• mature language
• mentions of puking
• implications of suicide
• mentions of death
• derealization
• song recommendation for this chapter
• bundle of joy by michael giacchino
• extended version
Georges pov=
I feel like screaming at our driver to speed up.
Wilburs sat up front, trying to tell the man where to go.
Id be willing to bet that the driver is a very nice person, and ive got nothing against him, but god if he doesnt step on it then im gonna get out and walk.
"Deep breaths" Tommy encourages, making me realize im gripping down harshly on his arm for the fifth time during the car ride.
"Sorry" I whisper, letting go.
Ranboo promised to call the second anything changed, so I now find my heart dropping anytime I hear someone get a notification.
But no. Theres been no change.
Each time I look at Wilbur I can tell hes deep in thought.
Im glad he still has the mental capacity to focus, because I lost mine hours ago.
We'd agreed on going straight to Ranboos. Wilbur had started calling people the second we landed, Ranboo being one of them.
Nothing is really running through my head at the moment. Every couple of minutes things will grow overwhelming, but then reduce to nothing.
Its tiring me out, leaving me more stressed as time goes on.
Its dark outside, but theres no clouds out so you can see every star in sight. An orange tinge fills up the quiet car each time we pass a street light.
As I stare out the window, peering at the other cars surrounding us, a large yellow sign catches my attention.
A round, huge yellow sign.
A sign that I know.
The sign we'd driven past constantly, the sign that I acknowledged each time we were driving in and out of our camping site last April.
I lean down and squint out towards the front window, trying to look past the road.
It takes me a minute, but its there, its definitely there, and we're heading straight towards it.
New York.
My breath catches in my throat when I realize how close we actually are. I slap Tommys leg suddenly with no warning out of excitement.
"Ow?"
"Look" I hiss, now hitting Tubbo.
"Where?"
"Straight ahead" Wilbur comments, already having noticed.
Hes quiet. Hes been quiet ever since the plane landed, but whenever he does talk he sounds serious. Its sort of scaring me, but I know he knows what hes doing.
Tommy leans out in front of me, Tubbo doing the same.
As much as im terrified to be here, as much as im terrified of whats going to happen, I cant help but feel a rush of relief.
Im home.
A wide grin appears on Tubbos face, him getting what I mean before Tommy.
"Do you see it?" I ask.
"I do" Tubbo responds, sitting back in his chair.
It takes Tommy a second, but the contagious smile then spreads to him as he looks back at me.
"The city" Tommy smiles, staying leaned fowards to continue his stare.
Usually Tommy would dive into conversation. Tommy could talk about anything for days and still make it sound interesting.
But he doesnt, he stays small and silent.
Ding
My anxiety heightens, the ding ringing throughout the suddenly silent car
I look around to see who it had come from, but both Tommy and Tubbo stay still, Wilbur being the only one who starts to dig around in his pockets.
I stare at him anxiously, waiting for him to tell me who its from.
He unlocks his phone reluctantly, sliding into his messages to see whos texted him.
After seeing Ranboos name on the top of the screen, I feel my heart drop.
Wilbur begins shaking his head, assuring me that its nothing important. I release the tight knot in my stomach, letting the relief run over me.
"Hes just wondering how far we are" Wilbur tells me as he types back quickly.
I nod, sitting back in my chair. Tommy and Tubbo are both watching me now, and I know theyre still waiting for me to snap.
But now I feel calmed.
We're nearly there, every second that feels like a year means we're nearing the city.
It means we're closer to him.
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"Thank you" Wilbur smiles sweetly at the driver.
Im already tapping my foot impatiently waiting for all of them to hurry up.
I was right about being close, it only took about an hour to get to Ranboos apartment after id noticed the skyline.
It felt alot longer, but that doesnt matter now. We're here.
Tubbos looking around aimlessly, trying to take in everything at once.
I know how he feels, I remember that feeling clearly from when id first gotten here last year.
"Ready?"
Wilburs got his bags and is now standing quietly beside me. He looks calm. But he always looks calm when he needs to be. I wonder what hes actually feeling right now.
I nod, and so we make our way into the lobby.
Each time id been in this lobby with him minus the last, id felt alot different to how I feel now.
Full, complete, happy.
But not right now. I cant explain what im feeling right now. Its a huge mix up of different emotions.
Fear, anger, disappointment.
All 4 of us climb into the elevator, the silence deafening.
Wilbur hits the button for the floor we're heading too, shutting the doors and making the elevator jump.
One of the most worrying things about all of this is how quiet Tommy is.
Ive been through alot with Tommy, and I could always rely on him to crack a joke during the most innapropriate times.
I could always rely on him to make me laugh when it felt like the world was caving in.
But hes stood facing the elevator door silently, this dull look on his face that ive never seen before.
Its now that I know that the situation is bad. Its now that im realizing that this isnt just affecting me.
The elevator doors swipe open, Tommy taking the lead and bringing us all down to Ranboos door.
Wilbur knocks, the banging echoing around the dark hallway.
Theres rustling coming from behind the door before its swung open, Ranboo now stood before us.
Hes definitely, changed?
Not so much as changed, he just looks a bit, wrecked.
He seems taller than the last time I saw him, his hair is alot longer too, leaving it thrown messily around on his head.
Hes in joggers and a hoodie, just like me. Theres black shadows darkening his eyelids and just underneath his eyes, adding to the whole tired scheme.
Im wondering whens the last time he got a good nights sleep.
Wilbur moves fowards first, embracing Ranboo tightly.
I watch Wilbur carefully, trying to pick up on any display of emotion. But theres none, theres nothing.
"Hey" Ranboo mumbles quietly. Ranboo eventually lets go, releasing Wilbur.
Wilbur still not having spoke a word drops his bags in Ranboos hallway and heads straight for Dreams room.
Tommys next, a wide smile appearing on Ranboos face when he spots him.
I watch Tommy wrap his arms around Ranboo with no hesitation, which is even weirder for him, hes not big on hugs.
"How are you?" Ranboo asks him after he'd let go.
"Im alright" he shrugs with a small smile.
I watch Ranboos eyes fly from Tommy to Tubbo, whos standing awkwardly behind him. Ranboos face begins to fill with confusion.
"And whos this?" he asks Tommy.
Tommy turns around to look for what he means, realizing when he sees Tubbo.
"Tubbo, thats Tubbo" he explains, skipping past Ranboo and into the apartment.
He doesnt take the same root as Wilbur though, he heads for the living room.
Ranboo studies him for a moment, Tubbo letting him.
The height difference makes me want to laugh, Ranboo looks like a giant compared to Tubbo.
"Its nice to meet you Tubbo" Ranboo smiles, holding out his hand.
Tubbo seems to let out a small sigh of relief that only I can hear, willingly shaking his hand.
"Nice to meet you too" he grins, slipping past Ranboo to follow curiously after Tommy.
And then its just me.
I feel awkward and uncomfortable. Part of me thinks that he probably hates me, he probably blames me for everything thats happened.
Would I blame him? No, no I wouldnt. He has every right to be mad. If I were him id be mad too.
I dont know what to say, and I dont think he does either. Hes staring at me though, an expressionless look on his face.
If someone doesnt say something, we'll be stood here all day.
"Are you angry?" I ask suddenly, wanting to get this over and done with.
His face now quickly fills up with what looks like shock? Im unsure though, its a funny look.
"What?" he says in suprise, "no, no I thought you would be angry with me"
I have to keep a steady stare at him to realize that hes actually being serious.
"Why on earth would I be mad at you?" I breathe, dropping my bags to hug him.
He hugs me back with a small laugh, his long arms wrapping around my back.
It feels familiar, like even if everything else has changed since the last time ive been here, he hasnt. Hes the same.
"I didnt get him the help when he needed it" he mumbles into my ear.
I pull back to look at him. I cant read his expression now though, its unreadable. He just looks sad, theres no other way of putting it.
"And I wasnt here when he needed me" I retaliate, trying to smile.
He shakes his head, words tumbling from his mouth.
"No thats different-" he starts, but im already interrupting.
"We're not mad at eachother, thats all that matters"
It takes him a second, but he eventually nods in agreement, leaning behind me to pick up my bags.
"Thanks" I smile.
As im walking through the front door, the comforting aroma of the house hits me unexpectedly in the face, dragging me back to a time when it had last hit me like that.
He pulls me into a hug, leaving a long held kiss on my forehead. I cant refrain from laughing at his neediness whilst I hug him back.
"I saw you two days ago" I giggle as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me inside.
"Yeah, two days too long" he responds, tilting my chin upwards to press his lips to mine.
I cant help but smile as I kiss him back. He pulls away first per usual, stopping himself before he gets too into it.
Im still smiling when he drops his hand from my chin to return to my waist as he walks us both towards the living room.
"But I guess thats not important right now" Ranboo finishes, dropping my bags down beside Wilburs. "Anyways, have you got anything exciting going on?"
I havent a clue whats 'not important right now', but I answer his question like id been listening.
"No, not really" I respond, following him through the hall and to the living room where Tommy and Tubbo are sat.
Tommys draped over one of the couches silently staring at the ceiling, not acknowledging either of us when we enter the room.
Tubbo is stood over by the glass wall window, his mouth slightly open as he stares out over the city.
I can tell hes still in awe, and I dont blame him, it really is gorgeous.
Ranboo ditches my side and goes to sit on the couch thats closer to Tubbo, trying to start a conversation with him the second he sits down.
I go the opposite way and lift Tommys legs from the couch, sitting myself down and then laying his legs over my lap.
He doesnt say anything or try stop me from moving him, he just lets me.
"Tom youre scaring me" I whisper, trying to catch his attention, "youve been quiet since we landed"
I see his eyes switch from the ceiling to me, but his facial expression doesnt change, hes still wearing that look that ive never really seen before.
"Do you think hes alright?" Tommy asks.
Im totally unprepared for his question. I didnt think he would actually tell me whatever was bothering him, nevermind it being about Dream.
I have two answers.
One which I think is true.
One which I think is a lie.
"Im sure hes fine" I respond, "probably just gone off by himself for a while and forgot to tell everyone"
Normally id feel guilty and cave after lying, but I know I did this for the greater good.
Tommy stares me down, as if hes trying to detect the truth. Though he eventually drops his glare, nodding slightly as if to say he understands where im coming from.
"Wheres Wilbur?" Tommy questions suddenly, lifting his head to look about the room.
"Dreams room" I tell him, patting his leg to signify for him to get up, "I should probably go talk to him"
"Can I come?"
"If you want" I shrug, standing up from the couch.
He stands up after me, following me to the living room door and down the hall.
I feel small pricks of nervousness hit me as my hand twists the doorknob, but im not going to let it hold me back.
Alright, wow.
The first thing that hits me is the absolute state that his room is in.
I understand what Ranboo had meant about not being able to find a note in this mess.
Theres things everywhere, and I mean everywhere.
The second thing I pick up on is Wilbur, whos frantically digging through the piles of mess.
I dont know what hes looking for, but theres no way in hell hes going to find it whilst looking like this.
"Wilbur?"
He doesnt seem to hear me, or maybe hes ignoring me. Theres an anger in the way hes moving thats scaring me.
I begin making my way through the room. It looks unrecognizable from the last time I saw it.
Yet, things are different from the last time I was here.
"Wilbur" I repeat, trying to pull him away from the chest of drawers hes now looking through.
He wont give in though, he continues to tear through the small brown set of drawers.
"He had to of left something" Wilbur resists, trying to fight against me, "he didnt just leave, theres got to be a note, or- or-"
His voice is cracking, and I know hes near tears.
I can see Tommy out of the corner of my eye frozen in the doorway, like he doesnt know what to do.
Wilburs always been like a role model for the two of us. Like a rock.
And seeing him like this? Its killing me, and I know its hurting Tommy too.
"Its okay" I whisper.
He looks at me, and I can practically see the hurt in his face. It makes me want to crumble into a ball and fall off the face of the earth.
If Wilburs acting out, I know we've hit rock bottom.
He drops down to the floor beside the bed and puts his head in his hands shamefully.
I want to reach out and touch him, but I dont know how he'll react, so instead I scoot over and sit down beside him on the messy floor.
Whilst we sit in silence, Tommy makes his way over and sits on the other side of Wilbur.
None of us say anything, but we dont need to.
Because even though alot has changed, im still sat here with the 2 of them. And now I know no matter what happens ill have them there for me.
Thats enough for me to know that ill be okay.
If I have them by my side, I can go through anything and still be able to pull through.
As I soak up the silence, I start to pick up on things I hadnt noticed when I entered the room.
How hes changed up the posters on his wall, how hes moved his bedside table to the opposite side of the bed, how hes moved his bedrooms desk so now its sat in front of the window, directly in front of all 3 of us.
My eyes are about to be torn from the desk, not thinking too much of it.
Then I stop.
I stop and stare.
At first I think its just me in my head, but no, its not.
His guitar is under his desk.
I drop to my hands and knees, dragging out the chair so I can grab his guitar. But the forcefulness of my pull makes whatever had been on his chair land on the floor beside me.
"Whatre you doing?"
Im no longer focused on them though, his dumb guitar has my full attention.
I yank it from its place, my hands hitting a texture that you wouldnt normally find on a guitar.
Thats because the texture isnt even coming from the guitar.
Its coming from the letter stuck to the top of it.
I stare, fear starting to crawl over every inch of my skin.
No, no this cant be real.
Im dreaming, or this is some sort of episode im having due to stress.
After making an attempt to pull the letter from the top I realize its not just one, theres three.
Theres three letters stuck to his guitar, and theyre each addressed to somebody different.
Im starting to realize whats happening here, but I cant stop myself from continuing to dig.
"George? Hello?"
It takes another hard pull, but I do eventually get them torn away from the vibrant red guitar.
I lay them over in my hand so I can read the front of each one individually.
The first is titled 'mom'
The second is titled 'ranboo, for everyone'
The third, the one that makes the colour drop my face, is simply titled 'george'
My mouth feels dry, my head beginning to spin.
If I thought being sick earlier was bad then I wonder whats going to happen now as my vision starts to grow blurry.
Just the thought of him writing suicide letters made me want to cry.
Yet now here I am, sitting holding them.
I grip them tightly in my hands as I try to finish looking through whatever the fuck fell off the chair.
"Can he hear us?"
Like the guitar, at first I dont know what im looking at.
Then it all begins to make sense.
I reach out and take up the soft fabric, running it over my shaking fingers. His hoodie.
Not just any hoodie.
"Dream im fine, honestly" I object.
I can feel my heart hammering viciously against my chest. What the fucks happening to me?
"No, take it" he smiles, the hoodie still held out in his arms, "I can tell youre cold"
I keep a steady stare on him, and he nods at me encouragingly, grinning.
"Are you sure?" I ask, still unsure if I should allow him to give it to me. Sweater or not, I can feel my cheeks starting to heat up with embarrassment.
I hear Dream laugh when he notices my blush. "Of course im sure" he responds, still smiling widely.
Its that hoodie. Id know it from a mile away.
He left it for me.
I hold it up with my two hands to leave on display.
But when the hoodie unfolds, multiple things drop from inside it, falling into my lap.
I drop my glance down at all the different sorts of objects.
The first thing I notice is a book. The last thing id been expecting him to leave for me was a book. That wasnt a very big Dream move.
Then I get a proper look at the book.
Pride and Prejudice
"Are you alright?"
I stand from the floor, the letters and book still in my grip.
Ranboo, I need to get to Ranboo.
I need to give him the letter before I can look through whatever hes left for me.
"George, George whats wrong?"
"Ranboo" is all I can manage to muster out.
I stumble down the hall and to the living room, Wilbur and Tommy both behind me.
I cant think straight, I dont know what to think.
How much time do I have?
Am I too late?
Is he dead?
Where is he?
This is all my fault, I didnt get back in time.
His mom, his family, how am I meant to tell them?
Hes probably dead and im still sat in this stupid fucking apartment when I should be out looking for him.
"Ranboo" I breathe, Wilbur now gripping my elbow to hold me steady. I hadnt even noticed I was falling.
Ranboos smiling as he sits talking to Tubbo, but his smile quickly vanishes when he spots me.
He dives up from the couch and makes his way to Wilburs side, asking him whats wrong with me.
I can feel glossy tears starting to glaze the underline of my eye, but I cant start crying, not now.
"George?" Ranboo coaxes calmly, "George can you hear me?"
I can hear him but I cant speak properly, ill be sick.
"What?" Tubbo asks from the couch.
I lift my hand, the letters still held tightly in my fist.
Ranboos face does exactly what mine had done, immediately dropping at the sight of the 3 brown envelopes.
"Here" I whisper, flicking between all 3 letters, pulling out the one with Ranboos name on it and handing it to him.
He tears it open, not bothering to read the front.
"Ranboo what does it say?" Wilbur presses, following Ranboo back to the couch as he reads whatever his letter consists of.
Tommy follows them, Tubbo now following Tommy.
Pretty soon all of them are gathered around Ranboo, waiting to hear whatever his letter reads.
But I cant stand around watching, I need to connect the dots, I need to cop on to why he left me a copy of a book id already read.
I have a feeling its all going to tell me whatever I need to know.
I slip silently from the room, still holding back my tears.
Every single part of me wants to drop to the floor and never get back up, im feeling an ache in every bone in my body that ive never felt before.
But im forcing myself to continue down the hallway, im forcing myself to think, to think of where he could be.
Im forcing myself to keep going for him.
I drop back to his bedroom floor where all of the things he'd left for me are.
I pick up his hoodie, laying it carefully over my lap. It still smells like him.
The paper inside the envelope slides out easily, sitting perfectly in my hands. I dont know if its just me or if the room has started to heat up.
'Breathe' I urge myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
Im feeling alot of things right now, alot of things that I cant put into words.
Even though my entire world is starting to fall apart, im ignoring it, im trying to act like everythings alright.
I unfold the letter, the page dragging out alot longer then id expected.
Dear George..
Im not very good at things like this. I never have been, I prefer to show my love through gifts, and objects. Not words. No, words are your thing.
So instead of writing some soppy letter which will just tell you everything you already know, like how much I love you, like how I felt when I was around you, im leaving you other things instead.
Youll probably know what it all means, youre clever like that. You were always the brains in the relationship.
But incase you dont, ill scribble it all underneath here.
Now before I go, I do want to say some simple things.
None of this was your fault, and dont you dare blame yourself. This was my choice, this is my decision and I promise you dont need to feel guilty for any of this.
Maybe you wont care, maybe youll throw this out before you can get down this far.
Part of me wonders why im still writing this now.
I zone out for a second after reading the last line of his last sentence, laughing quietly to myself.
Tears are rolling softly down my cheeks, but god I can picture him chuckling away to himself after writing that line.
But if you still love me like I love you, then just know I thought about you until the very end.
I left in a way id feel close to you, even if you arent really here.
I cant put into words the way I feel about you. I know if it were you sitting here writing this, youd be able to describe everything perfectly.
But then again everything you do you do perfectly, so it wouldnt be a big suprise.
You mightve moved on, but I want you to know that I never did.
Even since I left you at 16, not a day passed where I didnt think about you, or at least wonder where you ended up.
Well, then you ended up with me.
Almost like it was meant to be.
Nothing will ever come close to the way you made me feel.
To sum up the letter, just know that I love you.
I love you above and beyond anything else in this world.
Yours and yours only,
Dream x
The tears are flowing steadily down my cheeks now, and I know theres no point in trying to stop them.
Thats not even it, theres still more left underneath the neat scrawl of his name.
Unfold the hoodie, youll find what ive left you is inside it.
Ive already done that, so I quickly continue reading.
A beginners guide to reading the stars
I could see how much you loved talking about them, so I thought id teach myself.
I turn and look beside me, picking up the small book that reads the exact same as what hes wrote.
I flick through the first few pages, confused at first.
Theres drawings and notes spread across every single page, some are messy, some neat.
My breath is now catching in my throat, probably making my face blotch.
I get it now.
That night, on the mountain, when id told him all about the stars.
He was learning about them for me.
He knew I was passionate about it so he went out of his way to try educating himself on the topic.
Its now I know ive made a big mistake.
Its now I realize how badly ive fucked up.
I need to finish the letter though, I need to see what else hes left.
Sugar packet, downtown London, after we'd met your mom and dad.
This ones kinda stupid, but I wanted something to remember how sweet your parents were.
I smile through my tears at his dumb yet clever refrence. How 'sweet' they were, so he saved a sugar packet.
I remember that clearly too, I remember it as clear as day.
The cosy cafe, his dumb guessing game that he loved to play, the sugar packet id twirled about inbetween my fingers.
I flip over pride and prejudice, revealing the small pink sugar packet.
I pick it up in my shaky hands and place it on the desk, afraid itll get damaged.
Theres only two things left, only two things he'd thought were meaningful enough to leave behind.
Music, three sheets worth.
I never got around to writing words, but these are short pieces id come up with whilst thinking about you.
You can ask Ranboo to play them, he knows enough guitar to be able to figure this out.
As he'd told me, theres three loose pages shoved in a clear binder.
I cant believe I didnt know about any of this until now.
I cant believe he wrote music pieces about me.
I cant believe alot of things right now.
Of course I cant read music, but it still means the world to me.
One more thing left.
Pride and Prejudice, my copy.
It mightve seemed to you like I never actually got around to finishing the book, hm? Wrong, of course I did, it was too good to leave unfinished.
Not to mention I could practically picture you scalding me for not finishing it, that was a big encouragement too.
Im hoping youll ignore the scribbles on some of the pages. I needed them to understand what was happening.
The page I want you to specifically go to is 381, the rest is waiting for you there.
I skim the rest of the letter, making sure theres nothing im missing.
Theres not. Thats all.
This is all I have left of him, whatever page 381 holds is the last thing he wanted me to look at.
I pick up the book, not bothering to look over the cover or any other pages.
Instead I slide straight to the page he'd asked me to head too.
Im ready to have to look through the page, but I quickly discover theres no point, hes highlighted whatever he wanted me to see and wrote a description beside it.
Page 381
"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun"
I reread the words a couple of times, trying to make sense of them in my overcrowded head.
Although I eventually have to move on to his words that are written beside the small few sentences.
People will interpret these words differently, but I see them very fitting to the way I viewed us. I could talk about this for hours, but ill lay it down simply for you.
Im not sure when, or how, or what pushed me to start loving you again.
But I know I only realized how much I cherished our moments when they became a memory.
And thats it.
Theres nothing else, thats all he left.
I feel alone, now its starting to hit me that all of this is real.
All of this is real and my time is running out.
If hes still out there, if hes still alive and breathing then I cant stay sat here, I need to get to work.
I need to be clever, as he had put it.
I need to put my head to use and start searching.
The first thing I do is shake out the book and everything else he'd left, making sure theres nothing hidden inside.
There isnt, so now I move on to whatever comes to mind next.
I reread the letter quickly, trying to catch each word even though my eyes are barely focused on the page.
There
There it is.
In the letter, and I quote, he had written,
I left in a way id feel close to you, even if you arent really here.
We know hes not in the apartment.
We know his car is still in the parking lot.
His wallets still here, his phone is broken, so he couldnt of gone far.
He has to be close.
So where in the huge city of New York could he of felt close to me?
My mind immediately clicks to the camping grounds that we'd stayed at last early May, but no, thats too far, it would take him hours to walk there.
It has to be in walking distance, by the wreck of his room I know hes in no state to be walking for hours.
The bar where we'd first reconnected?
No, that doesnt seem to fit as well either.
Im growing panicky now, my head starting to lack in thoughts.
This type of panic brings me back to when he had first kissed me when we were driving back from New York.
Its a tight panic, a panic you cant escape from. Its like its holding you hostage.
God, that night was probably one of the best of my life. What id give to feel how id fel-
Oh.
Oh.
Thats it, thats where he is.
That night, the diner, the rooftop.
The rooftop
I jump up, all of his little gifts falling from my lap and clanking to the floor with a loud smash.
I pick up my jacket which has been thrown on the bed, pulling it on me as I clatter down the hallway.
Normally by now id of broken down, or even given up.
But not right now.
Im feeling a sense of urgency, a sense of importance thats keeping me going, keeping me positive that hes still out there.
And now all I need to do is find him.
"George?"
Its Wilbur, whos making his way down the hall. He probably heard me banging around.
"I know where he is" I ramble, pushing past Wilbur.
"George, hes g-" he starts, but he doesnt understand, and I cant waste time explaining to him.
"Hes not gone, not yet"
"We're too late, hes been gone hours George, think realistically here" he breathes quietly, trying to stop me from leaving
"No, no im not too late" I sound, putting myself out of his reach, "you can believe that all you want, but I know hes still here, I know hes not gone"
"Really? How? How do you know?" he asks sarcastically.
Im about to ignore him as I pull open the front door, but instead I turn and stare.
I do know hes taking the piss, but I give him a dead serious answer.
"Because im clever, me and him both know it"
And with that, I slam the door on his confused face and take off down the hallway.
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authors note!
• 91k, thank you all so so much!!
• the next chapter might take a little longer then usual, i want it to be perfect!! so this is me apologizing in advance :D
• incase anybody wants it, my tiktok is @honk.may !!