"𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖊" : 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔴 𝔬𝔫𝔢-𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔰

"the ghost of ohio" by andy black (george) [au]

author's note

don't even get me started on where i've been because at this point, it's like, where haven't i been? i miss my (now) ex-girlfriend so badly i can't breathe and what you're about to read i wrote on fucking july 8th and just haven't- but anyways, this is kind of a combination of songs to match the  aesthetic.  the three songs that kinda all fit the emotions i'm going for are "slowtown" and "bandito" by twenty one pilots and obviously, "the ghost of ohio" by andy black. the format on this is gonna be a little weird, it's less of a story and a bit more of a poem kinda thing. enjoy whatever the actual fuck this is and i'm sorry i've been gone for so long. there may be some aksel and alex stuff brewing, eyes looking sideways emojis.

george andrew is a ghost. at the age of eighteen, with nothing more than three changes of clothes and a couple thousand dollars, he vanished; ran away from his parents and his small hometown in rural england. he'd just disappeared one day, without warning or a note left behind, a month before he graduated from high school. he'd escaped, hushed voices would say in the halls, escaped like a damned soul from hell.

"pour me anything on tap like the sky pours rain in september."

truth be told, george andrew isn't a ghost. he isn't dead, or in some trafficking ring, he rides trains across europe. with a bandanna over the lower half of his face to keep himself from being recognized, like some milk carton kid he probably never was 'cause his parents didn't care enough. he hops from train to train, country to country. legs hanging out the side of open train car doors, fresh air, and no boundaries, he had truly escaped liked the damned soul he was. 

that is until some produce train brings him right back to where he'd started. it brakes sharply, tossing george around a bit; waking him from his already-restless sleep. he slides the car door open, expecting to quickly hop off and roam some new town; in germany or the czech republic, even. 

his heart skips several beats the familiar train station signs. 

"oh fuck, dude."

it's almost like it isn't real; everything bleached with grey. george walks through the old streets; cracked pavement and overwhelming waves of childhood nostalgia. he can practically picture himself skinning his knees on his long board as an early teenager, playing with the neighbours' dog, walking to the store.

he enters a quick mart, ruffling through his jean pockets for some spare dollars, enough to buy some coffee or a soda. 

"george andrew?"

will lenney had been george's highschool sweetheart. bright smiles, passion, tender kisses and even more tender love. but george has ridden trains with enough junkies to know what someone looks like when they're doped up, high on heroine. his eyes had sunken in, draining all the life from his very handsome face. in his hands, redbull and cigarettes.  will has used to smell like mint. now, he's trembling and going through withdrawl. 

"if you don't ask what i've done to myself, i won't ask where you've been. deal?"

george sees alex's grave for the first time. the then-twenty year old had overdosed on heroine, a year and a half after george had left. george had missed his funeral; he quietly says his prayer there, standing next to will in the empty cemetery. it's been only three or so years. 

"james and fraser left, moved t' london or somethin'. they can fuck off, really. assholes."

they'd rightly done so. and george knows why when he sees josh and stephen. they'd rightly done so to move away from this town, slow and ready to eat someone up whole. stephen's arms are covered in needle marks and josh can barely even talk he's so high. he probably doesn't even comprehend george was back. their group of best friends was no more. 

"lifeless, everything is fucking lifeless."

everything is just an empty shell, like walking corpses, of what it'd once been and george can't say he isn't the same. but he knows he is not this bad. 

"god bless james and fraser, wherever they are. they were the only one's that had actual brains."

his old house is for sale. his parents are gone.

even before sundown, george is watching the station become smaller and smaller. he can't take it. he escapes like the damned soul he is from the hell that that town is. every emotion he'd felt that first night on the run; a soft, comfortable late may night. there was warm rain and stars. he never wants to come back. 

779 words