───𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘.

Beloved [GeorgeNotFound]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

George breaths in the cold night air. It stings—face, lungs, fingers—and numbly he thinks he should head inside before the chill sets in too deep. His feet disagree, leading him further down the muddy and foxgloved roadway.

He doesn't even notice the tears flowing down his face, cooling the moment they touch his skin. He supposes it is appropriate to be crying at the moment. He's had enough of life. His heart screams out for some sort of relief. One deep inhale gives him enough strength to wipe his cheeks.

It had been a long time since George visited the lakeside town where he spent several years of his childhood. Now it holds too much bitterness—his mother discovered the roadway he currently walked on and often adorned the kitchen table with the various flowers picked along walks. How many walks did they take together? Not enough and yet too many to count.

George's foot catches on a fallen log, and he just barely steadies himself. Exhaling sharply, he lowers himself on the log for a moment and looks around at the scene around him. You'd want to know what it looked like, after all. You offered to come, but he refused—not wanting you to fall behind at work. You had smiled sadly and thanked him for his consideration but reminded him gently it was no burden to be with him during these times. George brushed you off. Maybe someday he would bring you here, but tonight, he needs to be alone.

If he closes his eyes tight enough, he can almost imagine your smile.

The tears start flowing again, and he opens his eyes to blink them away. Willing himself to composure, George takes in as much of the scenery as he can in the midnight blue. It is too cold for fireflies so the only light shines from the moon above. The crescent sliver illuminates the soft forest floor and the gentle slope of the hills. If he squints hard enough, he can make out the stream that runs parallel to the pathway.

"The sights are as stark as you" , he muses. A shiver runs down his back. The cold cuts as sharp as you. A cloud covers the moon, hiding all light. The nights are as dark as you. George closes his eyes again for a moment. It's half as beautiful as my baby.

Those thoughts startle him into standing up from the log and taking a step back. The poetry of the moment clutches his heart painfully, and a gust of wind whips up his hair. A piece of him lives here—but more of him belongs to you.

George slowly turns and blindly begins to walk in the direction he came from—walking back to reality, walking back to you.

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was, he thinks to himself. He quickens his pace and lets out a soft, breathy laugh.

Two days later,George found himself climbing the stairs up to your bedroom. It is well past midnight when he gets back, but you promised to stay up to greet him. He hears the soft music playing, coupled with the glow of the lamp, and allows himself a brief smile. The first one in a few days, he notes.

Hovering in your doorway, he pauses to check if you're awake. You are—humming mindlessly and brushing your hair. George clears his throat and steps inside, shutting the door gently behind him. Immediately, you turn around.

The smile you give him heals the aching pain he felt 

"George" He catches you just in time and closes his eyes in relief. Your 'hello' kiss is brief but sweet. "How was it? Are you doing alright?" You pull away from the hug, and he sees your eyebrows are creased down in worry. Your eyes flit across his face, checking for something unseen in his calm expression.

George presses a kiss to your forehead, gently smooths down the worry on your face, and sits down on the bed; you follow. Taking your hands, he replies, "I'm alright. It was a fine trip, but you know it's still hard." You nod sympathetically and squeeze his hands. Lifting your hands to his lips, he presses kisses to your knuckles. As he looks into your eyes, silently he begs, Make your good love known to me or just tell me about your day. Somehow, you receive the message and proceed to catch him up on all he missed.

Half way through a story , he interrupts, "I love you, [Name]" The touch to his cheek, then the sensation of your fingers combing through his hair is reassuring in the most perfect way.

"I love you too,  as you were, as you are now, and as you will be."

George almost cries to experience so pure of a love again and again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪

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