It was time.

They were both in the car, Dream in the drivers seat and his friend, shotgun.

George had a light beanie covering his ears, but his tail remained revealed, slinging over his lap in a way that was easy to notice.

There would be no hiding this from Sapnap, and as he was on his first day in America, he found himself wondering how his friend would react.

Sapnap was more difficult to read, and empathy never seemed to be of high priority in his mind.

He was accepting, yes, but he also spoke his thoughts without giving them much time to develop.

Even though this had never emotionally hurt his friends in the past, an insensitive comment would be all it took to send George into a panic.

The brunettes nerves were climbing to a place where he couldn't manage them, making his ears spasm in every direction, nearly knocking his hat off. His tail began thrashing around in his lap, unable to remain still or in one space as it moved to the best of his unruly thoughts. His right hand began moving from his lap to rest on the door, and then to grasp at is hat while his left one tapped on the console separating him from his friend.

And then, out of no where, he felt something akin to an electric shock as fingers brushed against his own, soothing him immediately.

Dream, not wanting to overstep, kept his hand hivering over his friend's, the tips of his fingers grazing against the skin of a hand he wished to hold.

The brunette's head snapped towards him, unease melting away as his dark eyes met pupils of a bright green, a wave of confidence washing over him as he reached up and grasped onto the blonde's hand.

Clasped hands, gentle gestures.

Their eyes tore away from the fond gaze they shared simultaneously, both friends peering out of the windshield window with large smiles on their faces and blushing cheeks.

The feeling was there again, so warm, so light, and so intimate that one could perhaps label it as infatuation.

Infatuation.

One of the stages into becoming... more.

Not more important, but definately more than what the two had now, more than what the relationship they both shared held.

More.

Were they ready for more?

The blonde had seemed so sure, earlier, when he spoke about allowing things to progress as they naturally did, but did this inevitable realization taint his take on the progression of their feelings?

And George. He had been here before, with this feeling that he knew would bring him to ruin. The fact that Dream shared it made it all the worse.

The brunette had been here before, with these feelings festering in his chest and making every second around the blonde seem as exciting as it was entrancing, and he knew that the thoughts that already choked him in his loneliness at night would come to strangle him. He knew that the ideas that made his skin prickle with anticipation and want would only start a fire that burned at him from within, kindled and foster the flame at the fact that his wishes would never be granted, at forever knowing that the blonde would never be his in the way he wanted him to be.

It didn't matter about sexuality in this sense; the infatuation had struck George far before Dream had come out to him. A straight man could be gay only for the love of his life, and a gay woman could marry a man. It was knowing that the way George peered longingly at the screen, the way he held onto every single word spoken and melted at every syllable that fell from the blonde's tongue... it would never be reciprocated.

A forever unrequited love.

And the hopelessness that came with the realization had been crushing for a while, it had rendered George unable to get out of bed and unwilling to talk to his friends for months.

But when he finally felt the strength, finally decided he couldn't live without the voice anymore, a simple, "are you alright, Georgie? I've missed you." in the voice of his only love was enough to tell the brunette to let go.

And he did.

He had let go completely , disconnected himself from the reality of his emotions...

And remained a friend, trapped in the impossibility of being more to the blonde and guilt at the prospect of pushing him away.

He had found whatever happiness there was to have in the prison that he hadn't asked to craft with feelings he never wanted.

And now, the key out of the cell that kept him hostage in his heart was staring tantalizingly at him:

Dream felt the same.

And George was sat holding his hand like he had imagined doing far before he had felt what it was like being in the strong arms and gentle embrace of his love.

Dream didn't know what George did; he hadn't suffered early like the brunette at his side had all those years ago because of unreturned feelings he had no control over.

And that was okay.

Maybe, now that they were closer, and at each other's side, feeling the same way and taking the enhancement of their relationship in stride, things would be okay.

Maybe, now that George allowed himself to come to the realization that the feelings were not only back, but shared, he could allow things to be okay, allow hope to grow in his heart, and acceptance to embrace his mind.

But for now, there were no feelings stronger than the rising anxiety in the brunette's chest at the prospect of revealing his secret to yet another one of his friends.

But even that wasn't as scary as it would have been if he hadn't been kept calm, safe in the care that was felt in holding his Dream's hand.

I like this one... again.

997 words, a bit shorter than usual but I like it.