Good At Pretending ,, 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 [EDITING]

2 ᬄ͙͘˚

Reminder to respect people's relationships and sexualities !

I actually wanted to address something regarding shipping which will be addressed at the end of the chapter ^^

I recommend listening to Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray before reading. It is linked at the top of the page <3

Warnings : Underage Drinking , Mentions of fighting , language

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You should really just listen to yourself sometimes.

Which he had done the opposite.

And sometimes even liked to argue it wasn't his fault but yeah he should have declined. Yet here he was, hands on the steering wheel at 9:27 pm on a foggy Friday night. Driving in the hazzy weather from the coast was the least of his worries. It was more-so the lump in his throat that threatened to boil into bile. That made him worry something horribly wrong might happen.

But even so he kept driving, pulled a little too hard into the curb, having to re-park and with a deep sigh, his head pressed against the steering wheel with a harsh, short beep.

"I thought you knew how to drive?"

"And you can do better?"

"I'm a confident driver-"

And suddenly his spirits were lifted and the vehicle filled with laughter again. Remembering the short quote from a while back on a discord call. The memories flooding back into his head as Geogre relaxed against the atmosphere. That was until Nick piped in and he froze up again.

"Damn I really thought you were going to burst a blood vessel there." He commented with a snort. Meaning that he had infact paid attention to his body language which was probably one of the reasons why the dark haired boy pissed him off so much. Only occasionally as he was obviously best friends with him but his slightly antylitical attitude and overall personality made it harder to trust him even if me meant it well. Of course there were no issues and maybe George was just being a wus but it scared him just a little bit.

They were probably early, or maybe even late, he couldn't really tell but there was already a lot of people around the area. Green grass littered with empty and cracked red solo cups and small pieces of glass while lights flooded the windows that were open. The house was generally big and people littered the law and the expanse of the front door. Getting actually into the place seemed like the hardest task so far. Two stories and a sea of teenagers, the stench of alcohol and sweat and dirt and the distant reeking of smoke.

He put on a small smile, face lighting up even with the seemingly cascading of events according to the trashed place but it only made him more excited. A pledge to enjoy it instead of relish in staying indoors. Maybe this was safer in a way, turning to watch as Clay pulled down the white smily fashion mask he wore, a small puff of evaporated fog from his nose into the cold-ish night.

Nick lurched forward, swinging an arm around the brunette's shoulder and pushing him towards the entrance with Clay trailing behind them, his height giving him the advantage of being able to see over the tops of their heads, nearly like an overprotective fatherly figure. George nudged at Nick's side which earned a laugh, playfully pushing and shoving at eachother as they made their way into the house.

They stopped though once inside, the group looking around a bit at everything and everyone, the expanse of sweaty, humid, intoxicated bodies and mingling strangers. The beat of an older Chase Atlantic song that Ncik informed them was called Into It. Which probably fit the atmosphere of roudy kids quite well.

George wiggled his way through the front grouped area of people, nearly falling out the edge of the small crowd stumbling and catching his balance against the cream colored wall. "Ow.." He grumbled, turning back around as the other two boys pushed their way out of the crowd easily. Now that the hard part was over actually enjoying the party should be fairly easy as long as nothing got spiked or something which was an actual concern according to Clay and Nick, which; apparently was common in busier American states.

Rubbing a hand against his nose which now ached from stumbling into the wall. "Later!" Nick called, jogging off in the direction of a group of girls which Clay let a small snort out at, George only giving a glare and then a small laugh, looking around again with a bright look on his face. When looking back down though he found himself lost in the crowd and had to mangle his way out.

The brown eyed boy turned, brows furrowed. And now he was alone. By himself in a country he didn't know with people he didn't go to school with and now he was lost? What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Go get drunk and take away his worries trying to fix the thoughts that flooded his head? He wasn't that anxious and actually didn't have issues with interacting with smaller groups, even being social. And maybe that was the problem. This was obviously not a small group.

Moving through the crowded bodies, the deep blue t-shirt he wore tugging in different directions and eventually his back landed against the cold marble of the kitchen counter, jamming his hip bone on the side with a harsh wince. He flinched back at that, bumping into someone. And stumbling into the other counter. "Shit-" He mumbled under his breath, straightening his shirt and looking around. His eyes landing on the person he bumped into.

"What? Bitch."

"Bitch?"

"Yeah! Yeah!!"

"Who's the- what?" He shook his head a bit, looking at the blonde infront of him. "Who are you?"

"Big T."

"Is that your name? Like actually?"

"Course it is. Im not a liar."

"Oh." This was already a very odd conversation and it seemed to be only getting weirder. He just wanted to apologise for bumping into the poor boy but he looked genuinely scary, and tall.

"Only joking," He held out his hand. "Tommy."

George gingerly shook it, a tiny nervous smile appearing on his features as the blue eyed boy handed him one of the red solo cups. He swirled around the blue liquid for a moment, appearing a more grey-blue for him. Smelling of blue-rasberry and a sour like jolly rancher aroma. He lifted the slightly crinkly plastic to his lips, taking a small sip before saying fuck it and drinking at least half of it. Coughing lightly.

"First time drinking?" Tommy asked from beside him, his own cup in hand whilst the other was loosly handing from his pocket. He looked only slightly intoxicated and honestly, also pissed. Maybe he had gotten in a fight with someone, judging from the small scuff bruise on his jawline he could at least make an assumption. This definitely wasn't the blondes first time drinking, or fighting. He was quite the trouble maker in all honesty. But George recegnized the English accent he had and it only slightly sparked his interest.

"Maybe-" George responded taking another, much smaller sip as it not choke again. Tommy let out a partially loud laugh at this, nudging the bruntte's skinny bicep with his elbow.

"Not a bad place to try it right?" He asked, raising a brow at him.

"This party's shit."

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Words and mentions :

Thanks for reading !