Chapter Text
A danger to society—it’s what they called him at eight years old.
It hadn’t been his fault.
His mind was jumbled. His trembling hands were clutching his sides. Thousands of microscopic ants crept beneath his skin, aching to release this strange pent-up energy pumping through him. He could hardly breathe over the disinfectant stinging his white cage like it was trying to cleanse him of this new sickness taking over his body.
He hadn’t meant to do it. He wasn’t even sure how he had done it.
But he remembered his teacher’s terror-stricken expression the second the book on his desk had started floating mid-air. He remembered the way his classmates yelped and backed away. He remembered the way the pretty girl who sat in front of him pointed and shouted something about George being one of them.
He had never wanted to be one of them.
It had taken fifteen minutes for his parents to burst into the room they had locked him in. His mother was the first to sprint toward him and press his face against her fluffy winter coat. His teacher couldn’t even look him in the eye as they left the classroom. He couldn’t understand why everyone was so afraid of him.
It was when his parents drove him to a far-away place from their house in London that his mother turned to him with a sad smile and caressed his cheek.
“We’re going to get you checked out, honey. It’s going to be alright. We’re going to fix you.”
Fix me? I don’t need fixing, had been his first thought.
The people in white suits ripped him away from his parents, and even though George struggled against their grip, reached out in confused sobs, and shouted for them, his parents only watched him.
And now, entrapped inside white walls with blinking red dots at every corner, there was nowhere to go.
He squeezed his eyes tight. He wished to wake up. But when he opened his eyes, he was still there.
George’s eyes locked onto the boy with chestnut hair and brown eyes that stood before him—the one who wore white pajamas and whose feet were barefoot. His fingers hovered over the glass. The boy mimicked him.
It was when he leaned closer that the white light on the ceiling reflected against the boy’s eyes. What appeared an unfamiliar memory flashed in his mind. Blinding light. White-eyes. The dreadful sensation of the floor disappearing beneath him.
His breath hitched. He stumbled back and tripped over his own feet. He reached across the floor for something—someone to hold.
But he was alone.
He hugged his knees to his chest and stared at the boy inside the glass—the one that everyone feared.
The tempered glass faded. Behind it, his parents were clutching to each other with lines of tears on their cheeks. There was a man beside them. He was wearing a long white coat and specs that made his eyes big. He was talking, but George couldn’t hear him.
It must have been bad news, however, because his mom cupped her nose with both hands and collapsed her weight onto his dad’s arms as if they had just found out their only son was dead. Maybe he was. Maybe this was the heaven they spoke so fondly of. If so, heaven didn’t look very nice.
The man stared into George’s eyes with pity. The glass faded back. The reflection that greeted him every morning stared back at him with the face of a stranger.
He clutched his ankles tight and pressed his head into his knees with aching eyes. He rocked back and forth, attempting to soothe the chaos swarming his head.
The opening door made him jolt to his feet. His parents approached him with hesitance, and his mother’s trembling hand reached to graze his cheek but failed to do so. He was almost tempted to wrap his arms around her and beg her to take them back home. But the sheer dread in her eyes kept him frozen to his spot.
“Sweetheart… you’re going to be okay. Mummy and Daddy have to go now, but these people… they’re going to take you somewhere safe. You’ll learn to control your—” the words died at her throat with a sob that burned itself into his memory, “— your disorder there.”
His dad kneeled, and his hands hovered over his arms, but he didn’t touch him. Instead, he unchained the crystal pendant from his neck, the one his grandmother had gifted him before she had passed, and he put it around George’s neck.
“This will help you feel safe. You’re going to be alright. You’re strong, and I promise you will get through this.”
It was the last he would see of them for a long time.
Everything was blurry after that. The people in white suits escorted him to a plane. His wrists were chained together with two metal cuffs that pinched his skin like claws. They were in the sky for hours until the lady beside him pointed out the cabin window.
George’s eyes widened when he saw it: the lonesome piece of land surrounded by a vast ocean.
A mountain bigger than anything he had ever seen. Beautiful beaches with blue seashores. White birds flying over the hoods of the trees.
When they descended, the lady smiled at him, but it didn’t help the heavy feeling stuck at the back of his throat.
“Welcome to AGE, George. Your new home.”
Even his own kind was terrified of George.
Despite having similar abilities, the other kids avoided him at all costs, often turning in the opposite direction when they saw him in the hallway or talking with their friends in hushed murmurs when he passed.
It was his new normal.
On his first day during supper, he had clutched onto his trade like a life source as he shuffled between rowdy tables of laughing and talking kids and wondering gazes following him. For the first time, he wished he could return to his old school where nobody paid him any attention.
He came to a stop when he realized he didn’t know where he was going. He looked across the open room with a sick stomach.
A group of girls giggling amongst themselves as they watched one of the Pyromentals at the opposing table show off his fire-bending skills. A teacher stomping toward the boy, slapping the back of his head, and shouting something about powers being prohibited in the mess hall. A pretty girl who was sitting by herself immersed in a novel by one of the far end tables next to the enormous windows that displayed the white beach in the distance.
When she noticed him staring, she offered him a soft smile that made his ears go hot. She waved him over, and he almost tripped over his own feet when he started walking again. He approached the table like a frightened rodent and muttered something like, “Is this seat taken?”
“No.” Her smile widened. Her brown eyes beamed in the sunlight and her teeth sparkled like in one of those toothpaste commercials his mom used to complain about. She scooted to the side and invited him to sit by her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“George.”
“I’m Maya!”
He smiled, and they ate in silence for the first half of their meal. Maya left her novel untouched by her plate and glanced at him every so often which only made him keep his eyes on his food.
“Are you a first-year too?”
He nodded.
“This place is so cool, isn’t it? It’s so pretty, and everyone has really cool powers. I saw one of the Bios run through an obstacle course like in one of those ninja movies. I wish I could run that fast. But Elementals are so cool too, I even made friends with a water type yesterday and I’m learning so much about my powers!”
She cupped her hands together and a beam of sunlight wrapped around them like she was holding an orb of pure gold. Brilliant wonder twinkled in her eyes when she looked up at him. His jaw fell open, and he stared with the same level of astonishment, having never seen powers like that so up close before.
“I’m a Photomental! Are you an Elemental too?”
His cheeks warmed, and he shook his head.
“What are you then? Wait! Don’t tell me. Are you a shifter? I love shifters!”
Her intent and curious gaze made him blush harder, and he didn’t think before responding, “Psychic.”
She went silent. Her cheerful attitude faded. The light around her fingers untangled, and a nervous smile replaced her previous one.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Psychic..?”
The tremble in her voice felt like a shaky dagger piercing his chest. He had been bullied at his old school. He had been made fun of a lot for preferring to stay in the classroom to read instead of hanging out in the playground. He was used to that.
But none of it compared to raw fear in her voice. The way she scooted away and slid her plate a little further. The way she sent a nervous glance to one of the teachers scolding a student nearby like she was silently calling for help.
He finished his food quickly after that. He grabbed his plate and hurried away without so much as a goodbye. Maya didn’t say anything.
After that, he started eating his meals by himself—outside, in the hallways, at the library. Anywhere without people around.
Sometimes, he took classes with the other five Psychics in the school, but they were all older than him. Most of the time, he was in individual settings. His counselor, Sarah, told him it was because young Psychics were too dangerous to study with the other kids. He couldn’t help the pang of envy that struck him every time he saw kids in the lounge room working on projects, studying for their tests together, and making friends.
His favorite teachers were the ones who didn’t treat him like a biohazard—the ones who at least tried to smile and weren’t afraid to look over his shoulder when he took his tests. He hated the ones who put his desk at the back of the classroom and taught him from a distance like he had some sort of deadly contagious disease.
Unlike the other kids, George avoided using his powers outside of class. While most of his classmates were thrilled to show off their skills, nobody was interested in watching George levitate stuff, if only for the unsteady movements and unpredictable aim. It scared him too, but Sarah said it was necessary to prevent accidents.
He was also required to take mindfulness and meditation classes that helped him focus so he could better control his abilities, though he didn’t believe they helped all that much. His mind was always messy when he used his powers.
For the most part, however, his first year at the Academy for Gifted Extramundanes wasn’t much different from his life back at home. When he wasn’t in his specialized classes or in counseling, he was out by the garden next to his favorite oak tree at the edge of the forest. His nose was buried in a fantasy book half the time.
He loved immersing himself in imaginary worlds full of elves and wizards where abilities like his weren’t deemed a curse by society. They were worlds where ancient mentors guided people like him and taught them how to love their powers. They were worlds in which he could’ve lived a peaceful life by the prairie and where his powers would help him in his daily life instead of weighing him down like two boulders at the shoulders.
He video-called his parents a lot. He used the computers by the common area, and though they were always crowded with kids chatting away with their outside friends and family, they always mysteriously emptied when George got there.
When the picture would load up into the familiar faces he used to see every morning, he would smile at their excitement. They would ask him about the island and how he was doing in school. The only topic George loved talking about was the new places he would find during his free time exploring the premises of the academy or the latest book he was reading. He hated that the conversations always ended with the same question.
“Have they found a cure?”
His answer was always no, and he had to hold back from telling them what Sarah had answered when he asked.
“You can’t be cured of your abilities. You just have to learn to keep them in check.”
“Why don’t you tell the other kids that?” His words were enlaced with guilt, and his hand clutched his necklace tight.
“Your powers are different, George. They’re based on your thoughts and feelings. Our minds can be a little hectic sometimes, so you need to know how to levitate stuff without hurting people in case something triggers you, and you can’t use them outside of class so we don’t risk accidents.”
When Sarah noticed the tears at the corners of his eyes, she smiled and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. There’s no reason to feel scared.”
“When can I study with the other kids?”
“Soon, George. Very soon.”
George was nine when he met him—the boy with the yellow eyes.
He had been comfortable reading his newest fantasy novel under the shadow of his tree on a sunny day when he heard shuffling from the branches above him. At first, he thought it was a squirrel or a chipmunk. That was until an upside-down head dropped beside him and stared him down with a spark of interest.
George yelped and bumped the back of his head against the trunk, and his book flew out of his hands. The boy hanging next to him wheezed so loud he thought a tea kettle could be brewing nearby.
He was suspended from one of the branches with a rope, and both his hands and feet were clinging to it like some sort of acrobat. His medium-length hair shined the color of golden sand in the light of the sun. He was wearing a creepy white smiley-face mask that covered the top half of his face. George found himself wondering how he could even see with that thing.
When the boy released his grip on the rope, George instinctively lunged forward to try to catch him. Fortunately, the kid back-flipped mid-air and landed on his feet unfazed. Unfortunately, George ended up sprawled on the ground with a mouthful of dirt.
“What are you doing?” The boy laughed and stared down at George with his head tilted.
George scurried to his feet and coughed out bits of dirt. “I was trying to catch you. How do you just jump off a tree like that? Are you crazy?”
“How do you just jump off a tree like that! Are you crazy!” the boy mimicked him with a terrible attempt at a British accent.
His tea kettle wheezes made George smile, but he pretended he didn’t when the boy recovered from his cackling and looked back at him.
“I’m Dream!” he said.
“Dream?” George scoffed and sent him a weird look. “What kind of a name is that?”
“A fake one, duh!”
“That’s a stupid name. What’s your real one?”
“Why do you want to know?” Dream responded with furrowed eyebrows and a scrutinizing stare. He poked his head too far into George’s personal bubble, and he stumbled back, his back hitting the tree trunk in the process.
“I was just curious. My name is George.”
“George,” Dream pronounced it and let it sit on his tongue for a second before saying, “Better than Clay, I guess.” His eyes landed on the book lying face down on the dirt.
Figuring out his intention, George rushed to grab it, but Dream picked it up before George could even bend down.
“Harry Potter.” He read the title and glanced back at George with an unimpressed eyebrow raise. “Isn’t this that century-old book series?”
George tried to snatch the book, but the taller boy held it over him with a smirk. He even stood on his tippy toes when George started jumping in a desperate attempt to take it back.
“Give it back!”
“Why are you reading a boring old book when everyone’s hanging out at the beach right now?”
“Why are you bothering me instead of hanging out with them?” he countered.
With a pout, George crossed his arms and fixed his intense stare on the book that was so far from his reach. When he noticed it tremble, his eyes widened, and he lost his focus. He looked back at Dream to see if he had noticed, but he seemed too distracted observing George with a curious gaze.
After briefly contemplating the question, Dream tossed his book back. George scrambled to catch it and then hugged it like it was his most treasured item.
“You’re more interesting,” Dream responded while plopping down next to the spot George had just been sitting on. Then he looked up at him with a suspicious smile and patted the spot.
As he sat down, George maintained a distrustful gaze on Dream considering he looked like the type of guy who would jump him during recess at his old school. And seeing as his face was still covered by that stupid mask and George only knew him by a dumb nickname and a vague first name, George couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t try.
“Why are you wearing a mask?”
“It’s my superhero mask.”
George scoffed. “Superhero?”
“Yeah, you know, for when we grow older.”
He smiled and the way his crooked front tooth and abnormally sharp canines reflected the sunlight reminded him of his cousin’s hyperactive golden retriever.
“We’re gonna be superheroes like in those old comic books. There’s this one spider dude who uses webs to swing across the city to save people. I want to be like him one day!”
“I’ve never read them.”
“But you read Harry Potter?” Dream put his finger inside his mouth and made a gagging sound.
“Hey!” George frowned. He glimpsed at the book on his lap and ran his fingertips over the edge of the worn-down cover. “It’s a good book.”
“Whatever you say.” Dream giggled. “So what’s your class? I’m a Bio-E. You know, like Captain America? Or Slade,” he bragged with a proud grin and his chest puffed like it was the best news in the world. George wished he could feel that good about his own powers.
He pursed his lips and focused on the ground in front of him instead of Dream’s curious expression. If he told him, Dream would get scared and run away like everyone else had.
“Earth to George?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Duh, idiot, why do you think I asked?” Dream wheezed again and leaned into George’s side, so close his head brushed his shoulder. George grimaced and scooted away. He didn’t quite like how unaware Dream seemed to be with personal space.
“So? What is it?”
“Psychic.”
Silence.
George winced. He curled his fingers around his necklace and felt the rock at his throat form as he waited for Dream’s inevitable look of horror.
But it never came. When he looked up, he could hardly believe what he saw.
His mask was off and hanging off the hook of his belt now. Light freckles were specked across the bridge of his nose and cheeks like flecks of paint. And his eyes—a fierce gold that matched the color of the surrounding nature. They glittered like emeralds in the sunlight with no trace of resentment or fear. He looked… in awe?
“You’re a Psychic? That’s insane! Can you fly? Do you teleport? I heard they can lift huge crowds of people and fly them out of burning buildings!”
George found himself giggling. His face tickled with warmth and a peculiar bout of confidence rose in his chest.
“Yes, no, no, and no. I don’t do any of that, but I can—” Glancing at the mask on his belt, he channeled his focus and then lifted his index finger. It floated in front of Dream’s face for a few seconds, albeit very shakily but it was still levitating.
Dream’s mouth fell agape, and he snatched the mask back and with pure, unfiltered excitement, he exclaimed, “Cooool!”
George’s confidence faltered, and it was replaced by apprehension. “You’re… not afraid?” His voice was barely a peep and he half-turned away but kept him in his peripheral. On instinct, his fingers reached up and traced the edges of the crystal around his neck.
“Why would I be afraid? You’re like the coolest person I’ve met. Plus—” he poked his side, and George yelped and jumped back from the ticklish sensation. “You’re so scrawny and small. I’d never be afraid of you!”
“Hey!” George exclaimed, though his expression was anything but negative. With tingling cheeks and a big smile, he said, “You’re the first person who hasn’t been scared to talk to me.”
“Well, those jerks are missing out then.” Dream’s crooked smile made George’s heart flutter as he remained in disbelief. The sentence that came next was the best he had ever heard. “We’re going to be great friends.”
He was ten when he met the annoying pyromaniac without a mute button.
They were playing manhunt: a game Dream had made up a few months before. As Dream swung along the branches of the trees, George scurried through the forest below, tripping over loose roots and barely catching himself. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His heart hammered against his ribcage. His breaths came in short spurts.
“Come here, George!”
The tree branches rustled above him. The birds cawed and fled from the maniac tearing through their homes. Leaves rained around George. His rushed exhales matched the twigs crunching under him as his feet led him through gaps and over boulders on instinct like a deer flees from a wolf.
When he heard Dream drop on his heels, the shriek he let out echoed across the forest and alerted the wildlife miles away of the predator on the loose.
“Oh, George!”
George knew it was a matter of time before he got tackled. Dream was a flash on his feet. His movements were swift and elegant as he dodged every obstacle in his way. Meanwhile, George was struggling to avoid the rocks and branches obstructing his footing.
A short-breathed laugh and a smile escaped him when he spotted the flash of light from the edge of the forest line. He was so close. All he had to do was reach the cobblestone fence beside the dorm buildings. Only a few more steps.
He used the boulder near their tree to propel him forward, gaining the slightest lead on Dream which often proved to be useless. Not this time.
“Use your powers, George! It’s the only way you’ll make it.”
“No!”
The path to the fence came into view in between the bushes. Just as he made an aggressive turn to the right, he ran full force into another body. Both screamed as they tumbled onto the grass.
“What the—” George grumbled as he tried to raise himself after the fall. Behind him, an unfamiliar voice screeched like a wailing puppy and Dream cursed out.
When he looked back, Dream was hopping on one foot and struggling to take off his sweatshirt. The sweatshirt that was currently on fire.
George was so out of breath he couldn’t react to the hysterical scene he was witnessing. Dream managed to throw the sweatshirt on the ground and frantically stomped on it until the flames died.
“Dude, I’m so sorry. You were just running at me with this scary face. I thought you were going to eat me or something!” the newcomer exclaimed between cackles. He got on his feet and swiped the dirt and pebbles caught in the ridiculous white bandana tied around his raven hair.
“Who do you think you are? That was my favorite sweatshirt!” The voice sent George into a familiar panic. It was the one he heard every time somebody “accidentally” knocked his books over in the hallway or whispered about them while they ate lunch in the grand hallway near the headmaster’s office. He called it Nightmare.
“Dream!” George stumbled on his feet and put himself in between the two with his hands extended in front of him to prevent Dream from moving any closer. He wasn’t about to spend another day with Dream in detention for harassing a new kid. “It’s fine.”
“Yeah, bro, chill.” The boy gave a nervous laugh and took a step back.
Dream let out an unsmiling snicker and looked the boy up and down with a glare. Then he pulled George’s arms down and moved him aside. After pulling a few stray twigs from the shorter’s head, Dream turned back to the boy and George did the same. His cheeks warmed when he stepped in front of him like a shield and the back of Dream’s arm brushed against his.
“Who are you?” Dream asked.
“Sapnap,” The lanky boy with a distinct fire emblem on his t-shirt replied. “Uh, sorry about the sweatshirt and, uh, almost killing you and all.”
Dream scoffed. “Whatever. You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”
There was an awkward pause before George spoke. “I’m George, and this is my best friend Dream.”
“Sweet. You have a nickname too?”
Dream snorted. He crossed his arms and tilted his head condescendingly. “Yeah, except mine doesn’t suck.”
“Mhm, sure,” Sapnap challenged with a smirk and a daring glint in his eyes. “But it’s definitely better than yours.”
“Yours is dumb.”
“You’re dumb.”
“And you guys are making my head hurt,” George said. He rolled his eyes at the childish duo. To his misfortune, they didn’t stop.
“Do they not teach you Elementals where to aim your crap?”
“Pfft. Typical Bios who think they’re all that.” Sapnap’s dark eyes traced Dream with distrust. “What are you two anyway? Enhanced or Shifters?”
“I’m Enhanced.” Dream’s glaring confidence made Sapnap raise an eyebrow.
“You sound like one.” His curious gaze landed on George. “What are you?”
George hugged himself and looked away, now feeling the need to remove himself from the conversation. The longer he took to say something, the more curious Sapnap appeared to look. Dream’s arm falling over his shoulders and pulling him close took him by surprise.
“George’s a Psychic,” Dream announced.
“Psychic?” The boy’s eyes widened. George worried for his reaction, but Dream seemed to feel the complete opposite.
“Yeah. Got a problem?”
“Woah, dude,” Sapnap laughed. He raised his hands in defense. “Are you always this aggressive? I’m just surprised to meet a Psychic. Aren’t y’all like locked in your own area?”
“Sometimes,” George replied, “but they’re letting me take classes with everyone else next year.”
“Cool. What year are you guys?”
“I’m second. George is a third-year. You?”
“First. This place is so weird, but like, in a good way. There are like no parents, the view is epic, and we can use our powers without getting in trouble!”
George hugged himself at that. Although he had gotten used to hiding his powers and he wasn’t exactly fond of them either, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel crestfallen when he heard guys like Sapnap speak with so much excitement.
“Wow, so you’re a baby?” Dream said.
“Dude.” Sapnap huffed, but he paired it with a smile. “What were you guys doing that George body-slammed me?”
“Manhunt. It was my turn to hunt, so I was supposed to catch George before he reached the Bio dorms.”
“Can’t you like fly or something?”
George’s shy shake of his head made Sapnap’s eyebrows crease together. “What can you do then?”
He hesitated, but at the sight of Dream’s excited smile, he searched for an object on the ground nearby. Sapnap watched George with interest as he focused on the small rock by the bushes. Then, he swiped his finger and the rock went flying across the hill.
“Woah, I wish I could do that.” Then he paused. “Actually, no. I like having fire powers.”
Dream snickered. “Do you like burning people’s stuff with them too? Is that why your parents sent you here?”
The uncomfortable silence that followed made George shift on his spot. Sapnap lowered his chin. His hand rubbed his arm and his shoulders slumped like the comment had struck a chord.
When nobody said anything, Dream asked, “Do you want to play with us?” His voice was softer this time, likely feeling bad for making the comment.
Sapnap’s face brightened at the invitation. He hopped forward on both feet like he was ready to begin. “Dude, yes! Who’s hunting?”
Dream exchanged glances with them and then a sly smile took over. “How about you two hunt and I run?”
“You sure you can take us both?” Sapnap stepped next to George and bumped him with his shoulder like he was insinuating they were good at the game. George wasn’t sure how good Sapnap would be, but he certainly wasn’t great at hunting Dream. The guy was practically impossible to catch.
Dream’s smile didn’t leave his face when he replied, “Bet.”
“WOOOOO! GO DREAM!”
Sapnap’s obnoxious screeching made George’s ears bleed. It didn’t help that the stadium was packed with overexcited kids and teenagers. He shuffled back on the metal bleacher to let Bad (their oldest friend and the newest addition to what Dream had arrogantly dubbed the “Dream Team”) squeeze in front of him to plop down on his other side.
“Is that… popcorn?” George’s nose wrinkled at the scent of oversalted popcorn. An odd sensation churned in his stomach, and he blamed it on the overpowering smell and earsplitting crowd.
“Where did you even get that?”
“Geppy set up a popcorn stand,” Bad replied before chomping down on a handful of popcorn with a big smile.
George peeked over his shoulder at said Aeromental who was standing by the field wearing a red and white striped apron with a white hat. He seemed to be operating a whole popcorn machine to sell undersized bags to the students.
As expected, one of their teachers was already marching toward him seeing as monetary transactions on school premises were prohibited—not that Skeppy cared about following the rules. On the contrary, his hobbies pertained to setting off the fire sprinklers when the Pyros were training their fire-bending skills at the gym, swapping the shifters’ specialized suits for fake ones that led to one too many streaking sessions, and who knows what other pranks the guy had up his sleeve.
Once, he had teamed up with Sapnap to start a bonfire at midnight and convinced a group of first-years to join their ancient church and “offer their most prized possessions to summon the legendary flying spaghetti monster” (whatever that meant).
“And you didn’t scold him for it?”
George’s raised eyebrow made Bad freeze with his chipmunk cheeks full of popcorn. He blinked “innocently” at his friend, and his glasses proceeded to very slowly slide down the bridge of his nose.
Bad was the kind of guy to write lengthy apology letters explaining the flying spaghetti monster was not, in fact, a real god to every single first-year Skeppy and Sapnap fooled and offer muffins to the teachers to apologize for Skeppy recruiting Aquas to set up a pool party in their classrooms. Thus, it was surprising to hear he hadn’t yet told off Skeppy for his latest roguery.
“I haven’t had popcorn in weeks. The vending machines have been broken for over a month, okay?”
“Mhm.” George snickered and shook his head.
“Hand some over, Bad.” Sapnap bent over and invaded George’s personal bubble, making him do a double-take and nearly topple backward.
“Woah.” Sapnap steadied him with one hand while taking a handful of popcorn with his other. With a mouthful, he mumbled, “Formh a Psymchic youm havemh reallym badm balancemh.”
George rolled his eyes and muttered, “Shut up,” and then turned toward the expansive training field in front of them.
There were two grey metal platforms from where the obstacle courses were supposed to rise sat beside each other. At the end of each path, there was a platform marked with a finish line. With the ceiling of the stadium open for the competition, the sunbeams filled the area with natural lighting. A pleasant Spring breeze sprung through the excited chit-chatter of the hundreds of students surrounding the arena. A strange sensation tickled at the tips of his fingers and a nervous thrill caused his heart to beat faster.
“There he is!” Sapnap pointed to the arena.
From the entrance on the right, Dream strolled into the arena dressed in his Bio-E suit: a black and lime long-sleeve costume with the crest of a throwing star at the belt. His white smiley-face mask was hooked at the hip. In the front row, a group of first and second-year girls screeched with excitement and raised posters with hearts and compliments written all over them. Sapnap broke into cheers again (which sounded much louder than the girls). The boy in the row in front of them turned to send them a weird look to which George responded with an embarrassed shrug.
However, he got over it as soon as Dream turned to the crowd and waved his hand, sporting his signature toothy half-grin. George raised their own poster over his head and joined Bad and Sapnap in cheering for their best friend.
Dream’s eyes searched the crowd until they locked onto George, and he waved excitedly at the sight of his best friend.
On the other side of the arena, the second Bio-E student emerged—a guy a year above Dream with bright pink hair pulled back into a braid and a half-pig mask with two canines protruding at the ends atop his head. George wasn’t sure why all the Bio-E students were obsessed with masks, but it certainly made their competitions extra theatrical.
The guy in front of them stood up and waved his own poster while another chorus of cheers burst through the audience. The fangirls in the front row cheered just as loud for Techno as they did for Dream.
“Imagine being a simp.” Sapnap cackled while smacking his thigh and took another handful of popcorn from Bad.
“Do you even have to imagine, Sapnap?”
“You’ve been simping for Dream since before I even met y’all so shut it.”
“Don’t fight you muffin heads. Let’s just send all our good vibes to Dream.”
The guy in front of them scoffed. Sapnap grimaced. A flame erupted in George’s stomach. Before he could think to stop him, Sapnap asked, “Dude, you got a problem with that?”
It took the guy a moment to realize the remark was directed at him, but when he did, he eyed them with a half-sneer, his twitching fox ears poking out of his head of ginger hair and making his fedora shift. With his thick Dutch accent, he replied, “Techno’s obviously gonna kick Dream’s ass.”
“Oh, come on, you don’t know what you’re talking about, furry.”
“It’s Fundy for you.” He gave him a once-over. “Aren’t you that arsonist who’s always setting plants in the building on fire?”
Sapnap fumed at that. He tried to raise himself from his seat, but George’s hand on his shoulder kept him down. “At least my powers are actually useful,” he replied.
Fundy responded with an exaggerated laugh and slapped the spot next to him like it was the funniest joke in the world. The fire at the pit of George’s stomach burned hotter. His grip on Sapnap’s shoulder tightened. Their eyes met. Sapnap sighed and started to back off.
“Everyone knows fire types are a joke. You guys are practically useless against a bucket of water.”
Sapnap snarled. “Oh, yeah? Well shifters are—”
“Guys, it’s starting!” Bad, who seemed unaware of the ongoing quarrel, elbowed George and alternated glances between the competitors in the arena and Skeppy who was being scolded by one of the teachers below.
“Welcome to the annual Bio-Enhanced and Shifter Championship! We have so many surprises set up for you all today, so I hope you’re excited to see them. Let’s give a round of applause to all of our amazing competitors for today.”
Shouts and whistles erupted across the bleachers. A few groups started a wave that dissipated as soon as the woman’s cheery voice returned. “Please stay in your seats during each performance and refrain from using any abilities outside the training area, including but not limited to throwing fireballs at the contestants, flooding the seats, and/or setting off tornadoes in the field.”
Sapnap laughed. “Skeppy outdid himself with that one.”
George giggled when he remembered the incident a few years ago when a group of Aeros set off a tornado that launched both contestants off the field mid-competition.
“And with that, let’s introduce our first round of competitors for the day!”
The three boys jumped to their feet like the rest of the crowd, raising their posters and throwing out cheers. Dream’s head snapped toward them. Their eyes met once again.
His intestines folded in his stomach like they were urging him to regurgitate his lunch. It was a foreign sensation, so abrupt that George wondered if it was even his. He swallowed the rock at his throat. His mouth was dry.
It was gone as soon as Dream looked away. He unhooked his mask and placed it over his face.
George’s body tensed, and his breathing got harder. Was that… did he just… his powers?
Sapnap’s elbow to his ribs snapped him out of it.
“Ow, what the hell?”
“I asked what you think Dream’s time will be but you were too busy checking him out.”
His face warmed. “I wasn’t checking him out.”
Sapnap looked unconvinced. George was glad the spokesperson interrupted before Sapnap could comment on the subject any further.
“On the left, we have our daredevil in his pig mask and a crown fit for a king, our year eight contestant, Technoblaaaade!”
Sapnap huffed at the sound of the crowd erupting into cheers. Fundy whistled and shouted, “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD,” along with a few others around him.
“On the right, we have our cunning jokester with his white mask and dashing looks, our year seven contestant, Dreeeeam!”
“YESSS! GO DREAM!”
“SHOW US WHAT YOU GOT YOU MUFFIN!”
George whistled and clapped his hands with a huge beam. Dream’s smile widened below his mask and he set his sight on the path in front of him.
“These two Bio-Enhanced students will compete in one of our most challenging parkour courses yet. The course will require the competitors to use their swiftness, quick-thinking, agility, and physical strength to reach the finish line in the shortest amount of time. The winner will move on to the second round and will potentially compete in the finals to see who takes this year’s crown!”
“Dream is going to kill it. I know he will!” said Sapnap.
“Don’t jinx it,” Bad replied.
“Let’s take a look at this year’s course.”
The platforms opened up and rose to reveal two identical obstacle courses in front of each of them. They were divided into three sections.
The first had a series of hanging hoops leading to a bouldering wall that was angled toward the contestants. The second was a bar George assumed they were meant to swing off of onto a pole a few meters away. How they were supposed to land on a pole smaller than their feet? He could only wonder. Though the worst part seemed to be the wall with huge spikes punching out at different levels in random order. The third section had a huge wheel with a hole wide enough to fit someone’s torso that was spinning at a semi-rapid pace. On the other side was a trampoline at the bottom with three ropes hanging above it that led to the winner’s platform. All across the bottom of the course was a pit of mud that would disqualify any contestant that fell in.
“We’ll give the contestants a minute to think on their strategies.”
“Woah, dude—” Sapnap was left with his mouth hanging open in a similar matter to how George felt.
“How are they going to get through that?” Bad squeaked.
George peeked back at Dream. Although his mask was concealing the majority of his face, his worry was obvious in the way his shoulders were perched high and back and his fists were repeatedly clenching and unclenching at his sides. The nervous swirl in George’s stomach returned with a kick the moment he fixed his focus on Dream, and the world swiveled around him once he realized what was happening.
Although empathy was a potential ability for Psychics, Sarah had told him most of them never reached that stage—possessing telekinesis as their sole power. Telepathy was the next rarest ability. George was only aware of one telepath during his time at AGE: some girl a few years ahead of him who had been sent away during his first year after she had lost control, wrecked a classroom, and almost killed a classmate.
As the outcome of this revelation dawned on him, he felt sicker by the second. Dream’s anxiety only ramped up his own.
Sarah had told him it was unlikely he would ever develop an ability past telekinesis. The test they had done on him during his first year which, she had explained, was generally accurate in predicting the range of an Extramundane’s abilities had returned inconclusive. She had explained that it meant his power level was likely below the average Psychic. She had promised him there was nothing to worry about. She had promised he would be out of the island by the time he reached sixteen, the age an EM’s abilities generally stopped developing. She had promised he would get back to living a normal life with his parents like he had always wished.
Sarah had promised.
“Okay, contestants. Please step toward the starting line. The race is about to begin. Fastest one to finish the course gets to move onto the second round.”
With all the panicked thoughts riling George’s mind, the shouts and cheers around him turned into background noise. Beside him, Bad yelped when his bag popped and popcorn exploded all over them.
“What in the world?”
He couldn’t drive his focus away from Dream—his shoulders straight, his front palm planted on the ground, his foot behind him rooted firm and ready for a head start. George’s breathing turned hard and fast and came in short bursts as he attempted to calm himself.
“Three.”
Needles pricked at the skin of the palm he had set against the chilling metal bench. Yet his neck was also hot and heavy with perspiration dripping down his back.
“Two.”
A spurt of adrenaline rushed through him. All across his body, his muscles tightened like he was in an out-of-control vehicle, and he was readying for impact.
“One.”
He couldn’t tell his emotions apart from Dream’s.
“George?”
“GO!”
The link broke at the sound of Sapnap’s voice. George exhaled like he had just emerged from underwater. Sapnap looked confused as he watched George try to get his breathing back to normal. “You okay?”
George rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck and turned back to Dream who had reached the bouldering wall in less than thirty seconds, same as Techno beside him.
“Fine,” he mumbled out of breath, but Sapnap didn’t look convinced.
Dream gripped the top ledge and pulled himself up like he was made of air. The soles of his shoes glided across the platform. In less than five seconds, he was off the ground again. His arms were in the air and his hands were clutching the hoop above him. Techno was hot on his trail.
He swung two times and then released his grasp. His front foot barely landed on the pole and his back foot was only half on it. While Techno was already working through the punching spikes, his feet quickly and cautiously moving in front of each other while jumping and ducking over and under the spikes as they came, Dream stopped.
George’s eyes widened. “What is he doing?”
“He’s wasting time!” said Sapnap.
“Dream always has a plan,” Bad assured.
And a plan he had. He backed up to gain momentum and then dashed forward at full speed. But instead of running through the spikes like Techno, his arms went over his head, his torso bent forward and down, his hands gripped the pole, his feet lifted off the ground and he performed a backflip that propelled him onto the spike on the highest level. He used it to his advantage and hopped onto each spike as they punched out and reached the end of the second section a few seconds ahead of Techno.
“He’s insane!” Sapnap shouted just as the crowd went wild.
Dream waited for the hole on the wheel to come around before surging through like an arrow at full speed and using his hands to push him to his feet at the trampoline. Techno was barely coming through the wheel when Dream began bouncing toward the first rope.
Unfortunately, Techno managed some momentum-driven backflip that helped him skip the trampoline and catch onto the rope in a single hop. He was already halfway up the first and about to grab the next.
When Dream noticed his opponent so close to the finish line, instead of grabbing the next rope, he threw his body back and began to swing forward and backward.
“There’s no way he’ll make that jump. It’s too far!”
“Shush, you muffin! He’ll make it!”
George clenched his fists. The tornado in his stomach returned, though it wasn’t Dream’s this time.
Just as Techno reached the final rope, Dream released his grip on the first.
Time froze. His body flew toward the platform in frames. George’s eyes followed him as he moved, and he was almost tempted to use his telekinesis to give him that extra push. But he didn’t.
His fingers barely gripped the edge of the platform, but one of his hands slipped. In a panic, he barely managed to hold his own weight with one arm. He lifted himself high enough to grab the ledge again and then pulled himself up.
Unfortunately, in the time it had taken Dream to get on the platform, Techno was already running through the finish line and the crowd was going crazy screaming his name.
“He… lost,” Sapnap said. The three of them went still while the people around them jumped and cheered.
Fundy peered over his shoulder and laughed at them.
George frowned when he noticed the limp to Dream’s walk and the way his shoulders sagged and his chin pointed down.
“Congratulations to our first winner of today, Technoblade!”
Techno and Dream descended the stairs at the end of the course, removed their masks, and shook hands before heading to their respective arena doors. Dream gripped his mask at his side. Strands of his blonde hair were shrouding his face, so George couldn’t discern his expression, but the waves of disappointment and rage radiating from him were easy to catch.
He disappeared behind the door, and George’s own disappointment settled in his gut.
“We should find him,” Sapnap suggested.
Bad shook his head. “They won’t let us see him until the competition is over. Besides… maybe we should give him some space first.”
George’s mouth formed a flat line even as the next contestants walked into the arena. He paid no attention to the loudening crowd around them.
The rest of the competition lasted an eternity. George barely paid attention, but from what he gathered, Techno lost the second round and some guy from year thirteen won the whole tournament.
When the competition ended, the swarm of students scrambling to exit the stadium drowned him, and he quickly lost sight of Bad and Sapnap. Once he managed to get outside and breathe in the fresh air, he began to search the crowd for familiar faces.
A girl with two pigtails chatting away with her friend. A teacher scolding a first year for setting a trash can on fire. The fox guy with the fedora walking toward him with a familiar Bio-E with a pig mask in hand.
“Oh, hey. You’re that guy who was cheering for the smiley face dude during the first round, right?” Fundy stopped in front of him before he could walk in the other direction.
“Uh, yeah, Dream.” George glimpsed at Techno whose scrutinizing gaze was unnerving. He shifted from one foot to the other and bit the inside of his lip, somehow feeling exposed.
“Say, aren’t you that Psychic-boy from my year?”
“Psychic?” Fundy looked taken aback.
George swallowed. “Yeah, I am. Have you, uh, seen Dream?”
Techno snorted and crossed his arms. “You mean the guy pretendin’ he’s not moping around in the locker room after losin’ to me first round? Yeah, I have. Guy needs to learn to take a loss by the looks of it. I told him he did great, and he still looked angry about it. Can you believe that?”
“That’s Dream for you,” George replied with an awkward snicker. “Um, where’s the locker room?”
“Don’t think non-competitors are allowed in there.”
“Oh.”
“But the back door is propped open because some Bio-E broke the handle by tryin’ to pull instead of push. What a fool.” His chuckle was dry. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
George responded with a shy smile. “Thanks.”
“See ya around, Psychic-boy.” Techno patted George’s shoulder, and Fundy and him headed past him.
He snuck in through the back pretty easy considering most of the staff were busy redirecting the students to the main campus. It wasn’t until he was met with a long corridor that he realized he had no idea where the locker room was. He wandered through the eerily silent building until he caught the sensation of a strange yet familiar rumble in his stomach.
He turned right, and the muscles in his stomach grew tighter while his ears caught the ugly scraping of teeth against teeth in his mouth. He opened the door at the end of the third hallway.
Dream was sitting on a bench with his back to him. His elbows were pressed to his knees and the mop of hair that looked more brown than blonde under the dim lighting was shrouding his face.
The back of George’s mouth was stiff and his molars hurt from how tight they were grating against each other. He tried to relax his shoulders despite the relentless stiffness in his tendons.
“Calm down, Dream,” he said as he massaged the back of his own neck. “You still did amazing. He only beat you by a few seconds.”
George’s heart flinched. Dream’s head jerked to the side. Their eyes met.
“You didn’t hear me come in?” George watched him through furrowed eyebrows. It was weird considering Dream was always bragging about his meta-human hearing.
He stayed standing for a moment too long, drowning in the swamp of frustration, failure, and regret inundating the room.
“You were great.”
“I lost.”
“So what?”
George joined him on the bench. Their shoulders touched as he sat down. Dream’s shame further asphyxiated him, so much his breath hitched at the intensity of his emotions.
He swallowed it down and said, “That’s one loss out of how many wins?”
“I lost.”
“And?”
Dream didn’t respond.
George pursed his lips. He grasped his fingers together and joined Dream in staring at the floor.
“You’re not always going to win everything.”
“This was the most important competition of the year. Coach chose me for a reason.” The sharpness of his tone slit across George like a blade. If his morale could bleed, it would be doing so now.
Although it was clear Dream’s disappointment stemmed from his ambition and high standards for himself, it hurt George to hear him dismiss his best friend’s words of affirmation like that.
“You can always compete next year.”
Dream jerked to his feet, and George flinched. “It was my chance to prove myself, George!”
When he caught sight of the ardent yellow stinging Dream’s eyes, George frowned and asked, “Prove yourself to who?”
With a groan, Dream swiped the hair above his eyes in a frustrated manner and paced in front of him.
George’s frown shifted into a grimace. He hated when Dream held back his true feelings like this—as if he thought George wasn’t capable of empathizing with him, as if all their years of friendship suddenly meant nothing.
“To who, Dream? To yourself? Why are you so insistent on being good at everything? It’s like you don’t even want to admit you have flaws. That you’re not always going to be perfect.”
“I’m not supposed to be like you!”
The beating organ in his chest twisted, and he lost his breath. His own anger and hurt replaced Dream’s. With a sharp glare, he stood up.
All the anger in Dream’s expression fell in an instant. “Wait, George, I didn’t—”
“I’ll let you cool down now.”
He let the door slam shut behind him before Dream could think to pull him back.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Dream said when George showed up at his tree clutching a book to his chest and with the intention of avoiding a certain blonde.
He almost turned on his heel and left. But despite the hurt lingering in his heart, he knew Dream cared too much to mean what he had said. Especially now as he suffocated in the shame and regret stinging the air around Dream, George understood.
He kept a foot’s distance in between him when he slumped down against the trunk of the tree. His fingers ran through the pages of his latest fantasy novel.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” Dream scooted closer to him, close enough that the back of their hands brushed against each other.
A boulder bore down on George’s chest, and his feet sunk into the soil beneath him like the roots of a tree bury themselves in the Earth. He couldn’t meet his eyes. Not when his guilt weighed so heavy on him.
“I’m serious.” George’s nail scraped at the loose root in between them. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
George nodded, his lips pursed into a tight line. It was uncomfortable—the unfiltered heart spilling out of Dream. He had always been an expressive person, but now, with George’s ability to sense every beat, to sink in his fervor, to feel him—it was intoxicating. It set off all kinds of alarms in his mind.
“George.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
“I— I’d rather not.”
“Why not?”
“Your emotions are too much.”
“My emo—” He could sense his confusion. “Your powers?”
George nodded.
Shocked, he asked, “They’ve evolved?”
He nodded again.
“Have you told Sarah?”
“I haven’t gotten the time.”
“When?”
“Today during the competition. I could feel how nervous you were.”
After a moment, Dream let out a quiet chuckle. The weight on his chest slowly lifted until finally, George could breathe purely again.
“Is that better?”
George turned to Dream with a bewildered expression, and his voice was barely above a breath when he asked, “What did you do?”
“A guy in my class asked Coach how we could block empaths after he found out what some Psychics could do and we had a whole improvised lesson on it. Figured it could come in handy one day.” He smiled, and a strand of hair partially fell over his right eye.
The sun was setting in the back, and his hair was slowly descending into an earthy shade.
George smiled. “Thanks. That actually helps a lot.”
“When are you telling her?”
“... I don’t know if I will…”
“Why wouldn’t you? Isn’t it dangerous if you don’t?”
“I was supposed to be out of here next year when I turned sixteen. My parents were so excited.” George lowered his head. “But I guess that’s not going to happen now.” His fingers dug into the ground between them.
“It’s not all bad, at least. I’ll be here with you.”
He looked up in surprise. “You’re staying?”
“Yeah. I want to stay until I graduate. I convinced my parents.”
George shrugged. “Well, the difference is you get to go home and see them during breaks.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to eventually. When you get better.”
His voice cracked. An invisible object scratched at his throat. “But… what if I don’t? What if they send me away to another place?”
Dream’s reply was instant. “They won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“I believe in you.”
A warmth spread through his stomach, and he burst into laughter. “That’s so cliche.”
Dream scoffed and elbowed his side. “What? It’s true!”
“Do you actually?”
“Yeah, you’ve been getting better at levitating stuff, and you’re really good at not using your powers outside of class. I don’t know how. If I was you, I’d be using them all the time.”
George scoffed. In a comfortable silence, they watched as the blend of colors ceased between the trees of the forest facing them.
“Are you feeling better, now? About losing?”
“I guess. I was just—” Dream shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not really used to losing, you know? It made me really frustrated because it was in front of half the school this time.”
“I get it.”
“You really think I did good, though?”
“Mhm.”
“Oh, really?” Dream’s voice was teasing, and he bumped their shoulders, a familiar cocky expression returning. “Like how good?”
George rolled his eyes. “Good enough for you.”
“Admit it. You were really impressed!”
A grin escaped him as he replied, “I rate it a six out of ten. Max.”
“Oh, come on now! You know I did better than that. Didn’t you see how I like back-flipped through the middle part? I was like a super ninja. Been practicing that move for months.”
“It was alright.”
Dream wheezed, and he poked George on the stomach which made him flinch.
“Stop it.”
“Admit it.”
His threatening fingers made George respond, “Fine. You did amazing!” before he could tickle him. “Happy now?”
“Very.” Dream laughed and pulled back. “You think Sapnap’s asleep right now?”
“Probably. You know he loves taking his afternoon naps just so he can stay awake and pull off those stupid pranks in the middle of the night with Skeppy.”
“Wanna go wake him up with a bucket of water?”
George smiled and, pushing his current conundrum to the back of his head, he replied, “Let’s go.”
And for the first time that day, George immersed himself in the present as opposed to worrying about the implications of his growing powers. That would come later.
Right now, all he could focus on was laughing at Dream’s goofy grin as they broke into the janitor’s closet to steal a bucket, unaware of the unstable surge of energy waking in his mind.