"Dream, you don't look too good."

Clay lifted his head and turned at the sound of the others voice. His headphones were pushed into his ears to silence the noise of the plane and the antics of his bandmates, however it seemed one way or another they had wriggled into his mind and now he had to face them.

He sighed, stopping the song 'masterpiece theatre iii' from creating a perfect utopia in his mind. He turned to Sapnap, no, Nick, who stared at him with worry.

"Hm?" He hummed, his eyes drooped slightly to show his tiredness. Their crew had rented a private jet for them, and though they had all told them it was too much, they insisted.

Nick sighed. "Look, dude, maybe you'll see him some other day. You have his number, right?"

He was talking about George.

Dream hummed in response, staring out of the window, miles and miles away from the ground. The sky was at their fingertips and yet he never felt so helpless.

"C'mon, speak to me man."

Dream bit his tongue to silence whatever words were about to spill until his mind screamed at him to say what he wanted to - It was Nick, he wouldn't say anything out of the ordinary - and maybe it was because he knew him that he didn't want to tell.

Fuck it. "It's not the same!" Dream began and once those four words had left his tongue, he was a goner. "We'll be so busy now, writing new songs and albums, going on tour, interviews-" He let out a dramatic sigh and covered his face with his palms to save himself the embarrassment.

"He's just- He's not a part of that. He's normal." Clay told, letting his palms drip from his face.

"George?" A new voice came in, above Clay's seat and the blond didn't need to check who it was to know the sound of his voice.

"Yeah, Q." Quackity pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at Clay. "Hey, it's not all bad. There's a high chance we're going back to the UK in a few weeks."

Clay's hands dropped from his face like raindrops falling from the sky and both pairs of eyes flew to the shorter, dazed.

"What?" Clay breathed, hoping that the world wasn't lying to him, gripping onto the small chance that he'd go back and he'd see the male brunette once more.

Q stuck his tongue out at him, unfazed, his eyes a little less droopier than Clay's once were. "Harry said they're gonna organise this partnership with a model or something. They're gonna have us go to London and shoot some photos with her."

He pulled up his phone and began typing. Clay prayed to the moon, to the stars and the sky that Q wasn't pulling his leg, that they'd have to go back in a few short weeks and then he would have more time to talk to the brunette.

"Her." He pushed his phone to Clay and Nick's view, and Clay grasped at his phone, staring at the picture he had pulled up- It was a very tanned woman with long delicate black hair, the facial features of a green goddess, her outfit sewed like it was made as a token of gratitude to their fellow friends from above.

"Violet starling." Nick read out loud, looking up at Q. "How'd you find out?"

"Bad told me that I had to check my email more often and then he and I cleaned it out together- You won't believe the amount of emails I get from Harry telling me to, and I quote, 'stop being gay.' What is this, the 1960's?" Quackity exaggerated, using his hands to speak. "I'll just be a walking pride flag to piss him off if I get one more email."

Harry and all their agents had a talk with the band about appealing to the eyes of the audience, and the audience in this case, didn't understand the concept of being queer and therefore discarded it into flames.

They had to hide their relationships and sexuality's from the eyes of the public because, it wasn't accepted mainstream. It pained Clay to lie about his sexuality in interviews, and have everyone think that he and the rest of his friends were straight men- Even though they were all seeing eachother.

But Karl still painted his nails, Clay still wore earnings, Sapnap flirted with everyone of them, Quackity always hinted that he might not be straight to their audience because that wasn't in the contract.

"It fucking sucks." Nick groaned. "You know, I can't wait for the day I finally crack and kiss you and Karl on stage and then watch as everyone riots."

"You're an idiot." Q laughed and Nick reached up to peck his check. Clay wasn't listening to them flirt with eachother, he was too busy seizing his chance to go to the UK.

"Is it confirmed?" Clay broke the haze between the two boyfriends. Quackity shrugged, "We'll hear it from Harry if it is."

Clay drooped at the news and stared back at the girl on the screen. "Chin up, king, your crown's falling." Karl spoke up, coming to stand next to Q.

He slipped a hand on Quackity's shoulder and rested his head on his shoulder. "What're you guys talking about?"

"Clay's head over heals about George and is crying 'cause we're probably not going to go back for a long time, if Q's wrong." Nick explained, and Clay turned his head to stare at him.

"I'm not head over heals." He handed Q his phone back and stared at Nick.

"Watch me be right." Quackity faced them.

"I say you're right." Karl spoke and Clay agreed with him, a sharp nod tainting his opinion.

"I say you're wrong." Nick told. "It's very unlikely that a few weeks after we leave the UK we go back. Plus, if the model thing's actually real then she'll probably come to the states."

"Bet?"

"Alright, I'll take that bet. Twenty dollars."

"Fifty."

"Oh you- Fine." Quackity and Nick shook hands and turned away from one another, smug grins trailing their faces.

"Why are they like that?" Clay whispered into Karl's ear and the other shrugged.

"They were probably bitten by mutations or something." Nick and Quackity turned to face him sharply and Karl put his arms up in defence, grinning.

Clay snorted. They were the weirdest people to ever walk the face of the earth.

But he loved them.

-