CloudySnow
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Summary
I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.
Or, 20 year old Dream wakes up in 2023.
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"Your heart is racing, George,” Dream whispers. “Try to steady your breathing."
In between his heaves, George shuts his eyes tightly and tries for a few moments. He really does try. But every minute or so, his mind drifts to the steady weight pressed against his back and the warmth of a hand he’s never felt before, and he feels his heart restart again.
Or, when George goes to sleep, it’s June 2020. When he wakes up, it’s 8 years into the future.
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“You scare me, George.”
George inhales, surprised, as if he hadn't expected Dream to speak. “I scare you?” George asks him.
“Yeah,” Dream answers, breathless.
George looks at him as he waits, giving Dream time to elaborate. “Sometimes, when you talk to me,” Dream sighs, “I feel like I can’t breathe.”
Or, 2020 Dream and 2023 Dream unknowingly swap bodies for a day to heal past wounds. 2020 Dream has an opportunity to confront feelings he’s pushed down and repressed while 2020 George gets some of the reassurance he needs.
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He doesn’t know which is more dangerous – continuing to stare at the video, or turning to meet Dream’s gaze. He glances at Dream for half a second – sees wide pupils, pink cheeks – and almost passes out on the spot. Video it is.
“I just think it would be way better if you couldn’t give up,” George continues, feeling hot all over. “If you were completely at someone else’s mercy.”
When Dream and George find themselves watching porn together in a house all to themselves, they end up making a few questionable decisions.
Alternate description: Dream gets edged. -
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George knows something is wrong the second he wakes up.
The room is warm, too warm for the frigid January outside his window. The mattress below him is softer than normal, the blankets piled on top of him silkier.
Slowly, he cracks one eye open.
Across from him, in a bed that is not his own, is a sleeping man.
“What the fuck,” He mutters to himself, anxiety surging through his body, “What the fuck,” His body springs into action, throwing himself out of the bed and tripping over his own feet as he crashes to the floor.
“George?” The other man asks, and George’s blood runs cold. He knows that voice. He would know that voice deaf, or underwater, or six feet underground.
“Dream?” His voice cracks.