Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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The more time I spent alone, the more insane I went.

Maybe that was because my idea of alone time involved looking at George behind the screen, while when I wasn't alone, I found myself doing the same thing in person.

It felt almost illegal to have such precise knowledge of his whereabouts, his actions, and his activities when he hadn't even told me about any of those details. He was live, and I couldn't help but watch him.

Day by day, it felt like the situation was becoming increasingly complicated. He would come over, and we'd have a great time together. Sometimes, he'd even spend the night, and we'd cuddle to sleep. But as he left each time, a cold sweat of realization would wash over me.

It became clear that he didn't view me as someone integrated into his life. Even just as a friend. If he genuinely wanted me to be a part of his life, he'd have to start introducing me to the other aspects of it. Well at least to the most major one.

I kept waiting for that day to come, but as time passed and we appeared to grow closer when he was near, I couldn't help but feel more and more disconnected each time he left.

I couldn't even find an appropriate reason. I couldn't blame him for possibly wanting me only for sex, because the most we'd been doing was making out. It's because during one of our late-night talks, I told him about my fear of getting too close to someone due to past bad experiences. And he told me that I didn't have to do anything I wasn't comfortable with.

He hadn't made any moves since then, and I had been too afraid to initiate anything myself. Although there were times when the tension grew so intense that we needed to take breaks from each other.

I realized that he meant so much to me that his happiness became my priority. And all I wanted was to know if I meant anything to him.

"Would you miss me if I went to live on Jupiter?" I suddenly asked while we were watching that same old space program.

He was silent for a few seconds, thinking of an answer.

"Depends on if there's internet on Jupiter or not," I adored him for answering every single one of my dumb questions with so much detail and thoughtfulness, "but why would you leave without me?"

"Would you come with me?" I asked, leaning my head all the way back to his shoulder to be able to look at him.

"I actually would," he replied with a smile, "I feel like flying to Jupiter every time I jump to your balcony."

"But you wouldn't leave everything behind to come to Jupiter with me," I disagreed.

"I leave everything behind to come spend time with you."

"It's not the same, but whatever." I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"The only thing I wouldn't want to leave behind is my friends. So I'll bring them to Jupiter with us."

I giggled, knowing already that they 'come in a pack'. By the way, I had spent some time with his friends over the past few days, and they both were really nice and funny.

I sat there, hugging his arm for a few more minutes, and that's when my inner demons began to surface once more.

"Where do you see yourself in a few years?" I asked, tracing my finger along his arm.

"On Jupiter with you and my friends."

I smiled, silent for a few more seconds, "Living happily on Jupiter with all of your friends."

I smiled and remained silent for a few more moments. "Living happily on Jupiter with all of your friends," I finally said.

He corrected me, "Living happily on Jupiter with you and my friends."

"Why the separation? I want to feel included too," I protested.

He intertwined our fingers, stopping me from playing with his arm hair. "You are included. You're just in a different category."

I'm glad he said it. Cause I had been fighting those same inner demons that kept forcing me to ask him what we are for a while now.

"What category?" I shifted to sit more comfortably and see his face while he answered.

"I'm not sure if it has a name," he gave me a soft smile, "but I hope it will soon."

Of course. Soon.

He'll probably tell me about his life too soon. Yeah, soon.

Instead of showing any visible reaction, I kept talking to myself inside my head. My thoughts were really bothering me, and I needed to let out my frustration somehow - but I didn't want to say something impulsive and embarrassing like I usually did when I was in this state.

I gripped his hand, our fingers tightly intertwined, with such force that the pressure grew intense and even started to ache in my bones.

"Are you trying to do something?" He raised our joined hands, and I realized that what I was doing was causing me pain rather than him.

"No." I kept my eyes on the TV, forcing our hands back down.

Then I started cracking his fingers one by one - preferably two joints on one finger.

"What's next? My neck?" Even though he was joking, his words sounded tempting.

I sat up straight, drawing his attention to me as I let go of a harsh breath.

"Don't you sometimes feel like you're going crazy?" I asked, my voice holding so many forced back emotions.

He furrowed his brows, "What do you mean?"

"I sometimes feel disconnected," I tried to convey without revealing too much, "like my day is divided into separate moments that don't seem to connect. And it makes me mad."

The look I saw in his eyes was something that told me he understood me fully. He sighed.

"Yeah, I do feel like I'm going crazy," and his words were just a confirmation, "all the time."

I suppressed the urge to suggest that he could help us both by sharing more about his life. Blaming him for keeping it a secret was beginning to eat at me, and it only made me feel crazier.

"But you get used to it eventually, and then you don't want those moments to mix," he replied, his voice carrying a touch of sadness that I couldn't ignore.

"I'd prefer just okay moments all day than a mix of really great and really awful ones," my voice was starting to carry an unwanted weight.

What he didn't realize about my words was that my really great moments were when I was with him, and the really awful ones were when he'd go, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"Come here," he gestured with his hand, and I crawled back into his arms, "why don't you ever let me know when you're having awful moments?" He spoke softly, kissing my temple, and at that point, I was close to fighting back tears.

"Cause you never let me know about yours," there was so much pain in my voice that even his lips pressed against my hair couldn't soothe, "you just go to the balcony and light those stupid cigarettes."

"Maybe I'm just lighting those cigarettes for a smoke break, not necessarily because of bad moments."

And he's back to pretending like he's not capable of feeling negative things and nothing he does has a reason behind it.

"I might start taking smoke breaks too then." I spoke strictly.

"Why?"

And that's the question I was hoping to hear.

"For no reason at all."