Dnf oneshots💚💙

Our bubble💔🎀

Sorry, here's just the CUTEST PHOTO IN EXISTENCE, LIKE LOOK HOW HAPPY HE IS 🥺 :')

TW: I guess depression, but I'm not sure :I

As George checked the time again on his phone, he listened to the rain outside pour onto the streets, the sound of water hitting the sidewalk and the gutters lined along the roof of his house almost managing to lull him into a sleep-like state. It was six am, and he still failed to fall asleep during the night. The brunet closed his eyes, he doesn't sleep much, though he can never find a reason as to why. His door creaking open reveals his tired mother who peeks her head in to spot her son, sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling whilst dozing off into a dream world. "Wake up George, you're not going to be late again, and don't forget to bring your umbrella, it'll be pouring all day today." The familiar voice he's hung to for life echoed through the room, and looking over just in time to see the door close, he felt his body sink into the mattress. It was a routine his body had mastered, going to bed wide awake and getting up with an overwhelming tiredness, though his mom insisted he pushes through.

    The brunet drags his weak body out of bed and goes to his bathroom, seeing the mess he's become during his tossing and turning through the night. His hair was sticking up in random angles and his eyes had dark circles around them, his skin, pasty white as it usually was. He didn't care for how he looked, though it wasn't a nice feeling to hear people calling him a zombie in the morning while walking to English class. The boy brushed his teeth and tried to tame his messy bed hair, his energy usually being put to try and look the slightest bit presentable. A call from his mother downstairs pulls him from his zoning out, "Georgie! Hurry up or you're taking the bus!" George shivered at the thought of it, walking down that tight isle in the long vehicle, eyes darting to the walking corpse as he avoids their glares. A fate he'd hated to have too many times. Gathering his bag together, which he only ever touched when going to school, he stuffed his umbrella inside, no use getting his finally tamed hair soaking wet. His mother called him down and led him outside, where he sat in the car, turning on his phone and deciding to lose himself in scrolling.

His mom spoke to him, though he blocked her voice out, watching the pixels scroll by, the brunet wanting to find something that'll entertain him for even a second or two. The sound of rain pouring onto the windshield, and the sound of the windshield wipers throwing it off eased into his mind softly as he turned off his phone, deciding just to stare down into his lap and listen to the sound of the rain. It was calming, tranquillizing almost. Before he'd wanted to, he and his mother had arrived at his school, looking out the window, seeing all the other students with their umbrellas, laughing with their friends and entering the school, each one excited to see their friends after the weekend. "George." The brunet looked over suddenly and saw his mother's face, full of worry and slight impatience, "sweetie I'm getting tired of calling your name fifty times-"

"I'm sorry.." George looked down, though he knew that his apologies meant nothing when he did this type of thing over and over again.

"It's okay." His mother said in a softer tone, and George felt her eyes scanning his face. As he looked over, he noticed her eyes were glassy, as if there was a whole other world going on through the other side of them. "George," she stated, "please try today. For me..?" The woman leaned forward, and George paused, he felt nothing while looking at his mother's sad, almost desperate expression. "If.. you feel anything bad.. anything at all, please don't repress it anymore.. please?" Her voice heightened just a little with her final plea, and George grabbed his umbrella from between his legs.

"Bye.." He muttered, before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He didn't look back as he walked onto the sidewalk, knowing his mother still had so much more to say. He wanted to feel sorrow, go back and apologize with the saddest look he could make, but he just couldn't. He couldn't let himself feel something like that, not when he was already so fragile he was even considering it. He entered his school along with his peers, throwing them all half looks as he passed by them, unable to comprehend how so many people could be so energetic, happy, and social at seven am. The brunet opened his locker, seeing the emptiness inside, no colors, no funny stickers, cute photos, even a poster, it was blank. He never found a reason to draw attention to his locker, he'd say it drew more attention at how bare it was inside.