1. Clay tapped his fingers against his thumb, each in turn to try to clear his mind. 2. The cars that rushed past the rainy streets of London, the rain itself, it went tap, tap, tap. 3. The light of the restaurant behind him, shifting as other walked to their tables and received their food. 4. The people that talked on and on behind him, what were they speaking about?

5. He looked down at his phone. 6. George, he wasn't here yet. He's not here, why isn't he here? Would he have ditched him, stood him up? It doesn't seem like something he'd do.

7. He said he'd be there soon. It's been 5 minutes, he's five minutes late. George wasn't this late, was he? Strangely, he couldn't remember.

8, 9-

"Clay?" 10.

Clay grinned at the sound of George's voice and pulled him into a hug in the rain. "Clay, you're gonna get soaked!" George warned, trying to pull away with a chuckle that soon turned into a laugh, a soft one, a jagged laugh that made his insides turn to mush.

Clay let go of George after a few more moments of captivity, and the two were standing outside the restaurant, hair wet and clothes sogged.

George drew his hands through his hair, rather displeased. "Fucking idiot, hey- Don't give me that look!" Clay couldn't stop grinning.

"Where even are we-?" George asked, staring into the restaurant for a moment before his eyes became covered. "-what-?"

"Guess." Clay whispered into his ears and George lifted an eyebrow. "Weird thing to guess, isn't it?"

"You're no fun, George."

"Take that back."

"You're worse than Vernon."

"Already starting with the references, are we?"

"You're the book worm."

"You're bringing them up."

"George, just guess!" Clay spoke, his voice coming off rather whiny. A grin similar to his grew on his face. "I saw a restaurant, so- that."

Clay blew a raspberry and let George see for himself what was before him- And oh, did it surprise him. His mouth fell open at the sight as his eyes tried to transcribe the scenery before him, but he couldn't.

Clay found himself smiling at his stunned expression. George turned to him almost immediately, staring up at him uncertainly. "Isn't it too expensive?"

He shook his head and took George's hand in his own, placing his other on the door handle. "It's alright, don't worry about it." He pulled the door open and pulled George inside with him. George stood there, looking back before turning to Clay. "I should've never let you pick out first date."

"What! It's great, c'mon."

"Clay, it's too expensive."

"No, it's not." They passed by brash men in suits eating food that George never thought he would've ever gotten close to in his life. 'Looked like something you would see cooked for men with money trees in their back yards.

He stared at its luxury then back at Clay, "You think that's not expensive?"

Clay cast a glance at the two before shaking his head. George found himself dumbfounded. "I'm picking our next date."

"Oh? Who said anything about a next date?"

The choice in words got George rather flustered, put into a position he hadn't normally been knowledgeable about. Dream had a way of making him flustered, it seemed.

And he knew his work was done well, for when he noticed George, he grinned at his red face. George had to counteract, "Oh, I just assumed. Don't you want to take me on a second date?"

Clay found their table and pulled George's chair for him, "Sure. Sounds like fun."

For the next hour and a half, George couldn't stop giggling to himself. Having Dream- no, Clay- right infront of him, acting out crazy characters from his childhood made him laugh at all the stupidity of their humanity.

Apparently as a young child, around 8-10, he ripped all of his toenails off his feet and even younger, he almost swallowed a frog.

And George gave back. He told Dream about the time he had scavenged his backyard for sticks to please her sisters made up quest and the time he found a puppy in the woods with Will and took him home because he felt bad for him.

He skipped the talk about his mother's.

He didn't even know why, they were going out on a date, weren't they? Of course he would understand, they were one of them.

But years of misunderstandings lead him to believe differently.

"So, how long've you known Wilbur?" Clay asked, taking a sip of his drink in all its glory. George let out a laugh, counting the years before numbers became meaningless.

So he decided to settle on infinity. "Forever," He smiled to himself as years of memories rushed past his mind. "And some."

Clay chuckled to himself, and George found himself staring back at him. "How long have you known Sapnap?"

"Sapnap? Oh, Nick." Dream hummed to himself for a moment or two before he came to the same conclusion as him. "Forever."

"How'd you meet?"

"Middle school. We were paired up for a lab report in seventh grade and then we just clicked." Clay smiled, recounting the memories locked within the vault of his mind. "Later on he said he thought I was weird 'cause I was always alone, unlike him. He was the talk of the town, a tag along, everyone knew him. We sound like a sappy story, don't we?"

"Me and Will aren't any better- I don't even know how we met, we just did. Probably back in kindergarten. He came around a lot- Funny you mention it, I was probably around when Tommy was born. I might've been waiting in the hospital with Will then." George laughed at Dream's amazing expression.

"No way."

"Yeah, I know. But- No, I won't go into it. I was around when he had his whole emo phase after he got dumped by this girl on skype. She was way older than him at the time, and he just couldn't accept it, I guess." George shrugged. "Anyways, he doesn't care about relationships anymore."

"Wilbur had an emo phase?" A grin slowly formed on Dream's face as George hid his face in his hands. "Oh my gosh, stop- He only wore black and his hair was all floppy and he never showered- Fuck man, glad it ended around seventh 'cause I don't know what I would've done if he stayed like that."

Clay couldn't stop laughing after that one, before he went on about something Sapnap did when he was around 15. "We had a good friend group back then- It was me, Sapnap, Calla, this guy named Sam and Alyssa. I miss them."

"What happened to them?"

"Grew up, got outta town and did things. Alyssa fell off the grid while Sam stayed back home, don't know why though. 'Said he likes it back there." He hummed to himself.

George tipped his head. "What happened to Callahan?" He asked.

Clay smiled to himself. "Lives near a lake in Maine, goes fishing whenever he pleases. He's the only one I talk to anymore." A sigh escaped his lips before he looked back up to George, "What about you? You've got anyone you've left behind?"

"Okay, now you sound like a drama queen." George rolled his eyes at Dream's splutters, 'sounds too much like Tommy, really. "I had this one friend. Eret. He uh- kinda told my whole school I was gay."

Dream's pupils grew wide. "What?"

"Yeah, um- It was pretty bad. We met Niki and Tommy met Tubbo around then so it wasn't all bad, but y'know- Bullying's never a good thing." George looked up at Clay's staggered expression and shook his head. "It's not that important."

"George-"

"It's old news," He laughed rather nervously. "It doesn't matter anymore." You're acting like Wilbur now. "Clay, drop it."

Clay pressed his lips to a thin line.

Things kept going as per usual, words and thoughts bouncing off their tongue and the usual debates just waiting to happen.

They grew rather comfortable in each other's company after such a small period of time- It was rather strange how close two strangers holding each others arms could become.

Because in truth, their love shouldn't exist. Their world shouldn't exist.

It all shouldn't be real, but the stars and the moon and the sky declared differently. They turned the impossible to a solution that was etched within the locks of Clay's hair or the feeling of butterflies travelling through his stomach, it all seemed- strange.

But it wasn't. It was beautiful.

George found himself staring at Clay's hands as he rambled on about something he couldn't quite grasp, because simply- he was too distracted by his hands.

The way they pronounced his emotions and his feelings described him, radiated an energy that within his mind will always call 'Clay.'

Or Dream.

But he preferred Clay to him at this point.

George felt himself grin as his eyes drew closer to Clay's face and as he rambled on and on, he stopped. He stopped and stared at George and it was he who grinned back.

Though it was moreover a sly smirk.

"What's wrong, kitten? Are you stricken by my amazing beauty?" Clay twirled his finger through his hair before throwing it to the side, his grin growing wider.

George was indeed struck.

His face grew red and his eyes darted across the table and to his empty plate. "Wha- No." He realised the choice of words that he had uttered and his face grew red, terribly red, so much so that Clay noticed and laughed into his hand, uttering even worse words, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Stop, you fuckin'- God, I've turned into Tommy now, I keep swearing." Clay wheezed at his words and George found it hard to keep a straight face.

The people around them gave them awkward stares and grumbled responses to their partners, but they didn't care, they were too starstruck in ideas and possibilities that made them laugh due to their weirdness.

They were silenced once and fore-all when a man in a polished suit came up to them and demanded them to keep quite. George's face grew red in embarrassment and he tried to apologise, but Clay stood up.

"Sorry sir, our apologies. We won't bother you any longer." He pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed 4 100 dollar bills to the man. "Here, two plates of pasta, a cup of orange juice and another of apple, that should cover it, right? Keep the change."

"I'm- I'm sorry sir, please sit, if you need anything else, we could-"

"It's alright, we were planning on going anyways." Clay reached out for George's hand and gripped it in his as George collected everything and stood up. "Have a nice night, sir."

Without another word the two had turned tail and walked out of the establishment, back to the cold, mundaneness of normal life. "I swear, they always act so differently when money's involved, they can't just be decent human beings without it."

George looked to the side. He didn't understand all the fiery cation surrounding the topic of money, especially a higher degree of money. So he remained silent until Dream groaned and collapsed his head to George's shoulders.

"Why can't people just be like you?"

George laughed at the idiocy of the claim. "You should be happy that people aren't like me. How would the world go 'round otherwise?"

Clay let out a sigh and took out his phone, lifting his head from George's shoulder almost immediately. "Fuck, it's 10:00."

"Yeah, so?"

"Um.." Clay let out an awkward chuckle, almost hating himself the moment he did. How was he supposed to explain what Wilbur had told him before the date? "..Well..."

George squinted his eyes at him. "If you say a word about Will, I swear-"

Clay lifted his brows and George took this as a message, letting out a groan and then a laugh, "Will is such a bitch. What did he tell you?"

Clay gulped, "I had to take you home before 11. 'Said he was pushing it this time." Clay looked out around him and found the rain pouring on the earth like it had done trillions of times ago. "Give me your hand, George."

"What?"

"Hand."

George stared at him weirdly as Dream took his hand out for him to take. Once his palm made contact with his, Clay ran. He ran like his life depended on it, like the wind and the rain whispered into his ears and granted him all of their strength.

George yelped at the sudden action as Clay's body filled with adrenaline and he yelled out his name in hopes that he would listen. Clay turned to face him and grinned, his smile a wicked colour.

George bat his eyes at him and Clay laughed, "We have to go quick or else we'll get sick, c'mon Gogs!"

"We could've called a taxi, you idiot!"

"It's more fun this way!"

"If I get sick, I'm blaming you!"

Clay rushed past the road and passed all the people hiding under the roofs of shops, watching them with bewildered stairs. "Do you even know where I live?"

"Of course," He turned the corner to the left. "Straight down then two turns, right?"

"Three turns!"

"Same thing!"

George sighed, "Why are you so reckless?"

"Impulsive, reckless- I dunno, ask my mom."

George opened his mouth to speak but said nothing of which, letting Clay lead him through the dark, rainy day and into a place of safe haven- He only hoped they were alive when they reached home.

And thankfully, they were.

They had reached their apartment within 15 minutes and they were both out of breath when they reached their door. Clay started laughing when he had calmed down, but George hadn't, gripping onto his knees to keep himself steady.

Clay, still panting, stepped up to George and placed his hands on his hair, "Oh my gosh, your hair is so wet."

"No thanks to you," He looked up at Clay and the man placed his hands on his cheeks, affectingly cupping them in his strong grip. George felt his cheeks heat up and his lips part as his eyes met the others.

His attitude was gone, replaced by something or somebody else. "Can't I get a kiss goodbye?"

George gripped onto his wrists and was about to respond with a yes, before the door burst open and Clay let go of him, turning to see who was at the door like whatever they did didn't even happen.

And who else was at the door, but Wilbur.

He eyed the two of them, eyes squinted, "Why are you guys soaked? Did you run in the rain or something?"

Clay tried to explain himself but Wilbur gave him an eye, making him laugh rather awkwardly. "Hey Will."

Wilbur stared at him weirdly. "Hey." He placed a hand on George's shoulder. "You had fun, yeah?" He didn't wait for an answer before he started speaking. "Well, it's getting late, isn't it? You should go now, Clay, or you're gonna catch a cold."

"Oh, yeah." Clay coughed into his hand. "Well, um, bye George."

George tried to wave back but Wilbur had pulled him into his home, before locking the door. George turned around and stared at Wilbur with all the hatred in the world once he had locked the door, "Wilbur, what the hell?!"

He leaned to the door, crossing his arms. "You were out with him way too long; It was dark and it was cold, and it was 10:00 PM. Nobody should have sex on the first date, c'mon Gogs, you're much better than that."

George's face grew red, "We weren't having sex, Wilbur! We were talking, having fun, we were going on a date. You're not my dad, you don't have to act like one! Why're you even acting like this, anyways?"

"'Cause, I don't want my little brother to go out with a stranger-"

"-We aren't related-"

"We might as well be!"

"You know Clay. Why are you just suddenly acting like an overprotective dad?!"

Wilbur grew quiet, placing his fingers next to eachother, brows perched together to think of something viable. George drew in a sigh, "Oh, forget it. Never do that again." George turned around to leave for the shower, but Will placed a hand on his shoulder.

"George- hold up," He sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry, It's just...really weird."

George turned to face him, helping Will to continue on, though he didn't. He shook his head, "Eh, I'm sorry, mate."

George heard the sincerity in his voice and he let out a sigh of his own, "It's fine. But if you do it again, I swear-"

Wilbur chuckled and pulled his hands in the air, "Okay, you got me. Well um- How was your date?"

"Pretty good, I'll tell you more in the morning, 'kay?"

"'Okay."

"Is everyone else sleeping?"

"Yeah, Mick stayed around ours."

"Is she sleeping in your room or mine?"

"Mine."

"Ah, Will, you didn't have to-"

"No, it's fine, I'll take the sofa. It's better than the floor, I'll tell you that."

"True."

-