Should I make a playlist for George's music in the story?
!!tw: suggested suicide, auditory hallucinations, self-harm imagery!! i'm proud of you all, reach out if you need help<3 gosh i'm sorry this story is all angst now, idk if you've taken notice but i like writing deep. the rest do the book will be like this!
also, i'm aware gnf would never wear stuff that i put him in in my FFS, but one can dream he would wear a turtle neck and style it nicely
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-flash forward to the weekend, everyone's out besides George-
From that day on, he swore to himself to never wear a skirt again.
He connected his AirPods to his phone and blasted one song throughout the day, it could never get old.
Bad Things, by Cults.
The one thing he was proud of was his music taste. It might've been just a little basic but basic wasn't bad. He hated how people portrayed basic music as a bad thing.
He also hated how people portrayed him as a weak boy. A weak boy that needed help with everything.
"Are you alright?" No fuck off, leave me alone. I can handle my feelings, I'm not weak you prick!
Except you are weak George, end it. End it all, you'll feel that peace of mind. I promise you won't regret it.
It told him. Again and again and again, until someone broke his train of thought each time.
-
!! Detailed-ish self-harm TW starts here. !!
It was nearing Christmas break and he couldn't feel any less excited. He wrote in his journal each day about how he felt, hoping to see a good change. To perhaps have a Christmas spirit, but it was nowhere to be found.
Except he let the lines on how wrist keep doubling in numbers. Letting the blood spill onto the pages of his journal in reminder of how weak he was.
He wished he could find it in himself to say, cmon, you're way better than this George, but no. He wasn't.
And each time he cut again, he felt worse and punished himself by doing it more and more and more. Until he couldn't handle the amount of blood that ran down his wrists.
!! TW ends here !!
In hopes of clearing his head, which never worked, he pulled out his journal. He was finished with Dreams song now he had to write a song for his parents.
The two people he hated the most. And he was sure they hated him just as much. How could they be so cruel?!
He dug his pencil into the journal page, causing it to break. That little thing set him off, he started to cry. He hated himself.
He hated how small things made him cry,
Pathetic, you're pathetic George Davidson.
It was right. Whatever it truly was.
Once he picked himself up a little bit, he grabbed a different pencil.
Wasn't that big of a deal, why did you even cry? God, man up.
He ignored the thought while writing down everything he felt for his parents. It wouldn't mostly revolve around his father.
He remembered it being a living hell when he had come out to his parents. Especially his father. Sometimes, he wondered if his mother was too afraid to speak up for herself.
She was quiet and reserved.
He also revised his mind for memories when his father smelt the smoke in his hair. And the time he caught him sneaking out to go to parties and such. His father never seemed to get bored of scolding him.
You're such a disappointment to this family George!
His father told him over and over again. It had stuck with him ever since. Just like how he was stuck on Dream. He wiped his wet cheeks.
He noticed how quickly he came up with the lyrics. And for once, he could say he was content with himself. He smiled warmly at his already written lyrics. He set down the journal for today and looked around the dorm in the interest of doing something.
He looked in the mirror and decided, I'm going to make an outfit out of every single one of my clothes. He smiled again, he found it unusual how much ur was smiling today. But he was glad he was.
He stepped out of his mess of a bed he hadn't bothered to make for last month, he looked at himself in the mirror.
He was wearing a boring pair of sweatpants and a cream-colored hoodie. Sure, it was comfy, but it was boring in his opinion.
He decided to keep the hoodie on, pairing it brown turtleneck under it and a lighter shade of brown jeans. He wasn't going to bother putting on shoes, but he would've put on converse the same color as his turtleneck.
For the next hour, he tried on clothes nonstop, from flannels to coats to letterman jackets. He loved being fashionable. Everyone in his old town dismissed his fashion.
He didn't let them bother him though. He loved his style and that's all that mattered.
As he was trying on to be his last outfit, mid sweater take off, someone walked in. He knew from the sudden silence, it wasn't Sapnap nor Karl.
Fuck.
He quickly rushed it off to maybe find himself incorrect and to see Sapnap. But it was Leo and Dream.
"You're quite skinny." Leo pointed out, Dream looked at his feet while holding onto Leo's hand. Dreams blonde curls hung low with his eyes.
"Okay?"
"Dream, tell him. So he can be put in his place!" He sniggered, looking in Dreams way. When Dream didn't say anything, Leo's expression changed. Leo bent down just a tiny bit to reach Dreams level and whispered something in his ear.
Now Dreams face changed, "He's right, you're weirdly skinny." His face cringed while saying so, did it cringe from George's looks or something else? He looked teary-eyed a few seconds after.
Why did everything Dream was saying seem so fake?
Stop trying to prove yourself wrong George, he doesn't care for you and he meant every word he said. Get over yourself!
It seemed like all he heard was that voice. It was controlling his life, and again, he wasn't doing anything to try and get better.
He observed Dreams emerald eyes, no matter how much he loved-hated him, he could stare into them for eternity. He followed where Dreams eyes went. They fixated on something near George, he wasn't quite sure what though.
Dreams eyes widened and his breath hitched. George grew concerned, but he wouldn't show it to Dream. Instead, he tried figuring out what Dream was so shocked about.
He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head at Dream. After a few seconds, he figured out what Dream was staring at. It was his wrists.
For fucks sake,
"George-" Leo glared at Dream before he could form a sentence like he wasn't supposed to speak. What was Leo doing to Dream?
George wasn't sure how to respond, so he kept his lips in a tight line and walked to the bathroom with his original outfit in hand.
He quickly put on his hoodie and sweatpants and locked himself in the bathroom. He sooner heard distant yellings who he assumed were Dream and Leo.
It made him remember when he heard the yelling of his parents. They were like his personal alarm clock. But he couldn't shut it off, he had to listen to them until they got sick of each other and went separate ways in their obnoxiously large home.
He remembered he hadn't talked to his friends back home in a while. He pulled out his phone and checked their group chat that no one had stopped talking in even if George couldn't respond.
He found it reassuring that they hadn't forgotten about him. Every day they would all say good morning, especially to George. Saying they missed him very much.
No one knew how much he missed them.
He scrolled through the chats for a bit, finding an audio recording.
"I've finished my song I told you guys about a while back," the audio started, "one sec let me just get the background music rolling in, and then I'll play it for you all!" It's like George could sense Wilbur smiling behind the blank screen.
"George, I hope you get to hear this as well! I miss you so much, dude." There was no stopping George from crying now, he just wanted to be back home.
He could deal with his parents, as long as it meant being with his friends.
He hears a light click from behind the screen, indicating Wilbur had begun the background music from his computer.
"Northern and Waterloo and City Lines, and National Rail Services." The voice from the computer spoke, he recognized it immediately.
It was the same line that spoke on Jubilee Line. Wilbur started to strum his guitar. He was like no other when he played. His voice was astounding as well, perfectly complimenting the song.
He listened to it the first as carefully as he could, talking in every lyric he could. He continued to listen to it. He could forever listen to it if he had to.
"I miss you guys so much, please forgive me for the lack of contact :(." George wrote in the group chat.
His tears wet the phone screen as he listened to the song over and over again.
He hadn't realized how long he had been there, crying with his knees hugged to his chest.
"George?" Sapnap's voice interrupted George's thoughts.
George was in the deepest of despairs. George was homesick.
———
merry christmas! and if you don't celebrate it, i hope your day is going absolutely amazing!! also i'll try to remember say something tmr but Heri za Kwanzaa! i hope that's a correct greeting, i tried doing some research for it, if it isn't please lmk!!
this chapter is kinda eh but it's the longest one i've wrote surprisingly:D
anyways, i hope everyone's day has gone amazing, and if it hasn't my dms are always always open. i'll be willing to listen to you and if you'd like i can try and give advice back:) i love seeing my readers happy and that's my goal in writing!! you're all wonderful amazing people and i could never thank you enough for the amount of support you guys greet me with each time i post a be chapter, i appreciate it so so so much<3 know you're 100% valid and worth so much, keep your head up:) i'm proud of you!!
have a good rest of your day/night!
-ali:3