Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

settle me

The stress levels that have surfaced in my body over the past 24 hours have been unfathomable. It's the constant feeling that I have an immense amount of pressure weighted on my shoulders 24/7 rattles in my core. The back of my mind is always filled with work, editing, videos, and a certain blonde who seems to never leave.

Over the past few weeks, things on my schedule have just been piling and piling to the point where I barely get any sleep. Filming, editing, recording, and even just modeling for merch is getting to be a handful.

I feel as though if I consume any more of this unnecessary stress I'll end up exploding, and flying all the way back to London to live my miserable life again.

My head lay flat against the black, L-shaped desk. The monitor blares through the darkness of the room, as soft snores leave my body.

I'm suddenly jolted awake by a soft hand, being rested upon my shoulder. I quickly sit up from my back-aching position and face the creature who dare woke me up while I was getting beauty sleep.

However, I stopped myself from shouting at whoever it was once I laid my eyes on dirty blonde locks of curls, and green orbs staring; concerned at my state.

"Oh, sorry—" I apologize and attempt to look at the time at the bottom of my monitor. I spot a 2 before I pull my eyes away from the painful light.

"Don't be, are you okay?" He asked, pure concern for my state filling his tone. I looked up at him, curiously.

I ignore his question, and yet all I could do is stare at his green eyes, the only thing lighting up the room is the soft, tall lamp to my right, and the white blur emitting from the monitor in front of me.

He slowly walked closer to me, cautiously. I couldn't stop staring, as I felt his body move closer and closer to mine. He looked down at me like a skyscraper in New York City would at an ant on the ground, as he trapped me in my office chair; two arms resting on the leather armrests. One of his arms retracted, and I could feel his presence near my face. My eyes never laid off from his.

"You have bags, baby," He informed me, and I almost choked. I skip past the pet name — but not forgetting it — as I raise my eyebrow at him. His large fingers continue to linger around my face, examining my state clearly. Half of me wants to yell for him to touch me, and the other wants to savor that he's this close to me right now.

"What? What bags?" I ask, curious about what's going on and what "bags" he's referring to that are so unique that he won't take his eyes off of mine.

"You have eye bags, George," He told me, and I looked at him like he was an idiot — because he is.

"What? Of course I have eye bags, everyone does," I assure him. Mine are obviously more prominent than others, due to my paler-that-snow skin.

"George," He said sternly, and that snapped me from my joking state. I quickly lock my eyes with his again, as they slightly widen. He's gripping the leather on the arms, and his hand finally rests upon my cheek.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, reassuringly. And I don't think I could take being this close to him and not meaning anything much longer. I am so thankful he knew that everything wasn't okay, and now I'm realizing it for myself too.

So, I crack.

A choked sob escapes from my lips, and my smile turns to a frown as salty tears quickly roll down my porcelain cheek, one following the other shortly after.

My body feels numb, I feel numb. The stress was getting to my core, and that's when I needed to stop everything; I just didn't realize it.

Tears keep falling, as everything becomes a blur within the snap of a finger. I feel strong, familiar arms wrap around my waist quickly, and the last thing I know is that I pass out with soft words of comfort and being held by the one I love most.