behind closed doors

darkness

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

☾

george doesn't quite process the phone in his hand until he hears a cheerful sounding, "hey george!"

the simple greeting brings him back to reality, back to the cold bathroom tiles beneath his feet, back to the blade in his hand. "uh, hey karl," he greets awkwardly, not even quite remembering calling the brunette.

"what's up?" karl asks, and george can hear him moving about- it sounds like he's just opened the fridge, now he's putting something down, probably on a kitchen counter if he had to make an educated guess. "george?"

"sorry," the brunette says, hardly realising he'd zoned out. he turns the blade over in his hand, clearing his throat. "do you want to come over?" he offers.

"what, like, now?" karl asks, and george hums lowly an affirmative. "i'm not sure if i can," the brunette answers honestly, "i was just about to-"

"please?" george asks quietly, feeling his throat constrict with the threat of tears.

clearly, karl hears something in his voice - some sense of urgency, desperation. "yeah okay," he agrees, "i'll be right there, alright?"

george doesn't really want to talk, so he just hums to show that he has heard the brunette and that he understands.

"see you in a minute, george."

the brit ends the call, but keeps his phone tight in his hand.

he drops the blade into the sink -it's not like he can do anything with it now, not now that karl is on the way- before moving to sit down on the closed toilet lid.

and there he waits.

an unintelligible amount of time passes before his phone buzzes against his palm.

it's karl, saying he's here, and george replies telling the brunette he can let himself in - his parents aren't home, obviously, otherwise he would've just called for them.

george never wants to remember the look on karl's face when he rounds the corner to george's bathroom, looking between him and the blade in the sink.

he looks like he's just been stabbed.

"are you hurt?" karl asks, clearly worried, and george just shakes his head. "do i need to clean anything? or, sorry, do you need to- unless- well, i- does anything need to be cleaned?" he settles on, gaze flicking momentarily down to george's clothed thighs.

"no," george answers honestly, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty for forcing the brunette to come over. "i didn't do anything," he says, which is true.

"okay," karl nods, a breath of relief slipping past his lips.

george chews at the inside of his cheek. "i think i'm going to cry," he says.