Order 73 ~DNF~

𝟜𝟙

You are my fire, my one desire...

//

𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒫𝒪𝒱

"Hi."

My smile immediately drops when I watch him step closer to me, exhaustion radiating from every feature of his face. George flinches with the slap of my laptop closing, watching me kick the blanket off my legs. I open my arms, and he falls into them, almost toppling us over as he sags into my touch.

"Woah," I steady him, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "hey...what's wrong?"

"Just happy to see you," He mumbles, eyelashes fluttering against my shirt. I squeeze my eyes shut over his shoulder, trying hard not to blush as harshly as my heart was pumping.

"M' happy to see you too." I tell him gently. "You wanna sit?"

He shakes his head no, so I hum, tightening my grip around him as he exhales periodically. He nestles his forehead into my shirt and looks down, and I catch the quietest of sniffles, so I raise my hand up to his cheek, bringing him out to look at me.

His jawline draws tight as unshed tears brimmed in his eyes like shiny pearls, pale skin flushed with discomfort as he looks past my ear. I gently place my hands on his face, thumbs catching the first few he let himself release.

"Sorry," He exhales through the word. "It was a harder day than I thought it would be."

"Don't be sorry," I can feel his struggle to compose himself, my heart wrenching at the sight. I wonder how much time and stress led up to this moment. He withdraws spontaneously, arms locked around his chest like a barrier between us.

"I'm gonna go shower," He sighs, wiping his eyes.

"No," I frown. He looks up. "You're not crying in the shower all alone. I know how this works George."

And that's all it takes. He falls back against me, and I feel my shirt dampen gradually, emitting an upset sigh as a frustrated cry leaves his lips. So I wrap a protective arm around him and stay silent, waiting for as long as he needs. He tugs at the top buttons of his shirt, clawing at the mechanisms mindlessly with little reward.

His features melt with gentle fondness when I feather a hand over his own, so he would let me do it for him.

"This is so d-umb." George laughs through his tears, sharp inhales and a wobbling voice betraying him when he tries to speak.

"It's not dumb," I hum, smoothing the creases in his suit.

He doesn't talk after that. I listen as his soft sniffs reduce to calm exhales. The ten-hour jazz playlist I had running on the TV flows through the room, filtering through the silence with a gentle touch. "Go take a shower. I'll get you some dinner." I tell him when he tilts his chin up to look at me. He nods, slipping out of my arms toward our bedroom.

I sigh, leaning against the couch. What shit went down there that was so bad, George felt the need to cry? I know that being a leader, especially in such a well-known company, can be high intensity work. What I wasn't expecting was it to be this bad on his first day.

It was probably those people he was complaining about earlier today. I push myself off the soft edge, walking over to the fridge. We have some leftover Chinese food from take out the other night, so I grab that, piling it on a plate before putting it in the microwave. I doubt George is gonna want to wait for me to cook something.

I pull out a nice bottle of wine, pouring me some and filling his glass a little more than usual. He definitely looked like he needed it.

George comes back in, looking calmer than he did ten minutes ago. His hair was fluffy, the kind of fluffy it only became when he used a hair dryer on it. "I'm not very hungry. Did you eat?" He asks, tugging at the hem of his shirt, eyes downcast.