Me And Your Ghost - DNF Fanfic Sequel

Prologue

"Wait, Clay! Please, I'm coming!"

George swam and swam, up and up, further and further each time. He would reach him this time, he would see him again. His mouth opened to speak but George could only see the bubbles.

Clay stood on the shoreline as George was whisked away in a flurry of bubbles. George propelled his body forward with more momentum every night but was never able to reach him.

His arms grew weak and his legs were sore, and George knew that he would fail again.

With each night that passed, George's fear that he would never be able to reach Clay– to see him– grew.

Instead, George feared that he would have to suffer the pain of seeing Clay walk away as he drowned in the bubbles forever. Every night, George's body gave out and he just floated numbly in the water.

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Months had gone by and it was now summer. Months had gone by and no one had heard from George. Months had gone by and George was still alone, curled in on himself. Ordering food and picking it up 30 minutes after it's dropped off. No dishes to clean. Money running low. He couldn't cope.
The loss was too great.

He didn't think losing Clay would have this big of an effect on him. He couldn't even talk to Sapnap who would spam him everyday; or Foolish or Karl or Bad and certainly not Wilbur. George knew they were worried but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Or so he thought, but George knew that he cared.

He cared a lot and not responding to his friends made him feel worse but he had no energy to do anything. Seeing himself trend on Twitter a few times a week because his fans thought he'd been Thanos snapped. He liked it better that way. It was like he too had disappeared. Died, even.

So many times he thought about it. About just giving up and giving in. The nightmares were the worst part. Visions of Clay fading in and out, touching him and having it striped away moments later.

The worst ones were where George was a spectator, watching a shadowy figure drown Clay or swimming after the ghost in an endless vat of water.

George stood from his bed, placing his hand on the wall for support as he made his way to the bathroom. He covered up his mirror the second week in, not wanting to see how bad he'd gotten. The bags in his eyes, his wretched hair, his paler skin and even thinner bones. He didn't want to see himself at all or ever again.

He often moped around the house, not speaking, hardly eating, hardly moving due to how weak he was. He laid on the couch all day, scrolling through his phone, doing anything to distract himself from the pain in his stomach and ache in his heart.

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"We have to check up on him physically. I mean, what if he is literally dead in his bed right now?" Wilbur asked, they were having a discussion about George, once again.

"Don't be so ridiculous," Bad retorted, "there's no possible way he's dead."

Wilbur sighed, truly worried. "I'm going over there tomorrow."  Bad scoffed, "I think he wants to be left alone, Wilbur."

Wilbur slammed his fist onto his desk, "Of course he'll want to be left alone if he's dead!" The call went quiet. "I can't just sit here anymore, Bad. It's been months."

Bad sighed, tapping on his desk. "I guess I can't stop you. You gotta be gentle with him, Wilbur, we don't know what kind of state he's in right now."

"Fine," Wilbur huffed, "but I'm going."

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{Vote or whatever. Wattpad is a son of a bitch and deleted my story when I tried to post it. Anygays, ayup, long time no see.}
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650 Words