ear at what's possibly one of the best moments of the trip, of my life, and during the bridge I fall back to savor it.
To savor this, something that everyone deserves to experience at least once, and the smiles that feel so good, the laughs that feel so free. How worries don't exist here, they're left behind in the dust and exhaust, how perfect everything is.
Well, almost. Almost perfect.
My traitor eyes work their way back to him, always back to him, and I don't even realize I'm staring until his gaze stops on mine.
He looks over how I'm viewing him. I feel my smile falter, then soften. He looks over that too and for the most untouchable second, the same, unspoken kindness brushes over his lips before his eyes slip away.
And I can't do the same.
Because he looks so, so unreal in the moonlight.
Heart both stopping and quickening, I look at him through this conflict of sensations, like I'm seeing him for the first time. Maybe I am.
The wind's done wonders to his hair, tousled in the most beautiful way and giving him the thrill of someone who's just returned from a great journey. He's glowing wherever the moonshine touches, the pure stars inlaid along his skin with a smile brighter than them all.
Back to him, always back to him and I've tried to keep myself away for a day but when I'm faced with something as unfair as this-
Whatever I tried to shove away last night, I feel it coming back to life as I drag my gaze away and something in me unlocks, something falls into place. It's there, it's there, it's never left, purely unshakable and it's just how deep this truly runs.
Maybe it's the hour, maybe it's the moment and it may just be the sentamentality talking but god, it hurts. It hurts to look at him with the emotions that have overwhelmed me in a matter of moments, and yet the expression that lingers within me is a bittersweet one.
This glimpse of perfection, it's not there but so very close. And he could make it so.
Off the highway, into the emptying streets and subdued suburbans and when they're not looking, I quickly reach up to my cheek. Face burning, I feel the hated wetness seep into the sleeve.
I look down at my wrist, vision a blurry rendition of the world, and blink away the remaining slips of vulnerability. That wind was damn strong.
~
The blue plastic crinkles noisily as it leaves my palm, empty bags dumped into the trashcan that still reek of the chip flavoring. I stare at the heaping pile, on the brink of overflowing before the automatic cover gently compresses them with a quiet hiss.
Sapnap views me from the countertop, having disposed his own share of garbage just seconds earlier. "He went up already," he says when he sees me look past his shoulder, at the staircase shrouded in darkness.
I raise a hand to cup the side of my neck, slightly abashed. "Oh." An embarrassed smile rises to warm my face, even though I shouldn't even be surprised at how well he knows me at this point.
He matches it, grinning slightly before taking a sip of his still unfinished soda.
"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" he asks after a lull.
I stuff my hands into the front pocket, silently willing my pulse to slow down from the impossible spike it just jumped to. "Okay."
He laces his fingers together, around the cylinder aluminium. "I think... something's changed."
My heart tumbles dizzyingly, hands finding each other in the fold of fabrics before clasping tightly. Words fail me and nothing more than a quiet breath passes in between my lips.
"Hey. Look at me." His urgently gentle tone lifts my eyes from the tiled floor. There's the slightest hint of a smile, and the mere sight of what seems like a good sign is ridiculously reassuring.
"I'm serious. Something's different than before, and I can't entirely put my finger on it, but," he brings the can for another drink. "I think it's good."
The ceiling bulbs glimmer weakly on the spotless countertop, causing strange flares in my sensory. I shove down conclusions I badly want to cling to. "How- how can you tell?"
He inhales slowly, waiting until I meet his eyes before speaking again. "Maybe you haven't been paying much attention," he begins quietly. "because it is very, very subtle. But the way he looks at you, George... it's changed."
Right after the drive, right after the night we've just had and if there's ever a moment where mere words are enough to work their way in like this, it's now. Hearing him say that and to realize how badly I want that, I can't help the shiver of a smile that threatens to show.
He sees it anyway, and it's Sapnap, I don't need to hide anything so I let my sleeve fall from my lips, feeling my jaw strain from how hard I'm trying to keep from beaming.
His laugh is sincere, a quiet rumble. "You're adorable, come on."
I cover half my face with a hand, sinking into a stool at the countertop as I grin against my palm. "Shut up."
"But for real." The shift in his tone shrouds away some of my nervous giggles. "I don't know if you realize, but... you're running out of time."
Reality swiftly shoves back the rest, and a ghost of a breath rushes out of my body.
He fidgets with the now-empty soda can. "It's January 1st, and we came on Christmas Eve. George, this trip is 10 days... and."
My elbows jam onto the surface, knuckles resting against my mouth. "Oh."
Three days? Two? That quick?
I can feel cold dread just beginning to seep in, before he pipes up again. "But... I think now is a good time. Now, now that something's changed between him and you and-"
He cuts off, biting his lower lip nervously before breaking into gentle chuckles. "-just send it. Send it. Tell him, and not just because you're running out of time. I really think... it could end well.
I draw in a shaky breath, the hesitant urge to smile battling against the quiver of my lips. "Oh."
This startles a bark of laughter from him, and I disintegrate into a puddle of jittery giggles too, because I don't even know what to say at this point. I can still feel the ghost of the tears on my cheeks, remember the burning sensation behind my eyes. Currently trapped in the messy aftermath of an emotional high, there's a persistent waver in my thoughts, in my movements.
He collects himself first, lightly bumping his knuckles against each other. "What was it you said the other day? What would happen if you kiss him-"
I duck away into my shoulder, vividly shooing him off as he collapses into another bout of snickers. "God, screw you."
"I'm serious," he pushes himself back up, still letting a burst of a giggle escape every now and then. "I'm serious."
My fingers hook into the hoodie, the hoodie that still smells like him if I try and focus on it, feeling the soft gray beneath my fingertips. "Serious."
Nerves, they swoop in out of nowhere and the edges of my vision are just beginning to splinter when his response dulls it away. "Just... tell him, one way or another, Georgie."
Something twinges in me at the nickname.
"I really think... it's right."
"Now is right?" I breathe, mind beginning to spin from the implication.
He smiles, lips pressed together kindly. "Well, I'm always right, didn't you say?"
I scrunch up my face, suppressing a comedically angry grin. "You better be."
I mount the stairs surrounded by a cloak of darkness, clearing the last step and tonight there's not even a waver of uncertainty on where to spend it.
~
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when a chapter takes 10 days jesus but next two will be a double update :')
another thing: I was talking bout the highschool/mystery au with my friend and it just goes to show how easily I get sidetracked but oops i wrote a chapter rq because I was that distracted
it's called 'letterman' and it's just a super experiment type thing for me, trying out new tones/characters/dynamics
it's very different from this story (read description pfft) and definitely more focused on plot, and at least if it goes over well, it's what I wanna work on after this
you should check it out that would be cool :)