After Fire - Dreamnotfound

Ten|georgenotfound

He pushed open the diner door and hovered over the younger boy.

"I have leftovers." He held the plastic bag out.

"I'm not hungry," Clay mumbled as he lightly tapped the edge of his phone on the concrete.

"Well, I am. I thought you weren't coming back and paid." He sat down next to the boy. Taking out his breakfast, he pulled out Clay's phone charger as well and handed it to him. When he didn't seem to notice it, George dropped it into his lap. "So you're making me carry the conversation this time?" He stabbed into his french toast. It was as if George was talking to the air as Clay leaned against the window behind them and huffed a heavy breath. "Looks like we're sitting in silence then."

And so they did. Neither said another word as George finished his breakfast. They, instead, listened to the soft tunes of the wind rustling through the trees. Leaves spun and scuffled down the parking lot. Birds dropped in front of them in search of any litter left behind. Occasionally, George would see a flock in the sky. How birds were capable of staying so coordinated, he didn't know. It amazed him how such a limited language birds spoke were enough for them to stay so coordinated in the sky. They knew exactly where they stood in the group. Meanwhile, humans had hundreds of far more organized languages to speak and communication was still full of misunderstandings and misinformation. Perhaps it was because of how complicated humans were. They couldn't live simply. They always made life complicated.

"Do you even want to be here?" Clay asked, glancing over to George as he swirled his french toast around the syrup.

"Not really, at first, but now it's cool," George replied as his thought process brought about by the pigeon walking around in front of them was interrupted. "I'm surprised you care enough to ask."

"Did you feel forced to go?"

George snickered. "No. You're not that intimidating, Clay. Your sister is scarier and she's fourteen."

"Then why'd you come with me?"

"Because." He shrugged as he mixed the syrup around absentmindedly. "It's kind of like when you know someone is hurt, you let them drag you around and do whatever they want to help them feel better."

"You do that with your friends. We weren't friends."

"You don't have to be friends with someone to know when they're hurt."

"I'm not hurt."

"Then why are you driving me up the east coast?"

"Because I want my hours."

"Oh yeah. Your hours that won't even count because I'm not a legal driver. Okay." He took a bite of his food. "I know what it's like to want to run away, Clay. That's why I'm here with you and not back home with my two friends and dysfunctional family."

"You didn't have to come."

"Yeah, but my best friend is Wilbur. And whenever I felt down, he never left me alone until I felt better. I guess some of his stupid tendencies rubbed off on me. You know, he was the one who told me to leave."

"Why?"

"Because when you reach a point where you feel like you stopped moving, it's time to go in a new direction."