finding happiness

temporary

ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ɪɴ ᴏᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

:]

george is awoken by a gentle pressure.

he hums, thinking that he is speaking but being refused the privilege by his body. the first time he tries to open his eyes, nothing happens. the second time, the action is slow and the world around him is blurred slightly as he tries to make sense of the brightness attacking him.

karl comes into focus. for a moment, he thinks the brightness is simply karl eluding positivity, but, after a few more beats of coming back to consciousness, he recognises that his curtains have been pulled open.

"morning," karl grins and george's tired mind has to process the word fully before he can think about the smile on his friend's face. it takes even longer for him to actually process that karl is in his room, in his house, fully dressed and looking wide awake. and the sun is up, beaming through the window.

george groans, though he doesn't know what he's groaning about. "wha' time is it?" he slurs, rolling over slightly further so he can press his face into his pillow to avoid the brightness.

the patch of pillow he leans into is cool and it feels nice against his skin. he's hardly awake enough to process the warm temperature of the rest of his body but he grasps on to the fact that he feels comfortable. he feels relaxed, his body light and muscles loose.

"time for you to get up," karl answers like an idiot, and george smiles into his pillow. normally he would swallow back the fond expression but he's too tired to care. it hardly matters though, since karl can't see the look hidden in the pillow anyway. george groans again, just because he can. "come on. let's go out and do something."

the idea of having to experience the real world pulls george out of his half-sleep state. his mind brings back recollections of the day before- how he had cried to karl, how they'd cuddled, how the brunette had dragged him from bed to eat dinner and watch tv and insisted that they would hang out properly tomorrow (which is now today).

"can't," he starts. he wracks his tired mind for a long moment, trying to think of an excuse that isn't the truth. i can't go out. i don't have the motivation. i'm so sad, karl, i can't even bring myself to leave the house and fake a smile. "too tired."

"did you not sleep well?" karl asks. the bed dips as he takes a seat, but george doesn't look up from the safety of his pillow.

george never sleeps well so, even if it isn't exactly why he doesn't want to go out, it isn't a lie when he shakes his head against the soft cotton material.

he hears a gentle hum come from the other, a sound of distant thought as he presumably ponders what to do with the brit. george should've known that karl isn't the kind of person you can open up to and expect them to just forget about it.

"fine," he eventually says, but it doesn't sound resigned like george had almost hoped. it's confusing, how george wants karl to give up on him and leave him to rot in his depression, but how he also so desperately wants the brunette to be there for him. he wants to feel like someone worth fighting for. "but we're at least going to the lounge. your room is like a tomb."

george can't argue, he knows it's true. even overlooking his constant want to keep the curtains drawn shut, the room still feels stale, even with new light pouring in. george sort of wants to get out of his room and venture out into the living room, so he isn't sure why he sighs when he sits up.