hopeless purpose (dreamnotfound)

piqued interest

tw: suicidal implications, drunk george

george had finished writing his letter just as his old, crappy pen began to run dry of ink. he had stolen it years ago from a small restaurant his parents had taken him out to for his 8th birthday dinner. the faded words across the pen slowly rolled off the wooden desk and onto the carpeted floor, possibly never to be moved again as george finished the last syllable of his letter. george quickly tacked his letter to the wall above his bed with a small pin and decided that he was content with all he had written down.

he then stumbled around his room, pulling on a thin blue sweatshirt and some white sneakers to prepare himself for the chilly outdoors. then, taking nothing with him, but one final glance around his childhood bedroom, george stepped out of his window to embark on his last outing.

the cool air blew against his face, creating small blotches of red across his cheeks and nose and providing him with one last sense of being truly alive before his life would end.

he jumped down from his low hanging roof, and made his way over to the busy streets in the heart of town. it wasn't far of a walk because george's dad had specifically picked a spot close to the city in order to suit the location of his time consuming job.

small thuds of white sneakers were drowned out by the distant honking of horns and the soft humming filling george's head. he had never been one for cities. he always thought the people inhabiting them lacked manners and human decency. he was disgusted by their little care for the environment or how they'd lazily throw their paper cups of overpriced coffee into the streets of what was meant to be a beautiful place. but this time, on his final walk, he took the time to try and appreciate all the imperfections of the city he'd come to know.

the skid marks across the road from impatient drivers, the scuff of old gum and shoeprints littering the sidewalk, the shining lights reflecting off of every window, and most importantly- the people. cities never seem to sleep. they're always bustling with people and energy, which usually george would despise because it made being socially awkward a lot more anxiety inducing. however this time, george enjoyed it.

he enjoyed the fact that he knew all these stranger's lives would go on without him. that the city wont falter at all once he's gone. there won't be some rip in the space time continuum after his breathing ceases, just the continuous honking of car horns and busy bodies.

maybe his brain was only finding the beauty in the city because he had drank half a bottle of smirnoff's vodka, or maybe because he had come to terms with the fact that he would no longer have to deal with the industrialized town he hated so much. either way, he continued to walk down the sidewalk humming his quiet tunes to no one but himself.

looking around at the scenery surrounding him, george sees him.

a tall, but lanky man sitting peacefully on a bus stop bench. he catches himself wishing he could share some of the stranger's peacefulness. the man seemed to have wavy blonde hair, though it was hard to tell under the dim lights of the shops around them. he appeared to be wearing a worn, knitted sweater that nearly covered his knuckles, but not enough for george to miss the multiple rings stacked upon his larger hands. he had on some ratty sneakers that seemed to have seen better days, with one of his ankles propped up on his other knee, creating a relaxed, leaned back position against the bench. the man didn't seem to have a care in the world for anything around him, or the fact that he too, was a young man alone in a dangerous city, at night. yet the man was unbothered.

he remained unbothered even when he caught george staring at his form in the dark.

"hello" said the man on the bench.