Missed Chances || Dreamnotfound

17

George doesn't write any more letters in the week that follows. He continues to shut himself in his room, locking himself away.

It's a cold morning. The skies are grey, pale like ash. His room tastes stale on his lips, like old bread. George doesn't answer when a knock raps at his door.

He chooses to stare out his window, watching the clouds hover, and ignores Karl's voice.

"George?" Karl seems to plead outside his room. George hasn't seen him in months. "Please let me in. I only want to talk."

The kind voice with the most cheerful laugh ghosts George's ears. Now, Karl sounds anything but happy. He sounds desperate, his voice wavering, thick with held back tears.

"I'm coming in," Karl says, determination strengthening the tremble in his voice. George ignores him, picking at a loose string on the armrest of his chair.

Surprisingly, Karl goes through with his word, pushing the unlocked door open. The wood creaks from underuse, revealing Karl, who is beyond worried. George doesn't bother to greet him, not even glancing his way.

"George?" Karl asks. "I― is it okay if I come in?"

Still looking out his window, George mutters, "Yes."

Karl lets out a long sigh of relief, closing the door. He sits on the chair across from George, clasping his hands anxiously. "How are you?"

George wraps the loose string around his finger mindlessly. The crimson red of the thread reminds him of blood.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Karl says cautiously, running a hand through his hair. "You've shut me out."

His finger turns white as he pulls, draining of blood. George stares at a cloud that looks like a bird.

"You're mother is worried―"

"She shouldn't," George interrupts, voice blank. "Stress is bad for the baby."

Karl nods, swallowing thickly. "Well, yes. If you attend dinner sometime, that might cheer her up."

"I'm not hungry," George says, ripping the thread out from the chair. He lets it drop to the floor, bright cardinal against alabaster white.

Karl is quiet for a long moment. It seems as though he gathers his strength, inhaling to ask, "What have you been doing for the past few months?"

"Thinking," George replies neutrally.

The cloud in the sky slowly shifts into a leaf.

"About what?" Karl asks carefully, trying not to ask for too much at once.

"About how I fucked everything up," George says, distantly hearing Karl respond, but he drowns him out. It isn't hard to do; his ears are haunted with a familiar laugh.

"George," Karl says loudly. George's eyes snap to him, watching as Karl shifts under his attention. "It's not your fault."

"You could be hanged for lying to the prince," George muses, humorless.

Karl smiles weakly. "I'm only trying to help."

"Appreciated, but not needed," George replies, shifting his gaze to his hands, resting in his lap.

It starts to rain outside, specks of water hit the ground below in gentle sprinkles. The pitter-patter provides a calm background noise, assuaging George's nonexistent nerves.

"Takenshire is still having problems with bandits," Karl informs, voice apprehensive.

George stiffens. "That's terrible."