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Dream knows that what he’s doing is wrong.
Sure, it’s morally reprehensible, but it’s also very much illegal in the eyes of literally any law system. But he can’t help himself. Wilbur is so sweet to him, and he’s tall and handsome, so how could Dream not fall in love?
Mama always called his love obsession. She said that it was going to land him in prison one day, and that he’d deserve it. Of course, she never said it to his face, but the walls of their house were thin, and Dream had always been good at sneaking around and listening in on phone calls that he shouldn’t know about.
The thing is, though, even when he had crushes in the past, all he would do was harmlessly follow the boys around on the playground, and only sometimes stand on the streets outside their houses. So it’s not like it was anything against the law, and he grew out of it upon reaching middle school. Mama was proud, and even though she never brought up the phone call that she didn’t know Dream knew about, he could feel her relief.
But now Dream was in college, and there was no excuse.
He really didn’t mean to fall in love -- it just hit him over the head one day.
The blond had been in his advanced calculus class, just minding his own business, when fucking Aphrodite in male human form decided to sit next to him. Was it love at first sight? No, but there was certainly a spark when the brunet introduced himself as Wilbur and asked for help on one of the more complicated equations. He said that he was better at music and theatre than math, and it was just pure curiosity that had Dream discreetly following him later that day to see how good he really was.
And hoo boy, was he good.
Dream told himself that he was only following the taller to listen to the guitar that he played so wonderfully, to hear that absolutely heavenly voice, and okay, the second one was probably true. He just longed for it to whisper in his ear as a hand slowly ran up his-
Okay, stopping that train of thought.
To put it simply, Dream wanted Wilbur.
He wanted Wilbur to hold him, wanted him to sing for him, wanted to be the only person that Wilbur actually had eyets for, because the steady friendship the two had formed wasn’t nearly enough. And sure, he and Wilbur somehow had every single class together their second year, but he selfishly wanted more. Because Dream was so weak for Wilbur that every time the brunet came to talk to him, all his focus was on the taller to the point where even his high school friendships were being pushed away.
His focus went beyond that, too, because what had started as him simply following the other to the courtyard had somehow become a daily trip following the other home, or to errands, or even to his father’s house nearby. Hell, Dream had actually snuck in for that one. It was a close call when Wilbur’s younger brother nearly walked in on him, but he was able to do a quick dive out of the still-open window.
It was pathetic how obsessed he was with the other.
Because the thing is, Dream’s social life had suffered . Not only had his friends started to catch on to his rising obsession (though they didn’t know the extent of it), it seemed as though any person he tried to talk to to distract himself ended up having some sort of accident. He talks to a chemistry classmate, the guy’s tires end up slashed. He meets a girl that talks just a little bit too flirtatiously, she ends up falling off a bridge. God, nobody even wanted to talk to him anymore, it was like elementary school all over again.
But Wilbur -- Wilbur was amazing. He’d always tell Dream how he didn’t need them, how he’d always be there no matter what. Sweet Wilbur, always comforting him, and it did nothing but make Dream’s infatuation worse. It was to the point where the blond needed to be the other’s center of attention, or else he’d feel like he was worthless. Sad to say, but Wilbur was all he had now.
Which made what he was about to do even more stupid.
Dream knows Wilbur’s schedule like the back of his hand, knows that the other is going to be visiting family for the rest of the week from the conversation that the two of them had had on the bus. So, while the other is doing that, Dream is going to be picking the lock of his apartment and taking a single night of indulgence. It’s the one place he hasn’t been before, because for whatever reason, Wilbur’s locks were really good -- Dream had needed to order a professional lockpicking kit in order to get in.
Looking side to side, the blond checks one last time to make sure that nobody is looking before quickly making work of the locks. There isn’t anybody there, since it’s almost midnight, and….
Is… Is he really about to do this?
…
Yes. Yes he is.
Dream opens the door and slips inside before taking a quick look around.
It looks… Like he expected, and that fills him with twisted pride to know that he knew the other’s aesthetic enough to figure it out. But surely there’s something that he wouldn’t know?
Aside from a shopping bag full of rope in the kitchen, there’s not really much. Though a quick glance at the receipt shows that Wilbur had bought it months ago -- why is he just now taking it out? Maybe further investigation will tell.
The only room left to check is his bedroom, and God, Dream can’t wait to sleep in his bed. He’d have to be careful not to leave any DNA behind, but what are the odds of him being found out through that? Not high.
Dream places his hand on the door and takes a deep breath. This is it -- the moment of truth.
He opens it….
...And immediately sees a wall that is absolutely covered with photos of him.
...What…?
Dream doesn’t remember him taking any of these, and the thought that Wilbur had cared enough to print them out makes him want to blush. Did the other really feel the same way? He desperately hoped so, but the only way to tell would be to make a move.
Still, it’s late, and right now he was tired. So, Dream crawls in his darling’s bed and almost immediately falls asleep.
---
When Wilbur snuck back to his apartment at three am, the last thing he was expecting was to see his Dream sleeping so peacefully in his bed. Did… Did the blond break in? He should really ask him, but it would be such a shame to wake him when he’s so cutely curled up with one of Wilbur’s old shirts.
Instead, the brunet slips in beside him.
Dream shifts.
“Hello,,,?” he asks sleepily, and if that isn’t the cutest thing the other had ever done. Wilbur gently shushes him as he pulls him close.
“Go to sleep,” he murmurs, placing a kiss onto Dream’s forehead. The other obliges, immediately passing back into unconsciousness. The sleeping blond nuzzles into his chest, a small smile on his face.
Looks like Wilbur won’t need the rope after all.