Falling

I

"Georgie, you excited?"

Paul looked over a bit to see George on his phone, snickering at God knows what he pulled up on Twitter.

"Why do you even call me Georgie? It makes me sound like I'm five and you're dropping me off at summer camp."

Finally, the young adult looked up from his phone. He still had a smirk on his face from what he saw on his phone, but it was aimed at Paul this time, so the driver felt pretty darn special with this kind of attention.

"I call you that because it's your nickname. Do you want me to call you Geo or something?"

"It sounds more grown up, so yeah!"

Paul lost it, laughing hysterically at the thought of George . . . being grown up. Drinking coffee that didn't have so much whipped cream and caramel in it that it'd kill a diabetic in seconds. Actually wearing a suit and not complaining about he felt like a corporate puppet. And maybe not playing Kingdom Hearts at ungodly times of the day, because no matter how entertaining the game is, hearing battle scenes at three in the morning isn't the definition of entertaining.

"You think I can't be grown up?"

Paul continued to laugh, not really hearing George's words. Not wearing shorts even though he didn't like the way jeans felt. Wearing his glasses for once even though they made him 'look dorky'.

"I am so grown up! You won't even believe how grown up I am!"

"I believe you, George! Don't worry your pretty head about it, I believe you!" Paul managed as he tried to calm his laughter. George started to pout in his seat as he watched Paul continue to loose it at the mere thought of a slightly older George.

"No, you don't! You think I'm tiny and young and whatever!" George grumbled back, sliding further into his seat and taking off his seat belt to find a book.

"You're taller than me! And I'm hardly even a year older than you!" Paul responded, a little frazzled with how angry George sounded and looked over at the other to see if he was okay. A face slightly contorted with frustration. Definitely not okay. "Why are you so upset by this anyroad? What did I do wrong?"

The younger sighed and shuffled around so he could grab something from the back.

"I don't even remember. But I will eventually, so you better watch out."

Paul rolled his eyes and looked back at the road.

Back on the road, but too late.

"George, look out!"

He didn't get a response, but the glass windows of the car filled the silence George would have.

Tires screeched.

Metal crumpled.

People flung in opposite directions.

Paul moved his arm, only to groan loudly as he raised it an inch off the ground. He settled with trying to open his eyes and even this was a challenge. But he opened them and was met with a bit of confusion. He was looking at a still scene, two cars practically moulded together, one that he recognised as his car and another he couldn't even remember seeing. Where did it come from? One moment he was looking over at George, worried. And then . . .

He moved his hand a little, feeling rubble and sand all around him.

So, he was flung out of the car.

He should have worn a seatbelt. George always told him—

George.

Paul's head snapped up from its musing of how rugged the ground was to everywhere around him. It hurt terribly to even move his neck, but he shoves these feelings deep down to find the person he was with just a second ago. Or, at least he thought it was a second ago.