I'm With You

9

TW's:
-None really

George's POV

I did some exercises and Clay helped me a lot. He was exercising meanwhile, but sometimes he was panting so loudly that he sat down for a few minutes while closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on his hands.

He told me he was fine, but just a little bit dizzy. When I asked him if he ate enough, he avoided my question and went back to exercising. It worried me quite a lot, but I shouldn't get involved in his life when I barely even knew him.

When I exercised for an hour, I texted my mum to pick me up. I said goodbye to Clay and he told me he would be at the gym every day. When I asked if he wasn't exercising too much, he told me I did a good job today.

I decided to leave it and let him tell me if something would be wrong. I had just known him for a day, so it was normal for him to not suddenly open up and talk about his whole life. I also didn't tell him about my life.

Though, Clay was a really pretty boy. I wasn't the person to fall in love really quickly, but I did like Clay. Not as more than friends, but I didn't know what the future would bring.

Once my mother arrived, I went to sit down into her car. I was having a bad time with my vocal tics and my mother handed me my bunny, putting my seat down so I could lay down as she ran her hand through my hair.

'How did it go, honey?'

'I- car, car, car, wall, window, wheels, AGH.'

'Calm down,' my mother said in a relaxing voice. She started singing to me as I clicked my tongue and squeezed my eyes tightly.

It was five minutes later when I calmed down a little bit more and I sat up, looking at her. 'I really liked it.'

'Was it fun? What have you done?'

'There was this boy who helped me,' I said with a smile. 'He showed me how to do a lot of exercises and told me which ones were good to start with.'

'A boy? What's his name? How does he look? How old is he?'

'Mum, stop,' I giggled. 'You have supportive parents and you have you who constantly asks me if I like every boy I meet.'

'I'm just excited. Was he around your age?'

'He's seventeen, his name is Clay and he looks handsome.'

'Oh my goodness, is he your future boyfriend?'

'I've known him for a day, I can't tell whatever we will be in the future. I might never speak to him again after today.'

'Tell me how he looks.'

'He has blonde hair, yellow eyes- or green.'

'Probably green.'

'I don't really know how to describe him. He's pretty thin. I expected him to be really muscular since he exercises every day, but he doesn't seem to have a lot of muscles if I'm honest.'

My mother nodded slowly and then smiled. 'You barely have tics when you talk about him. Are you falling in love?'

'I'm not falling in love, I've known him for an hour.'

My mother smiled and stopped the car when we arrived at home. I stepped out, immediately getting tics again. I hit the car door and then the front door of my house, walking inside.

My dad was home now and he was sitting on the couch, standing up as I came in.

'Hey George! How was your day?'

I kept screeching, hitting myself and walls as I clicked my tongue, shook my body and fell down on the ground.

My dad sat down next to me and held me tightly against his body as he ran his hand through my hair just like my mum always did. It calmed me down when someone ran their hands through my hair.

I hit my dad's chest and screamed loudly as I repeated the words "floor" and "dad" over and over again. My dad started rocking and kissed my forehead as he smiled at me.

'You're doing great, George. Calm down a bit more, I'm with you.'

I nodded, hit my dad's chest again, but then calmed down a bit. He kissed my hair this time and pushed me away gently. 'How was your day, George?'

'I went to the gym,' I muttered, having a few vocal tics after that.

'Really? How did it go?'

'It went really well, I met a boy and he helped me a lot.'

'Was he sweet to you?' my dad asked.

'He was really sweet, he hugged me when I had a tic attack and didn't even get mad when I hit him a few times.'

'He would be an amazing boyfriend,' my mother yelled out.

My dad grinned. 'They just met.'

'He's probably straight,' I said. 'And the chance he would like me is also not amazingly high, even if he did like boys.'

'Why wouldn't it be high?'

'Because I don't think people want a boyfriend with Tourette's.'

'That would be discrimination and ableism.'

I shrugged. 'A lot of people are like that unfortunately.'

My dad held me tight and lifted me up as we sat back down on the couch.

'Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry if I did.'

'I don't want you to apologise, sweetie. We all know you can't help it.'

'Are you mad at me for hitting you? I actually don't want to hit you. I feel very sad when I do as well, I don't want to hurt others. I hate my other tics, but I really don't want to hit you.'

'We aren't mad at all and I'm totally fine too,' my dad said with a smile. 'I want you to stop apologising from now on. As long as you don't purposely hit us and just do it because of your tics, we don't mind at all.'

'I don't do it purposely, I promise,' I said as I lifted myself up, had three tics again and hit my leg.

'I know you don't do it purposely, honey,' my mother said. 'We know how sad it makes you and we really hope the therapy is going to help you in the near future.'

I smiled. 'Thank you for being sweet to me.'

1063 words