The Devil's 'Friend' // DNF (DISCONTINUED)

.::1::.

"You did what?!?"

There was a shocked pause and George smiled to himself, shuffling his feet around on the floor beneath his chair as he held the phone up to his ear.

"I want a friend, Molly." He explained shortly.

An exasperated sound emitted from the speaker of his device, before a wounded sigh. "Am I... not good enough for you, George?"

She let that sink in for a few beats of silence and George froze with sudden realization. He hadn't meant for it to come off as rude. Molly was a good girlfriend. Loyal, kind, pretty, funny. She was everything and more that he could ever ask for.

But her presence never truly filled the absence of a friend.

He had always been a bit of a loner. People didn't understand him the way his parents and Molly did. And with this division, he had never had a real friend. He didn't think he was that different.

It's not like his permanent red blush with white sprinkled dots on his face, arms, and legs was weird or anything. It wasn't contagious. It was like a birthmark. Nothing more. It didn't make him any less competent for a friend.

But nobody else seemed to think this, and so, George had learned to cover his ugly marks with bandages. Yes, it was weird to somebody that didn't know him, but it helped when he could just dismiss their looks as curious ones, not judgmental ones. For all they knew, he could have just gotten into a bike accident or something.

It was the perfect disguise. The perfect diversion of attention.

Molly's voice suddenly broke through his consciousness, "George?"

He shook his head to clear his clouded mind, but his smile didn't return. It took him a minute to remember what Molly had said, but when he did, he quickly reassured her. "Oh, no no no, you are enough! I promise! I just, it gets kinda lonely sometimes. You can't always be here for me, and my parents are passed on so you are the only one who truly is there for me—" George raised his free hand to his hair as he rambled, afraid Molly was getting the wrong idea; afraid she was thinking of just leaving like the others.

She was the only one who knew his secret. She could ruin him.

"I think we should take a break."

George's breath caught in his throat and he let out a choked cough to free it. "What?"

"I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. I think we should put this relationship on hold and pick it back up again when we're both ready."

Molly sighed after George didn't reply for a few moments.

"Goodbye George. I'll text you when I'm ready."

And with that, the phone call ended with three muffled beeps.

George let his jaw drop, pulling the phone from his ear and holding it before him to confirm Molly had really just done that.

"Wha—"

Without Molly to ground him, George's thoughts took their chance and rushed in, crowding, crushing, and pummeling his brain with insecurities and past hurts.

He whimpered slightly, sinking to the floor to curl in a ball with his hands to his head.

All he wanted was a friend. But not like this. Nothing like this.

Molly was going to leave him. Like everyone else. She was going to tell everyone about his ugly marks. She was going to hurt him worse than anybody had ever—

"I believe you have something that belongs to me."

George froze.

His eyes were squeezed shut and he kept them closed as he heard a rough and deep voice from behind him.