Lean On You (DNF) Book 2

The Hourglass is Running Dry

Summer had come and gone like a leaf on the wind. Where did the time ago? Did he waste even a second of it? George sat alone in the living room of his house. Eliza was off, taken by Clay to deliver some of her things to the Blocc's residency. This left George alone to his own thoughts, and if we've learned anything from the first book, this was not a good idea. 

It felt like just yesterday Clay had broken his foot and rushed to the hospital. George hadn't worked there in a few weeks now, he had been preparing to depart for his life's next journey. This past year had gone by in a blink of the eye, leaving nothing but the faint memory of despair behind. While he was no longer anchored down by the guilt, he still had a long way to go before he would be truly okay. 

He sat on the floor, his legs tucked neatly under him as he folded his clothes, getting them ready to put in his suitcase. He would leave tomorrow. Absent-mindedly, George start fiddling with the watch on his wrist. He looked down, it still looked brand new, other than the leather band being a tad used. George's finger drifted over the rim of the glass, he took in every detail of the watch. He had worn it almost everyday. 

He took it off, and flipped it over. The golden base still had the words 'For George, Love Clay' engraved into it. Though the words had seemingly faded away slightly with time and use. George looked at his wrist and snickered, he had a very faint tan-line from where the watch sat. George rose to his feet and wondered into the house. 

In Eliza's room, she had a glasses cleaning kit. George thought he could use that to clear the gunk away from the watch, so he would take it with him without fear of it being dirty. Entering Eliza's room now was so strange. The walls had been stripped of their teenage décor. Most of her beloved knickknacks had been cleared away. It was kind of eerie. Shakings off this feeling, he walked over to Eliza's nightstand and opened the top drawer. 

He searched through it for a second before he found what he was looking for. As he went to close the drawer, the chattering of metal in the draw caught his attention. It was such an odd and unique sound too, what did Eliza have that could possibly make that sound? He had only heard that sound before. On that one night he slept on the floor in Eliza's room when their father stayed the night...

Carefully, George lifted several papers and other random things before the golden glint sank George's heart. It was bullets. Why did Eliza have-

"Oh." George audibly gasped. When he had that kerfuffle with his father all those moons ago, the chamber of the pistol was empty. 

George really hadn't put to much thought into the matter, he just assumed his drunken father had forgotten to load it. But that wasn't true.

It was Eliza. 

Eliza wasn't in the house when the innocent occurred, she had no idea their father attempted to shoot George. His hands trembled as he relieazed everything. Eliza saved George's life, and neither one had any idea.

He took the bullets out of the drawer, five in total, and he got the hell of that room. Shivers crawled down his spine as he walked to the kitchen. He promptly threw the bullets away. It was a good thing they were getting rid of these house, too many bad memories were embedded in these walls they once called home. 

George waddled back to his place on the living room floor. He sat down, staring aimlessly into the clock part of his watch. He watched as the second hand ticked away, filling the ominously quiet room with a gentle click. 

No matter what he was feeling right now, he knew it was all in the past. 

He was currently packing to go to college, he was moving on with his life finally and he wouldn't let these nasty memories keep haunting him. Not anymore. He cleaned the watch until it was to his liking and he strapped it back onto his wrist. A damp mood had settled over the Founder residence, it left a bitter taste in George's mouth as he continued to fold his clothes. 

Once he had finished, he zipped up the suitcase, deeming himself ready. As he went to stand up, he noticed the little photo album on the couch cushion. A day hadn't gone by in which George didn't look at the book. He picked it up and fell back into the couch, opening the album for seemingly the one-thousandth time. 

The first picture was taken that first football game back on last year's Halloween. The beaming station lights had reflected off of Clay's eyes in the most beautiful way possible. Clay had his arm wrapped around George's shoulder, pulling him close so their cheeks were smashed together. Both of their faces had a ginger dusting of pink, was it from the cold or each other? The world might never know. (Spoiler: It was both)

The next photo was taken several days later at Clay's house, during one of those study session. It was a goofy selfie Clay had taken with a nervous George in the background. George couldn't help but feel the stinging in the back of his eyes. He was going to miss this so much. He was going to miss Clay. Each photo, the pair seemed to get closer and closer, in emotionally and just physically. There were some pictures of the whole group, or just of George and Clay in an embrace. 

George had no idea at the time, but this photo album would become the tether that held the two lost souls together.