33: Pull Me Out

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I apologize for the short length of this chapter but it felt best to end it here.

I hope you all enjoy it regardless xx

George's heart is in his feet, its constant thrumming is threatening to trip him up as he does his best to keep moving down the seemingly never-ending hallway. He knows running is pointless, he could flee to the ends of the earth and not escape the guilt that is currently eating away at him, but he can't stay still either, so he keeps on placing one foot in front of the other.

The laces of his trainers flutter due to his aggressive movements, but he doesn't stop to tie them. He's lucky he remembered to put shoes on before fleeing his room. He barely recalls dressing, or even the act of leaving, all he knows is he has to get away from Matty before he does anything else he'll regret. With each step he takes, the loose strings threaten to trip him, but he doesn't slow his stride.

"George?" The voice barely registers inside of his mind, but some part of his conscious falters when he hears his name. "Are you alright?" George stumbles to a halt clumsily, his blurry vision taking in the form of John who is standing by the nearby ice machine with a large cup in his hand. "What's happened?"

"I -" George opens his mouth to speak, although he has no idea what he's attempting to say, when a sob overtakes his sentence, the harsh sound ripping its way out of his throat in a painful upheaval of emotions that George is powerless to stop.

"Shit," John curses, "come here mate, it's okay."

George doesn't respond, he can't really, but he does allow John to lead him into his room without any protest. He can't stop crying no matter how hard he tries, and by the time he hears the door click closed behind him, he's a proper mess.

"Is that George?" another person asks - George thinks it might be Ross, but when he tries to wipe his wet eyes to see if his hypothesis is correct, he's hit with a wave of nausea so strong, he all but bolts into the bathroom. His knees hit the cold tile with a loud thump mere seconds before his stomach begins to empty itself.

"Yeah..." John is speaking still, and George tries to listen in between his heaving. "I've got no clue what's wrong with him, he was just in the hallway crying, so I brought him here."

"Fuck," Ross curses. "Something must have happened with him and Matty then." George almost laughs at how right Ross is, not that he could ever guess what had actually occurred, no one could - not even himself. The mere reminder of how he'd left Matty has George gagging again, his throat burning as he continues to be sick until there is nothing left inside of him.

Someone sits next to George as he continues to choke on tears and bile, a large hand rubs his back soothingly, but George can't calm down enough to acknowledge them. Every time he attempts to explain, he's overcome by another bout of sorrow and dizziness, so eventually, he stops trying to speak entirely.

He has no idea how much time passes before he's coherent again, but it seems like ages since he was last leaning over the toilet spewing his guts out. His eyes are crusted over with tears, opening them is a difficult task, but he manages it. He sees that he's still in the bathroom, but he's propped against the tub now. The cool porcelain is soothing to his overheated skin, even through his t-shirt.

"Hey - how are you feeling?" a voice asks, George thinks it's Ross, but when he attempts to turn his head and look, his head pulses so violently he thinks he's going to be sick all over again, so he stops moving in an attempt to see who is in the room with him.

"I've been better," George answers truthfully. At least he can speak now without feeling nauseous, that's an improvement over earlier.

"Can I ask what happened?" Ross asks. It's definitely him, George can tell now that his head has cleared slightly.

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