𝐹𝑙𝑦 // 𝑀𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑢𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑋 𝐼𝑚𝐴𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑥𝑥

One

Fly high.

As the skies of London cry, George wishes that he could.

Very little emotion is left in him except an overwhelming emptiness and frustration that hangs heavy over his heart; it chases after him like a dog would a rat. He felt useless, lifeless. His hollow and annoyed state left him constantly seeking a rush of adrenaline. Anything to make him feel satisfaction- even if it lasted only a second.

Fly high.

He always told himself that.

Unfortunately, he was simply a rat, and a rat could only climb so much before it fell into the dog's mouth.

Fly high.

The only time he sees a glimpse of flight is when he dances. It sets his body free, relieving him from the constant strain on his limbs coming from the dog's bite. It filled him with a joy that was ever absent from his life. It made him feel alive.

Fly high.

He made his way over to the dance studio drenched to his socks, the clouds virtually mocking him. At least he had a change of clothes in his bag. He prays to a God that he doesn't believe in that they're not drenched too.

Honestly, fuck Uni.

It's not like he could blame anyone, it's his fault he's in this mess anyway.

He thought he'd meet new people there and make new friends. That idea didn't quite work out as well as he'd hoped, because it's already been two months since he's started and he's as alone and friendless as ever.

It's not like he had to meet new people either; he was much more happy when he was alone, doing whatever the hell he wanted without being held back by anyone.

He wasn't completely friendless either, he did have friends before Uni. Albeit it was only a small circle, he was way more comfortable with them than he would ever be with the sleep deprived, hungover students of his campus.

His parents didn't stop him, of course they wouldn't. After all, what kind of parents would stop their kids from getting a higher education? Despite being surprised that their son didn't pursue some form of career involving dance, they did as any other parent would, and encouraged him.

"Maybe I can learn new things there-"

Yeah it's not like he could've taken online classes which millions of other people take.

It's definitely not like he could have been in the comfort of his own home, in his own bed, learning all the same shit without having to worry about getting drowned by rain.

But here he is.

Frustrated as ever.

Walking in the rain.

Soaking wet.

It's times like these that George is grateful that he's got a waterproof phone.

He'd usually listen to music when on walks. Sadly for George, waterproof headphones were not a thing yet, and, considering that it's a pretty essential part of his life, he would rather enjoy not getting his eardrums burned off from a short circuit. Moreover, he was too broke to buy new headphones.

If there were any waterproof headphones, he certainly hasn't heard of them; maybe he should drop out and invent them. He reckons he could make some good cash out of that, right?

His thoughts had come to a crashing halt when his already wet pant legs got covered mud from a car speeding by.

Great. Just fantastic. As if he needed any more inconvenience in his life.

He watched as the car park and, of course, it'd be Will who came out of it. Don't get him wrong, he doesn't hate the bloke. In fact, Will is actually one of the few people that he makes the effort to talk to. Still doesn't stop him from being an annoying, square headed asshole though.

"Oh hey! Didn't see you there fella!" Will said with his signature overenthusiastic tone. Where he gets all that energy from will forever remain a mystery.

"Clearly not." George scoffed as he pointed at his dirty pant leg.

"Oh shit, did I do that?"

"What do you think, Will?"

"Why're you two standing in the rain, get inside now!" A familiar, almost unbearable, voice yelled from the studio.

George instantly identified that the creaky voice belonged to Mrs. Johnson- the art professor. She was faint of heart and hated seeing anyone enjoy things that included any sort of minute risk or physical activity. Which is why it surprised him that she was at the dance studio. It's also why George avoided her as much as possible. He must have been cursed with bad luck or something today.

The boys walked over to the dance studio quickly, not wanting to hear about how they could've caught pneumonia, at 11 am on a Saturday. They were adults for god's sake. Mrs. Johnson could be a bit much sometimes.

The studio was decently sized to say the least. Compared to the other universities, this studio was phenomenal. One of the reasons he chose to apply here in the first place. He should really get changed, before he drowns the floor with the muddy water from his clothes. As he made his way towards the bathroom, he wondered why Mrs. Johnson was in the dance studio in the first place. She had made her distaste for, in her own words- "such childish activities" very evident. George often wondered whether she was a time traveler from the 1700's.

His question about Mrs. Johnson's presence had been answered when he saw her talking to a boy clutching what seemed like a sketchbook. He seemed nervous. Maybe it was because of the way he talked in almost a whisper, or maybe it was because of his lack of eye contact with the professor. Then again his fringe was so long you could barely see his eyes.

All in all, he looked delicate, eyes wide- fearful almost, the sleeves of his sweater covering his hands, barely letting his fingers poke out.

Probably here for an art assignment or something, George thought.

Anyways, he needed to stop getting distracted. With his luck, or lack thereof, he might actually end up catching pneumonia.

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W.C. 1023 Words.

A/N:

If there are any spelling/grammar mistakes please do tell. My native language is not English that is why there might be a few mistakes. Thanks to my friend, let's call her Mosha, for beta reading this. 

Any feedback is appreciated. (:  

Stay hydrated my dudes. xx <3