In Our Dreams

[PRE-RELATIONSHIP]

"You really don't need to help me with this, you know..."

Paper immediately shook his head, giving OJ a determined smile - even though his eyes started to droop and he could feel his body grow heavy.

He hoped OJ couldn't tell... the manager was at least ten times worse at maintaining a healthy sleep schedule than he was, so maybe he wouldn't notice the subtle signs of exhaustion etched into his friend's face.

"I know I don't need to, but I want to help. Even just a little... you shouldn't have to manage this whole hotel on your own all the time. You need at least some support. We'll get those bills sorted out faster as a team, and then we can both rest."

OJ nodded weakly, unable to deny Paper's words. That was... pretty abnormal for him. Normally, he'd have some sort of witty comeback or childish protest as to why Paper had to go to bed immediately and let OJ do all of the work running the hotel. But not this time. This time, the weight of his actions had finally caught up to him, and he had to put his pride aside - just this once - and let his co-manager actually do something.

He dragged his feet to the desk without a word. He didn't need to speak, anyway, Paper could easily decipher OJ's intentions with just a quick glance.

He pulled out a small, shabby stool from beneath the desk, brushing off a thin layer of dust that'd gathered on it and placing it beside his chair.

Once they sat down, OJ handed Paper a spare pen he had.

"Here... you can... start to add up the ones on that side, I'll do the right..."

If he was being honest, OJ didn't understand why he was so tired all of a sudden. Usually a cup of coffee or two was enough to keep going until at least 2AM, but it was only 11PM right now and he already felt ready to hit the hay.

Perhaps it was Paper's presence. Paper always made him feel a little warmer. More comfortable and relaxed...

...No, he had to stay focused. Hotel finances weren't gonna sort themselves out, were they?

But his eyes betrayed him, drifting towards Paper's gorgeous face...

He was... oh, he was SO gorgeous. So perfect, even when he was fading in and out of consciousness like a flickering lamplight.

He was staring hard enough to notice the way Paper occasionally sit up straight right after realising he'd drifted off again, or how slow and delicate his pen strokes were on the sheets of paper scattered across the desk.

...This was why he didn't ever let Paper help out. He knew he'd get distracted... very, very distracted. And his exhaustion made it a billion times worse.

OJ was one of the most boring, stubborn, stoic objects on Inanimate Planet. So why'd he have to go ahead and fall in love with such a creative, enchanting, kind-hearted paper angel?

He couldn't even focus on the bills anymore, they were the last thing on the mind. His 'best friend' was now front and centre. He didn't care if Paper suddenly jolted awake and whipped his neck around to see him staring at this point - he was just so lost in his own thoughts.

How would it feel, to have those gentle, warm arms wrapped around the cold, smooth curve of his glass? To allow himself to give into that urge he'd always had to play with the corners of his page like they were little flaps, or to have a delicate finger glide across his rim?

He couldn't help but wonder... how would it feel, to hear that sweet voice whisper his name, in a tone dripping with nothing but pure affection and adoration? Or to search those eyes for even a drop of love, and find himself drowning in the depths of his ever-lasting gaze?

Dare he think about the possibility of finding their hands intertwined, stepping closer and closer, until he their lips finally meet... and he'd lose himself in that sensation he'd been craving for so long, in that blissful, euphoric state where all that mattered was-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Paper's head hitting the desk. He smiled at the sight... he knew Paper wouldn't last much longer without rest, he wasn't used to staying up as late as the overworked manager was.

It was a good thing that it brought him back to reality, though. Who knows what would've happened if his sleep-deprived mind caused the line between his wildest dreams and reality to blur, and he ended up ruining his relationship with someone he cared for so deeply...

...That wouldn't happen. What happened in OJ's imagination stayed in OJ's imagination. He could control himself - he'd been doing it this long, after all.

He quietly rose from his chair, taking careful, calculated steps towards Paper, avoiding the boards in the floor he'd come to learn would always creak.

Paper's arms were crossed, his head resting over them and the statistics he'd been analysing before he passed out. It almost looked like he was hiding the sheet away.

But that was a silly thought, right? It was probably just the way he fell onto it.

OJ reached his hands towards one of the uncovered corners of the sheet, pinching it and slipping it out of Paper's grasp.

But before he could pull it out all the way, he froze.

There were no calculations to be found. Instead, right in the corner of the page, there was a doodle.

A doodle of... of them, both of them, at some sort of picnic. They wore bright smiles, both enjoying the food and each other's company. It looked like any other day they'd spend together when OJ wasn't incredibly busy. Except for one tiny, yet crucial detail.

They were holding hands.

OJ couldn't comprehend what he was seeing; he had to rub his eyes a few times to make sure it wasn't a hallucination. When he came to the conclusion that his eyes were working correctly - that Paper, PAPER, actually drew them holding hands - his jaw dropped in complete and utter shock, a furious blush consuming his cheeks. Why was he getting so... weirdly excited over this? It was just a doodle, and the two of them holding hands in it didn't- it didn't mean anything...

But... but Paper was an artist. He never drew things without meaning, did he? Even the small, quick things are just... extensions of things he likes, aren't they? Why would he draw something he didn't like or didn't want to see?

Maybe... maybe Paper also dreamed of them being together?

No, no, he couldn't get his hopes up... he just couldn't. That wouldn't end well for him, there was NO way he was interpreting this right...

He was probably just... really tired. Seeing things he'd only see in his sweetest dreams.

What if he was dreaming right now?

His brain was so clouded with confused tiredness that he couldn't even tell anymore.

Maybe he should just... go to bed. Try to forget this, try to wake up and live tomorrow like any other day.

OJ scooped Paper up into his arms, gently setting him down on his bed, draping the blanket over him.

"Goodnight, Paper..."

He knew there was no reason to say it if Paper was already unconscious, but he didn't care. If this was really a dream, it wouldn't matter. His lips found themselves gently pressing against Paper's forehead, giving it a quick peck.

He didn't miss how it brought a very slight smile to Paper's lips.

Once his cork was in his glass, and he was wrapped up in the safe comfort of his bedsheets, the pillow below him seemed all the more inviting. His head sunk into it, and the exhaustion returned to his mind in full force.

Despite the jumble of scattered thoughts and questions racing in his head, all the confused murmurs and doubting whispers, only one thought remained in his head just before he finally fell into a deep sleep.

The thought that maybe, just maybe... his dreams weren't as unrealistic as he once thought they were.