"Mizpah," the word rolled off Dream's tongue. He played deftly with the word. "What do you think it means?" He asked absent-mindedly, scrolling through the glowing screen. For once, the edges of sunlight blurred his vision, burning his eyes. He was scrolling through random story prompts, and the word simply popped off the page. He'd been staring at the screen for hours, a cup of long-forgotten cold coffee idling at the side.

"I don't know, Dream. What does it mean?" A familiar British voice boomed through the headphones, sending familiar warmth spiralling down Dream's stomach. He looked up from the article he was reading, looking at the face video in the corner of the screen. Fluffy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes made their way across the skin, a pink flush creeping up his cheeks. George. He looked tiny in the oversized hoodie, one that both of them had grown accustomed to wearing, a familiar smile scrawled across it.

" It means..." Dream squinted, trying to make out the words even as his eyes threatened to shutter close. "The deep emotional bond between two people, especially those separated by death and...distance."

The last words were whispered harshly. From where George was, green eyes dimmed across the screen. That's when it finally sank in. They'd danced around the topic before, ever since that one time, but...The ocean separating them never felt wider, and the distance between them was like a gnawing, throbbing pain. They'd gotten used to it over the years, trying to skirt past it with synced sleep schedules and routines, but it wasn't an easy thing for either of them. There was nothing George wanted than to run to him, but even though the distance between them was nothing but numbers, they held an innate desire he held, one that he tried to put aside for the sake of both of them. It's not possible. Especially not with the pandemic.

But missing someone beside you was like a half-healed wound, one that would scab over, only to be scratched and opened again. George knew that by experience and the yearning he had for a certain person next to him, warming him, unsettled him more than he'd dare to let slip. He avoided the other's glance, which was easy to do with the hesitant looks Dream gave him. An uneasy silence settled in, the imaginary space between them drenched with unspoken thoughts and wishes. Wishes that were known but never heard. Or would they?

Abruptly, Dream cleared his throat, bringing the uncomfortable silence to an end. "It also means..." he hesitated for a moment, briefly shutting his eyes before bracing himself for the next words that tumbled out of his mouth." The Lord watch between me and thee while we are absent, one from the other."

His words were a musical prayer to George's ears, and he inhaled sharply, almost as if he were at a loss for words. Warm vibrations ran through his body, which felt like it was on fire. It was odd, the things Dream could do to him, even through the screen. A reminder that maybe it wasn't so bad like this. But still not enough for George. Or for Dream.

To Dream, the word fits like the last piece of an incomplete puzzle. It invoked something within, the same way a firework did, bursts of hope of love sending his heart spiralling. His breathing grew heavy, his heart quickening with intoxicating desire. Desire he drowned in, in the ocean of love. And he sank under, quickly but surely, diving into its depths. It embraced him the way a mother would, holding him close to it, yet with slight distance.

"It suits us," George whispered quietly as if they would cave and break under the weight of the words, " it does."

Dream nodded, though all George could see were his green eyes bobbing along with his hair. "I know," Dream affirmed loftily, but the way he spoke didn't fail to graze George, burning with tempestuous intensity. For a moment, it was as if he was there. They stayed in silence for a while again, the air as dense as the ocean suspending them.

George swallowed, sputtering "Do you want me to go over?"

"Do I..." Dream's voice trailed off as his eyes widened in surprise, his mouth forming a little 'o' though George couldn't see it. The prospect or possibility of it had been clinging on both their minds the whole morning, but to say it out loud...

It set off something in Dream that had been writhing the whole time, a hope that had inched its way through his heart. But what if...But what if he can't get here? What if nothing happens the way we want it to? Worry lined his eyes, but his heart was bursting with joy. I want you here, he thought, but the words stayed lodged in his throat, the possibilities taunting his mind.

"Dream?" George's voice shook him out of his reverie.

"Do you want me here?"

His last words were spoken imperceptibly, a glimmer of fear tapping into his voice. His trepidation sent Dream spiralling, and he felt even more guilty for questioning the future. To be honest, he wanted nothing more than for George to come over, to stay with him he wanted the Brit there, right beside him. Wished to be able to touch him, to cuddle him, and to...kiss him.

But fear hollowed him, bringing his brain to a screeching halt. He paused for a moment, thinking as he gathered the courage to voice his thoughts.

"I do," he sputtered, "It's just that I'm worried about what will happen after."

Nothing else was needed, and if George were someone else, he would have asked if he wasn't enough. But it was George, and George knew Dream. "We'll be fine, Dream."

"Believe me."

But the American boy barely looked up from the cat that sat in his lap, petting it as it slept contentedly. Finally, he responded. "I know, George. But I'm just worried. What if you end up hating me, or-" His voice grew frantic as he started to babble on and on.

"Dream!" George interrupted harshly. "Calm down. I'm sure we'll be fine."

"But what if.."

"We'll figure out when we get there. Don't think too much about it, Clay. We'll be fine. Trust me?"

Dream softened hearing his real name on George's lips, finally relaxing his muscles. He stared back at the idle screen, recapturing the older man's face. "Then I want you here, " he murmured breathily.

"I want you here with me."

George smiled tiredly, the effects of staying up late starting to catch up on him. "Then I'll be there, Dream."

"And remember, The Lord be watch between me and thee while we are absent, one from the other."

Soon enough, the call was disconnected, and a plane ticket was booked for the soonest trip to Florida, a word playing over and over in their heads like a plea.

Mizpah.