Nightingale - Dreamnotfound

||Worn-Out Blue Poetry Book||

My eyes overlooked the worn-out blue poetry book and pierced right into George's eyes. They were still red, but the tears did die down significantly. The longer I stared at him, the shakier his hand holding the book became. He eventually placed it in my hands for me, and I still didn't tear my gaze away.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" George finally asked after a few painfully quiet moments.

"How long have you known? How did you find out?"

"It's a long story."

"How? We've only known each other for a month." I searched his eyes despite not knowing what I was looking for. A part of me wanted to believe it was a search for answers, but another part knew that wasn't it.

"That's not exactly true either." He turned away from me and scanned around the house.

"What?"

He took the flashlight from my hand and clicked it off. "I can't explain it here. We might get caught. Just follow me and I'll explain."

He grabbed the two pillows from his bed. Slipping his hand into mine, he dragged me out of the house and out into the open. Not a single source of light in sight. I was led into a crevice between the houses, twisting and turning in whatever way the limited space we had allowed.

George only turned back on the flashlight when we came out the other side to a circle of houses. He handed back the flashlight and settled against a red house. Looking around, it was completely desolate. No commons in sight, and no sign that any had even been there. I had honestly forgotten this place existed. George had only taken me here once to people watch and never mentioned it again. I wasn't even supposed to know about it. No Specialty was.

"Come sit with me," George said, gesturing next to him as he clicked the flashlight back on. He leaned against his backpack as I sat next to him. I stared again, waiting.

"Well?"

"Well," He repeated in an unsure tone. "I knew pretty much the whole time."

"How?"

"It's a bit complicated."

"How could it possibly be complicated? Did you just assume the first person you'd find is out to get you?"

"I did, yeah, but that's not how I knew," He said, sliding down his bag. "It was your name."

"My name?" If it was anything like how the people around me treated my name, it was just a joke. My name was nothing special. The only reason anybody used my name was to make fun of it. Or in Wilbur's case, to scold me on a more personal level.

"Yes, your name," He said. "The moment you told me your name, I knew."

"I'm going to need you to be a bit more specific, George."

He sighed. "That's the complicated part. It's a long story."

The stars hung high in the sky. No sign of dawn in sight. Though I was exhausted and dangerously drained both physically and mentally, I still leaned back and said, "I have time."

"Okay," He pulled at his sweater strings. "We didn't meet last month. It was more of a reunion, I suppose."

That sparked my interest. I couldn't recollect ever seeing George previous to last month. The first time I looked at him, I didn't recognize him. The only part that was remotely familiar about him was—

"Your smile."

"Pardon?" He glanced up at me.

"Your smile. I knew it looked familiar."