George is the son to parents that own a multi-million dollar eco friendly car company. Cars have never been George's favorite subject. He knows which are the most expensive on the market because of his father but he's never understood the hype.
Aft...
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"Cause thoughts devour. Thoughts of you consume." War Of Hearts Ruelle
It wasn't George's fault, it was Karl's.
The taller man was a bit tipsy before he'd even trekked up the skyscraper to Gambol. Leg by wobbly leg he'd hammered on and breached the roof. And once he'd gotten to the bottom he'd instantly had another beer convincing George it was a good idea as well. They hackled at each other and George forgot he had any obligations at all until Puffy cut off their drink supply. She dragged them from the edge of a road sent them to bed much like a scornful parent.
Karl and George held each other up on the way back to the city center. One foot in front of the other on the sidewalk near abandoned buildings. Laughing through the cool wind of the night. He was far from home, so far it felt like centuries. The buildings they passed had holes and stray animals inhabiting what once must've been a beautiful city. Full of life and uptown culture, George found that particular name fitting for how well it was a juxtaposition to now. The decay on the walls was off-putting enough for George to disregard it entirely. He didn't want to think about what had been what used to be. Because his mind was present and focused wholeheartedly on the taller man beside him. They tried to keep their steps even enough to avoid injury but Karl was trying to get him to dance. One foot in front of the other.
It was Karl's fault they went through the grass towards the home stretch of the walk. George should've known that "it's a shortcut, Gogmister" from a drunk man was a bad fucking idea.
It wasn't a shortcut. Instead, a lake about waist deep waited for them. The bank cut off as an illusion of grass and they tumbled together in drunk giggles into frigid water. Dirty and smelling of fish and sewage, they made their way through it. And, not to mention, the air and water were dropping below freezing. Just from walking they could see their breath accumulate from their lungs.
As they swam to the lake's bank they caught a glimpse of a fire. Stuffed into a metal trashcan, several people huddled around it and spoke inaudibly. George grinned at Karl and pulled him towards their friends, both ready for a warm welcome.
That wasn't exactly what they received.
"Karl!" Sapnap stood up from the semicircle and rushed over. With a swift movement, he discarded his own coat and wrapped it tight around Karl's shaking shoulders. "What the hell are you two doing?"
"Karl," George giggled into his frozen fingers. "Made me take a shortcut," an invasive giggle joined George's, "through the lake."
"Karl," Sapnap reprimanded. "It's 25° dumbass you're going to get sick."
"Yeah, yeah," Karl waved a dismissive hand. "We just had the time of our life, right George?
"Hell yeah," George hummed. He felt the eyes on him from around the fire. It didn't feel so welcoming, instead that odd bit of judgment simmered between George's ribs. He searched faces and came up short, "where's Dream?"
