Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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Instead of talking about it, I decided to make stupid conclusions and suffer.

At first, my thoughts were just bothering me, but not enough to ruin my day. Then it became clear that how I felt depended on whether I'd see George that day or not. I'd cancel plans just in case he came over in the evening and feel so low when he didn't.

But every time he did, I was so happy. I couldn't help but anticipate something new, a step forward, or a bit more insight into him or his feelings for me. I was hoping his trust in me would grow. However, as days passed, the only thing growing was my own feelings.

I began spending my nights alone crying, and it frustrated me so much how I had no control over my own feelings. I couldn't even pinpoint the reason for my tears; I'd simply sit there and sob uncontrollably until all my tears and energy were drained out of my body. And even after doing so, I wouldn't feel even a hint of relief.

One of those nights, while I was busy sobbing because I hadn't seen him for three days, I made the decision to create some space between us, hoping that would help me regain my independence.

Right when I made that decision, he texted me.

George: Come out?

I could see him on the balcony, and normally, I'd rush to join him without waiting for his text.

Aria: I can't

I looked at the crumpled tear-soaked tissues all over the couch and realized that another pile of them was about to get formed.

George: Why not?

I put my phone down to blow my nose into the tissue and tried to come up with something convincing.

Aria: I'm sick

I lied, thinking that would keep him away for a few days.

George: Nooo :(

George: I'll come over then, what do you need?

He wasn't helping the tears. He was making them worse.

Aria: no don't

Aria: I just need some rest

Aria: I'm in bed

Lie after lie, I thought I managed to convince him to stay away. But soon I heard the familiar pattern of knocking on the door.

I couldn't even pretend to be asleep, we were just texting.

I hurriedly cleaned up the mess I had made and rushed to the bathroom to wash my face before opening the door. The bathroom mirror didn't spare any details. I could clearly see my three-day-old eye bags, concerningly bloodshot eyes, red nose with the friction burn from the tissues, and still wet and tangled hair that I didn't care enough to brush and dry after my earlier shower.

If I had any chances of making him like me enough to make a move before, I'm sure I won't after he sees me like this. And it was too late to fix anything cause he knocked the second time.

I dried my face, took a deep breath, and opened the door, just to see his face drop immediately.

"Oh my god, you are sick," he came in, making me realize that my lie had just saved me, "I don't come over for three days and you get sick."

I didn't speak, scared that my voice would give it away. Instead, I nodded and grabbed another tissue.

"Go back to bed, I'll get you some tea," he took off his shoes, making me realize that he was here to stay. And some of the panic and uneasiness vanished away immediately.

"It's okay, don't worry." I guess I could always blame the quality of my voice on being sick.

"You're probably sick cause I wasn't there to take care of you," I knew he was joking, but if being sick equaled being emotionally unstable, he was more than correct. "Can't live without me, huh?"

"Shut up.." I hated how unintentionally accurate his words were.

"Go get under the blanket," he made an unseriously serious face, narrowing his eyes dramatically at me, "Now!"

For some reason, I listened to him, going to my room and lying down on my bed. I turned my pillow over cause it was pathetically tear-stained, and took a few deep breaths to prevent myself from shedding new ones.

I tried every known method to calm myself down, but something was terribly wrong with my brain. It kept telling me "enjoy it while it lasts", but with that thought in my head, I couldn't enjoy it even if it lasted forever.

When I saw him appear with a cup of tea, my vision got blurry again. I quickly hung my head and hid my face with the tissue, hoping he wouldn't realize what was going on cause he was too focused on not spilling the hot tea over himself.

I calmed myself down just briefly, enough to force a few words out.

"Thank you," I quietly spoke after shoving the tissue into my eyeballs to dry the tears before they'd have the chance to fall.

"You're welcome, cutie." He had no right to call me that when he was the definition of that word.

"Put it there," I quickly pushed my book, making it slide away on the bedside table, making enough space for him to place the cup.

Right after he did, he took a seat on the edge of my bed, his attention now fully on me. And I looked everywhere but his face, while he was doing the exact opposite.

"How are you feeling? I can get you pills if you want." His concerned words made me feel even worse. Not only was I being dramatic and bawling my eyes out when nothing had happened, but I was also lying to him about being sick.

"I'm g..good," I choked in the middle of the word, feeling his cold hand on my forehead to check if I was hot or not. I probably wasn't before, but my face started burning under his touch.

"I don't know if I'm cold or you're hot," he laughed softly, "you do it, you're the doctor here!"

He grabbed my own hand and lifted it, putting it over my forehead. Not like I actually needed to check my temperature, but all I could focus on was the feeling of his hand over mine.

I was the worst at pretending. If I confidently looked at him, he wouldn't question my sniffling and red eyes. They made sense cause I was supposed to be sick. But being the stupid idiot I was, I decided that not using my words to speak and not looking at his face would make me look more believable.

"Aria?" His hand dropped from my forehead, "Is everything okay?"

I looked up so confidently and was so ready to nod, but my bottom lip quivered the moment our eyes made contact. I saw his eyebrows pull together slightly with confusion and quickly hid my face with both my hands, just it time to catch the tears.

"Aria.." He quickly shifted in his seat to come closer to my body and put his hands on my forearms, gently weighing them down to open up my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, "it's nothing, I'm sorry."

"You're not crying over nothing." His hands came up to my face to wipe the tears away, but more of them rolled down my cheeks. He sighed, "Come here."

One of his hands went to the back of my head, guiding it to his chest, while the other arm snugly wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. I clung to him and got a patch of his shirt damp and sticking to his chest in seconds.

I appreciated him so much more for his decision not to ask why after I refused to answer the first time. I would rather die than say it, and even if wanted to say it, he knew he had to wait for me to calm down first.

He just held me tight and gently stroked my hair as I wondered why I was crying. I couldn't find the answer. All I had was a pile of million different feelings and fears swirling around inside of my head.