---🌹---
Dream could have taken advantage of George's calls.
He could ask for the winners of future sports games and bet on them to become rich. He could ask for the secrets to the future and use it for personal gain.
But what did Dream want? All he wanted was to talk to George.
Given the opportunity to speak to someone fifty years ahead of him, and all he wanted to do was to talk to a lonely boy who's never had someone care about him the way he did.
Dream never had intentions that helped himself. Maybe in the beginning his curiosity led to longing for more answers but after getting to know George all of that disappeared and was replaced by what he saw as a beautiful friendship.
These phone calls were their little secrets. Their few hours in the dark, gloomy nights to relax and be themselves to someone who would comfort and laugh with them. It was something the both of them had gotten used to.
---🌹---
George had woken up groggy having slept in an uncomfortable position all night. He made to check the time on his phone but realized it had died due to the song playing on his phone during the night.
He groaned and got up, almost falling over but catching himself on time. He decided to get breakfast and go for a walk since it was such a nice day outside, and it'd be perfect since his phone would be charged by that time.
After eating a couple leftovers and brushing his teeth, he ran back to his room to his phone, unplugging it before going back downstairs.
The sun was newly risen and illuminated the neighbourhood in such a way that everyone who took the time to step outside would consider it the perfect day. George continued to his usual routine of checking the planted flowers.
He patted the soil, “Nothing yet, I guess.” He told himself, sighing before getting up and walking across the newly sprinkled grass, water slightly seeping through the material of his shoes but not enough to throw him off the course of his good day.
No plans had been made, and George was going nowhere in particular. He decided it was better to walk than drive, because his cardio had been awful and something he needed to work on.
Town Square was a close enough walk that it was bearable, but also far enough to get some good exercise in. It housed various shops and restaurants, including Karl's flower store. In fact, George had not been back to town square since he had gone to Karl's store.
It was a fifteen-minute walk, and he took his time because he liked listening to songs during walks, so he'd walk to the beat of the music, which in this case were slower.
Once he arrived, he had not been hungry so he skipped over the small cafés and fast food places, and explored the stores he had never seen before. There was an old, sort of run down arcade that still attracted lots of kids and adults who longed for a hint of nostalgia. A shop for teas that had free taste testing (which George had a blast in), and other hidden gems George had never known about.
While he was walking, he had stepped on a piece of gum on the floor. He made a disgusted face as he lifted his shoe up and the gum stretched up off the concrete with it. He kicked his shoe on the pavement, attempting to peel it off. After he had successfully cleaned his shoe, he looked up and saw a small door to his left.
He never would have seen it if he hadn't had stopped in front of the door. It was a bookshop, with the paint on its windows missing some letters due to peeling.
George was immediately drawn to it, walking mindlessly inside as a cowbell rang when the door opened.
It was much bigger than what he had expected after seeing it from the outside. There were aisles that housed not only books, but music as well. Including records, cassettes, and CD's.
The thing that caught his eye, though, was who was behind the counter. It was Alex.
He was bagging a book for a customer, thanking them for their purchase and after seeing they had a child, he included a sheet of stickers and a bookmark. His true colours were showing. He didn't reallyhate children.
George walked overconfidently, and Alex didn't notice him until he was right in front of the counter. He was still toying with the cash register, looking down.
“Hello wh-” Alex looked up and saw it was George, “George. I've never seen you here before.”
George looked around, eyebrows raised, “Well, I've never been here before.”
Alex nodded, “I know. I usually get the same customers and I know them all by now, so seeing you here is a surprise.”
George eyed the shelves behind the counter, promoting new arrivals and books whose stock were low. On a book stand was a book called “The Art of War”, almost proudly displayed in the centre of the top shelf. “So you work here, that's a cool thing.”
Alex chuckled lightly, “I own this place.” He clarified, and George was shocked and impressed at the same time. Alex's appearance never gave off an energy that implied he worked at such a place.
“How'd you get it?” George asked, “Did you buy it yourself?”
The pink highlighted haired man shook his head, the fang earring hanging on his left ear jingling as he did so, “Dad owned it.” He explained, gesturing to the big store around him, “Wilbur never was one for reading books, but I was an English major, and he knew I did, so he left it all to me after he retired instead.”
The people in George's life never failed to surprise him. Who would have thought this intimidating man was an English Major who ended up owning a bookshop? He never knew how lovely it was to ask and get to know about other people for the first time. “Business seems well, that's quite impressive.”
“It's steady, yeah,” Alex shrugged, “I'm saving up money for a few things while trying to keep this place runnin'.”
“Saving money for what?” George inquired curiously.
“A new computer for Tommy, he spilled co*ke on it. Wilbur's been needing help with money for buying a new car, so that's something too. And-” He hesitated for a bit, “A plane ticket.”
George found it sweet how his first few options for purchases involved Wilbur and Tommy, but wanted to learn more about the plane ticket. “A plane ticket? Do you want to go on holiday?”
“No.” Alex played with the cash register some more, “Do not mention this to Wilbur, but I'm actually in a relationship with someone.”
George raised his eyebrows up and down with a smile, “They live in a state near here?”
“Ha,” Alex laughed, “not even close.”
If only Alex knew how much George had related to him. Both had someone they cared about far
away from them. The only difference was all Alex had to do was buy a plane ticket, while
George's situation was a bit more complicated than his.
“I hope it works out for you then, Alex.” George turned around to check if there were customers waiting in line, in case he had been clogging it up. After seeing no one, he added, “I'll go look for some books, I've been meaning to start reading more.”
Alex agreed, and proceeded to help a customer that had just arrived.
George picked up two books that had piqued his interest, and made to pay for them when he saw the cassette aisle. He walked over, checking them out. He had no cassette player, but he knew Dream liked cassettes so he wanted to see what they had in stock.
He pulled some out, there were some Elvis Presley ones, Doris day, and also every Beatles and Beach Boys album.
When he reached the R lettered section, he pulled out each cassette, reading the names until he reached one with no design, just “Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers+ more” written in thick, black pen on its white label.
George was giddy, and though he did not own anything that could play the cassette, he decided to purchase it anyway to tell Dream about later.
He once again met Alex at the counter, who counted up his total price.
“You forgot this.” George told him, pushing the cassette toward him.
Alex picked it up, eyeing it, “Good choice,” he told George, “haven't heard this one in a while.”
“You've heard it?”
“If you're talking about this particular tape, then yes.” Alex nodded, handing it back to him, “I've heard every song on it. A lot of the records and cassettes are our own stock.”
George took the tape back, “You forgot to charge me.” he chuckled.
Alex shrugged, “Nah. Take it. We have a hard time getting cassettes out since people don't buy them any more. You're probably the first in months.”
George smiled and thanked the man. He took all his stuff and waved goodbye. Alex gave a salute with two fingers as he walked out the door.
---🌹---
Later that night, George sat on his bed reading one of the new books he had purchased. The phone was kept plugged in and close by him, waiting out the last few minutes before Dream was scheduled to call.
He only got a few paragraphs of the chapter he was on before the phone started ringing. George looked around for anything he could use to mark his place in the book, as dog-earing pages had always been a pet peeve of his. He found an old food receipt and stuck it between the pages before making to answer the phone.
“George, how's my favourite guy from 2020?” Dream greeted, his voice a little raspy.
George furrowed a brow in thought, “Are you talking to me?” He asked sarcastically, making Dream laugh.
“Don't remember having talked to anyone else from 2020 lately, so I assume so…” They both chortled a bit more before settling down.
They had talked about each other's day. Dream spoke about how he managed to argue the kid he was coaching out of suspension and getting the rival team some sort of punishment, resulting in getting cussed at by a few angry parents as he walked past them with his head high, paying them no mind while spinning his baseball bat.
“Were you actually that confident?” George questioned him sceptically, and Dream scoffed.
“You said it yourself.” He shrugged, “I'm so full of myself.”
“Don't forget me mentioning how obsessed you are with me.” George added, and Dream was a little surprised at this newfound confidence.
“Y-yeah.” Dream let out a small breath, “Where would this old man be without you?” He pushed the joke, knowing it was the best way to respond without seeming too weakened by the statement.
George caught sight of the cassette tape he had bought on his desk, “Oh Dream,” he said, “I found a cassette of the song you sang last night.”
“Ooh,” Dream was interested, “play it out loud.”
George scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “Yeah… I don't actually have anything to play it with.”
Dream was silent for a moment, “Would you like a Walkman?” He asked, “I have an extra one still in the box, I reckon it can survive fifty years right?”
“I don't know,” George said truthfully, “buried in the backyard sitting through fifty years worth of sprinklers and rain?”
“Hm,” Dream came up with an idea, “I have an idea, but it involves ruining the walls again.”
George made a sound indicating he was tired of all the wall ruining, when in reality he didn't mind, “What is it?”
George heard knocking on the phone, “It seems pretty thick. Maybe I can cut out a little place to keep the box in. I can also use it to send you more items as well.”
George sighed, “Alright, try.”
Dream took out a red Swiss army knife and pulled out the small blade, cutting through the wall and coughing through the dust that emerged. George watched as the cracks appeared on his wall, right next to the sketch of his face.
Nothing in the house had been changed since 1970, but most of the items were either stolen or taken with the last people who lived with the house (presumably Dream), so leaving stuff out wouldn't have worked.
Dream had successfully cut a square into the wall, and surprisingly the inside was hollow and full of old insulation. He looked under his bed and found the Walkman box, putting it into the space and covering the wall up again.
“Done.” He announced.
George made to push the wall open but realized the cracks had grown enough mold to seal it shut again. He knocked on it before punching it repeatedly.
“Woah there,” Dream asked through the phone, “you alright?”
“Yeah,” George punched again, “Just- need- to- YES!”
The square cutout of the wall had fallen through, and George was met with a cloud of dust and a smell that was quite foul. He bravely put his hand in the space and patted the area until his hands found the old box.
The box was a bit dirty, but when he opened it the contents were still mint condition.
It was crazy, the things that could survive fifty years.
“Thank you, Dream.”
“No problem, George,” Dream smiled, “do you know how to use it is the question.”
“Nope.” George eyed the device, trying to figure it out. It was quite embarrassing how much knowledge he lacked in old technology.
Dream had walked him through how to use it until George finally got the tape in and pressed play.
The first few seconds of Unchained Melody played, but he was more curious as to what the other songs on the tape were. He asked Dream how to skip a song, and after being taught, he skipped.
He held it up to the phone as the first notes of a song started to exert from the Walkman.
“I Will by The Beatles!” Dream exclaimed, “I've been meaning to add that to a tape, I love that song. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will.” He sang, and George let the song play until the end since Dream enjoyed it so much.
They had listened to each and every song on the tape, with Dream knowing most of them and singing along. George enjoyed hearing him sing, because amidst the jokingly sung lyrics was a great singing voice.
The singing had made both of them sleepy eventually, and as they both said goodnight and hung up the phone, they lay in their beds, deprived of their one muse once again.
Little did George Davidson know that in the grass of his small front yard, a leaf blooms out of the packed soil, ready to live.
---🌹---
