Work Text:
When George steps into his new campus for his senior year, it’s underwhelming honestly.
There’s a lone oak tree with browning leaves in the center, with a few benches and lunch tables scattered around. He can see the library right behind the tree, with a faded-out mural of an ocean still life, with the dolphin mascot being the center of attention. To his left, he sees the English and History buildings, and to his right-
Is a boy smiling right at him.
He holds out his palm and a fist over it. Confused at first, George stares at him, tilting his head slightly. It’s only when he lowers his first down to his palm when he realizes what’s going on. Rock paper scissors?
Not wanting to come across horribly mean. He mirrors his actions and they play.
George chooses scissors.
He chooses rock.
“I win! That means I get to ask you a question,” Mystery guy says with a smile.
This is weird is what George wanted to reply with. Instead, he says, “It’s George. What’s your name?”
“Ah, I would tell you, but you haven’t won rock paper scissors now have you?” Mystery guy supplies instead of an answer.
George is still confused at his silly game, but he holds his hand up anyway.
Rock.
Paper.
Mystery guy grins, “I get another question, what’s your favorite color?”
George looks at the oak tree again, and decides, “Brown.”
“Interesting choice, not many people choose such a dull color as their favorite,” he jokes.
“Are you making fun of my choice in colors?” George asks, taking mock offense.
“Maybe, I am,” Mystery guy replies with a teasing lilt, “Your favorite color can say a lot about you.”
George decides to play along, “What does it say about me then?”
“That you’re boring.”
“Hey!”
-
The third time George gets asked to play rock paper scissors, he understands what’s going on.
George is sitting next to Clay on one of the lunch tables. He finally learned Clay’s name after discovering they shared 6th period English. They’re partners in class, and they’re writing a short story based on a book series for a creative writing assignment.
The two of them had been bickering back and forth about which series they wanted to base the story off of, with Clay begging for Percy Jackson and George wanting Harry Potter instead. George relented as soon as he realized Clay wasn’t going to back down.
Now that they’d hashed out the plot onto Clay’s spiral notebook, Clay holds out his hand to play and George follows shortly.
Paper.
Scissors.
Clay grinned victoriously and asked, “Why are you wearing all black today?”
George looks down at his jeans and crewneck and shrugs, “I guess it’s my favorite color.”
“I thought it was brown?” Clay questions, looking perplexed now.
“My favorite color changes every day actually.”
Clay hums. “Why’s that? Can’t pick a color?”
“It’s more because I get tired of answering with the same color,” George explains, “when I find a favorite color, I want it to have a great backstory.”
-
After school one day, Dream decides to take George to a playground in his neighborhood. It’s worn down, and everything looks like it could break at any moment, but they both go on the rusted swings anyways. The creaking of the chains fills the silence, but it’s a welcoming sound.
“Hey Dream?”
“Yes, George?”
“Play rock paper scissors with me.”
Rock.
Paper.
George fights a grin, it’s the first time he’s won. He swings back and forth a few times before asking, “What’s my favorite color today?”
“Isn’t that your decision?” Clay questions.
“Just pick one idiot.”
Clay thinks for a second before choosing. “Blue. Blue is your favorite color today.”
“Is there a reason for that?” George inquires. He sees rain clouds rolling overhead and bites his lip.
“Nah, I just think you suit it. Now guess my favorite color.”
“Marigold.”
“Wrong and marigold? Why not say orange?”
“I don’t want you to picture that disgusting neon orange shit,” George said honestly. Sure, it’s a dumb answer, but it’s the truth. Clay laughs, unaffected by George’s words. The dark clouds have gotten awfully close, and the two know they should leave before they get soaked. George starts slowing down on the swing while Dream jumps off like a maniac. As the two starts walking home, Clay offhandedly mentions his favorite color is neon green and George decidedly blanches at the thought.
-
A few months into the school year, George had forgotten about rock paper scissors. It takes him a couple of seconds to understand what Clay is doing. Clay seems nervous, his other hand is in his pocket and his feet are shuffling back and forth. Instead of commenting on it, George smiles and readies his hand.
Paper.
Scissors.
“Will you go to Winter Formal with me?”
-
“Hey, what color suit are you wearing to Formal?” Clay asks one day, shoving his fingers into his coat before the bitter winter air could catch up. They had just finished English class, and it became routine for Clay to follow George to his math classroom (and for George to watch Clay sprint across the lawn to his science classroom after escorting him there).
“Blue, it’s my favorite color,” George replies after a beat, the gravel underneath his shoes filling the silence. “Hey, by the way, how did you know you were going to win rock paper scissors the day you asked me to Formal?”
“I figured the universe would find a way for me to win if I was meant to ask,” Dream bantered cheekily, “I believe fate wants us to be together.”
“Spoken like a true romantic.”
“Shut up.”
-
Winter Formal finally comes, and George is surprised when Dream arrives at his house in a green suit.
“I thought you wanted to match a tie with my suit,” George said as he sat down on the passenger seat of Dream’s worn-down car. He noticed Dream had gotten him flowers, a combination of baby’s breath and delphiniums. The thought of Dream ordering a bouquet for him makes him smile like a maniac. “Why ask what color I’m wearing if you’re going to wear a completely different one?”
“I wanted to see what color you would choose, since your favorite changes every day of course,” Dream replied, sneaking glances over at George while driving through his neighborhood. George lives quite close to the school, and he can see the fluorescent lights in the gym get closer.
“It doesn’t change anymore, I’m keeping it blue forever. I chose blue cause it’s the color you picked that day on the swings,” George says.
“Who’s the romantic now?” Dream retorts, turning off the engine. Although Dream never said it verbally, George can see how his eyes softened at the thought of George picking his favorite color after him. Although it’s not a huge honor, Dream still takes it to heart.
The two laugh as they make their way to the gym. The theme is Winter Wonderland because of course, it is. George and Dream don’t complain though because the (fake) snow that falls on them seems to freeze the moment in time. I want to kiss Dream. George thinks. When George lifts his hand to play the all too familiar game, he realizes they both want to ask the same thing. He can see it on Dream’s face when his eyes are glancing down to his lips. Dream smiles and lifts his hand in a similar motion.
Rock.
Rock.
(They kiss anyways).