Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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I immediately thought of the four possible scenarios that could be happening. One, George was standing in the doorframe. Two, this was a dream. Three, I was in desperate need of glasses. Or four, it was none of those options, and my brain was having a medical emergency.

"Hello," he said, giving me his infamous lips-pressed-in-a-line smile. I hoped I was mentally stable and that my mind wasn't generating hyperrealistic animations of him.

Standing just a few feet away from him, I was petrified. After waking up from that dream, I couldn't trust anything. I couldn't trust my eyes, though they saw a stable image without that familiar tunnel feel of a dream. Couldn't trust my ears, though they even picked up the slight accent in his "hello" and weren't ringing like they usually do in a dream.

"What are you.. aren't you.. isn't..." I didn't even have my phone on me to check the date and the time in case I was misremembering something, "the flight?"

I was surprised he even understood what I meant. But he did.

"I didn't go."

A deer caught in the headlights. I tried pinching the side of my thigh where my hand was resting and all I felt was pain. Realistic pain, nothing else.

"You what?" My eyes widened as I stared at him, searching for anything out of the ordinary. No glitches or swimming lines in sight. This was surely not a dream.

"Can I come in? Before this melts?" It was only then, as he pointed it out, that I noticed he was holding ice cream from my favorite place, a box of chocolate-covered strawberries, and a cup of lychee lemonade. My favorites.

Now that I believed that he's real, his hands looked busy.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, of course." I stuttered, hesitantly walking towards him to help with the stuff he was holding.

Instead, I closed the door behind him and pushed aside the clothes I'd piled on the table in the chaos of trying to find my phone, making space for him to place the food down. He did just that, handing me my salted caramel ice cream that was starting to melt at the bottom.

"Thought you could use something to lighten up after yesterday," he said softly, patting the spot next to him for me to sit. "I know it was a rough night. I'm sorry I was the cause of it."

I'd be lying if I said I understood what was going on. He appeared out of no where, handed me ice-cream, made me sit next to him and now was apologizing. I should've started asking all my questions right away, but I didn't even know where to begin.

"Why are you here?" I couldn't phrase my question properly, and my tone, in my state of shock, wasn't doing me any favors. I almost sounded aggressive.

"I can leave if you-"

"No!" My free hand, the one that wasn't occupied with an ice cream cone, quickly reached out to grab his wrist, trying to stop him. The attempt wasn't necessary as he didn't show any signs of wanting to move. Instead, he gently grabbed my hand and brushed his thumb over my knuckles. It calmed me down a bit.

"I mean you were supposed to leave, but you're here," I clarified, "I'm so confused."

He nodded, his thumb still tracing the outlines of the bones in my hands as if he was desperate for any and every possible contact he could get.

"I had to go for my friends- with my friends. Cause I didn't want to hold them back or bother them with my personal life. But they found out how.. how badly I wanted to stay for you and with you, so..." he took a deep breath, "they ripped the tickets in half the moment I got home."

"What?" I raised my brows, eyes widening with confusion, "They found out?"

"Yeah. Thin walls."

I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment, wishing the couch we were sitting on would just swallow us up like quicksand. I shouldn't have screamed yesterday.