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“Seriously? Right now? In front of this old well?” George asks, his eyebrows furrowing in visible confusion while he takes a look around the small hill where Dream took him to.
Dream smiles shyly, a small dimple peeking while his face warms up, despite the chilly Floridian night. “Yes, George. Right here, right now, let’s share our vows to each other,” Dream answers, all while snaking his arms around George’s waist to pull him closer and a chaste kiss was pressed to his temple.
George gently leans on Dream’s shoulder, sliding one hand to the small of his partner’s back, and setting the other one, adorned with a shiny gold band with their birthstones against the warm chest. He could feel and hear the stark contrast of their two heartbeats together—his a wild and fast thump, Dream’s a calm and sure rhythm. He breathes in the peace that Dream’s smell gives him, his eyelids fluttering against the soft and worn cotton of his fiancé’s sweatshirt. He could feel the chill of the air biting the exposed skin on his nape, but he could only focus on the warm pair of lips atop his eyebrow, and the steady way they breathe together.
George looks up to meet Dream’s gaze, his dark eyes glinting from the moonlight, “But,” he starts, biting his lip in contemplation. “I–I don’t have my vows with me. They’re in my desk drawer at home. Let’s go get—“ he babbles, wanting to go back to the car before Dream cuts him off, loosening his grip on George’s waist.
“No, no, save them for tomorrow, George,” Dream looks down, seeing George’s left shoe untied. Kneeling, “Tell me... what you want to tell me that you can’t say in front of everyone else,” he says, all while pulling on the two loops and standing up. He puts a soft touch underneath George’s face and tilts it up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips. “Something that’s just for the two of us,” he whispers against their parting kiss.
George lets out a labored sigh, his stomach doing backflips and misty eyes threatening to form, his lower lip quivering.
“Dream,” he says quietly, breathing slightly shaky with nerves. Dream raises a hand to cup his cheek, its warmth bringing a wave of comfort to George, a thumb caressing his partner’s face with the most reassuring touch he’s ever felt in his entire life.
“I’ll go first.” Dream announces. He took a step back, dropping his hand from George’s face to meet the other to hold both of his partner’s hands to his own, running a soft caress on the ring he designed himself.
Dream breathes in the crisp air around them, hints of George’s nighttime lavender lotion mixing with the smell of dried leaves, the familiarity of it all giving him a brief wave of calm.
“I am a very lucky man,” he starts.
“Knowing me, you know how I hate that word, “luck,”,” he says in fake disgust, with George letting out a small nod in agreement. ”Especially people calling me lucky, because you know I don’t believe in it. I believe in hard work, in grit. I believe in effort, and not in something that completely devotes and explains everything to something unreal.
“I don’t believe in luck. Not before, at least. I’m used to being called a pessimist, or a cynic, but that’s how I saw the world, well, before you. I don’t believe in ghosts, in astrology, or in destiny. I find them dumb, and—and, idiotic. Any person who does is dumb. And an idiot.
“So I guess that makes me one. It makes me dumb and an idiot. And maybe even a nimrod,” Dream chuckles silently. “Not because.. I believe in the supernatural, or star signs, but because this time, I believe in luck. Because I am so lucky that the universe had decided that I was cool and worthy enough to share a life with you.
“I know I have my flaws. I talk a lot, especially when you’re busy watching stuff on your phone or you’re deep in thought and I suddenly demand your undivided attention. I keep throwing away your jaffa cakes because I don’t like tasting chocolate when we kiss. I stop you from buying McDonalds because it’s so unhealthy for you. I get mad—well, fake mad—because Patches loves you more than me. I always force you to ditch your wipes for the bidet, and I use up all your nice smelling bath stuff. I don’t spank your as—“
George giggles, his laughter bright like tiny silver bells, “Shut up, you idiot,” he says.
“Okay, well, you know I’m right,” he dismissively says. “That, too— the way I always say I’m right even when it’s only, like, 80% of the time.” He continues.
“30%.” George quips cheekily.
“Okay, to be fair— alright, 50%.” he sighs in defeat, “happy now?” George nods. “You’re such an idiot,” he says, shaking his head in disapproval but his wide and toothy grin says otherwise
“Go on,” George whispers. “Tell me how much you love me.” he adds, smiling wide with the tip of his tongue in between his teeth, tightening the hold he has on Dream’s hands that his knuckles turn white.
“So much, George. So much,” Dream says with complete and utter devotion in a sugary tone that melts with George’s sticky gaze. “I love you so much I feel like I’m that one person in that Harry Potter movie that was going to explode.” they both chuckle, understanding the reference, “okay, that’s—that’s dumb. But you get what I’m saying.”
“Tell me more,” George leans in to leave a small peck on Dream’s lips, “tell me more.”
“I love the way you call me an idiot, and when you call me Clay. I love the little eyebrow lift you do whenever you get curious about things. Or how you giggle into your hands when you don’t wanna laugh out loud.
“I love how crazy and hysterical you get when you laugh, even if you go a bit overboard most of the time, especially when you let me let you win whenever we duel in Hypixel when we were younger, but you never told me you knew. I love seeing your cheeks glow with pink whenever I bring you apple juice and those stupid little things you call pancakes with your breakfast, or how you give me the cherry starbursts because you know I love them.
“I love you because you’re so kind. You’re probably one, if not, the kindest person I have met in this world. You are the only person who can make my anger go away. You are the only person who can make me laugh the way you do— choking, gasping for air, sounding like a squeaky toy, or like a, what—what are those things called?” he asks.
“A kettle,” George supplies. “Go on.” he says, tone fond and ears attentive.
“That, too— you’re smarter than you let on. You keep your opinions to yourself, but you share them with me, because you trust me enough to know parts of you that no one is even close to seeing. You share the pretty with everyone, but you share the ugly with me, and I love them even more than the pretty.
George cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, so you do think I’m pretty, interesting,” he snarkily remarks.
“I mean, I am marrying you tomorrow, you idiot.” Dream beams. “I’m almost done, I swear. Be ready.”
Clearing his throat, he continues. “You make me want to be better. You make me want to be the bigger person whenever someone or something wants to prove me wrong. You give me something to hold onto, especially during the times when I feel that I was gripping onto nothing. You’ve been by my side as my friend and as my partner, and I am so, so fucking lucky to be marrying you tomorrow in front of our family and friends, but I wanted to tell you things that I wanted only you to hear.
“I don’t want to promise anything, but if there’s one thing that I would wanna promise you, it’s that I will always be by your side to hold your hand. In silence, in pain, in happiness, in everything. If there’s one thing that I want to do for the rest of my life, it’s to be next to you everyday. Wake up to your bright eyes in the afternoons, go on walks when we’re tired of editing, bake cookies that we won’t eat cause we fucked up the recipe. Bicker about your stupid crepes, and so, so much more. You--you get it. I love you so fucking much and I promise to be next to you all the time. You are my equal, you are my soulmate, and you are the love of my life. I love you, George.”
A comfortable silence envelops the both of them, George quietly willing to stop tears falling and calming his heart. He sees Dream look at him with reverent eyes, as if he’d seen a fallen angel in front of him, the wide expanse of his shoulders slowly following the rise and fall of his chest, heart full and heavy of love and worship, of complete submission to his emotions.
“Your turn,” Dream breaks the silence between them, nudging George with a tip of a finger and letting out a small little chuckle.
George looks back at Dream again, thinking of words that the young man would wanna hear from him, but he finds it difficult to articulate his thoughts. “You’re okay, I guess. The sex is good, kinda. Maybe a solid 8.5 on a good da—,” he jokes, small bubbles of laughter and nerves filling up his gut again.
Dream gapes at the lewdness, “What? The fuck?” He guffaws in shock. “Come on, George. Be a little serious.” he says in between giggles.
George feels the immense pressure that comes with speaking, especially right after the well-articulated Dream. He was never good with grand confessions of love. He’s not one for flowery words, oftentimes opting to show his love one way or another. He’s allergic to the thought of PDA, and even when they’re alone, he finds himself unworthy of the affection given to him by such a perfect being as Dream.
Which is why he would never forgive himself if he’d fuck this vow up, in fear of the complete and utter defeat he’d face in the future, pictured so clearly in the form of stories told over a weekend dinner to unborn children, the bashful tone of his husband telling the story of how their father chickened out on their wedding vows the night before their wedding. Or at a dinner party in the guise of their 10th wedding anniversary, where he would hide his face in embarrassment behind the shoulder of his partner as he tells the story of the night Dream and George broke wedding tradition only for the latter to fuck it all up.
If there’s anything that George can do, it’s this: to give up his timid nature and give Dream the most beautiful piece of work George can offer—his own heart.
So he starts simple.
“Dream,” he begins.
“I know…that I am not an easy person to love. I have my flaws, just like everyone else. People might think I am this perfect little being, incapable of faults, this picturesque vision of beauty and kindness, but everyone that I’ve ever let in has said otherwise, in one way or another,” he paused, catching his breath before his lightheadedness gets the better of him.
“I used to think it was a bad thing, being a person that’s hard to love. I couldn’t see how, at first, but until you came I’ve finally pieced how that could be a good thing — that I would rather be a person that’s hard to love than a person whose love is easy to give to, “ he continued. “But…being with you taught me that there is no love that comes easy, but that there is a love that you choose. A love that you work and fight for. And I have told you this, like, a million times already, but I will always choose you. In the end, when everyone has beaten you down, or stripped you of your being, I will still choose you.
George took a deep breath, “When I was young, maybe like, around your age when we met, I used to never think I would be with someone like this,” He pursed his lips in an attempt to stop tears from falling in front of his fiancé. He succeeded.
“You okay?” Dream asks quietly, his voice sweet like spun sugar, concern laced in thick like honey.
George nods in reassurance. “I love you.” he answers back.
Dream smiles warmly at him, his cheeks stained with a tinge of red, his thumb rubbing comforting circles around George’s wrist, “I love you too.”
George takes another deep breath, “That. I never thought I would have someone tell me they loved me too, in that way. My family was never affectionate—my mum was, but that doesn’t count. I grew up thinking that the words “I love you” were so scarce and kind of special. Which is why I used to never say it back before. Not because I didn’t love you. I did already, back then, but because I was afraid to give it out without knowing if I’d hear it back sincerely.
“But I had that one talk with my mum, the day before I left for America, about what I was doing. I was nervous to get onto that plane, and she was nervous about her son leaving the country. We talked about scenarios and possibilities and every single thing that we’ve talked about kept coming back to you.
“She noticed this, of course. My mum is an observant person. She asked me if I had feelings for you, straight up. I answered her immediately, and I guess that was the first time I’ve ever said that I loved you out loud, and actually meant it.
“Liar,” Dream says. “There was that one time, no—two times. Once on a stream and once on call.” He enumerates.
George laughs at his partner’s bemused expression, “Those don’t count. This was the serious bit, Dream. I was having an identity crisis with this,” he jokes.
“Oh sure, George, whatever,” his fiancé bites back lightly, tone sarcastic but still fond.
“If it weren’t for my mum,” he continues. “I think I would have taken ages before admitting out loud that I was in love with you. Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was defeated right from the start. But…you were there. And I was there with you. And you chose me. You could have chosen anyone, but you chose me.
“And I would be lying if I’d say that what we had was easy. In truth, you and I both know that what we have right now isn’t because we’re like a crazily perfect couple who don’t fight or have flaws. In the first year of our relationship we were convinced that what we were doing was a mistake, that—that we were ruining our friendship for wanting to be more than friends. And we were stupid to think so. We were stupid to even think about that because…look at us. Two grown men, in fluffy pajama bottoms and jumpers, on a small hill exchanging vows the night before their wedding. We may not be perfect, but we are enough — you are enough.
“I know I’m not a very outspoken person. Like you said, I keep to myself a lot, and whenever you catch me wandering off into some area of a daydream I’m currently in, you pull me back to reality and make me want to stay, like the first gulp of air after being underwater for so long. You know when to dive in, and when to leave me alone. You know just what to say, when to say it, how to say it,” he paused. “And I’ve never had someone like that before. Someone that knows me that well, until you.
“Dr—Clay,” he lets out a nervous giggle. “God, I can never call you Clay. You’ve always been Dream to me, you know?” He asked, an amused expression etched on his carved face.
Dream let out a breathy chuckle, his head nodding in agreement.
“Dream,” he continued his thought, “ever since we’ve been together, life has been better. I laugh a lot more, I sing with you while you cook and I try to help, I even gave up my Mcdonald’s for you. When I lived alone for a year, I sort of enjoyed the quiet and solitude of spending time with myself, although I’ve spent the majority of my time then on call with...mostly you, but when I was getting ready for bed, maybe sometimes when I’m having a soak, all I could think of is how lonely it was, living alone.
“I’d wake up to a cold flat, my sheets on the floor sometimes. I’d make myself some breakfast or whatever you call food you eat at 9 PM or get food delivered. I’d look out my window and close it again cause it’s always dark out and I was rarely awake for the sun to actually trickle through my blinds. And it was lonely. It was sad, depressing, but you made it bearable. The only thing I could think of at the time was the wait was worth it-- that I would be in your kitchen, throwing used tissues at Sapnap from across the kitchen island, Patches waking me up by pawing on my face, you and I binging Breaking Bad again on your weirdly big sofa— and suddenly the waiting wasn’t so unbearable anymore, because if I waited patiently enough, I would get to do those things with you. And I did. And we did. And here we are.
“And here we are,” Dream echoes, breathing light, like whispering an amen.
“I want to thank you... cause I rarely do, and I know I should do it more often, and I know I should tell you I love you more, so I promise you I’ll try to be more vocal about it. You are probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. No matter how stubborn I am, and how serious you get, we balance each other out. You get to see parts of me that I never would’ve thought to share with anyone else. You’ve seen me cry, for real, and not the fake crying I do. You’ve made me laugh, especially when I need it. You make me hot chocolate when I miss home. You wash my hair when we bathe together, and you let me buy you nice shoes that you never wear. You change the lightbulbs when they’re busted, and you buy me snacks that I miss from London.
“You take care of me, and I hope that I get to make you feel taken care of, too. You are my partner, in every sense of the word. I can’t wait to spend a lifetime with you, with as many cats as you want, and maybe a few dogs too. And Sapnap,” he adds cheekily.
“I forgot about him,” Dream chuckles, “we may need to adopt him too, or he’ll get grumpy.”
George’s eyes twinkle as he lets out a fit of giggles, “Yeah, he might be Sadnap if we don’t.” he jokes.
Dream rolls his eyes, but George can see tiniest nod of agreement along with a wry smile from his partner’s mouth.
George steps in closer and wraps his arms around Dream’s nape, hands stroking the silken strands of his hair, his touch reassuring and comforting. “Thank you for loving me the way you do, Dream. I love you and I can’t wait to be married to you tomorrow,” he says, meeting Dream’s glassy eyes, pupils blown wide from the dark. He pulls on the hair downward to meet their faces and George plants a soft kiss on Dream’s lips.
“Later,” Dream corrects, pulling away slightly from George’s mouth. “It’s past midnight, baby. We’re getting married in 8 hours,” he adds in between kisses.
George pulls away, checking his pocket for his phone. “Oh, shit, your sister is going to kill us.” he panics, looking at Dream with wide eyes. “She’s called me, like, twenty times now,” he rushes.
“Oh, shit.” Dream says. They looked at each other for a minute, then erupted in laughter. They’ll deal with it later, George thinks to himself.
For now, it’s just him, and Dream. Together.