"𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖊" : 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔴 𝔬𝔫𝔢-𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔰

"she's a rebel" by green day (willxgeorge) [au]

author's note : "the jesus of suburbia is a lie."

this is not exactly where george wants to be in life, still in slow, quiet, unimportant slovakia. it's pretty, colourful, interesting; whatever, but he's tired. he's tired of what he does, of the people in his life, where he lives, himself. he's tired of having to drive out to michalovce every weekend to see his parents because he doesn't have an excuse not to, tired of having to live in the same communist-era apartment building his whole damn life. he's tired of košice and taking the trolley, of tesco sales on kofola, even though that's basically the only thing he drinks, and getting shakendown by a gypsy for money they'll use to buy meth from peter in block b. it's  one of those nights again, where he's tired of the world, of being alive, and that's all he can think about. he's biking home from work in a bakery in the older part of town, earbuds in and paying attention to nothing more than not getting hit by some idiot in his old-ass car. it's november and it's cool. it's almost 11 pm and it's very obvious, the streets are practically empty. the only life he sees or hears is the pubs, the only place where gypsies and slovaks sit side by side; and he's tired of it.

"ah! george!" good god, help him. will jumps off the roof of the now-abandoned playground near the entrance to george's block. he stubs out the cigarette that'd been at his lips and george can practically taste it on his tongue. "you're home later than usual!" will's slovak is rusty. he's just beginning to learn. george had learned he'd only moved here a year ago. why will would ever want to live here, george doesn't know. why slovakia of all places? and if he wanted to live here, which he doesn't get, why košice? why not some place nicer, like bratislava or poprad or trenčín? but, anyways, the boy butchered the language, telling him "he's a home that will be later than usual". but george will never admit that while he think the boy's "funny", he's also  kinda cute. but again, george will never admit that to anyone, especially not himself. that's another thing that annoyed george about will; will being very openly bi. first time they'd ever met, will had called him cute, attractive, adorable. and george was taken aback, but it slowly dwindled into a bubbling almost-hatred, jealousy, seething jealousy. he wanted to be that confident in himself. this man, this handsome and rich as ever man, strolled into his life, strolled into his poverty-level, closeted life that he hated yet just couldn't seem to escape no matter what he tried. he was, he is, livid. will was like a twisted whatshername. 

"hello, will." he smiles at him, will joining him as he locks up his bike and heads up his block stairs. "yeah, we had a lot of cleaning to do and i didn't want to do it tomorrow so, thought i'd finish it up tonight." george feels the hand on the small of his back and arches away teasingly. "we aren't even at your apartment yet, silly." will looks down at george's lips. if anyone asks if there was something between them, it was deny, deny, deny. but also, if anyone asked, will is his ticket out of here.