anxious and alone |dnf|

4,331 miles

TW: anxiety, talk about addiction and drugs, talk about death

George's POV:

Right now it was 4:32 am, and the next flight was at 7:15 am. I purchased a ticket for that time. It was a non-stop flight, but it would still take 9 and a half hours (or more).

I will not be moving there. Not yet. I just need to stay with him for a couple of months. Clay needs me right now. He's always needed me, I just wasn't there for him in the right way. I don't know what he's doing right now but the feeling in the pit of my stomach made me think it wasn't good. Just hold on Clay, I'll be there soon.

I didn't know what to pack or what I truly needed to bring. Um, this I guess. I throw a few pairs of shorts into my small, blue suitcase, along with shirts and a hoodie. I was currently in pajamas, so I change into black sweatpants and a green (I think) shirt. I pack my toothbrush and my toothpaste, my charger, and then the little piece of paper containing Clay's address.

"Are you okay?" I text him. He doesn't respond.

What truly worried me most wasn't the addiction, but how far he would go. When I suggested he try out the Ativan I kept having dreams, or nightmares, that he cut everyone out of his life and disappeared, basically ceasing to exist. The odd times I remember waking up and beginning to sob, having dreamt that I walked in on him, dead. Now that might happen, and I hate to say it. So he was right, all of this; his addiction, his depression, and anxiety, it's all my fault. He has been swimming in his own cruel thoughts for years and I never asked if he was okay, even though I saw the signs. If only I'd told him how I felt, maybe, just maybe he wouldn't be hurting so much.

If only I'd sent the text, "Have a good sleep, I love you."

<<<>>>

I called an uber and was driven to the airport, arriving at 7. I walk through to security, get checked, then sit near my plane. By the time I'll get to Florida it will be around 12 pm (EDT), jetlag will be hard to overcome, but I am planning on sleeping all 9 hours. I get on the plane and sit in the seat near the back of the plane, next to the window. Another two people sat next to me, they were nice.

I'd fallen asleep almost 20 minutes after we took off. I didn't dream for a majority of the time, the other times being parts that I truly don't remember. I woke up once we were landing, waiting for everyone else to get off before me.

"Welcome to Orlando, Florida!" A kind woman said to everyone as they exited the plane. Palm trees were scattered poorly around the outside of the airport. Though it was almost 1 pm the sky was dark, covered by mean-looking clouds, and rain pouring on the glass. Good thing I didn't wear shorts. But even with it raining outside it was still miserably hot.

I stood outside on a curb, rain sliding down my hair and onto my face constantly. Finally, somebody picked me up. "Where to?"

"23 Oakwood Street SE, please," I reply. As we drive through the city I stare outside the window. Florida was definitely different from London, buildings were spaced out and roads were different, you could still see the ocean though.

We park outside a decent, one-story, grey house; the number 23 on it. I sit up straight, handing over money to the driver. "Thank you." I say, grabbing my bags and stepping out of the car.

I slowly walk towards the house, rain still drizzling down my face and arms. The only thing I could think of was Clay telling me he loved me.

"I loved you."

"I loved you."

"I loved you." replayed in my head over and over.

I stop a few inches from the door, taking in a deep breath.

"I love you too." I whisper.