i h8 u (seriously)

30

It was a few days later and the dreaded time has come. I agreed to drop George off at the airport and I was sure I'd be regretting that decision in the next hour. I woke up with a pit in my stomach this morning, knowing what was coming. I wished more than anything that we had more time together, that he wasn't leaving right now. Part of me wished I'd decided to move to Florida with him, but then again, that didn't feel right. 

I was looking at apartments in Brighton and something about being there made me feel at home. I'd be around Wilbur, Niki, Jack, Ash, Scott, and so close to Tubbo and Ranboo. I don't think I'd be capable of leaving them to move in with the rest of the dream team. I know George never really left the house to see them--even though I had gotten him out way more these past few months--but I saw them very frequently. They were the closest thing I had to family. 

I'd miss all the times Wilbur, Phil, and I would go on a flight simulator with Wilbur as the captain. Or the "anti-thanksgiving" we'd throw on the same day as the Americans had thanksgiving. That was just an excuse to get us all together for a day, though Wilbur took it very seriously. I think Kristen appreciated still having a bit of America in the uk. Plus, who else's name would Tommy throw around to his parents when he wanted to take a train hours away from home? I had such a firm place in this uk family; I wasn't physically capable of leaving that.  

"Good morning," George smiled, his arms still wrapped around me from last night. I felt this sick feeling in my stomach. Not the nauseous kind, but that deep pit. 

"Morning," I tried my best to force a smile, but knowing what was coming? I was physically incapable of remaining happy for the last time I'm around George for awhile. 

Did I even want to see him again? Once he steps away from me at the terminal, he's entering a new chapter in his life. We both are. So much is changing in each of our lives and I'm afraid neither of us will make room for each other in these new chapters. Or maybe I just had this fear that he'd write me out of his story. This change terrified me so much. 

He's been my person and my life for the past six months. He's all I've known. It's like when a house gets built, but the foliage grows around the bricks. George is building a new house in Florida and I'm going to get pushed away by the overgrowth. I guess this is what I wanted. I'm the one that decided to end things. It's all my fault. And I won't stop questioning if I made the right choice. To me, neither choice will ever feel safe to me. 

"What's wrong?" He furrowed his eyebrows, confused by my mood change. 

"I'm just sad."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. We're just doing different things in our lives that's all."

"I wish we were together."

"I do too George," I looked away to compose myself. 

"Would it work if I tried to convince you again?"

I shook my head lightly, "I wish it could."

"I'm not going to find someone else."

"Not with that mindset," I chuckled bittersweetly, "Don't close yourself off from everyone."

"I can wait for you, we can wait until we're both on the same page."

"And if that never happens? You need to move on."

"This isn't the end for us. I love you way too much to let what we've built go."

I did a double take at what he just said. It's the first time he'd said I love you to me. I know he didn't mean to, but it just makes everything harder. Letting go of him, letting him go to Florida, leaving him. It makes me sick that he's going to be building a new life in Florida and I won't be apart of it. At least not in the way we were here. Sure, maybe we'll have the occasional talk in VCs, but it won't be the same as late nights in my flat. 

He won't be laying next to me as we both stare at the ceiling, talking about anything we could think of just because we loved the sound of each other's voices. From the stupid looks we'd give each other, just glaring until we broke out in a fit of laughter, to the deep talks that ended in both of us crying because wow had we never done that with anyone before. 

"I love you too George. I just want you to be happy."

I got out of bed and walked off to the bathroom to stop myself from crying in front of George. This wasn't the moment I wanted to be vulnerable with him. I didn't want him feeling bad or guilty for a decision he had made long before we got together. He doesn't deserve to feel like that today or ever. He deserves the world and I hope he gets it. As much as I felt terrible, I'd never wish anything but that for him. He's the most special person I know. 

As I went to brush my teeth, I just started crying. You know when you just stare into the mirror and can physically see the way you're breaking? I could see how exhausted, both physically and mentally. How I got absolutely no sleep last night because I was too busy appreciating my time with George. How I felt so incapable of happiness even though I knew that came with time. I felt so dramatic about this, even when Wilbur keeps telling me that I'm valid for the way I feel. It doesn't seem like that. 

"Bubby have you been crying?" He asked when I came out of the bathroom. I'm sure my eyes were red which had been a dead giveaway. 

"I'm okay," I responded, forcing a smile, "You ready?"

"You don't have to hide how you feel from me."

"I don't want you being guilty for the way that I feel."

"We're both sad, we don't have to hide it from each other."

I nodded and grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter. He double checked that he had everything he needed before we headed out of the apartment. Even the flat was a twisted reminder of him. Everything in my life was him. Down to my PC that just reminded me of how this all started. 

He played our playlist in the car on the drive to the airport. I didn't sing along much to the music but then again, neither did he. There was this looming rain cloud over our heads that wouldn't go away. Then again I didn't expect it to. 

When we got to the airport, I parked the car and went inside with him. Each step was harder to take, knowing in under an hour, he'd be gone and I'd be alone. 

I went all the way through with him, up 'til boarding. We stood desolate in the middle of the waiting area, ignoring everyone around us. Soon enough, they did first calls for his section. 

"I hate you," I said through blurry vision. 

"I hate you too," he responded, a smile on his face and tears falling from his eyes. They had final calls for his section, so he grabbed my face gently and kissed me one last time. He took one last look at me, grabbed his carry on and walked off to the boarding area. He didn't look back at me once. I don't know if that hurt more or less. 

It was bittersweet. I didn't understand how I could be happy and sad at the same time. How I was happy he was finally meeting his best friends and living with them. How I was sad that our relationship couldn't be in that life of his. At least not now. 

How 'I hate you's turned from absolute hatred to a form of saying I love you. 

And boy did I hate that boy. 

Because it hurt admitting that I loved him with every fiber of my being.