Everyone has a method and a reason for escapism - for some, it may be reading to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life. For others, it may be making out with random guys in night clubs you met five minutes ago to hopelessly try and forget the ever growing crush on your best friend.
For George, it was the latter. Having been a shy and reserved kid for the most of his life, he felt quite uncomfortable the first night he stepped into a crowded nightclub with neon lights and generic music blasting loud enough to rupture an eardrum. However, all his insecurities seemed to melt away after one, two, three drinks.
He spent most of his nights touching and being touched by other strangers, being backed up against a wall in a grimy alley and being sloppily kissed. There had been offers for going further - a lot of guys that he thought would be similar to Clay's appearance had offered George to take him home. He was always afraid, though. Sure, drinks made him shameless in all other ways, but he was never ready to just get up and go to bed with a complete stranger. No matter how much he wanted to. Even if there was a chance it might've helped him forget about his best friend.
Ever since he started indulging in his new "hobby", he had been online less and less. Sure, he had some pre-recorded videos he posted after he got home, but his online presence was severely lacking. Not only that, but he had forced himself to completely refrain from talking to Clay.
His inbox was flooded with messages from concerned friends, but he couldn't really tell them what he was up to. They'd think he was disgusting. He thought so, too, in the off-times that he was sober.
The hangovers he'd get would feel like splitting his skull in half, but whenever he wasn't too drunk to think normally, the feelings of disappointment and that oh-so-familiar torturous yearning would wash over him.
This wasn't who he was. He wasn't a person who drowned his sorrows in alcohol, he was a person who talked it out with his friends. Well, that wasn't an option now, was it? If he had any friends besides Clay that cared about him at all before this, they surely must have left after being ghosted and pushed away for so long.
It wasn't who he was, he kept telling himself, even as he was dragged outside to the alleyway to be touched all over by an equally drunk, sloppy stranger. It probably would be humiliating to his past self.
He gripped the back of the stranger's head, pulling at his neck. He usually had his eyes closed during these encounters to help picture Clay in the strangers' places better.
The people with him were usually too drunk to realize at all that he was moaning another man's name into their lips. Or maybe they did realize, and they just didn't care as long as they got to make out with an attractive guy.
Another guy, another declined offer to go home with him. Usually they weren't too forceful and didn't persist after they got a no. Just in case they were, George carried around a little bottle of pepper spray around. It made him feel a little silly, but safety came first.
Just like the other nights, he stumbled up the stairs to his apartment and into his room. He left the door unlocked like always, in a drunken haze. He didn't really care anyways.
He hadn't been taking care of himself either - his eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep and he had let his beard grow out unevenly here and there. Every morning he looked in the mirror, with a pounding headache, he loathed how he looked. He had let himself go.
_________
-POV CHANGE-
It had been weeks since Clay had heard from his best friend. If a day of his absence had made him nervous before, this was making him go out of his mind with worry. There was really no way to check if George was fine. He had his old address, but that's it. No use in going to the house he moved out of.
With no lead to follow to find out the whereabouts of his friend, he took to overworking himself as a distraction. If he was able to push out a video every week on a healthy work schedule before, now he was pumping out content left and right. Maybe the quality suffered from that a little bit, since the fans had more concerns than usual.
Either way, if he didn't do something about the situation soon, he'd go insane. Hell, he'd search George's whole city if he had to.
He contemplated whether it'd do any good to send another text. The previous ones sure as hell hadn't been read.
_________
Clay
georgie hey :)
_________
Clay
georgeeee did you fall asleep for a whole day again
_________
Clay
hey loser
u good?
_________
Clay
george you havent been online for a WEEK
_________
Clay
did i do something? are you ghosting me?
_________
Clay
george if you don't answer im coming to the uk and kidnapping you
loser
reply >:(
_________
Clay
dude if u reply i will literally show u my face rn
_________
Texting him didn't seem to work. He'd need a better plan. Exiting the messaging app, he pulled up the contacts and dialed George's old home number.
_________
-POV CHANGE-
George was laying in his bed. It was a miserable afternoon. Nothing really making it that way - not even the rain - it was the terrible hangover he had from last night. If the headache kept persisting, he wouldn't be able to go out in the evening.
He got up and went into the living room. On the better days, he tried to furnish his apartment little by little. There wasn't a lot to show for it, though. Just a basic couch, a TV with a game console hooked into it, a couple of armchairs and relatively simple decor.
He looked around empty takeout packages and pizza cardboard boxes haphazardly strewn about the room. He had reverted back to his old eating habits and it was taking a toll on his body - he was weaker than usual and often dizzy. That, combined with the constant hangovers, created a nightmare.
His life was slowly spiraling down into madness. He couldn't recognize his reflection at all. The last thing he thought about as he went downstairs to attend to his usual nightly affairs was how happy he used to be with how friends.
It was all Clay's fault. He had to enter his life and turn it upside down. A part of him knew that shifting the blame on his best friend was not the right way to go about stuff, but the mindset helped him cope.
Another night of mindless drinking. Another night of denial. It was a ruthless cycle that wrapped itself around George, trapping him in repetition.
YOU ARE READING
Comfort (Dream X GeorgeNotFound)
Romance[FINISHED] A story of GeorgeNotFound coming to terms with his feelings for his best friend and battling with his issues. -- big big thank you to the amazing @raviolihailstorm for the cover <3
