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Illumina doesn’t know when the feelings started.
He remembers that the first time he’d seen his crush was on the first day of junior year. He’d been walking down the hall, his schedule in hand as he navigated to his next class, and there had been a short boy with blonde curls, green eyes, and an instrument case walking past him in the opposite direction. Dream hadn’t been his crush back then, though, and Illumina had hardly paid any attention to the boy, too busy trying to get to where he needed to be.
It was a week into junior year when Illumina actually met Dream. They were in the same wind ensemble class, and Illumina, as a tenor sax player, was placed right behind the first flute- who happened to be the same (admittedly cute) blonde boy he’d passed on the first day of school. For whatever reason, they’d hit it off- and Dream had gone from a random person to one of Illumina’s closest friends in a matter of months.
Around that point, Illumina thinks, is when the feelings started. That was when he found his gaze gravitating from his sheet music to Dream during practice or in between playing. That was when his heart began doing flips every time he saw Dream. That was when he started to notice the little things, like the light freckles sprayed across Dream’s cheeks and the one curl that’s always hanging in his face, or the way he tends to rapidly press his B flat key when he’s nervous. That was when he realized, oh. I have a crush .
Dream is far from his first crush or even first male crush, but the blonde is definitely Illumina’s deepest crush. All of his previous crushes have been fleeting, mere cases of puppy love, but this- this different. He’s not sure how or why, but he knows that it is. Dream makes him happy in a way he can’t quite explain and that he’s never felt with anyone else before, and, well. He’s extremely glad that there aren’t enough clarinets to fill in the entire row behind the flutes, to say the least.
The feelings had persisted through summer, and now it’s senior year- which means prom, and winter ball, and a new influx of freshmen to corrupt. Illumina had gotten a new pair of shoes and a new case for his saxophone, but other than that, he feels… sort of the same as he had last year. Same school, same worn black hoodie he’s had since he was fourteen, same gold sax with the small dent near the mouthpiece-
Same flutter of his heart when he steps into the band room and sees his crush.
Dream looks up from his flute case and smiles brightly enough to light up the whole room, and Illumina decides that maybe same isn’t so bad after all. He grins back, feeling the familiar bubble of happiness rise in his chest. As he finds his chair from last year and sits down, he realizes how much he’s missed this- being in the band room with his friends all around him and Dream right in front of him, with those fluffy curls and jade eyes, prettier than any emeralds he’s ever seen.
“How was your vacation? To Canada?” Dream asks, twisting around in his chair to face Illumina. His graceful fingers dance lightly over the keys of his freshly assembled flute like a ballerina would twirl across a stage. The flute looks natural in his hands, and it fits him, the silver coat complementing his honey-colored hair.
“It was fun,” Illumina replies, pulling his sax out of its case. “Hung out with my cousins, visited Banff. I missed you, though,” he admits.
Dream turns slightly pink in the cheeks. “I missed you too, Lumi.”
That damned nickname. It never fails to make Illumina feel all fluttery inside, like he’d swallowed butterflies. It just sounds so cute , especially when Dream’s saying it (though it’s not like anyone else calls him that), and Illumina has to fight back a blush.
Just then George, their percussionist, comes in, and Dream turns away to greet the brunette. Illumina doesn’t try to get Dream’s attention back because at that same moment, his best friend walks in. Fruit is a fellow saxophone player, and he plops down next to Illumina with a sigh.
“Morning,” Illumina greets.
Fruit makes a vague grunting sound that could be a reply and starts to take out his tenor sax.
“You sound cheerful,” Illumina notes.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Fruit blows into his saxophone, producing a horrible squeaking sound that makes a nearby trumpet player jump. Illumina winces as well- no amount of squeaking can get you used to that sound.
“Please fix your reed,” he begs.
One by one, their wind ensemble class filters in. Illumina watches every person, going through their names in his head. Some of them he knows well, some of them not, but he still wants to at least remember their names. Sam, a tuba player. Bad, their backup percussionist. Tina, second flute. Couri and Benni, clarinet and oboe respectively. Several brass players that Illumina doesn’t know, and then Ant, their only alto sax, and Harvey, trombone and occasional pianist.
Mr. Phil (technically Mr. Minecraft, but no one ever calls him by his last name), their director, comes in last. He grins at them, looking as cheerful as ever. “Morning, guys! How are we feeling?”
“My clarinet is squeaking,” Couri says helpfully.
“That’s unfortunate. Well, let me take attendance really quick, and then we’ll get started.”
While Mr. Phil goes to take attendance, Illumina pulls out his sheet music and absentmindedly plays a few measures until he hears his name. He puts his saxophone down. “Huh?”
Dream lets out a giggle that sounds a lot better than Illumina’s sax. “I said you always look really concerned when you’re focusing. Your eyebrows get all furrowed.”
Illumina puts his mouthpiece back into his mouth and puffs his cheeks out like a hamster, making Dream giggle again. His heart flutters, both from Dream’s cute laughter and from pride. He loves making Dream laugh maybe an unhealthy amount, but he can’t help it- Dream just sounds and looks so pretty when he’s laughing, and Illumina wants to make it happen as much as possible.
“Now you look like someone who’s trying the flute for the first time,” Tina comments, also twisting around to look at him.
“No, he looks like an idiot,” Fruit says from his other side.
“Says the one squeaking,” Illumina replies. Then he yelps and ducks as Fruit swings at him with his sax.
The band room fills with the blare of trumpets and the steady beat of the drums and various other instrument sounds until Mr. Phil holds up his makeshift conductor batons, making everyone fall silent. Their blonde director takes his place at the front of the room before the music stand and clears his throat. “Alright, seeing as we have a football game next Friday, I think we should go over the national anthem really quick. George- hit it, please.”
George begins the snare drum roll, and thoughts of Dream’s cute giggles and glittering green eyes fade from Illumina’s mind as he lifts his sax to his mouth to play.
Several run throughs of football game music and concert songs later, Illumina walks out of the band room with Dream. He’d left his sax case behind to pick up at the end of the day before heading home, but Dream had brought his flute with him. The blonde hums softly as he walks along, and he looks so pretty in his emerald green cardigan that matches his eyes and his tight jeans that it makes Illumina’s chest ache.
He wonders what it would be like to wrap his arm around that petite waist. That’s the thing- Dream is tiny. Not super tiny, but the top of his head barely just comes up to Illumina’s mouth, and Illumina has long since realized that he’s the perfect height to kiss Dream on the forehead or nestle his chin into those blonde curls. He wants to test that, but the problem is- Dream doesn’t like him, at least not in that way. They’re just friends, and Illumina’s crush has pretty much been hopeless from the start.
That doesn’t stop his heart from fluttering every time he sees Dream, though, or happiness from bubbling up inside of him whenever he spends time with the flutist. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to pull Dream into his arms and kiss that pale forehead and feel Dream’s body pressed against his. It doesn’t stop him from adoring Dream, adoring every single thing about him.
Illumina has always been weak for cute boys, but Dream is by far the cutest boy ever in the history of cute boys, and Illumina doubts he could’ve avoided these feelings. He’d sealed his fate the moment he tapped the shoulder of the person in front of him on the first week of junior year and asked to pass the sax sheet music. Now the only thing he can do is hope his crush goes away before it ruins him.
---
The band room is always open in the mornings before school. Mr. Phil always gets there early, unlocks the doors, and leaves it for anyone to practice in until school starts. Even still, not many people actually use it because basically no one is willing to wake up that early- except Dream. He’s always been a morning person, and the band room before school when the building is still quiet is one of his favorite places to be.
It’s a good place to think about stuff while he plays through his band music- that is, when he’s alone. Today there’s someone else in the band room- a certain saxophonist with too-pretty eyes.
“Hi, Lumi,” Dream greets. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush . Of course, he blushes anyway. His cheeks always get hot easily, and it’s annoying, but luckily Illumina doesn’t seem to have connected Dream’s constant flushing to his feelings.
The two of them have been friends since junior year, except Dream, no matter how hard he tries to stop, doesn’t really see Illumina as just a friend. He never did. He’s had a crush on Illumina since practically the beginning, and a year later, those feelings still haven’t gone away. The only thing that’s changed is that now he knows Illumina , knows all of the brunette’s little quirks, instead of just the cute and hot saxophonist sitting behind him- and if anything, that has only made his crush grow even more.
Illumina looks up from his sheet music and smiles his handsome smile. Dream has met many good-looking boys in his lifetime, but Illumina is on another level, with his dark windswept hair and coffee-colored eyes. He’s a good eight inches taller than Dream, and his shoulders are just broad enough to be attractive but not over-the-top. In short, he’s hot , and Dream is nothing if not very, very gay.
“Hey,” the brunette greets, lowering his sax. “Come for some early practice?”
“You know me,” Dream jokes. He grabs a stand, sits down, and begins to pull out his flute. “What’cha practicing?”
“Just warming up, mostly, so scales.” Illumina plays one, his long fingers dancing over the keys of his saxophone. He’s wearing his reading glasses today- the circular ones with gold frames that look way too good on him to be legal- as well as a black hoodie with the Hogwarts crest on the top left.
“Nice fit,” Dream says.
Illumina grins, which is almost as attractive as his smile. “Thanks. Got it for my birthday.”
Dream nods and pushes his headjoint into his flute. He adjusts it, then stands up and plays a quick scale. A little rough today, but not the worst. He rolls out a little, and the sound comes out a bit clearer.
“Are you coming to the game this Friday?” Illumina asks, and Dream looks over to see the brunette watching him with those mocha eyes. It sends shivers down his spine, but not in an unpleasant way.
“Of course,” he replies, trying his absolute hardest not to blush at the attention. “Are you?”
“Fruit will come for me if I abandon him, so yes. Us tenor saxes have to stick together.”
“Well, at least you guys appreciate each other,” Dream giggles. “Couri and the other clarinets literally fight each other 24/7.”
“That’s what clarinets do, I guess.” Illumina leans back in his chair and absentmindedly runs his finger down the side of his sax, his attention now on Dream instead of whatever music he has on his stand. “Did you know people think tenor saxes are weirdos and nerds?”
Dream giggles. “Well, are you not a nerd?”
“No, I am,” Illumina admits with a slightly sheepish grin. Which is true- the brunette is very dorky, and that’s one of the things Dream likes most about him.
“People think that flute players are either girls or gay guys. I’m a gay guy, though, so I guess I’m playing into that stereotype.” Not just that, but more than one person in his high school career so far has thought that he’s a girl. He supposes he can’t blame them- he does wear a lot of skirts and nail polish, and most of his clothes are from the women’s section of stores. And it is pretty funny when people refer to him with she/her pronouns, then take on an expression of mortification when he tells them he’s a guy.
He drums his fingers on the keys of his flute and shivers. The band room is always so cold, especially in the mornings, and he’d forgotten to bring his sweater with him. Now he’s freezing in his skirt and slightly cropped top.
“You look cold,” Illumina says, his expression slightly worried.
“I am,” Dream agrees. “It’s always so freezing in here.”
Illumina hesitates (are his cheeks pink, or is that just a trick of the light?), then carefully asks, “Do you want my hoodie?”
Dream blushes. Does he? Illumina’s hoodie certainly does look comfortable… and it’d probably be extra cozy because it would be too big for him… and he’s absolutely freezing…
“No, it’s okay,” he says half-heartedly, more trying to convince himself than Illumina. “You need it.”
“I really don’t. I’m used to the cold, so I’ll be fine. Canadian, remember?” Illumina cracks a smile and begins to take off his hoodie.
Dream has half a mind to protest, but really, he doubts he’d be able to convince Illumina. And he is very cold, and the brunette’s hoodie looks so warm and comfy. So he sets down his flute and reaches out to take it. Slowly, he slips it on over his head.
Oh .
That’s the only thing he can think- oh . Putting on the hoodie feels like surrounding himself with a giant, fluffy blanket. It’s soft and warm and, more importantly, it smells like Illumina, like the subtle scent of coffee and cinnamon always lingering around the brunette. Dream has always loved that scent, and now it’s all around him.
Before he can stop himself, he buries his nose into the collar and inhales. He has to bite back an embarrassing groan, because god, does it smell good. The hoodie feels good, too- nice and toasty. It is indeed too big on him, enough so that his hands are completely engulfed and his thighs are partially covered. He hadn’t expected for Illumina’s clothes to be this oversized, but he definitely doesn’t mind.
“Thank you,” he breathes. He turns around to see Illumina staring at him, eyes wide, and- okay, the brunette is definitely blushing now.
The sight makes Dream blush too. “What?”
“Nothing.” Illumina clears his throat and quickly looks away. “Are you warmer now?”
“Definitely,” Dream agrees, wrapping his arms around his middle. “Thank you, Lumi. I’ll give it back when we have to go to first period.”
“No, it’s okay, just keep it for the day,” Illumina says. “I know you get cold easily.”
“I’m not going to take your birthday hoodie,” Dream protests.
“Seriously, it’s fine,” Illumina insists. “Keep it for the day, and you can give it back at dismissal. I don’t mind, I really don’t.”
Dream frowns. “If you’re sure.” In reality, though, keeping Illumina’s hoodie, even if just for the rest of the day, sounds very appealing. The school isn’t exactly cold, but Dream always does get chilly easily, and Illumina’s hoodie is so f*cking warm. Not to mention that delicious aroma that Dream could spend all day inhaling.
The sound of the doors banging open startles him out of his thoughts. He turns in his chair to see George march into the room, followed by Sapnap and Techno, who, as violinists, technically shouldn’t be in here.
“What are you two doing?” Dream asks, glaring playfully at his two closest friends. “Taking up my offer to join the band side?”
Techno snorts and plops down in Ant’s chair. “No. The orchestra room is still locked, so we’ve come here.”
“Dream,” Sapnap says in a stage whisper. “Did you know that Techno is dating someone?”
Dream gasps exaggeratedly. “Who?”
“His violin,” Sapnap giggles.
“I am not!” Techno protests.
Illumina laughs, a sound like hot cocoa on a winter day. “Techno, you’re dating your violin? Congrats!”
“I’m not -”
“How long has it been?” Dream demands, also giggling.
Techno shakes his head and begins to open his violin case. “You three are pillocks. Absolute pillocks.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dating your violin,” Illumina insists with a grin.
“Yeah,” Sapnap snickers. “Nothing wrong with being violinsexual.”
“I hate this friend group,” Techno mutters. He pointedly turns away from them and begins playing scales, presumably to warm up.
“That reminds me.” Illumina stands up and starts to put his sax back in its case. “I gotta go see my math teacher before school starts.”
“You’re leaving?” Dream asks, trying and failing to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“Sorry, Drizzle, but I have to. I’ll see you later in band, though!” With a snap, Illumina closes his case and jogs into the instrument room. He emerges empty-handed, backpack slung over one shoulder. It draws Dream’s attention to the plain T-shirt the brunette is wearing, and he instinctively curls his fingers around the hem of Illumina’s hoodie. At least he still has this.
“Okay,” he says. “Bye, Lumi.”
Illumina gives him a heartachingly handsome smile and a wave before leaving the room. Dream stares at the door as it closes, his heart fluttering like it always does around Illumina. F*ck. Now his friends are going to tease the hell out of him.
Right on cue, Sapnap plops down in the chair next to his. “Dude, don’t tell me you don’t see it.”
“Huh?” Dream mumbles, casting his friend a confused look. “What do you mean?”
From behind them, Techno doesn’t look up from his sheet music or stop playing whatever he’s playing (some sort of weird violin warm-up exercise, maybe?) as he says, “Told you he was oblivious.”
Dream frowns. “Oblivious to what?”
George rolls his eyes, his drumsticks tapping out a soft, steady beat on the drums. “You really are an idiot. Do you seriously not see it?”
“See what ?”
“Oh my god,” Sapnap says in disbelief. “George, are you hearing this right now?”
“Seriously, guys, what are you talking about?” Dream demands. “Explain or I’ll burst your eardrums with my flute.” And just in case he needs to make good on his threat, he shifts into the fingering for high high B flat.
Sapnap gives Techno a “can you believe this guy?” look, to which Techno replies with an expression that screams “I can and I’m sick of it”. After a moment of nonverbal communication, Sapnap turns back to Dream.
“Dream, bestie. That’s not your hoodie.”
“How kind of you to notice,” Dream says dryly, burying himself further into the fabric.
“Illumina gave it to you.”
“No, really? I thought it was the cookie monster.”
“You’re pickin’ up on my sarcasm,” Techno notes. “I’m not sure if I should be proud or horrified by that.”
“Dream, listen,” George says from the drum set. “Illumina gave you his hoodie.”
Dream blushes for no good reason. “And?”
“That’s what couples do.”
Is he saying that Lumi and I are a couple ? Dream wonders. Because we’re definitely not . It would be nice if they were a couple- in fact, if that happened, Dream would probably shriek as high as he can go on his flute with happiness- but, alas, he and Illumina aren’t dating. They’re only friends, and Dream suspects that that’s all they ever will be, because Illumina doesn’t like him that way. As much as it hurts sometimes, that’s the truth. He’s living the classic tale of unrequited love, and he doubts this story will have a plot twist at the end.
“Not necessarily,” Dream argues. “Punz gives me his hoodies all the time.”
“Does he give them to you, or do you steal them?” Techno wonders.
“Shut up, bacon. You’re not helping.”
Techno smirks and plays the first few notes of the Imperial March. “Never said I was.”
“Okay, maybe friends share clothes sometimes,” George admits. “But giving someone your hoodie when they’re cold is a very… couple thing to do.”
“Lumi and I aren’t a couple,” Dream says, blushing and hiding behind his music stand. “We’re just friends, and besides, he doesn’t like me back that way. He just saw I was cold and offered me his hoodie. That’s all.”
George and Sapnap exchange an exasperated look. “Sure, Dream,” they say in unison.
“He’s in denial, your honor,” Techno hums over the sound of his violin busting out some epic chromatic scales.
“What?” Dream yelps. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sapnap sighs and drapes an arm around Dream’s shoulder. “Oh, darling, at least you’re cute.”
“Thank you?”
“You seriously don’t get it?” George asks again, his drumsticks tapping on the ride cymbal.
Dream shakes his head miserably as he fidgets with his flute keys. “No, I really don’t.” His friends are clearly insinuating something, he just doesn’t know what. What’s the big deal with Illumina giving him his hoodie, anyways? Sharing clothes is something friends do- right?
“Well, that’s okay,” Sapnap says, probably trying to cheer Dream up. “Don’t worry about it, Dreamie. You’ll figure it out.”
“Doubtful,” Techno comments.
“You wound me, bacon,” Dream says with a pout.
Techno points his violin bow at him. “Shut up and practice.”
“Okay, mom.” Even as he begins to play his scales, though, Dream’s mind still lingers on everything that had happened in the past ten minutes- his friends’ confusing statements, Illumina’s movie-star smile, and above all, the comforting warmth of his crush’s hoodie.
---
Essempee High’s second home varsity football game of the season takes place in late September, a time where temperatures technically should still be pretty comfortable. The weather seemed okay on the forecast when Illumina checked after school- only 50 degrees Fahrenheit- but as soon as he steps out of the car, he’s hit by a blast of freezing air. Either the weather people had made a mistake or his phone had glitched, because it feels like 30, not 50.
In all honesty, though, he doesn’t find it that bad. He’s used to cold weather, being from Canada and all, and the thick hoodie he’s wearing over a long-sleeved shirt is enough to keep him fairly comfortable. He’d brought hand warmers, too, so with luck he’ll make it through the game.
His bandmates don’t seem to share the same feelings. They all gather in a line, the woodwinds near the front and the brass players near the back, with George at the lead, and when they all step outside, Illumina sees half of the line shiver fiercely. He cranes his neck, using his height to his fullest advantage to scan the group for his friends. The band this year is mostly sophomores, juniors, and a couple dozen wide-eyed freshmen, but scattered here and there are his fellow seniors- Sam and Harvey at the very back, Fruit right next to him, Ant just in front of them.
Fruit doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold either, and the greenette is humming cheerfully as he puts on his sax neck strap. Illumina still moves a little closer to his friend, just to absorb the little bit of extra body heat. “Ready?” he asks.
“Yep,” Fruit replies. “Did you bring your hand warmers, by the way? My fingers are gonna freeze.”
“Yeah, I did.” Illumina passes one of his three pairs over.
“Alright, everyone, line up in pairs!” George shouts, raising a drum stick into the air for attention. “Flutes in the front, clarinets behind them, brass in the back.”
There’s a bit of shuffling as everyone reorganizes themselves, and then they begin the walk to the football stadium. Cold wind whips past Illumina, brushing his neck with icy fingers and ruffling his hair. He takes one hand out from underneath his sax to flip his hood up.
They make it to the stadium and file into the band section of the bleachers- flutes in front, then clarinets, then saxes, and so on. George takes his spot at the drum set, and Mr. Phil stands near the railing so he can observe the game and cue them in to play whenever there’s a touchdown. Illumina finds himself sitting in a spot where he can see Dream a few bleachers in front of him. The shine of golden curls directly in his field of vision does not bode well for his focus this game, but he tries to tear his gaze away and concentrate on organizing his little area.
When the clock hits 6:55, they play the national anthem. After that, the first half of the game passes in somewhat of a daze. It gets progressively colder and colder until even Illumina is starting to feel the chill. He keeps his hand warmers in his lap so that as soon as they’re done playing a song, he can pick them up and warm his fingers so that his joints aren’t too stiff and frozen to play.
At halftime, almost everyone leaves to buy food and take a break. Illumina is debating whether or not to go see what his three dollars can buy from the concession stand when someone slips into the spot next to him. It’s Dream.
Illumina is immediately concerned, because the blonde looks like he’s on the verge of frostbite. His whole body is shaking, and his lips are paler than usual. His outfit looks pretty warm- a thick green jacket with white trim, a purple knit hat, a red scarf, and black fingerless gloves- but he’s clearly freezing. Even still, Dream looks cute, all bundled up like this.
“You okay?” Illumina asks. His arm twitches, and he just barely manages to stop himself from draping it around Dream’s shoulders.
“Fine,” Dream says, his teeth chattering just enough to notice. “It’s so f*cking cold.” The blonde gives Illumina a glance. “How are you not freezing?”
Illumina shrugs. “I guess I’m just used to the cold. I am a little chilly, though.”
“I’m freezing.” Dream closes his eyes, still shivering, and scooches closer until his body is pressing against Illumina’s.
“What are you doing?” Illumina’s breath hitches. Even beneath the thick coat, he can feel the soft curve of Dream’s waist pressed up against him, and it’s- amazing. Their bodies form one seamless line from their shoulders to their thighs, like they’re pieces of metal that have been welded together. It feels good- not just in the fact that Illumina is a lot warmer now, but it also just feels so, so nice to be touching Dream like this.
“Huddling for warmth,” the flutist says, his eyes still closed. “Penguins do it, and it works for them.”
“You do look kinda like a penguin,” Illumina admits, ignoring the disappointment simmering in his stomach (he shouldn’t even be disappointed in the first place- of course Dream is only cuddling with him for warmth). “All fluffy.”
Dream opens his gorgeous eyes and pouts. “I’m not fluffy. You’re fluffy.”
“Sure, Drizzle.” Illumina fights back a smitten smile. “Are you warmer now?”
“A little.” As if on cue, a shiver runs through Dream’s whole body. “C-can I have your hand warmers? My fingers are so stiff I’m surprised I could even play that last song.”
“Yeah, ‘course.” Fumbling in his bag, Illumina pulls out the pair of hand warmers he has left and passes them over to Dream. The blonde takes them, gripping them like holy relics and letting out an adorable little sigh of relief.
They sit there for a moment, soaking in one another’s body warmth. Dream is still shivering violently, though, and after a few minutes Illumina’s protective instinct kicks in. He pushes aside his rationality and drapes an arm around Dream’s shoulder, squeezing tightly.
Dream’s breath hitches audibly, and to Illumina’s surprise, the blonde actually snuggles closer. “Thank you,” he breathes, looking up at Illumina under thick golden lashes. Even in the darkness of night, his eyes glitter like fragments of green glass that have been pieced together.
God, he’s beautiful , Illumina thinks dazedly. He doesn’t say that out loud, though. What he says is, “No problem. Better?”
“Yeah.” Dream presses impossibly closer, his body warmer than the sun. He feels small and sweet and perfect in Illumina’s arm, and Illumina has the sudden realization that he could tuck his chin into Dream’s hair. He wouldn’t even have to bend his neck or straighten his back to do it.
And then Dream’s head dips down to rest on his shoulder, and Illumina can’t hold back any longer. Slowly, he nestles his chin into those fluffy curls. They feel soft and silky and wonderful against his skin, and he can detect the faint smell of jasmine. In that moment, his entire world revolves around the sensation of Dream’s head beneath his chin and the scent of of the blonde’s shampoo, something he’d never noticed before because they’ve never gotten this close and intimate.
“Lumi?” Dream whispers suddenly.
“Yeah?” Illumina croaks, barely managing to push the word out.
“Hug me more often.”
Illumina doubts he could deny that request even if he tried. “Okay. I will.”
“Good.”
Tina comes back and slides in next to Illumina. Weirdly enough, she doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that Illumina and Dream are basically cuddling on the bleachers. She simply rubs her gloved hands together and makes a “brrr” sound. “Holy sh*t, it’s so cold.”
“I know,” Illumina says sympathetically. “Did you get any food?”
She produces two grilled cheese sandwiches wrapped in foil. “Dream, here’s your sandwich.”
“Eat it later,” Dream mumbles, his face still pressed into Illumina’s shoulder.
Tina looks amused. “You sure, dude? I would eat it now, before we have to start playing again.”
Dream’s response to that is an incoherent string of mumbles as he burrows even closer, his arms coming to wrap around Illumina’s waist and cling to him like a koala would cling to a tree.
“I’ll get him to eat it,” Illumina says, trying very hard not to blush. He takes the sandwich and puts it next to himself. “Is he always like this?” Tina and Dream have apparently known each other since middle school, so she would know better than Illumina if this is normal Dream behaviour.
“Kinda, yeah.” Tina smirks. “You’re the only person I’ve seen him be this clingy with, though. Usually he kind of just wedges himself between Sam and Bad for a bit, or he goes to find Sapnap- back when Sapnap wasn’t on the team, I mean.”
What does that mean, if he’s clingy with me ? Illumina wonders. Does it mean- no, surely not. But what if it does mean… that ? After all, they literally are cuddling on the bleachers, and as physically affectionate as Dream is with his friends, Illumina has never seen the blonde straight-up snuggle with anyone else- not even Sapnap or George.
It’s cold, the rational side of his brain points out. He’s just cuddling with you for warmth .
But he also put his head on your shoulder , the other, less rational half of his brain argues. And he’s practically clinging onto you. He never does that with his friends .
The rational half of his brain has no counterpoint to that.
Illumina takes a deep breath. Think about that later. Right now, get food .
He gently shakes Dream. “C’mon, Drizzle, you gotta eat your sandwich. I want to go get food too, so you have to let go either way.”
“Make me.” Dream’s voice is muffled, which somewhat diminishes the challenge, but his grip remains tight around Illumina’s waist.
“Drizzle-” Illumina starts.
“No. You’re warm.” And then, to seal the fact that he’s not going to let go, Dream snuggles even closer and shoves his face very firmly into Illumina’s shoulder.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Illumina says, not feeling very disappointed at all.
Tina giggles. “I can go get you food if you want.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t wanna make you walk all the way back over there.”
“I kinda want to, actually. It’s warmer by the concession stand ‘cause there’s more bodies.” Tina stands up. “What do you want?”
“A hot dog, please. Here, I have some money-” Illumina reaches for his bag, but Tina waves him off.
“Don’t worry about it, dude. It’s on me.”
“Tina-”
“No, seriously. My parents gave me, like 30 bucks to spend on food and stuff, and they’ll take back what I don’t use, so there’s no point in saving it. Be back soon!” With a wave, Tina jogs down the bleachers and disappears into the thick crowd.
A moment later, Illumina’s phone dings. He checks it to see a message from Tina, who’d once gotten a hold of his phone and changed her contact to what it still is today:
Tina, our lord, queen and savior: he really likes u u know
Illumina blushes.
Me: hes just cold and im warm
Me: besides he does that with all his friends
Tina, our lord, queen, and savior: you know damn well that im not talking about “friends”, illumina aichdee
Me: he doesnt like me that way
Tina, our lord, queen, and savior: you sure about that?
No, Illumina thinks, I’m not sure . But after telling himself for so long that Dream only likes him as a friend, it’s hard to believe otherwise. His mind keeps circulating back to all the times he’s seen Dream cuddling with Sapnap during group movie nights or holding George’s hand in the hallways.
Dream does touch his friends a lot. But he’s never actually snuggled with any of them like this, never clung onto them and rested his head on their shoulder and refused to let go. That’s something people do with, well. Someone that they like like.
Illumina tosses his phone down and sighs. He doesn’t even know what to think anymore. He used to be so confident that his feelings were unrequited, but now, he’s not sure of it. He’s not sure of anything, really, except for that fact that having Dream cuddling up to him feels very nice and he would quite like to continue with this.
When halftime ends and everyone returns to their spots to play, Illumina wraps his arms around himself and wonders if he’s imagining the sudden drop in temperature without Dream beside him.
---
The last home game of the season is in early November. Even with the hot chocolate that Mr. Phil brings and the copious amount of layers Dream is wearing, he still feels like he’s going to turn into a human icicle. During halftime, it’s so bitterly cold that he decides to get up and take a walk just to gain a little more heat.
He goes with Illumina because Illumina is warm and Dream always loves spending time with the brunette. They walk around the field together, pushing their way through the throng of people. Dream wishes that he could snuggle up to Illumina like he did back in September, but that would be awkward to do while walking. Besides, he already embarrassed himself enough by doing it the first time- he’s not about to embarrass himself again.
Just then, someone bumps hard into Dream, causing him to stumble and knocking his flute out of his hand (he’d brought it with him because he hadn’t wanted to leave it lying on the bleachers). Panic surges up in his chest faster than he can breathe, and he screams, expecting to watch as his precious flute smashes on the ground in front of him.
But before it hits the concrete, Illumina lunges forward and catches it by the barrel. The Canadian straightens, panting, and carefully offers the flute to Dream. “Here.”
“Thank you,” Dream gasps, clutching his instrument protectively to his chest and pressing a hand over his racing heart. Illumina’s eyes meet his, and there’s something warm in those mocha irises that makes Dream’s stomach flutter. The brunette looks suddenly gorgeous, standing there with his chest heaving and his cheeks flushed from the cold and maybe something else, and oh, Dream wants to kiss him so badly.
Instead, they keep walking, and when they reach the concession stand, Dream turns and does something he’s never done before. He hands his flute to Illumina. “Will you hold this for me?”
Illumina stares at him for a heartbeat, then smiles a smile that heats Dream’s core up by roughly a thousand degrees. “Of course,” he says, carefully cradling Dream’s flute to his chest.
“Thank you,” Dream says. And maybe he’s just imagining it, but when he and Illumina get back to the bleachers, he no longer feels quite as cold.
---
December comes, bringing with it winter ball. Illumina is still just as single as he was at the beginning of the year, so he goes without a date. Standing in a corner of the massive room, he watches as Fruit sashays back and forth with his girlfriend of one month, both of them laughing. They match each other, he in his tuxedo and she in her pale pink gown, and they look so happy together it makes Illumina’s chest ache a little. He wishes he had someone he could dance with like that, someone he could look at the way Fruit is looking at Salty.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Dream, who looks painfully beautiful in a short, periwinkle blue dress. The blonde pulls the look off better than most of the girls in the room, and Illumina can’t help himself. He takes a deep breath, crosses over to where Dream is, and extends an arm.
“Can I interest you in a dance?”
The words are formal, but Dream’s replying laugh and blush are anything but. “I suppose you can,” he says playfully. There’s rose gold eyeshadow dusted on his eyelids, bringing out the pretty hazel undertones in his emerald irises, and Illumina’s heartbeat speeds up from andante to presto .
Silently, he reaches for Dream’s hand. Dream twines their fingers together, and they set off, joining the other couples whirling around on the dance floor. Illumina quickly discovers that he absolutely cannot dance, and Dream is no better, but the blonde’s wheezing laughs whenever they trip over each other’s feet makes the whole experience so worth it.
---
In January, the band and orchestra go to the elementary school to play for the kids. After the performance, a 4th grade girl comes up to Illumina and his friends. She points at Dream and Tina and boldly asks, “Are you two dating?”
Tina laughs and crouches down a bit to get on eye level with the girl. “No, but-” the flutist lowers her voice to a stage whisper and gestures to Dream and Illumina- “those two are in love .”
The girl makes an ooh-ing sound.
Techno snickers not-so-subtly into his sleeve.
Illumina chokes on his water.
Dream merely blushes and smiles.
---
On Valentine’s Day, Dream arrives in the band room before school to practice. He opens his flute case to see that someone had slipped a pink, heart-shaped letter into his case- probably when he'd left it at school after the rehearsal last night. On the front of the letter, written in careful calligraphy, is his name- For Dream .
Heart pounding, Dream takes the letter and flips it open. Inside, familiar handwriting spells out, Roses are red, violets are blue, my heart goes prestissimo when I’m around you. Meet me after school? - Illumina.
“What are you smiling at?” George demands as he walks into the room.
Dream quickly folds the letter up and sticks it into his pocket, his cheeks hurting from how wide he’s grinning. “Nothing!”
George eyes him suspiciously. “What did you just put in your pocket?”
“Don’t worry about it, Georgie,” Dream tells the brunette. He assembles his flute and lifts it to his mouth to play, except his mind is anywhere but his sheet music. Leave it to dorky, loveable Illumina to confess in a heart-shaped letter on Valentine’s day, and with music terms. God, it’s a wonder Dream hasn’t kissed him yet. He may still get a chance, though, if he can make it through the day.
School seems to drag on for forever, but finally, the dismissal bell rings. Dream doesn’t think he’s gotten up so fast in his life. He slings his backpack over his shoulder, grabs his flute, and dashes out of the classroom fast enough to probably break an Olympic sprinting record.
It hits him then that he’s not sure where Illumina wants to meet. But he’s nothing if determined, spurred on by the excitement of potentially kissing his handsome, sweet crush, and he makes a whole lap around the school, pushing past people until he finally sees a familiar brunette.
Illumina is standing by a tree in the now-empty courtyard, looking way too good in a black jacket and jeans. His chocolate-colored hair contrasts warmly with the snow on the ground, and the smile on his face is equal parts cheeky and soft. Dream wants to kiss it right off.
He walks closer, setting his flute case down on a table as he passes, until he’s standing right in front of Illumina. He places his hands on his hips and raises an eyebrow, trying to conceal his excitement. “You called?”
“I did,” Illumina says, laughing. “Did you like my letter?” Suddenly he looks almost shy, his cheeks the color of pink roses, and something about that makes Dream melt like ice on a hot day.
“Yes, you big idiot, I did,” he says fondly, a smile tugging at his lips. “It was a lovely letter- although I feel like you missed the opportunity to say ‘Tchaikovsky is dead, and Bach is too’ instead of “roses are red, violets are blue’.”
Illumina laughs again. “Well, that’s not nearly as romantic. Although Tchaikovsky was gay.” The brunette wiggles his eyebrows. “Want to be my Sergei?”
“You’re dumb. Will you just kiss me already? It’s Valentine’s Day, and my lips are freezing.”
“Oh? I can fix that.” Illumina leans forward, and Dream copies him, standing on tiptoe to close the height gap between them. Their lips meet, and it’s warm, warmer than anything Dream has experienced. Illumina’s hands settle on his hips, big enough to hold him comfortably; his arms automatically snake around the brunette’s neck to drag him closer. It’s sweet, it’s amazing, and most of all, it’s better than Dream ever imagined.
When they separate, Illumina’s hands remain holding his waist. The brunette noses into Dream’s hair, his height allowing him to do that comfortably, and murmurs, “Wanna go on a date with me?”
Dream giggles, flushed with happiness and feeling lighter than he has in months. “That seems like something you should’ve asked before we kissed.”
“You asked me to kiss you.”
“I did, and I don’t regret it.” Dream leans up and kisses Illumina again. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you. Right now?”
“Sounds good,” Illumina hums against his lips. “We can go to my favorite cafe and buy hot chocolate. My treat.”
“What a gentleman,” Dream teases. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
Illumina laughs, one arm settling around his waist like it was always there. “Let’s go, then.”
They set off together, their boots crunching through the snow, and even though the February air is cold as ice, Dream has never felt so warm.