Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

՜՞՜48՜՞՜

"I'll stay," George cupped my face, looking into my eyes. "I won't go. I want to be with you. I don't want to lose you."

I tried to speak, but I couldn't. I could barely move or see him clearly. My vision was blurry and distorted, fatigue weighing heavily on my body.

"I love you. I love you so much. I want you, I want to be with you, you're all I ever need to be happy," his words echoed in my ears, his touch on my face tingling. "Say it back and I'll stay. I just need to hear it from you. Say it back so I have a reason to stay."

I opened my mouth and realized I was tongue-tied. The words were there, obvious and urgent, but they wouldn't come out. I tried to speak, but I couldn't. Panic set in, the ringing in my ears growing louder with each passing second. Everything around me started to blur and fade, and I felt like I was sinking.

I grabbed his face, my thoughts racing.

Just kiss him.

I pulled his head down, my heart pounding.

Hurry up.

I closed my eyes, ready to feel the connection-

But I didn't.

My eyes were already closed to start with.

So I opened them.

I had fallen asleep on the floor. With a jacket tucked under my head as a makeshift pillow. The rays of sun landed directly onto my closed eyelids, making me flutter them open slowly and hesitantly.

The birds were chirping louder than usual, the sun seemed to shine brighter than it ever had, and I struggled to understand what was happening or fit into the environment. It felt like I had just fallen here from another planet.

George left yesterday. Him staying was a dream. I understood about that much.

I stayed laying in the same position, slowly blinking and looking how the dust particles were casually floating above the floor, illuminated by the sun. I couldn't even remember how I ended up on the floor. I couldn't understand how I was hugging George's jacket that had been folded neatly in one of my drawers since the day he forgot it here. I must have purposefully searched for it, but I couldn't remember doing it.

And I was glad I didn't, because waking up with it already made me feel pathetic enough.

I rolled onto my back and squinted at the clock, cringing at how my face felt stiff and starchy with the layers of dried tears on it.

It was nine in the morning. The plane must've landed already. I closed my eyes and sighed.

I searched for my phone while still lying down, hoping it was somewhere on the floor with me. But it wasn't. I had to get up to search for it, and as soon as I did, dehydration hit hard. My vision went black, my ears started ringing, and I nearly stumbled back down.

Grabbing the corner of the table, I waited for either the symptoms to pass or for death to take me. I ended up alive, but I did get a headache that felt like a ticking bomb ready to explode inside my skull.

I still couldn't understand what was happening.

I chugged some water, the mission to find my phone forgotten now that I was on the verge of passing out.

Then I realized that I should have stayed curious and not looked in the mirror. Horrendous. Straight up horrendous.

I needed a shower. Not that it would fix my swollen face, but I looked like a pufferfish and, in theory, would feel like home in water.

Still, no thoughts in my head.

Even when the sweet mango scent of my shower gel hit me, and I couldn't help but think of him, I wasn't quite sure how to react.

Straight up confusion. Maybe I was still dreaming.

But I don't think I was.

Why wasn't I feeling as bad as I thought I would? Especially after the night before? Even though I couldn't remember much of it, I still remembered crying until my face was numb and could only describe it as traumatic.

For some reason, I felt at ease. There wasn’t the usual weight on my shoulders or the heaviness in my chest. Maybe his absence was for the better.

His absence...

It wasn't just today. It wasn't for a few days. He wasn’t gonna be back anytime soon.

My heart sank.

My phone.

I still couldn't find my phone. I needed it, but for what?

"I'll text you. Promise you'll reply."

I needed it for him. Because I needed to text him.

Yes, he asked me to reply and keep in touch before leaving. I remember it now.

Maybe he had already texted me, and thought I broke my promise and didn't reply. The thought made my heart sink even deeper. Or maybe he hadn't texted me at all, which would leave me even more miserable. All the "maybes" were already tearing me apart.

I needed my phone desperately. I was gradually regaining consciousness, and it was starting to hurt. Alot.

I got up and started making a mess around the house - throwing pillows everywhere, messing up the blankets, opening drawers and leaving them open, turning the whole place upside down just to find my phone.

It was nowhere to be found. The panic was settling in quicker than my body could handle the change.

I spoke too soon about feeling at ease. I was just unable to fully understand what was happening. Maybe some of my brain leaked out of my eye sockets along with the tears.

In the midst of destroying the house decor, a knock on the door made me groan in annoyance. I wasn't expecting anyone and couldn't bother checking who it was.

Then at the second, louder knock, I realized that my initial thought of not checking the door was dumb.

Why did I even think of ignoring the door? Who does that?

I was hyperfixated on the idea of finding my phone so much that nothing else seemed to mather.

With my hair ruffled up - half dry and already frizzy, out of breath and oxygen barely enough to keep me on my feet, I twisted the lock and pulled the door open.

"Ugh, George. I lost my phone."

I left the door open in case he wanted to come in and turned back around to continue searching for my-

wait.

WAIT.

"George!?"