Just wanted to share a picture I drew 🥺💅🏼💫 my signature is on there, no steal! This is also the mask I vision as I write the story- in case some of y'all are confused!
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George decides to sit on the park swing. The sign says 3-12 yr olds, but mentally, he's 12. Not like kids would be out playing at one in the morning unless they're the children of the corn. George shivers slightly, pulling his sleeves to his hands to keep them nice and cozy. He leans his head against the chain in defeat. Why is he feeling this way? He starts to weakly swing his legs as he feels the world spin around him, almost forgetting he's drunk. The creek of the old swing starts to relax him, allowing his muscles to relax, the small boy was tense through out the whole party. His teeth grind at the picture of Skeppy kissing Clay rewinding in his head. He sniffles, feeling the cold air bite his sensitive nose. George is jealous, he wanted to be Skeppy at that moment, he wants to feel how he felt, he watches as Skeppy blushed, trying to get more than a peck. Although he's masked, it doesn't make a difference in his mind, that also makes him wonder, has Skeppy seen his face? George looked away at that point, the glance he got was more than enough. He hates this feeling with a burning passion. He blows out a hot breath, watching the steam rise like smoke, he watches it twirl a pretty pattern, trying to get rid of that nagging emotion poking through his heart.
He listens to the wind blow through the crevices of the playground, creating an eerie sound, almost hears quieter than silence. It really adds to his dreary mood.
George then notices footsteps crunching bark and wooden scraps. Someone is at the playground with him, Georgie silently prays it's not the boys he got into a tussle with at the gym, cause Clay isn't their to protect him this time. The brunette doesn't dare look over encase he aggravates the other. He sees them sit on the swing next to him in his peripheral vision, he recognizes the green. "What are you doing here?" He asks solemnly. "You've been gone for thirty minutes." "Is that all?"
A wave of uncomfortable silence washes over the two, the breeze has frozen, so the only thing moving was George's crying swing.
"I talked to Vivian." He announces, looking up at the cloudy sky, moon trying to peak through the thickness. "Oh?" Clay starts to stammer slightly, "Well, she kinda- I dunno- um." The taller struggles to find the right words. George begins to get a little impatient, beginning to kick around the mulch between his feet. What is the blond even trying to say?
"She told me to ask you if you could play a video game with a friend of mine and I." George almost let's out a humourless laugh, "Yeah sure." He mumbles out, painfully getting up off the swing, "I'm going to head home, talk later?" He finally makes eye contact with the other, he's mildly shocked to see how run down the other man was. "Uh, yeah, yeah. Sounds good!" His eyes squint in a smile, but he can tell he isn't happy. Not bothering to question since he can barely think at the moment, he turns around and heads back without a second glance.
