Archive of Our Own

Some people aspire to be great from young. It was a commendable sentiment, one that is pushed as being the winner mentality so to speak. However, the odds are already stacked against you by birth. As much as hard work and effort can get a person somewhere, there will always be someone who was simply born in better conditions who can achieve it earlier and easier than you. It is unfortunately a fact of life, a truth that George had long come to peace with.

He didn’t necessarily consider himself pessimistic. No, he was a realist who took the shitty cards life had dealt him and made them into fucking lemonade. 

No parents to hold his hand the entire way? That’s okay, he learned independence early on.

Being naturally very introverted and having a hard time connecting with new people at first? That’s cool, he made a few friends with whom he could be outgoing with occasionally. Very occasionally. 

Bad and inconsistent high schools? Online coding courses and painstaking studying had him getting good enough grades to go to college with a scholarship. 

Now, George was pretty content with the level he had worked up to. Twenty-four years old and he had a modest apartment that wasn’t falling apart at the seams. Food was in the cabinets, pe-packaged and frozen, but it still counted. 

The one thing he was truly grateful for was being able to work and do what he loved. Computers were hard to come by in his youth, but hours spent in the library, making good use of the free resources, was the introduction he needed to know that he found what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. 

Finding a job in the industry was a whole struggle in itself, but all that mattered was that he found one that fit everything he ever needed. Work from home, not too strict, and, most importantly, it presented interesting challenges that felt more like a hobby than work.

Perhaps he wasn’t overjoyed or living life to the fullest but isn’t being content good enough? That’s what George had always thought and he mentally patted himself on the back for his humbleness. There was no need to shoot for anything big and grand, only to end in inevitable disappointment. He was absolutely fine with staying in his little bubble, proudly surveying what he had been able to accomplish with all odds against him. 

Groaning as he rolled out his shoulders, he stood up while closing the laptop. The dark sky and his rumbling stomach told him that it was way past the time of dinner, making the quick decision to get takeaway instead of defrosting one of the sad burritos that had been sitting in his freezer for who knows how long.

After a much-needed shower and change of clothes, the food arrived and he was able to fully relax. As he quietly ate his meal, enjoying the warm, non-chemical-filled food, his mood dampened slightly. 

George was the very definition of a reclose at this point. With work piling up and the fear of getting fired if he wasn’t working at his best weighing down on him, he hadn’t contacted anyone lately. Not that there were any messages on his phone that signified anyone noticing his disappearance, but he should be putting in the effort to reach out more.

“It really was my own fault,” he mused to himself, growing to detest the silence of the past few weeks. In an effort to distract his mind, he cracked open a beer, taking large gulps and ignoring the burn. “If I didn’t spend all my time being a raging bitch to everyone in uni, I could have had at least a few more contacts.”

At first, he had detested every single one of his classmates, writing them all off as trust fund babies who had likely never had a thing to worry about. In retrospect, it was completely unfair of him, but hindsight didn’t change how he had alienated himself. It took him graduating and becoming a little more mature to realize that while the struggles may have been different, he shouldn’t treat them any differently based on their upbringing while he preached never wanting to be based on his. 

Unfortunately, nothing could change the past, he woefully reminded himself while grabbing another bottle. He had to bear the consequence of his young-selves actions, and right now, the consequence was drinking alone in his apartment on Friday night. 

Feeling a bit tipsier, he stumbled over to the small window, staring out into the dark sky. Hardly any stars could be seen through the clouds, but coincidentally, he happened to see a small shooting star, blinking out of existence just as quickly as it entered. 

George sighed, feeling a little silly as he closed his eyes. “I wish,” he whispered drowsily, “to see things from a different perspective. To see if life is so much better with a regular upbringing.” Smiling as he got more tired, he began to giggle to himself, tacking on more and more ridiculous demands. “And to make a whole lot of money. Oh! To be uhhhh taller, lots of friends, I’m talking the life of the party, outgoing. I’d be cool, but like, still smart so not a himbo.”

His peals of laughter had him collapsing onto his bed as he continued to ramble. “A cat! I always wanted a cat. They’re so soft and cute,” he yelled. “I want to be able to cook and I’ll be hot as fuck. No one could ever resist me. You know what? Make me a gamer too. I’d fight the stereotype. Attractive, respectful, and living somewhere where it doesn’t rain all the time.”

It was more fun than George had originally thought to continue listing everything he wanted. Maybe it was ungrateful of him, but hey, a guy could dream, right?

Forgetting the whole reason he started ranting, George blindly grabbed the blankets he had tossed everywhere. Snuggling up, he briefly cringed at the massive headache he would no doubt have tomorrow, but for now, the bed was warm and he felt too tired to care about any other annoying details. 

His eyes felt glued shut when he woke up. Not having the energy to pry them open yet, George opted for turning onto his back, frowning as he didn’t feel the familiar scratchiness of his sheets. As he silently questioned what was wrong with his senses, George was hit with the realization that he felt no typical morning-after headache. 

Silently thanking whichever deity had mercy on him to take away the hangover, he decided it was time to brave the world. Bringing his hand up to rub his eyes, he froze.

Maybe he was still a little drunk because his limbs were not feeling normal right now. It was almost like they belonged to someone else, the thought had George sitting up way too fast in bed, giving him a headrush. 

Eyes wide, he took in the opposite green wall, which was weird because last time he checked, his walls were all white. A glance around proved that he was not anywhere he remembered. The bed was much larger than his and a prickly of jealousy went through him as he felt the soft sheets. Taking in the room, it must be somewhere in another part of town because if the bedroom was this large, the rest of the apartment must be huge. 

Looking around, George came to the conclusion that he must have had a one-nightstand and simply forgot the whole ordeal. It wouldn’t be the first, but he was a little proud of himself for getting with someone who was so obviously rich. It was a bit of an ego booster and there was the bonus of whoever he was with having cleared out already. No awkward talks to stutter through.

He should take the hint and start to leave too. As he wondered if he was close to any bus stops, George tried to stand and promptly crumbled to the ground. 

“What the fuck,” he groaned, wincing as he rubbed his head. Everything felt completely wrong for no clear reason. George glanced down and almost collapsed again.

The scream he let out made the window panes rattle with its intensity.

Unfamiliar hands shook as George tried to come to terms with what he saw, that his “body” was, in fact, not his. He tried to stand up, arms pinwheeling as he became disoriented with how high up he felt. Taking shaky, baby steps, it felt like he was walking on stilts as he lunged towards the dresser, nearly smacking his head on a shelf that was already pretty high up and why the fuck was he so tall. Gripping the sides of it for balance, he took in himself. 

Green eyes were stretched wide and disbelieving. Thank god, he was still a guy, just a very different one. Way too tall, soft blonde locks, and slightly tanned skin, the antithesis of George basically. He raised his hand, letting out a yelp as he saw the man in the mirror do the same, confirming what he feared. 

Large hands frantically pinched his skin, wincing in pain but not waking up either. Smacking himself on the face also gave no results. His breathing became short as he clutched his heart, trying to calm himself down. 

“Okay, okay, I’m smart,” George tried to reason, “let’s think this through. Last night, I was drinking a little and then I went straight to bed I think. But, did something happen in between?”

His whole face desperately scrunched up as he tried to remember anything notable. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, “I made that stupid wish.” Looking back in the mirror, he examined the person closer. So far, they were filling out all the requirements that he had listed. Hot enough for him to want to just stay looking at the mirror and a little too much height. The rest were still up in the air, but George began to calm down as he quickly worked out what must be happening. 

“I’m dreaming, there’s no other explanation. I must have unconsciously dreamt up the life I was thinking about and now I’m lucid dreaming.” George was starting to sound hysterical but the pieces started to fall into place. He distinctly recalled reading something online recently about how lucid dreaming worked and scoffing at the ridiculousness of it. He never had dreams, but the idea of having a whole world for you to control was appealing.

Now that he was in the exact situation, a devious smile crawled onto George’s face. He could do whatever he wanted, with no consequences and nothing to worry about. His mind had done him a favor and even gave him the most interesting setting and a whole new person. So, it would be a waste to not fuck around and have a little fun. After all, nothing was real, right?

Still trying to get the hang of walking with such long legs, George stumbled out of the bedroom, audibly gasping as he took in the rest of the apartment. It was homey and modern, looking like it was straight out of one of the magazines he would make fun of. There were even separate rooms for the kitchen and the living room!

“I am living the fucking high life, good job brain,” he cheered to himself, diving into the soft couch cushions. Surveying the room, the natural sunlight that flooded in reminded him of another requirement he had, silently chuckling as he mentally checked off living somewhere without rain. 

The next few hours were spent with him figuring out how to move without looking like a newborn giraffe and exploring more of the disgustingly large home. The weird thing was, he was blown away by the sheer amount of detail that his mind had put into this. The complete gaming room and set-up were somewhat believable, himself having drooled over photos of ones just like them, but the personal photos of this body with, presumably, siblings and two parents? It seemed a bit much, but he couldn’t complain. 

George nearly cried when he discovered the cat that appeared next to him. He didn’t know where it was hiding, but it finally felt comfortable enough to come out and meet him, sniffing his outstretched hand before coming forward. Even though he was supposed to be the owner, it was like the cat knew he was strange, another thing George noted as weird. This figment of his imagination was becoming wilder and wilder. 

A quick look into the kitchen had him debating if he should try to cook and make something. However, even though this was all fake, he barely had any control over this body and asking himself to use a very sharp knife was only a recipe for disaster. Instead, he opted to rifle through the fridge.

Now familiar with the pattern that was forming, he smiled as he predictably found containers upon containers of different delicious-looking, home-cooked foods. 

“Fuck waking up, this life is too good to be true,” George chuckled, eagerly grabbing a container of what looked like pasta with some sort of fancy sauce on it. 

From that point on, George just goofed around like he always saw in movies, acting like a little kid. Empty containers of ice cream were all over the counters, the food tasting even better than anything he had in real life. 

He danced around, sliding around on the hardwood floor and laughing as he collided with the walls. Grabbing the cat, the little collar had the name Patches on it which was so fucking adorable, he twirled around, giggling in delight. 

Filled with energy, he decided that he might as well walk around, enjoy the sunshine that was so rare in real life for him. Changing, however, proved to be a challenge. Even though this person wasn’t technically an actual one, it felt wrong to stare or look at them so to make his conscience feel better, George pointedly averted his eyes and blindly hopped around while pulling on the jeans. 

“They’re right there,” he whispered to himself, staring intently, “even if I crash, it’s not like I would die, right?” The car keys were placed innocuously on the table, the shining logo beckoning George forward. Sure he technically did not have a license and, from what he picked up, was in America where he knew nothing about traffic laws, but you only live, or rather dream, once.

Reaching out, he was just about to grab them when a loud notification noise rang out, halting his movement. He even dreamt up a working phone? His mind was truly bigger than he thought. 

Thankfully, it was the latest model, meaning facial ID instead of passcodes, though George was confident that there would be some sort of dreamscape logic that would get around it. The screen was lit up, eyes widening as he took in what seemed like hundreds of notifications. 

Snapchat, Instagram, Discord, Texts, all had a concerning amount of unread messages. George scoffed, thinking the dream was overdoing it a little with fulfilling the ‘popular’ requirement. One person seemed adamant, their name popping up over and over. 

“What the fuck is a Sapnap?”George wondered, clicking on the texts. Whoever it was, it seemed they were supposed to be good friends, scrolling back and finding thousands of messages sent to one another. “How sad is it that I’m so lonely that my mind is literally giving me an imaginative best friend? And one with such a stupid name.”

The latest message was all about some party that was happening tonight. George’s first response was to wrinkle his nose up in disgust. Parties were the absolute worst for him. Too loud, too many obnoxious people, and always ending with him getting squashed and swallowed up by the crowds.

He had already begun to type out a short decline before pausing. If he wanted to truly live a life that was completely opposite from his, he might as well go all the way. It didn’t matter if he ended up embarrassing himself, because no one was a real person. 

A manic grin on his face, George sent an eager yes, asking them to send the address and time to be there. This was his chance to do what he never had the confidence for, but to pass the time, George skipped over to the sick gaming set-up. Might as well put some good use into it while he waited.

“My fucking dude is here, get out of my way bitches,” a man yelled immediately as he stepped foot through the door. George had decided against driving in the end. Not only did he not want to miss this so-called “party”, but he was also struck with the realization that if he died, he’d most likely make himself wake up from this life. At this point, he was too far invested in having a whole day, even if it was imaginative, of living as he used to envy. 

The man  threw a can at him that he reflexively caught, another unusual characteristic for George but apparently not for this made-up person. Cautiously, he called out, “Hey Sapnap, what’s up?’ Waiting for any sign that he had messed everything up, he breathed a sigh of relief as the man enthusiastically thumped him on the back. 

“We missed you! When you blew me off last night, I was worried bro. Dream? Spending a Friday night alone? It just doesn’t make sense,” he laughed as he skillfully led the two deeper into the crowd. George’s added height advantage was useful in that aspect, allowing him to see where he was going and scope out the others. 

Okay, now it felt like his mind was painfully making fun of him. The irony between this and reality for him was starting to hurt a little, so he took to chugging whatever Sapnap had given him. “This is good shit,” he yelled, not caring about his volume. Feeling a little giddy, he tried to crush the bottle and whooped when he successfully did. Maybe getting that gym membership would be a good idea in the future. 

The two were momentarily stopped from reaching the drinks table, George accidentally bumping into a short guy and almost spilling his drink. “Oh my god,” he blurted out, “I am so sorry about that! I should have watched where I was going.”

Sapnap started roaring with laughter. “There he is, our resident nice guy back at it. Dude, no need to sound like you ran over their grandma every time.” Great. Of course, he was known as being one of the nicest people, yet another thing he could tick off from the list. 

His supposed best friend proved to be even more helpful when he introduced George for him to this guy, someone he enthusiastically greeted. “Oh! Karl, you’ve never met my friend here. This is Dream, we go way back.” 

George tried to disguise his mirth, cheerfully smiling in greeting. Dream huh? A little on the nose with the fake name but George didn’t mind. 

Karl gave a wide grin back. “Are you a student? Me and Sapnap met in classes but I don’t remember ever seeing you there.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jesus Christ, was there a whole ass storyline that his brain created? George was not prepared for this, but thankfully, Sapnap saved him from struggling to think of an answer. 

He leaned forward, shouting over the noise, “This guy is a certifiable genius. Graduated a year earlier and has some fancy-schmancy computer job thing. Even has time to stream on the side.” He leaned in closer to Karl, George also leaning in to learn some more about who he supposedly was. “I swear, successful at 21, he’s definitely burning out by 30 and becoming a dealer. Calling it now.”

Rolling his eyes, George smacked the back of his head. So not only was he rich, he was smart and young. The pain of this fake reality was starting to hit.

Shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts, George brought matters into his own hands. He was here to have a good fucking time and let everything melt away for one night. One night to be as insane as he wanted. 

He grabbed Sapnap’s and Karl’s shoulders, barreling through the crowd, his height making it easy to push through. “Fellas,” he cockily yelled, “I want to party like I’m going to die tomorrow, so help me get as fucked up as possible.”

The two hollered, others overhearing and screaming in joy at the sentiment. George smirked as he raised a red solo cup. Life of the party? Check. 

The next few hours were wild, to say the least.

It was like he was a completely different person, which technically he was pretending to be. The world was a blur of bright colors, but he couldn’t give a fuck. Music blared while he danced, no insecurities holding him back. He distantly heard Sapnap yelling in his ear at different points, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. All that mattered was the stream of drinks he downed. 

“See any guys you like?” Sapnap tried to shout, George whooping as he internally high-fived his brain for keeping his preferences consistent. Even though a couple of different cute guys danced with him, having sex in a dream would be too weird. He didn’t want to ruin anything by waking up in the middle of it or something, so he held off. 

Eventually, he was way too drunk, Sapnap playing the role of the best friend perfectly as he half carried him out, steering him towards a car. George slurred out some nonsensical words but was happy to just slump across the cool window. 

The bubble of joy was beginning to pop, the harsh truth that he would wake up back in his cold and lonely bed hitting him. He whimpered when Sapnap tried to drag him out of the car. Clutching onto the shorter guy as he was directed to his door, George continued to refuse to let go.

Which brought another thought. George didn’t have many people to have physical contact with. It was depressing but being able to cling to someone, even platonically, made him want to cry. He vehemently refused to let go as Sapnap tried to deposit him onto the bed after using a spare key to unlock the door and push him in. 

“No,” George cried, not removing his arms, “If you leave, I’ll never see you again.”

“Fuck Dream, I know you’re a clingy drunk but this is getting ridiculous.” Sapnap groaned. After a few minutes of struggling he huffed as he tried to reassure the blonde. “I’ll come to get you in the morning, how about that? We’ll get our usual hang-over cure breakfast.” 

The affectionate words only made George feel worse. Morning traditions, the promise of hanging out again, all things that weren’t fucking real. He somehow knew that the second he fell asleep, this life would be no more and the dreariness of George’s life would come back. 

Getting impatient, Sapnap kneed him in the stomach, sending George sprawling on the mattress as he clutched his stomach in pain. “Okay, I’m done babysitting you asshole. See you tomorrow, love ya,” he called, speed walking out of there before his friend could latch on again. 

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” George muttered, the pull of sleep catching up to him and sending him reluctantly back to his life. A small teardrop fell as he mourned what could have been. 

Waking up was never the best time for George, but today felt especially worse. The familiar bedroom and ceiling that greeted him instantly brought on the worst mood. Logically, he should be relieved to see the familiar hands and body, but all it did was make him feel worse. Compared to that dream, life felt grey and dull. 

The outside matched his terrible mood. A light drizzle had already coated the roads, which were suspiciously quiet for a Saturday. Standing up and stretching, he winced as he heard his body pop. Trudging out of the room, he yelped as he tripped over a pile of clothes that was at the doorway. 

George stood, staring at them in confusion. He couldn’t recall putting them there and couldn’t imagine why he even would, but perhaps his dazed state from recovering from the too real dream was making him forgetful. 

Dismissing that, George stumbled into the kitchen. Shifting through the fridge, he reached for the milk carton, only to find it missing. 

“Did someone fucking rob me while I was asleep?” George incredulously questioned. However, his laptop and gaming stuff was all still in plain sight. There was no way someone came to steal his milk and toss his clothes on the ground. Checking the recycling bin, the cartoon laid there yet again, he couldn’t recall finishing it. 

Now more alert, George started to notice more and more odd things. His apartment was messier than usual. Not that he was a clean freak but he was never this messy. Upon closer inspection, more than the milk was missing. Frozen meals and some of his snacks were also in the trash, again, actions he didn’t remember performing. 

He searched for his phone for any sort of guidance on what may have happened, finding it thrown carelessly on the couch. The lack of notifications saddened him, reminded of the taste of what could have been.

Just as he was unlocking it, George did a double-take, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. There, on the lit screen, the word Sunday glared back at him. 

Falling into the chair as his legs gave out, George frantically searched online. It had to have been a bug. However, countless searches brought the same results. 

Had he slept through an entire day? No, he had never done that before, and even if he did, he felt no intense hunger. Striking that possibility, he briefly thought of this being a case of amnesia. Maybe he really had done all those things and hit his head, sending him to sleep and wiping his memories of one whole day. 

Nothing was too crazy or out of place. No incoming or outgoing calls signified anyone else being able to help him piece together the story. With no other ideas, he settled on that being the answer. It could also explain the weirdly long and in-depth dream, likely a result of amnesia. Well, he thought grimly, guess I’ll never lucid dream again like that. 

He momentarily debated going to the hospital to make sure if his head was all right, but that would be a whole lot of effort. Now that he was properly awake, no nausea or other symptoms had appeared, so it seemed he came out relatively unscathed. 

So, with his confusion clearing up, George went about his day as usual. The same with the next day and the next several. As weeks passed, the dream began to have less of an effect on him, falling back into the monotony of before. Sure, that life was cool, but he still liked his own a lot too. If he ignored the loneliness, he would say he was fairly pleased. 

One positive was that seeing a world where he was so free inspired him to try to change his own life, even in little ways. Okay, so by changes, he mainly meant ordering salads occasionally and starting to make toast and eggs by himself, but progress was progress. 

The idea that kept coming back to him was the off-handed mention of his alter-ego being a streamer on the side. If his theory of that life being a reflection of things he used to want to do held true, then that would mean streaming was one of them.

Putting some more thought into it and doing a little research, he found himself finding the hobby more and more appealing and actually attainable. George was still a realist, understanding that he would be having no viewers and would likely never gain any traction. But, it seemed fun and maybe talking to viewers, if he got any, would help the loneliness just a little. It also meant he could game like he usually would, so it wasn’t like he would stop his other hobby. 

In no time, Georgenotfound was created. No camera, mostly because he didn’t want to spend the money on one, but he did trick out his computer a little more. Semi-regular streams started up, with a few regular watchers tuning in much to his delight. 

Life was overall looking up a little and even though it still hurt, George was grateful for the weird experience. He felt like his brain was sending him a message and he was actually understanding it. Imagine his surprise though when he woke up one day months later and found himself back on soft sheets. 

Once was a weird exception, but twice was the beginning of a weird pattern. Luckily, George remembered how to function in this body still and was able to sit up with no problem. The phone near him buzzed, him eagerly snatching it up to check up on a sneaking suspicion. 

The phone hit the bed as he froze in shock, yet the date on the phone didn’t lie. It was the next day and he was back here. Searching where he was yielded fucking Florida of all places, some random city there that he had never heard of so there was no way his brain could have made this up.

There was only one explanation. George had somehow traveled and took over a completely different person. His eyes widened as he realized that the first time was not a dream either. All of it was real, he had fucking hijacked another dude’s entire life and fucked around!

As he started to descend into panic mode, a groan next to him had him nearly screaming in fright. A guy, one that he didn’t remember meeting last time, slowly sat up, blinking at him. 

George began to panic even more. He had already taken this person’s body and got him super drunk, ate his food, messed with his gaming stuff and cat, and took advantage of his best friend. He had no idea if this person was some sort of significant other and if they were, what the fuck was he going to do! Ruining their relationship was definitely crossing a line, but George was sure they would question his cold demeanor. 

He could try to explain the situation, but that would more likely get Dream locked up in some sort of asylum, which again, felt like it was crossing some sort of line. 

The unknown person began to laugh at his frightened expression. “Can't remember last night? That’s okay, I barely remember bits and pieces.” He leaned way too close, whispering in his ear, “All I do know was that this was one of the best one-night stands I’ve had. It was a pleasure Dream.” 

George would overlook his annoyance of Dream being, on top of everything else, apparently great in bed. The person took a quick leave, throwing on his clothes and blowing a kiss goodbye while George stayed sitting upright in the bed. 

“Okay,” he tried to reason with himself, “so what do I know? I woke up and with no clear cause, transferred over to a random person's body. Obviously, it’s more likely that I am losing my mind, but if I assume my sanity is still here, then I must be swapping bodies.”

Calming down from the freakout, George began to think. If he was Dream, that meant that whoever Dream was must be in his body right now. At least he wasn’t completely alone in this ordeal, him probably being equally as confused as he was. 

Think, he yelled at himself. He was supposed to be a problem solver and there was no better time for solving than right now. First things first, he checked the messages on his phone, looking at the top few. Sapnap again was on the top, the guy sending him a question about posting some sort of video that didn’t make much sense to George. It didn’t look urgent, but out of respect, he messaged back that he was feeling really ill and would likely be sleeping the rest of the day. 

The instant “Get well soon!” message warmed his heart, unable to stop the small smile and feeling envious of the deep bond the two must hold. Next, unlike last time, it was the middle of the week, meaning that work would be a thing.

If his memory was correct, Dream worked some sort of computer job and hopefully, it was one that he did from home because there was no way George would pass off as him in some sort of office. A scan of the computer showed that he did, in fact, work from home, making George's job ten times easier. 

Just as he drafted a message, using the sick excuse again, he noticed an open coding project. Curiosity overcame him, recognizing some of the sequences. He glanced over his shoulder as if someone would catch him peeking. Looking through, he noticed a few errors that were messing up the whole thing. Figuring he should try to make up for giving him what was probably an intense hangover last time, George went through, fixing small errors here and there. 

The code was extremely impressive. George was blown away by some of the more complex parts, Sapnap was clearly not kidding when he described Dream as being a genius. George was confident in his abilities, but this was some next-level shit. 

After going through it a couple of times, George hesitated before closing out. Weighing his options, he decided to take out the conveniently nearby placed stack of post-it notes. In neat handwriting, he left a note stating what he had done and some ideas he had for improvements in some areas. 

Satisfied that they were now even, George left the computer, stomach grumbling. He was hit with another dilemma. Eating the food the other cooked felt intrusive, but this was technically Dream’s body. Even if George wasn’t the one controlling it, the same body would be eating it. Using this line of logic, he felt marginally better as he savored another leftover meal. 

A habit began to form of him leaving little notes as he went around doing things. It felt right to inform the real Dream of what his body had been up to while he was away, like a daily log of sorts. It quickly became a means for him to switch between gushing about things he had to complaining about how weird other stuff was. (Why the fuck was the washing machine not in the kitchen? Why was there so much football memorabilia? You use THAT mod in Minecraft? Fucking loser.)

While he killed an entire rainforest by continuously writing notes, the day ended faster than he thought. As much as this phenomenon scared him, George couldn’t deny that he was super interested. Plus, Dream living a fucking awesome life in every aspect certainly helped. 

George almost felt bad that real-Dream was going from this to his crappy life. Talk about a downgrade. It was also a little funny as he tried to imagine what type of person Dream was. Sapnap said he was Mr. Niceguy, but maybe it was a cover and he was a complete snob. The thought had George rolling, laughing at the idea of the other being disgusted by his tiny ass apartment, arms that shook if he lifted anything over 20 kilograms, and a delicious frozen meal, fresh out of the freezer. 

What used to be jealousy had turned into amusement and a source of motivation. This guy had likely worked hard for a lot of this and yeah, maybe he had some more initial support than George, but it wouldn’t hurt to work towards this too. He went to bed that night feeling light, thinking he was handling this shit pretty well, all things considered.  

Back to the grind, he thought as he sat up, back to being himself. A little scrap of paper on his nightstand caught his attention, the handwriting unfamiliar.

Sorry about the person you woke up to. Hopefully, they left with no problem. 

“Hell yeah, me and a genius had the same idea. That’s a fucking compliment,” George mumbled. As he went about the day, more scraps of paper were littered all over the place, but unlike his, they were mostly jokes instead of details of what he did.

Your fridge is embarrassingly empty. Would it kill you to cook something? And microwaving doesn’t count. 

So your name is George. You can thank your work email for informing me, which by the way, I did whatever project they gave you. You’ll find that it’s perfect :)

I’ve decided I will never go to London on vacation. This shit is so dreary, I feel like crying for no reason. 

Come on, you are way too cute for such boring clothes. Then again, pretty privilege means you probably don’t have to worry about what you wear.

On and on they went. It became a bit of a game, George running around his apartment and laughing out loud at some of the witter responses. Others were rambles, Dream going off on tangents that made George laugh even louder.  

The weird little search eventually ended, George still grinning like an idiot as he gathered all of the pieces of paper, placing them in an empty box and placing them in his closet. He had never met Dream, but it felt like they were friends. Well, technically, he had met his body, and also one of his close friends, but still. Despite that, he couldn’t help but look forward to the next switch. 

And so, it continued. There was no reason for why they switched, the intervals completely random. The two would unexplainably switch on the most random of days, leading to a few problems arising. 

Dream had the easier deal, George rarely having events he needed to attend and never receiving any messages or calls from anyone of importance. He could relax and do whatever, which judging by the notes he left, meant a lot of gaming and eating. The guy didn't seem to detest the loner life, mentioning that it felt like a break from the constant stress of his own. 

On the other hand, Dream was a popular guy. Constantly, George had to painstakingly shift through the thousands of notifications, feeling like a secretary as he canceled different meetings or engagements. He made sure to carefully note for the real-Dream to know what he was doing, having to come up with some creative reasons why. The sick excuse couldn’t be used so frequently. (Sorry sir, but you see, my poor cat is suddenly pregnant and I need some time off to process that I am going to be a grandfather. No Ma’am, I’m just in this completely awful traffic jam and can’t make the call. What? How am I calling you right now? Oh sorry, you’re b-b-b-breaking up…)

The only thing he didn’t cancel was hanging out with Dream’s friends. At first, he was overwhelmed with guilt, feeling like he was abusing their friendships and betraying their trust by masquerading as their friend. However, Dream explicitly said:

Keep going out with my friends. Apparently, I become “ten times cooler” on the days when you're there. Just nothing too ridiculous, I have a reputation to uphold. 

George took that as a challenge to push the limits of what was considered “too ridiculous.” He mainly hung out with Sapnap, understanding him the most, but occasionally Karl would join too. Both matched his chaotic energy, connecting with them better than with anyone he had met before. 

“I swear Dream. Are you sure you’re not a completely different person? Because sometimes, it feels like your personality randomly switches, like two people in one,” Karl once absently commented. George scrambled to distract him before Sapnap overheard the statement. The last thing he needed was to make Dream’s friends concerned about him. 

While his weird relationship with Dream developed, George’s life continued to improve. Dream’s tips were helpful, making George push himself to be more creative and take more risks, his job willing to let him. The notes also helped him with figuring out some better things to eat and how to cook the basic stuff. He hated to admit it but he wanted to get better. The gap between him and Dream pushed him to close it and for the first time, he felt the drive to be successful and more importantly, happy with his life. 

What was starting to really make him happy was streaming too. What started as a little side project had become almost a second job. It was the only aspect he kept completely locked away, hidden away each night in case Dream took over the next day. His following had steadily grown, attracting viewers even without a face cam. The support he got from fans upped his confidence, making him better at talking and coming out of his social shell. 

The unfortunate payoff was that it became harder to make real-life friends of his own. The worry of his voice being recognized was real and with each new follower, the probability increased. George knew the longer he put it off, the worse it would get. Speculations about him were already rampant and he’d rather control the revealing of his face rather than it being accidental. 

Thinking of moving to America soon.

Aww is it because of me? I knew you couldn’t resist all of this.

Fuck off. I’ve seen “all of this” already, I don’t need to leave the UK for that. It would just be a great move for my career. I have a nice job offer and some other things too would just work better in America.

Sounds promising, I’d say go for it. Then, you know, we could meet up, I could wine and dine you, get to know your body in a different way…

Creep. 

You wound me.

Anyway, I have an event coming up in America so I figured that would be a good time to scope out the place, see if I could handle living there.

Kind of like a test run, that’s smart! I have a pretty big event happening soon, I swear though, we better not swap on that day or I will lose my mind.

Now you jinxed us. Great job Dream. 

Even though he didn’t say it, George shared the same worries. TwitchCon was going to be a big deal for him. After recently blowing up, he was barraged with pleas for him to attend. His initial reaction was an obvious no but after thinking about it, he started to wonder about how it would be a great opportunity to reveal his face. Better to do it when he was on the rise rather than when his fandom would be too large. 

Nerves also shot through him for a completely different reason. If his face became public knowledge, it wouldn’t be unsurprising if Dream found out what he did. George wasn’t ashamed of being a streamer, but the worry of fame, even if it was a small amount, changing how they were, made him afraid. 

Dream and him had a complicated relationship. It was a forced friendship but they clicked so well that it felt like it was meant to be. Dream brought up giving each other their numbers, but George didn’t want this to become a long-distance friendship or be tempted to ask for more. 

You see, there was the annoying fact that Dream was quite literally the most attractive person George had ever seen and he counted his lucky stars that he was able to study such a fine specimen in detail for hours. That coupled with his stupid personality was like a double whammy to his poor heart. Trying to keep himself as emotionally distanced as possible became his defense. 

Moving to America was a bold thing for him to admit, but a small part of his head knew that it was his way of taking a small step towards seriously considering meeting up with Dream. It was slowly becoming inevitable, but George pushed that away at the moment. What mattered was mentally preparing for opening himself up to the scrutiny of the public fully. This would be an eventful TwitchCon for him, starting his first one off with a bang.

Pacing backstage, George couldn’t decide if he wanted to collapse or throw up or maybe both at the same time. “Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea?” he whisper-shouted, likely looking like a maniac to the staff nearby. His panel was about to start in five minutes and the news that it was completely packed, a line extending out the door, filled with everyone who came to see him, was not helping.

In an attempt to calm himself, he re-read the short conversation that he had brought with him, shaky hands smoothing it out. 

This event, well it's something that is really out of my comfort zone and I’m kind of already freaking out. It could so easily go wrong and I’m thinking about ghosting the whole thing.

Whatever you decide is your choice. All I have to say is that you’re amazing George and you can do anything you want when you put your mind to it. Also, pretty privilege, remember?

The extremely corny words helped lessen his shaking. It was the last thing the two had said to each other after the last switch and George was embarrassed to say that it helped him go through with the plan. With a determined look, he quickly grabbed the mic handed to him. Tapping it lightly, he spoke into it.

“Is this thing on?” Even backstage, George could hear the resulting screams and cheers from the fans as his voice came through. “I know I said I wouldn’t come but I’m a bit of a liar.”

No hesitation, George put on a confident smile as he stepped onto the stage. “So here I am. Georgenotfound, in the flesh. Try not to drool too much everyone.” Cue the entire audience rioting.

He was trending on Twitter before the panel even finished. Countless tweets of fans freaking out about his reveal, George touched by how much positivity came from them. He wasn’t expecting the number of compliments and he definitely wasn’t expecting the number of thirsty tweets, but he still counted it as a complete success.

It was like a weight was off his chest, the reveal making him stride around with no worries. He felt lighter, a bright smile on his face as he walked around the Con. News traveled fast, some recognizing him and stopping for photos. 

As he approached the exit, he overheard a group of girls as they ran ahead of him.

“I can’t believe Dreamwastaken actually face revealed here. I thought he was joking, but that voice, it has to be true!” one excitedly said. 

“I know, I’ve been watching him forever, his blow-up was insane. He’s one of the biggest creators here now.”

“I don’t know man, did you hear about his rival, Georgenotfound? I heard he also did a face reveal too, but I haven’t seen any photos yet because there’s no fucking service!”

George smiled at the mention of himself, amused that he was right next to them without their knowledge. However, he was confused by them mentioning Dreamwastaken. 

He was another faceless creator who was in the same gaming sphere as him, focusing on Minecraft. Both had coincidentally gotten bigger around the same time, though Dream was arguably the bigger channel of the two. It made sense, considering the guy put a crazy amount of effort into it. For George, he worked hard, but not the crazy amount the other did. 

For them both to face reveal at the same event was a strange coincidence. George slightly cringed, hoping people didn’t think it was a case of one copying the other. He was now curious who his supposed “competition” looked like and maybe they could become friends. George was pretty isolated, never before talking to any other streamer, and Dream was known for being well-connected and working with several. 

It would be a great way for George to get introduced to the others and hopefully get some others to stream with him in the future. He subtly followed the group, realizing with relief that Dreamwastaken must be near the exit, where a large crowd had already formed. 

As he neared it, the echoing laugh struck a weird chord inside of him. He had never watched any of this guy’s content, yet the laugh sounded so familiar. Elbowing his way forward, George began to make out his voice as he chatted with his avid fans, again getting hit with a sense of uncanny familiarity. 

It wasn’t until he accidentally got pushed towards the very front did George make the connection. There, Dream stood, as Dreamwastaken. 

He awkwardly starred, not knowing how to proceed. If he ducked out quickly, he would escape Dream’s notice and be able to leave without any confrontation. This was a terrible time to meet the very person with whom you had been switching bodies with for over a year. 

Before he left, George took a second to take him in. It was a bizarre experience to see the body that was usually his, now not being controlled by him. He was just as attractive as ever and still as stupidly tall. However, the way he carried himself and his mannerisms felt so fitting. George, despite having quite a long time to get the hang of it, could never move as fluidly. It just didn’t translate with how different they physically were. The fans were enraptured, caught up in his charisma just like George had been from the very first note. 

Committing the sight to memory, George turned around to leave. Maybe he would cancel coming the next day and hide out in the hotel or if he was feeling really brave, try to subtly find Dream later. 

“Oh my god,” someone shouted above the rest, “Georgenotfound is here too!” Everyone began to freak out, George cringing as he was accidentally discovered. The search for him quickly ended, people pulling back and leaving him and Dream alone in the center.

The blonde twisted in confusion, slightly excited at seeing his proclaimed rival when he stopped upon seeing George. Brown eyes met green eyes, wide as they connected the dots lightning fast.

“Sorry everyone,” Dream shouted, eyes never leaving George’s, “Me and George here actually have to go to this Creator meeting thing with Twitch. We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon though, so come find us then!”

George couldn’t get a word in before Dream grabbed his wrist and dragged him away. He practically ran out the door as he headed to the next-door hotel. 

The brunette was stumbling behind, desperately trying not to trip as Dream pulled him through the front doors and headed to the staircase. 

“Ah, wait!” George called, dragging his heels on the ground. “There’s a perfectly good and working elevator right there!” He shrieked as Dream fluidly grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder without breaking his stride. “What the fuck!”

He was given no response except for a loud wheeze as he was carried up the stairs. Thankfully, they stopped at the third floor and Dream entered through his room before anyone could spot George in such an embarrassing position. 

He was set down carefully before being embraced in a big hug. “I can’t believe it,” Dream whispered, “It’s you! All this time I spent trying to think of how to convince you to meet and it ended up being this fucking easy.”

The sudden hug made George stiffen at first, but he quickly relaxed into his hold, hugging back. He was still getting over seeing Dream’s body and not just because he was looking in the mirror. It was weird, he was noticing all new things about him from a separate perspective, like the slight freckles and the crookedness of his smile that added to the charming effect.  

Having Dream’s arms around him was monumental. It was different from the times that Sapnap would tackle him or Karl would jump on his back randomly. It was the fact that it was George getting held, his own self in his real body, not him pretending to be someone else. The sensation was magnified, sighing as he all but melted into the embrace. 

“You know, I should be cursing you out,” Dream muttered, his voice muffled from where it was bent down, “The first time we switched, you really fucked with things.”

George broke away, clutching his sides as he laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said in between giggles, “I thought it was a dream so I kinda went a little crazy.”

“I’m flattered. You saw this gorgeous face and thought it was too good to be true,” Dream joked, the two sitting on the bed.

George shifted so he was sitting crisscrossed, leaning on his hand as he sat face to face with Dream. “Honestly, yes.” The blonde was not expecting the blunt answer, face turning red despite his bravado. “Your life is straight out of a storybook and I’m not saying that out of jealousy. You genuinely have a very good life, like it’s the one that I am working towards now.”

He didn't know where the confidence to speak the truth came from, but maybe it was because Dream blushing was making him even better to gaze at. It felt good to clearly say what he meant and to be able to have a real conversation instead of stilted ones that took weeks or months to complete through notes alone.  

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Dream softly whispered, “I like your life too.” George snorted, rolling his eyes at the lie. “I swear I'm telling the truth. It’s so much calmer, like a breath of fresh air in between the chaos. I was getting a little too big-headed and I’m not going to lie, I was starting to become an ungrateful little bitch.”

He shoved at George, who had fallen backward as he laughed. “It’s true,” Dream argued, “but hearing someone else’s perspective on my life made me take a step back and remember what’s important.”

“Oh, THE Dreamwastaken needed a little humbling? Glad to be of service, your majesty,” George mocked while still lying on his back. The two kept laughing, eventually coming to a comfortable silence. “You know, I started streaming because of you.”

George’s eyes widened when Dream crawled over so that he was almost lying on top of him. With a cocky grin on his face, Dream leaned closer until only a few inches were separating them. “Yeah?” he asked, “I kinda wish you didn't reveal your face to everyone.”

“W-What?” George stuttered out, cursing his voice for wobbling. 

“Mmmh,” Dream nodded, “Now everyone knows your pretty face instead of just me.” 

Flushing, George pointedly looked away, not liking this little reversal of who was blushing. “I  could say the same about you. Stealing my ideas, aren’t you?”

“Great minds think alike Georgie.” Dream gently tilted George’s head back forward so he could continue looking up at Dream’s soft expression. “God, it’s so fucking nice to see you like this. It was like a dream for me too. I woke up being the exact person I always imagined spending the rest of my life with.”

George’s mouth dropped open, surprise all over his face. Out of all things for Dream to say, that was pretty much the last one he would have expected.

“The night before we first switched, I saw a shooting star, and you know what I wished?” His face kept getting closer and closer. “I wished to find someone I could love forever.”

George swallowed, voice thick as he whispered, “Did it come true?”

A smile lit up Dream’s entire face, thumb brushing against his pink cheek. George’s mind short-circuited when lips descended on him, another thing he wasn’t expecting, but for sure wasn't complaining about.

The kiss was soft and sweet, George’s eyes fluttering shut. His hands came up, tangling in blonde hair and pulling him down so they were chest to chest. 

“So is that a yes?” he asked while gasping for air.

The blonde chuckled, full of fondness. “You’re such an idiot,” he muttered, smiling into another kiss. 

They were known as the Twitch power couple. Both were huge streamers on their own, however on the rare times that they would publicly stream together, it was clear that they knew and loved every single part of each other, inside and out. And if in some streams, Dream acted like George and George acted like Dream? Well, that was just a weird little coincidence.