Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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"What? I'm... what?" I tried my best to process his words. Even though there weren't many of them in that speech, it was still a lot to take in.

George looked petrified. Like he had just heard his own thoughts out loud for the first time and realized how intense they actually were. It was one of those moments where I would trade my life to be able to read his mind. My biggest urge was to dive into his head and see what he had going on there. Judging by his face, I thought he'd even need help organizing the thoughts in it; inside his head was certainly a mess.

After a minute of keeping his stoic expression, George finally furrowed his brows, pressing his lips tightly into a line for a few more seconds to compose himself completely before letting them part so he could speak.

"I don't... know..."

I wouldn't call it informative, but at least he said something. Because one thing he was good at was changing the topic. He'd done it so many times before that I convinced myself he just couldn't be trapped in a situation - he always had a route to escape.

My face was burning so badly. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears. It's safe to say that I wasn't in the best shape or form to have the mental capacity to be strategic. Yet I still decided to attempt to push it until something happened.

"You think about me?" I lowered my voice, as if raising it a decibel higher would scare him away and shut him down again.

His expression shifted to a mix of confusion and surprise. It might have seemed like a pointless, stupid question to him, but for me, not having an answer to that question had caused breakdowns one too many times.

"More than I think is healthy," he sighed. "It's... I can't explain it. Fuck, I don't know. I'll... I'll be right back."

The moment I saw him stand up and attempt to walk towards the balcony, his hand dipping into his pocket to pull out the cursed pack of cigarettes, I jumped from my seat.

I planted myself firmly in front of him, looking up with determination. He stopped, surprise flickering in his eyes. When he tried to step around me, I stubbornly blocked his path again. He had finally opened up a little bit. I couldn't let it go to waste.

"Aria." Even though his tone was warning, there was still some softness in his voice. I couldn’t tell if the gentleness was intentional or if it was just the way my name sounded coming from his lips, always.

"What?" I said firmly.

"What are you-"

"You know you can't just avoid every slight stressful situation like that, right?"

"How am I avoiding anything?"

"Hiding behind a cigarette? Every fucking time?"

"I'm not hiding-"

"Then put that thing away." I reached for his hand and yanked the lighter, throwing it onto the couch. "We're having a conversation. Don't fucking leave, it's not nice."

"Aria, what the fuck?"

"Yeah, what the fuck, George?" I was boiling with anger and frustration. "When will you stop being a fucking- walking mystery and actually do something?"

"Do what?"

"Anything! Anything other than dodging every question you don't want to answer and changing every topic you don't like. Stop being so fucking evasive and face the damn issue! You're avoiding every-"

"Stop saying that fucking word, I'm not avoiding anything!"

"Then why won't you tell me how you feel about me!?"