George rubs his eyes, stretching his arms above his head and stares out the small window of the plane. He blocks out the sound of the other passengers, talking, laughing and the general buzz of excitement as the plane begins descending towards the ground.
The sky is a dulled, red, brown, or yellow. George racks his slow brain before remembering that sunsets are orange. Instead, he focuses on the clouds, lazily floating around. The smooth, almost streaky texture is more interesting than the colours anyway.
He drops his elbow on the armrest, flopping his head on his palm. The energy required to hold his head is too exhausting. He faintly feels his ears pop, and he yawns to relieve himself of the feeling. He blinks his eyes a few times in an attempt to rid himself of his tiredness as they get closer, and closer, to landing.
Changing time zones, his already poor sleep schedule, and inability to sleep on the plane (in front of complete strangers), is going to ruin him. He’s going to spend the week visit sleeping, though Dream’s protests already ring clear in his head. A smile overwhelms him and this familiar excitement surfaces again, the excitement that has been with him for months.
I’m going to see Dream.
The plane is so close to the ground, George watches the window intently. He takes a deep breath, holding it, as they finally land smoothly on the runway. Mixed feelings swirl in him, a fight between exhaustion and excitement; happiness and nervousness. He takes another deep breath, grabbing his hands as the plane finally parks.
Other passengers leap up, grabbing bags, and pushing past others to get off the plane. George usually would wait patiently, but he’s done enough waiting; he’s here. He pushes himself onto his feet. He further stretches onto his toes, reaching for his bag stored overhead and grabs it. He swings the rucksack onto his shoulder just as he gets carried away with the momentum of the crowd.
He fumbles for his phone in his pocket, immediately locating Dream’s contact and pressing the call button. He looks up as it rings, not seeing much of the airport as he follows the crowd. They’re all heading to the baggage claim, so he continues to mindlessly trail with them. The rest of the airport looks busy anyway.
“George?” Dream’s voice crackles through the speaker. George’s eyes crinkle at the thought, that in a minute, this won’t be an issue; he can hear him, in person.
“Dream,” George smiles, “I’m here.”
He listens to Dream intake a soft gasp, before letting out a breathy laugh; so unlike his usual tea-kettle laugh, so personal.
“Dream,” George repeats, talking through his smile. “Dream,”
George looks up as the corridor he was following opens up into a large room. He notes people walking away with suitcases, so turns his attention to the conveyer belt. Many suitcases pass him, a few a similar blue to his own.
“Why are there so many blue suitcases?” He whispers, receiving another breathy laugh from Dream.
“You’re at the baggage claim?” Dream asks softly, matching the quiet tone George has created through his tiredness.
George nods, humming in response.
“I’m in the waiting area just around the corner.” He says it almost like it’s a secret, and George feels a warmth blossom in his stomach. He looks over at the wide corridor, his eyes reading the sign for the waiting area.
“Just a few seconds then,” George says, promises, turning his attention back to finding his suitcase.
“Just a few seconds,” Dream echoes, and George clutches his phone tighter to his ear.
Mercifully, his bag then appears, slowly making its way towards him. He grabs it the moment he can, reeling slightly at the weight. He pulls the handle and immediately starts following the sign leading him to Dream.
“I can hear a suitcase,” Dream holds his breath, and George speeds up slightly.
“Yes,” He agrees, “Yes you can.”
“George,” Dream says, his excitement beginning to creep into his voice. “George,”
George determinedly walks quicker. He passes people, trying to peer around group walking slowly, navigating the crowd to find the quickest route to him.
The corridor opens again into a room filled with more people. He walks a little further in, scanning the crowd instantly.
“Dream,” He asks, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the crowd blocking him. He’s so close.
George looks at everyone, his gaze flitting over dull colours as he tried to locate the person he wants.
“Dream, what are you wearing?” He asks, almost desperately.
“Blue,” Is the instant reply, making George’s eye crinkle in happiness. “I’m wearing blue.”
He starts tuning out the mass colour of dull yellow and yellow tones, eyes focusing on anything and everything blue.
“What are you wearing?” Dream asks, clearly wanting to help search for the other in the busy room.
George barely glances down at his hoodie, “Red or brown.”
Dream huffs a laugh out, “Of course.”
And then George’s heart stops. Through the crowd is a man, wearing a blue hoodie. He’s tall, with his phone pressed desperately against his ear. He’s scanning the crowd and George knows, knows, who it is.
He inhales sharply, freezing in place as he finally sees Dream. He watches as Dream pauses upon hearing the breath, before turning around himself. They lock eyes. Green on brown.
Time almost pauses, as they just look at each other, the crowd disappearing instantly. George feels like he’s floating, his hand slowly lowering his phone, the call the least of his priorities now; Dream mirroring his action.
Dream starts walking over first, making his legs move – George is almost jealous at this ability until he remembers he can walk himself, taking a few steps forward. Dream’s face lights up at the action and George runs.
He lets his suitcase roll behind him, before discarding it, leaping at his best friend. His best friend that is only a few meters away. Dream opens his arms and George doesn’t hesitate to launch himself into the embrace. And then, he feels him. He crashes into his chest, Dream taking a step back to accommodate, and George sobs.
He clutches at Dream tightly, wrapping his arms around his chest, and nuzzles his face into Dream’s jumper. Dream’s arms enclose around him protectively, one of his hands buried in George’s hair, keeping him close. He fits perfectly. Dream lets his head drop on George’s and George is surrounded by him.
He takes a deep, shaky breath in, and it’s all Dream. He smells like home already. George’s knees feel utterly weak and he crumbles impossibly further into Dream. Dream lightly sways them, tightening his hold to keep George up.
George can feel Dream smile into his hair, and his heart soars.
“Dream,” He whispers, mumbling into the other’s chest. “Dream, I’m here.”
Dream nods swaying them quicker in excitement, before resuming the slower pace.
“Hi Georgie,” He says, and oh, Dream sounds so much more real. Tears freely flow down George’s cheeks, and he finally pulls away from hiding in the taller’s chest. He lifts his head, meeting Dream’s gaze, already awaiting his.