Hitchhike//A DreamNotFound Fanfiction

11|Tired Of You|

Light filtered in from between long fiberglass curtains, resting against the recently-installed wooden floorboards lining the inside of George's room. The brunette often kept the sight of the balcony covered as of recent, in some sort of pitiful attempt to shield his mind from wandering onto the topic of "Clay", or anything that had to do with his untimely departure.

Sometimes George would swear that out of the corner of his eye he would see the pillowing of smoke, and some of those oddly regular times he would bring himself to mouth the beginnings of the sentence "don't smoke in my room, that's what the balcony is for," only to turn and realize that he was only seeing things. He knew it wasn't healthy to be so infatuated with the idea of missing someone he barely knew anything of, but there wasn't much he could do, or many people he could go to.

After the run-in that his roommates had with Clay, George had practically shut them out of his life in favor of being alone for the past couple of days. He even cancelled a few scheduled recordings and livestreams just so he could be by himself and lament in peace over the loss of his short-term lover.

Today was a bit different though, because George finally found the courage to open the blinds, and there was a soft knock at his door. Accompanying this knock was a soft, comforting call: "Hello?"

George's hands retreated from their place at the keyboard as he hesitantly called back, "Come in, I guess," before devolving his hand positioning into his lap.

He glanced over to the door as it creaked open, revealing a pair of brunettes; one with a hardened look glazing their stare, and the other with a contrasting gaze, filled with nothing but the intent to assuage.

This was going to be fun, George sarcastically thought to himself as the two shuffled into the room.

"...So, what are you here to talk about?" George decided to ask to break the silence as Karl shut the door behind him surreptitiously. "It must be something important."

"...Well, we first wanted to apologize," Karl started, sitting on the end of George's bed, "For being so intrusive a couple days ago-"

"With your stupid boyfriend-"

"Nick," Karl warned, sending his lover an almost-meaningless glare; he returned back to George, continuing, "We're really sorry for ruining things between the both of you."

George decided to entertain the conversation, so he replied, "Don't you understand how nice it felt to finally find someone? You have to understand how much that hurt when he was scared away by the both of you..."

"How can you pin all of the blame on us?" Nick tested, meeting eye-contact with George. "Don't you remember what happened? That kid ran off--claiming you were using him--and you didn't bother to run after him. You can't blame that on us, too. That was your fault."

"Nick, we talked about this," Karl pleaded. "Come on..."

"What, Karl!?" Nick raised his voice. "He needs to know that we aren't the only ones in the wrong here! We can't just apologize for everything! That isn't right. You know it isn't, Karl..."

George knew Nick was right; it was partially his fault, for letting Clay believe that he didn't care. It was the truth, but it undoubtedly scared him to hear it--the reason being that it meant less of a chance of Clay coming back to him. All of the uncertainty, the doubts, and not to mention Nick's loud voice swirled around in his head and threatened a massive migraine on his behalf.

He should have never let them in. George would have rathered that it stayed the way it was, and that was him isolating himself from the other two.