Love Kills (Dnf Short Story)

The Day Before

24 hours before Death

(George's pov)

Clay and I had the best conversation yesterday. Even though we had scheduled a "work meeting" at the homely and humble cafe, we ended up discussing a lot more than that.

We conversed about how we've been in which I told him about possibly taking a break. A break that was much needed as I felt overwhelmed by the millions of people behind their screens seeing me either livestream or create content. Not only that, but the numbers and the constant red arrow that everybody hates on Youtube was hurting me too. Somehow my head translated these-what you would call normal thoughts- into things much worse. I could never tell Clay, though. That would affect his and everybody's carriers as we would often team up.

Clay told me that I should push through, that he would work with me to make it easier. I thanked him even though my achy body and brain told me he wouldn't.

After our long discussion about breaks and how much that could affect us economically and mentally, we went quiet for a bit. I remember glancing around the lushly decorated cafe and sipping carefully at my dark black coffee. The more bitter the coffee the better, in my opinion. The golden lights in the shop would reflect off every plant's leaves and shone a warm yellow-green color, complimenting the warm brown and tan hues quite pleasantly.

"George?" Clay interrupted my observations of the place mid-thought. I look over at his golden, almost god-like hair. He kept it so neat and well brushed, I was always blown away with how naturally healthy it was. Next, my eyes trail down to his green eyes. I wish I could see the vibrance of his eyes as I'm always told that they are bright like trees after the rain. However, I just see a hazy dijon mustard color.

"Yeah?" I acknowledge Clay, now scanning his pinkish lips which every once in a while I'll find myself fantasizing over. I wonder how soft they are if we were to kiss, or how boldly he would push to deepen the kiss if possible. I wonder how far we could take things...

"I just have this weird gut feeling that someone's watching us." He starts looking at the tops of people's heads in concern, "I think we should go." He starts to place his utensils onto his plate as well as his dirty napkin. He even calls over the waiter early to get the check. He's very determined to get out of this cafe as fast as possible, which makes sense as we were pretty well known because of our jobs on the internet.

"I-uh, okay then." I hum in agreement doing the same to my half eaten plate of food, or more like barely touched. I never was one to eat much even though my arms were thin and my stomach was flat. I wasn't depressed or anything, just not hungry.

Once Clay received the receipt I snatched it from him jokingly, the white waxy paper glistening in the warm light as I did so. He glares at me with a slight smirk, soon reaching for it himself. I wave it just out of reach towards the ceiling above my head, and he gets up from his seat. I laugh and roll my eyes. He wouldn't do this here would he? He wouldn't.

"Ohh George~" he whisper yells while walking closer and closer to my side of the booth we ate at. I giggle and scooch myself to the corner between the wall and seat. His eyes scorch with little dancing flames, playful as ever. He's close now, leaning his knees on the booth's seat and his face up close to my knees which were brought up to my chin. He smiles mischievously as he looks up and down at our position then my face which I can only assume is bright red and covered in a big goofy smile. Somehow, he manages to get closer. I giggle and feel my breath bounce off his face which is so, so close to mine. "Give me the receipt Georgie." He whispers, leaning into me gently causing me to be a flustered mess.

I give in immediately, handing him the receipt. I thought he would get off me right away, maybe embarrassed he did that in public, but he doesn't. He stays there staring at me. His eyes reminded me of a begging street cat, starved of touch and care. I love that look, it's like he's cuddling me in an imaginary blanket of want. I watch his eyes as they skim up and down my face, as if admiring it all one last time. It makes me laugh again.