Nightingale - Dreamnotfound

||The Thing With Feathers||

There were multiple ways I was going to find George in his house. Perhaps he'd be sitting in the corner like last night, or maybe he'd be reading. Or maybe he'd have a knife ready to kill whoever walked through his door frame. However, just when I thought I had figured George out and had properly thought of every way I could possibly find him, he proved me wrong.

I poked my head into the blue metallic box-house expecting to see him sitting down or pacing around, but no. He looked like a starfish laying in the middle of the room with all his limbs stretched out on the floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked, walking inside. His house was empty aside from what I assumed was once a kitchen. It had been painted blue, although that was probably years ago judging by the chipping of the paint. The counter was made of wood, and the cabinets looked to have been kicked in. The house was huge. Big enough to fit several families in it, and to think he still chose to live alone. Children's toys strewn around the room, all of which were faded of color and covered in dirt.

There was this one in particular that caught my eye. It was one of those rocking horses that rocked back and forth. I used to own one of those. It was my favorite toy. I used to spend all my time on it; wasting all my excess energy on it before bed.

George lifted his head and smiled as his eyes fell on me.

"Hi, Clay!" He sat up. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Truth be told, I didn't expect it either. When Sapnap and I arrived back to our apartment, I was planning on crashing the same way Sapnap did. However, as I laid on my small cot with the thin blanket draped over me staring up at the ceiling, I knew I wasn't going to be getting any sleep anytime soon. Gunshots and incoherent screaming played itself on repeat like a broken record in my head. It was like I had opened Pandora's box for the first time in months.

And the next thing I knew, I was outside once again in the only other outfit I owned on my way to the slums.

"What were you doing?" I repeated, sitting down criss-cross across from him.

"I was meditating."

"Meditating?" I hadn't heard that term in years. Even then, I didn't even remember where I had heard that from.

"Yeah! It really helps. It's a good way to clear my mind. But enough about me, how are you?"

"Crappier than usual, I will admit," I replied, running my hand through my tousled up hair.

George frowned and cocked his head to the side like those tiny puppies I'd find on the covers of ancient magazines. "Oh no! Why?"

I shook my head, "Just a bad day."

"Oh. You wanna know what makes me feel better on a bad day?"

"Yes please." That was the whole reason I was there.

"Talking about it."

I scoffed. "Very funny."

"If it was funny, you'd be laughing, Clay. Why's your day bad? Did something bad happen?"

I sighed, looking from the way his dark mocha eyes searched for the answer to his question through my green ones down to how he'd fidget with his shoelaces without consciously realizing it.

"I guess you could say something bad happened."

"What happened?" He wouldn't even blink.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I replied briefly. "I'll be fine. I just... Something not-so great happened today."

He hesitated before nodding with his signature smile. "Okay. What are you here for?"

The way my heart jumped into my throat caused me to almost choke on my own spit. "Do I need a reason to come over?"