bucket list//dnf

chapter 1 - tears over breakfast

"okay, but the real question is: would you smash-" nick cut himself off by choking on his own spit. george snorted. the two were in george's basement, playing video games and eating pizza.

"i really hope you weren't trying to suggest we should smash," george giggled. nick started coughing harder, laughter in his eyes. he set his controller down. george did the same.

"no, no-" he sputtered. george laughed.

george opened his eyes. tears blurred his vision as he looked up at his room's ceiling fan and light. the light was off and the fan blades were spinning lazily. the wetness in his eyes made his fan look like a dull blur.

he closed them again. tears silently slipped down his face. a sniffle escaped him.

god, how he missed that idiot.

george reopened his eyes. he wasn't as teared-up as before, but his eyes were still glassy from unshed tears as he swung his legs over his bed. his feet hit his carpeted floor with a thunk. he sniffled again.

it had been nearly a month. a month. a month since he had started acting this way. a month since his life was torn apart. a month since the cruel world had followed him home and robbed him of his most valuable possession of all.

it had been about a month since his best friend died.

george dragged himself out of bed. the cold, moving air from the fan and the hot and humid air from outside mixed together and hit his exposed skin, which made him wince. even though it was hot out, the brunette already missed his soft, cream-colored bed with its springy mattress and cold pillow. 

his feet carried him over to his closet. george pulled the white metal doors apart and pushed them to the sides so he could see his clothes. everything seemed drab and boring. nothing looked the same as it had months ago. the hues didn't seem to register correctly in his eyes, even more so because of his color blindness.

george sighed. he grabbed an oversized black t-shirt and some black shorts, tossed them on his bed, took off his pajama shirt, and threw on the bland outfit. he sighed again, this time quieter, before snatching his phone and padding over to the door. his hand rested on the cold metal doorknob and he twisted it to take a look into the hallway. no one was there. nothing was moving. the light in the hallway flickered. george blinked slowly.

he stepped out of his room into the revealing light of the hallway. his legs were trembling and he felt sick. george closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds, and exhaled.

today was going to be a good day. it would be a sad day, but a good day.

george walked over to the wooden staircase and began descending down. he could see his parents and sister sitting at the kitchen table. he stepped on a creaky stair and they looked up at him. his mother smiled warmly at him, his father waved and gave him a soft grin before looking back down at his phone to read the news, and his sister simply looked at him before patting the cushioned wooden seat next to her quietly. three empty plates sat in front of them, but a plate full of scrambled eggs, bacon, and a piece of buttered toast sat in front of the chair he guessed he was to sit in. the ghost of a smile played at his lips as he put his feet onto the floor off the last step and began walked towards them silently.

"your sister made breakfast," george's mom said. 

"is it as bad as all her other cooking?" george asked teasingly. lena slapped his arm as he pulled back his chair to sit in it.

"at least i didn't put the box of mac 'n cheese in! you don't put in the cardboard, too," his sister teased. george snorted.

"i was seven, okay! and you told me to put the box in!" george protested.