laminated lavenders | dreamnotfound

6

6 - with honours

~

"gogs!"

the mentioned boy turned around only to be mushed by a hug, light laughter filled the university's quadrangle. "we did it george! we graduated!" george's friend, sapnap, exclaimed. and the brit smiled warmly at his enthusiastic friend, looking forward and seeing more of his college friends. one donned a round pair of golden glasses and a maroon beanie, and the other showed off his long, pink hair.

"we're finally out of school." wilbur sighed and flopped onto techno's shoulder, blowing the pink strands of hair that got itself in wilbur's face away. "i reckon we should stay in and celebrate!"

"yay, now we have to work our asses off to pay student debt." the pink haired fellow deadpanned, gently pushing wilbur from his shoulder - his brother protesting when he lost balance, "truly, living the best life."

"so, what now?" sapnap asked, looking at his friends. "what are we gonna do?"

"i don't know man, i don't even know what i'll eat for breakfast tomorrow." techno replied, and wilbur shrugged - muttering in agreement.

"we are gonna perform in pubs, if you guys want to tag along." wilbur perked up. sometimes, when they were free - they performed; with wilbur as the vocalist, techno as the drummer, sapnap as the bassist and george as the electric guitarist.

"oh, pog! let's see if george and i have things to do." sapnap smiled at the curly haired brit, "how 'bout you, gogs?" sapnap turned to george, and the boy in question hummed, pondering.

"i think i'll return to my hometown, my grandparents did leave me my childhood home after mum passed." george responded, and sapnap gasped upon hearing the short boy's plan.

"you're leaving us?!" the youngest exclaimed, and the twins chuckled at their antics.

"no, you idiot." george mumbled, flicking nick on the forehead. "i'll return here, of course. plus, it's a good thing that i'm not gonna third wheel with you and karl."

"boys! i'm so proud of you." they looked over to see phil, one of their professors and techno and wilbur's dad. he took the four under his wing, and they've grown closer to phil as well as the twins' younger brothers; tommy and tubbo.

the five men fell into a comfortable conversation, eventually leaving the university and entering a seven-eleven, with tommy and tubbo tagging along - wasting polaroid films, taking picture after picture, yet they didn't mind, they were enjoying the moment. there, they stayed where they used to waste their days away after school hours.

george remembered when he and his friends cruised down the street, and whenever he fell silent - he couldn't help but think of all the memories he had in his hometown, when he tried to learn how to ride a bike - keyword, try - to laughing with his best friend while they ate fried rice, egg and beef.

his best friend, he did have one. george didn't know if the blond still remembers him, but george sure did remember clay. the boy who made him so happy all those years ago, the boy who he had his first kiss with.

george remembered awarding ceremonies with clay, they always ended the academic years with honours - and now, in the present, george smiled wide with his new friends, yet it was stained with sadness. it was bittersweet, george always thought it was. he felt bad for not talking to clay about his mum's decision, george felt bad for not acknowledging the sinking feeling in his stomach, distracted by infatuation and the heavy medals hanging around his pale neck.

wilbur was quite the writer, but george found himself longing for clay's words instead. they'd often film clips and scenes for the university's film festival, and george remembered the wholesome laughter between them whenever they performed in front of people. the four would win film festival after film festival, taking home every reward there was. it was exhausting, yet it was magical.

george got himself a pack of maltesers and a can of white monster, opening the can and taking a sip - the familiar liquid trailing down his tongue, reminding him of the taste of clay's lips, reminding him of how magical it felt when they sat back down on the grass and laughed about the silly things clay made up.

he remembered when they danced underneath the moonlight, the slow beat of their hearts was the only thing they followed rhythmically. clay held george's hand, supporting his weight as the brit pirouetted and spun like fragile fairy floss. their bodies opened and yearned to create sapphires and a eunoia of their story together. they were tied together by strings of constellations, and george could vividly remember how ethereal clay looked with his fine, golden threads of hair.

it had the texture of straw which was spun into gold, dripping like melted caramel floss wrapped around croquembouche, the shade of molten hazelnut chocolate that flows elegantly around the frame of clay's face. his skin was sun kissed with each individual streak of warmth, with freckles like dusted cinnamon, glowing gently underneath the bright streetlight stars.

when the two were younger, they always built cardboard castles - where clay was the king and george was his other half. and when it got dark, the castle sat sluggishly above the loose patch of dirt, dark candlelit skies lighting up the space. george tried so desperately to forget the wet shoebox buried underneath the remains of yesterday, but he just can't.

clay would take george to patches of blooming poppies, smiling at the way george's enthusiasm captured the essence of youthful spring, muddy meadows and all the endless rays of sunshine.

george sometimes questions if clay remembers the moments they shared, if he remembers the nights they went stargazing because clay couldn't sleep because of his insomnia.

he missed clay so much, and he's going back to see him. to catch up. george doesn't want their story be unfinished, he didn't want clay to be his first love where nothing more happened.

george was coming home, he was going to clay. the person he felt most at home with.

--

02/15/21 - first draft
03/09/21 - edited