Racer 404 || (dnf)

18• Anything (but) Adronitis

Adronitis: The desire to get to know people more deeply, even if it takes time, and the excitement of that potential connection.

(George POV)

I was asleep when it happened. Of course I was; I'm still stuck in the uk.

It was the early hours of the morning, the stage where the sun was beginning to rise and the windows were still plastered with dewy wetness from the freezing temperatures when I awoke by my phone blowing up with hundreds of notifications.

I haven't slept with it on silent since you left. Just in case you wanted to call me when your day had started and mine was just ending.

The bright rectangle reflected the light onto my cascading ceiling, my eyes opened and allowed in tiny slits of light to be absorbed by my dilating pupils.

I tried to be ignorant to my surroundings; fearing the worst as time dragged on. But I couldn't.

I sat up, the warmth leeching away from my skin and unearthing goosebumps, they run up my arms and send waves of coldness down my back.

Grabbing my phone, I unplug it from the charge port and place it in-front of my eyes, unlocking it as I do so with my password. 444404. Our password.

Clicking on the twitter icon that displays on the top of my screen as a notification, dismay flushes over me. It you...and me. Us; together.

Everywhere.

I forget to breathe for a minute as I stare longingly at you. At a stillborn picture of the night we met, the night I almost died, the night your presence granted me the chance to love again.

The bulging fire surrounding us as we are corroded in its boiling breath, almost within reach of its vicious claws. We were almost it's victims, however, that night, I became a hostage for your love.

In this picture that I hold, my eyes are closed and my body in a deep state of paralysis. Your looking down, your eyes are lit up as if you were holding heaven in your hands. My head is rested on your knees as you cradle me in your arms.

In that moment of fear, fright and fain; you were still. Mesmerised by the boy you risked your life for to save. That boy was me.

Your sandy hair illuminated by the fire, my dark inky locks sprawled out all on-top of your ash coated racing gear; it was like I was looking at a scene from a movie.

But nonetheless, I blink and my eyes feel dry; I'm back inside the chamber of consciousness.

I don't recall how long I was locked in the trance of what we used to be as my alarm blares, pounding its existence into the bland walls.

I switch it off and my phone drops somewhere onto my bed as I stand. A slither of the evolving day peaking its eyes through the gap in my curtains as I walk past it to the bathroom.

From here, where I stand, my reflection looks back. I wonder what must've dawned to commence a spark into the dark hole of the internet to drag us down with it.

I drop my head. Hands pressed against the counter. I avoid my gaze in the mirror as I do so; I have no interest in learning what it feels like to meet my eyes.

I've come to terms with your disappearance but although you chose to turn the knife that had embedded into my heart when you left, I still wake up with things to tell you.

I've just decided that maybe sometimes Cupid runs out of arrows and only shoots one of us. Maybe the grief that perches by my neck is like loves souvenir. Maybe grief, the hollow being as it lives, is the receipt we carry as the weight on our shoulders to prove that we have once stolen the beating beauty of someone all while their breath still coils this dark earth.