#Gosh fanfic

#Gosh

*Sidenote* The photo above is completely unrelated to anything, I just love it, this story has nothing to do with Tyler so.. yea.

Also,, VERY MATURE CONTENT WARNING
This story was 110% inspired by the forest fic..

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On a cool, autumn day in the middle of October, as George was walking, he noticed something. Everything was gray, the buildings, the sidewalk, the sky, it was a depressing land filled with nothing but sorrow.

I want to be gone from this world. He thought.

He paid great attention to his feet, putting one in front of the other, being certain not to mess up his pattern.

Left, right, left, right.

There was something so satisfying to him about keeping the same pace, like he couldn't control the world around him, but keeping his feet moving at the same speed made him feel as if he had so much more control.

All of a sudden, a big, gray dog walked past George in a slow, glum way.

That's an old dog, he's not got much longer. Take me with. George thought to himself.

As George was staring at the dog, envious of his nearing death, he tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

A boy with bright pink hair that swooped perfectly to the side with little bits of brown standing up, a muscle tee that showed off his perfectly-toned arms, black ripped skinny jeans, similar to George's own, and a blue baseball cap, backwards of course, caught George moments before he would hit the ground.

Should've let me die. George thought, almost disappointed at his extended life.

"Hi," said the pink-haired boy with a wonderful smile.

"I'm sorry," George replied, standing up and rearranging his hair in the gray beanie. He couldn't help but stare into the boy's dark mocha eyes.

"Josh."

"I'm George."

"What were you thinking about when you fell? You looked like you were deep in thought, I've been behind you for about 5 minutes," Josh inquired.

"Dea-- I don't know. School stuff," George replied.

"Are you okay?"

I'm hurt, my body aches from a lack of sleep for the past 3 nights. My eyes can't cry anymore, you can't even tell what color my arm is, it's just a bunch of scars. I don't want to be here, I mess everything up, I just want to die.

"I'm fine," the only words that George managed before he broke into tears.

Josh took off his baseball cap and walked closer to George, setting it gently on top of George's head, even though he was already wearing the gray beanie. He ran his hand down George's arm, starting at the shoulder and grabbed his hand.

"It's okay," he reassured George, looking into his bluish-green-gray eyes "I know you're not okay."

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"Have you hurt yourself lately?" Dr. Sullivan asked George, as he did every time they met.

"Yea," George replied, a little more hostile than he anticipated.

"Where? Arms again?" The doctor sounded slightly upset.

"Mhmm."

"Are you ever going to try to stop? It's not good for you and I'm very concerned."