AUGUST IS A FEVER

15

The hours that passed felt like mere seconds. By the time you woke up, you thought you had blinked. It wasn't until you saw the morning sunlight leaking into the bookstore's entrance from the skylight outside in the mall's ceiling.

You blinked the sleep away from your eyes and sat up. After hearing a soft snore and grunt from behind you, you turned and saw Clay laying there, still asleep. You softly smiled at the sight.

He was laying on his back. He must've been just as tired as you had been. His hair was disheveled and his clothes looked wrinkled from him moving in the night. You had to hold back the urge to run a hand through his hair in fear of causing him to stir awake. But you couldn't help it, your hand beginning to inch forward towards the top of his head.

Suddenly you stopped and jumped slightly when you heard someone shuffling around from elsewhere in the bookstore. Was someone else in here? What if they were a PSF or a bounty hunter?

You looked up and saw that George's mattress was empty and his blankets that laid there were messy. And George was gone, absent from his bed, all that was left of his remnants was the imprint of his body perviously laying there. You desperately hoped that the shuffling you heard was George, but you could never be so sure. It could've been a bounty hunter holding him hostage in order to lure you and Clay out to get him.

You took it upon yourself anyway, to check out who it was making all that noise. After standing up, you began to walk in the direction of the person, borderline shivering with fear as you walked. Your hands began to feel warm, a quick glance down showed them beginning to emit the familiar small glow of fire. You hadn't even done that - it was instinctual.

Step after step, you got closer and closer to the person as you passed the isles of bookshelves. Passing one after the other as your anxiety began to grow and the strength of your hand's flames did along with it. Your breathing became heavier and your heart was pounding. All that was running through your mind was Where's George?

Even if you didn't exactly get along with the guy, you cared for him. At the very least because Clay did. What would Clay think if his friend is missing? Or worse, dead? He would hate you, no doubt. Deep down you knew you liked George, either it be to poke fun at or tease him. But also because he was an alright guy and you worried for him.

You stopped walking all together when the shuffling's volume increased. The culprit would surely be inbetween the next bookshelf over. Holding your breath tight, you psyched yourself up so you could gather enough courage to face the person. Then you did, walking at the end of the isle and looking at the person who stood there with a glare.

"Shit!" George yelped. It was just him looking through the books, he was alright. "Stop looking at me like that, you look freaky as fuck." He said in reference to your red glowing and glaring eyes.

"Oh, sorry." You replied, quickly cooling your hands off and your eyes returning to their usual pigment as a result. "I thought someone took you or somethin'."

"Well, no one took me, alright? I can handle being on my own." Said the blue.

"Okay." You murmured. You debated on leaving and going back to Clay but decided against it. Maybe if you lingered here and spoke to George, you could earn his trust. At least a little bit of it.

As George looked through the books, his index finger tracing the spines of them in a similar way yours traced the vinyl's spines yesterday. You watched silently as you went to the opposite side of the isle, leaning against the books there.

"You know I don't trust you, right?" George spoke suddenly.

"I -" You sputtered. "Yeah, I know. Y'know you make it obvious, pipsqueak."

"Sorry." He softly apologized.

"It's fine." You began. " I mean, yeah, it hurts, but I get it. If I were in your shoes I wouldn't trust me either."

George didn't respond, instead staying silent. So much for earning his trust. You tried to relate to him but he just went quiet. Maybe small talk could work.

"So what'cha lookin' for?" You said, stepping forward and reading the titles on the books. "Maybe I can help."

"Um," George began. "Lightning Theif. They were Clay's favorite books as a kid."

"Oh, that's sweet of you. Never read 'em myself, though." You said as you reached your hands forward to look for books of that title.

"Yeah, me neither." George replied. "Was always more of a Harry Potter kid, y'know?" You softly gasped excitedly as you turned to him.

"Me too!" You exclaimed. George smiled at you with eyes you couldn't read. Hopefully he was gaining your trust at last.

"Which was your favorite book?" George asked.

"I only got up to the fourth one." You answered him, your smile dropping at the reason why. "I was taken before I could even think about reading the fifth one." You said, nervously laughing in an attempt to brush off the depressing memory.

"Oh," George said, turning back to search for Clay's books. "Sorry."

"S'okay." You replied.

He knew he hit a sensitive spot just from the tone of your voice, causing him to felt bad. Not only because he ruined the mood slightly, but also because he saw how hurt you looked. Still, you wanted to continue the conversation. You'd finally found something you and George could bond over, thus earning his trust. You weren't about to let that opportunity slip between your fingers.

"It must've been hard." Geogre said before you could talk. "Being taken so young, I mean -"

"I don't want to talk about it." You cut him off. The boy sighed.

"Okay." He murmured.

"Um, I liked the first one for nostalgia reasons I think." You said in an attempt to continue the conversation. "If I remember correctly, I liked the third because I thought it was interesting - the plot, I mean. I'd say three, I think. I can't really recall much..." You trailed off, awkwardly laughing.

"I liked the last one best, personally." George said. "Did you see the movies by chance?"

"Yeah, the first few." You replied. You were excited. George was actually engaging in conversation, this was a good step forward. "I remember having a huge crush on Harry when I was, like, eight." You chuckled out of embarrassment.

"Personally I was a bit of a Hermione fan." George admitted with a chuckle of his own.

You softly laughed bashfully. You were finally gaining his trust and this all seemed like the beginning of a new friendship.

"Hey, how about we go get you the book series for you to read?" George asked, turning to you with a smile blooming.

"Really?" You asked him.

"Yeah. There's a huge section just for the series and merch of it 'n stuff." George said pointing in the direction of it. "Shouldn't be hard to find."

"Y'know, pipsqueak, for someone who doesn't trust me, you're being awfully kind to me." You teased.

"Will you stop calling me that? I'm literally taller than you. And please," George began, placing his hand on your shoulder momentarily. "Call me George." You softly squinted your eyes at him.

"Pipsqueak." You teased again as you leaned into him, just to annoy the blue. You could've sworn his face began to become tinted with pink. "Look. Got ya blushin' and everything!" You joked, poking him softly in the center of his chest.

"Stop!" George laughed inbetween the word.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." You told him. "George."

"Thank you." George said.

"Yeah, whatever." You brushed off. "Let's go get those books!" You said, grabbing his hand without thinking about it and walking in the direction of the Harry Potter section of the bookstore.