Beelzebub

3

George didn't shake the interaction. In fact, that was all he thought about when he skipped home, a small pep in his step, and here, three weeks later, it's still on his mind.

It'd happen randomly, he had decided to give 'Clay' a call, and he told him he could come in for an interview. But due to a turn of events, and George falling and snapping his ankle, he couldn't do it.

He was wildly confused. How he had this big burst of (odd) luck, and then it was gone.

It was almost as if he had imagined it, but he knew he hadn't.

Because here he is, and he still hasn't paid his rent, because someone else did.

He thought it may have been a fluke, and some poor person accidentally paid his meaning to their own, but he knew it'd be fixed by now if that were the case.

But, here he lay, right leg in a cast and a fever pulling his forehead, still no job, and no luck.

He groaned into the open air of his room, and obviously he got no response in return.

He just wishes he knew what had happened, or where his sweet luck had gone, but he knew he needed to be patient.

He tried (and successfully) lulled himself to sleep.

//

Knock knock

George woke to the sound of knuckles hitting his front door.

He blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurry from his eyes, and noticed there was zero sun outside his window.

His eyebrows furrowed, eyes searching for his alarm clock that red 4:11am in bright red font, right back at him.

He focused on the blinking of the numbers before pulling himself out of bed, he reached over next to his night stand to fluid on his lamp and grab his crutches.

He's still yet to use them well, but he's learning each miserable time he has to walk.

He slowly made his way down the hallway, stopping to rest his arms for a moment before continuing, and eventually making it to his dark wooden door.

He peaked outside through the view window on his door, and nothing was stood there.

Confusion seeped through his finger tips as he turned on the light in his living room.

He hoped that would help him see better, and then opted for turning on the light above the door outside.

However, to his dismay, nothing.

He reached up to see if he still had a fever. Maybe if he was still warm, he was just hallucinating! Which, obviously is not a better option as that can mean he could have brain damage, but it seemed like the better option than mysterious knocks at his front door past midnight.

Nope. No fever.

A cold chill raked his body as he decided to open the door, unlocking it and quickly throwing it open.

And sitting outside, was a Boquet of flowers.

Blue orchids, George's favorite, with a small envelope next to it.

This time, he wasn't confused. But afraid.

He can't remember a time he told anyone his favorite flowers, and it sent a rack of fear through him quicker than he thought of being afraid.

He quickly picked them up, closing the door and locking it back.

He made sure the door was locked by shaking the handle before carrying everything to his kitchen to lay on a counter.

He stared at it in horror. He didn't know how to feel.

Obviously it could just be a gift, but from who?

And... How did they know his favorite flower?

Lucky guess?

He shakes his head, and let's out a deep breath.

He just needs to calm down.

He decides to go to sleep, and look at it in the morning.

//

He shakes the fear out of his limbs when he wakes up the next day.

And inside the envelope, was 800$ in cash.

His rent.

//

Georges ankle had finally healed, abeet not completely, but enough to walk on it a bit more normally now.

He and Clay scheduled an interview, and it went perfect!

Clay works in a modeling company.

Hes an editor, as well as a stylist (that's why he looked so good when George met him, he supposes).

Their photographer recently quit after she fell down the stairs, and she claims the place is haunted.

Nobody beleives her, nobody did beleive her, so she quit.

She didn't suffer from any horrible inquires, just a few brusies and the air knocked out of her, but that was it.

She knows she didn't fall, she knows she didn't trip. and she decided it was a ghost.

Clay said he didn't like her anyway, that she was snarky and she thought she was overly good at her job.

Not to mention how rude she was to their clients, and overall put a huge set back on who came in.

Once, they were doing a photoshoot with this new, famous band. Clay was in love with their music, and he was so excited to dress them up and get them ready.

But when she went to take photos, she was rude, and rough with them.

Especially Ash, because he doesn't talk very much he didn't argue and let it happen, but later Lovejoy's manager reached out to complain about her.

Overall, she wasn't cool, and nobody working there really liked her, and that's saying a lot since the few George had met in his little time there already were sweet.

He ended up getting the job, and little behold, his luck came back.

//

Once again, it started small.

For example, he'd almost trip over something and he just, wouldn't.

Or, he'd get a headache, and as soon as he took medicine for it, it'd go away immediately.

As well as his foot had gotten so much better that at this point, he'd be able to forget it had been broken.

He knew better than to question it.

When he got too into his head about it, it oddly stopped.

He realized that, that when he got too scared and afraid of it, it would go away.

Well, not away. But it'd slow down, things would stop being so good.

He didn't mind it much anymore, infact it was nice.

It was nice to know if he fucked up, he had something to lean back on.

Besides, with this new job he was able to pay his own rent again!

And if he was able to pay it, these random envelopes and gifts being left outside his house would probably stop.

Although he's gotten used to them at this point, ue knows its a bit weird.

Even if his life was looking shitty, scary, and even miserable not that long ago --

He hoped it was about to change.

//

Word count - 1139