A Lost Pair of Sunglasses ~ Georgebur Highschool AU

#5

If he was being truly honest with himself, George knew he couldn't keep this inside forever. Being in the closet was making him sad, alone, isolated. Coming out would be good for him, he supposed.

But no. There was too much to lose. His friends, his fans, what chance of keeping them did he have if they knew the truth? If he was true to them, he would lose everything.

He internally yelled at himself to get a grip, but that was easier said than done. He needed someone to know the truth, to help carry the burden of knowing. A problem shared is a problem halved (or so they say).

A bird flew past and George almost fell to the ground. Where even was he? After school had ended, he had just kept walking, letting his feet guide him whilst his head was otherwise occupied.

He scanned around. There was a roundabout with its paint peeling off trying to spin on its axis, but the mechanism was too rusted to move. Nearby, birds perched on a set of monkey bars. He looked down and, sure enough, he saw that he had sat himself on a swing.

The park. The old one that nobody went to anymore, because it was old and rusted and you were more likely to be infected with tetanus than have a fun time. His feet had guided him here, for some reason unknown to George.

He hadn't been here since he was little, around 6 or 7, when his only concerns were whether mum and dad would let him get ice cream on the way home or not.

As one, the birds sat on the monkey bars suddenly leapt into the sky. He wasn't alone, someone must have disturbed them.

Just fucking typical, there was Wilbur fucking Soot, sauntering across the wood chips like he ruled the entire fucking neighbourhood.

At this point, it felt like he had a stalker.

Nevertheless, George didn't move from the swing. What was the chance the lanky brunette would even notice him, as engrossed with his phone as he was? It seemed unlikely.

Just as that thought had finished passing through his head, Wilbur looked up and made direct eye contact with George, his eyebrows immediately furrowing. Just fucking typical. Fate had most certainly decided George was not to get a single fucking break that day.

~~

Honestly, if Wilbur was a more paranoid man, he would swear George was following him. In the evenings, whenever he didn't have a new acquisition to secret away in his boxes, he would go out and spend time in the abandoned park. Nobody went there. Ever.

And yet, there George Davidson sat, perched on the swing Wilbur would always sit on. What the hell was he doing here?

“Gogy?”
George slumped, looking desperately at the ground. It was like he was trying to pretend he hadn't seen Wilbur, when they both knew that wasn't the case.

“Gogy…”

George looked up, his face panicked. “H- hi?”

The poor guy looked terrified. Wilbur's eyes softened with pity. Poor George. There was definitely something on his mind, weighing on him heavily. Wilbur had many talents, but his biggest, his best, was listening.

So listen was what he was going to do.

~~

Wilbur sat next to George, on the other swing. Why wouldn't he just move along?
“George, do you want to talk about anything?”
Why couldn't Soot be an idiot, and miss his signals? But it would be good to confide in someone.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Go on, spit it out. What's said in this playground stays in this playground.”