𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 | 𝗴. 𝗯𝗹𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗲

.truce

Take my picture, now.
Shake it 'til you see it.
And when your fantasies,
Become your legacy,
Promise me a place
In your house of memories.

HOUSE OF MEMORIES / PANIC! AT THE DISCO

*this chapter contains sensitive topics such as su!cide. do not read it if you are easily triggered and please, please call the hotline if you ever experience su!cidal tendencies. remember, my messages are always open for any kind of conversations. i love you all, please stay safe.*

SLIGHTLY out of breath, Margaret wandered around the hallways of the Williams manor, in search of the mysterious blonde boy that turned up in her dreams one night and hadn't left her mind since. In all her anger, she had completely forgotten that she was supposed to follow the boy, causing her to get lost and wander around, with no sign of Oliver whatsoever. As she felt the familiar pain creeping up on the back of her heels, her tired feet came to a stop. Sighing, she cursed herself for choosing to wear fancy shoes as she dropped down to her knees, loosening the ties of the heeled boots.

"That's what I get for being nice." she grunted, deciding that she would simply take them off. As her hands went towards her shoes, she heard a creak on her left. Immediately forgetting about the shoes and the pain, Margaret rose to her feet as she followed the noise that echoed around the hall, only to stop in front of a slightly opened door.

"Uh..." she started, before taking a second to clear her throat. "Oliver?" she called out, knocking on the door slowly. "Are you in there?" she tried again, placing her palm against the door, trying to take a peek inside. Upon hearing loud footsteps approaching from inside the room, she took a step back. The door swung open, revealing an angry blonde teen.

"George, I swear to God - " he started, voice stern and brows furrowed in anger. As his eyes landed on the blonde girl, he stopped mid sentence. His face softened and he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry." he said, lowering his voice as he shook his head. "I thought you were - "

" - George?" Margaret asked, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I figured." she shrugged. "Don't worry, though. I reckon he's too scared to come near you." she assured him, wrapping her arms around herself as Oliver opened the door wider, leaning to the left and against the frame.

"Well, he should be scared." he snapped, letting out a breath of air as Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. It's just... not a good night for me." he admitted, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment, before he turned away, as if he was trying hard to look away.

"I figured that, too." she replied. "Look, if you want to talk about it, I'm here, you know, so... yeah." she started, placing a hand on his shoulder. She felt the boy relax as he allowed his eyes to meet hers again. Sighing, he turned his head away, though reluctantly. Bringing a hand up to the bridge of his nose, he hesitantly turned back to face the girl in front of him.