It Wasnt My Fault (DNF)

Part 1: Chapter 4

George pov

I was running.

That was all I knew.

My mind barely processed the obstacles as I leapt around the homeless people and ran past drug dealers in my path.

Eyes trained to my phone and the path in front of me, I could only feel scared.

The destination was coming into view now, and my heart dropped as I raised my eyes from the device a final time.

It was a bridge, the water rushing against its posts in the autumn wind, raging and threatening.

Dream could be down there.

My eyes pricked with tears again, my mind ran hazy with terror.

You'll never see the scars on the back of the hand that's helping you.

Ken knew, but he would never tell me. He would never out someone like that. If I had only listened to him and called the blonde, we might not have been in this situation.

If he was dead, it would, once again, be my fault.

I couldnt live with that, and I didnt have the comfort of my brother right now to stop the fatal thoughts from swirling around in my brain.

I had to find Clay.

My feet pounded on the cobbled street, checking the concrete sidewalks and behind the trees.

I was feeling hopeless again, being attacked relentlessly by memories and a cloud of guilt that I didnt even know for sure was valid.

The leaves were blowing around and obscuring my vision, the wind washing over me in unforgiving waves of frost, making me shiver.

And then I saw him.

And I was running again, letting loose what felt like wings of relief that seemed to carry me towards the blonde, skidding to a stop a few feet away, the voice that called out his name sounding my own but reverberating with a gentility I wouldn't have believed I was capable of.

"Dream," I say, loud enough for him to head but quiet enough to not startle him.

He turned around, his eyes filling with tears that threatened to burn more tracks onto his face than he already had painting the broken expression.

"I'm here." I say. "I care about you. You're the first friend I've had in years, you know that?"

He looks surprised, and I relax a little. He was listening.

"Can you come over here?" I ask, causing him visible internal panic.

"Alright, never mind, just... can you listen to me?" I say hurriedly. He nods and I make the decision to tell him exactly what I need to hear myself.

It's always easier to tell others the words you need to hear resound inside your own ears in their voice.

"You're my friend and I care. I have no other friends, and I was really lonely. I have had a really rough life, but I'm hoping that our friendship will help it be a little bit better. But I need you. You're unique. I've met a lot of people, but no one has been able to make me smile like you have." I say, peering into his now dull green eyes earnestly.

I wast the best at comforting people, but I hoped that eased his worries, or helped abolish his motives for suicide.

Slowly, silence fills the air as the wind comes to a stop, everything being calmingly still.

I hear his right foot shuffle, and he slides tentatively towards me, his eyes now downcast.

As soon as he's closer to me than the edge, he looks up at me as if to see if he did the right thing.