Blow

Watershed

CW: descriptions of a panic attack 

Tommy was actually really talented for a 17-year-old. Sure his coding was messier than it had to be but for a kid who supposedly was self-taught, he was a genius. He showed George a few short clips he had taken of him and some friends playing one of the plugins and George couldn't deny he was impressed. Tommy was a bright kid, no doubt about it, even if he tended to yell when something went wrong.

Honestly, George had never had so much fun while teaching. Hell, it barely felt like he was teaching. Tommy would mostly just talk about the problems with his coding and realize his own mistakes halfway through his sentence. It seemed to the older man that Tommy just needed someone to talk to about the subject, exchange ideas, and generally just have someone there who understood his rambling.

"My dad did," Tommy had told George when he had asked who introduced him to the idea of coding in the first place, "he's so good at it, like, that's how he got a job when he came to America. He showed me the basics and said he'd teach me but got too busy with work and his boss is a dick..." Tommy trailed off. It was the first time since George had arrived at the house over an hour ago that the boy had become quiet. It felt to the brunet almost as if he was paranoid that someone might hear him.

George decided not to dwell on it for now. He might not be a real teacher but he still took responsibility for the kids he tutored and if one of them had trouble at home he'd do his best to help. For now, though, he would leave it.

"Gogy, can we take a break? I need a piss," Tommy said with an overly serious tone before he broke into a smile again before he got up and disappeared to a small bathroom connected to the bedroom.

"Don't call me Gogy," was the brunet's only response as he leaned back in a chair that wasn't his. He ran a hand through his hair and looked over the code for mistakes. He could do it much faster when he didn't have to think about explaining it or making sure his student was following.

Then he heard a loud bump coming from the hallway.

George immediately got up. Years of roommates taught him that it's better to help and not ask any questions no matter the embarrassing scene he might see. But this wasn't his house. It would be an invasion of privacy if he went into the house without Tommy. He should just stay and wait for Tommy to come back, tell him what he heard, and then the teenager could decide if it was worth sharing with George.

But then George heard the crying. It wasn't as loud as the bump he'd heard before. It was much quieter, like a child hoping not to be seen but unable to hold in the sobs. George could nearly feel the ache in his own chest just from the sound. He couldn't just leave this kid crying alone in the hallway. He knew how awful that felt.

So he got up, venturing into a stranger's house. Tommy wouldn't be mad, he was sure of that. Especially if this turned out to be his sibling or something and surely their parents wouldn't mind. He couldn't stand by as an adult if a kid was upset or hurt.

He stepped out into the carpeted hallway. A good handful of steps down the hall was someone curled up against the wall. But they were far too big to be a child. He walked towards them, their heavy breathing seemed to cover up the sound of steps on creaky floorboards. George felt a wave of pity wash over him for this person. They were clearly suffering, sobbing in the hallway of what he assumed to be their home. Was this a normal occurrence? Had Tommy ever done that?

The person on the ground was hiding their face in freckled hands, dark blond hair covering their eyes, but tears were running down their forearms, creating large wet patches on bunched-up hoodie sleeves. Broad shoulders were shaking with each sob as their leg bounced in rhythm with their hyperventilating breath.