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You eyed the fidgety boy with a broken arm curiously, unsure of what to make of him. He stayed on the sidelines, not speaking to anyone and looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. You could relate though, wishing you were anywhere but the pavilion outside of the cafeteria surrounded by people with attitude problems and no manners. He was cute, in a shy way, you thought.
It was early into the school year, but you couldn’t wait for the year to finish so as not to constantly deal with the imbeciles that populated your school.
Sometimes, it’s only your fear of prison food that stops you.
But the guy looked severely uncomfortable, and having a strange urge to make a new friend, you head his way. His eyes seem to bulge out of his head once he notices you coming towards him.
“Hey, it’s okay! I just want to talk!” You speak in an attempt to calm him. He looked almost scared. It pained you, even though you didn’t even know his name. “R-really?” He stuttered, still unsure of whether to trust you or not. “Yeah, my name’s Y/N.”
He gulped, finally letting out a meek “George, George Frederick. W-would you like to sign my cast?” You grinned widely. You took the offer as a sign of him trusting you, instantly beginning to rifle through your backpack to find your pencil case filled with nearly every color Sharpie one thought existed.
Despite the rainbow at your disposal, you pick one of the many generic black markers you own and sign his cast, your name now in giant black letters on George’s arm. You didn’t think he would appreciate a bright color; he didn’t seem like the type.
“Hope that was okay, since we really can’t do anything about it now.” He nervously laughed, seeming to be a little more at ease than he was before. “Yeah, it’s okay. I like it, actually.” He wasn’t really a person of many words, you noticed quickly.
Nevertheless, you persisted to talk to him and the two of you were almost instant friends, him still being a little hesitant. He eventually came around and the two of you were inseparable.
The school year had drawn to a close, and it was about time. The summer meant freedom for George and yourself to hang out for hours on end, sometimes in your childhood tree house, sometimes sitting on the roof of his house by his bedroom window, really just anywhere.
George had come out of his shell with you, finally feeling free to be himself around someone besides, well, himself. The two of you confided in each other about anything troubling either of you happen to deal with. You talked about your dreams and how they would be achieved once you were both out of this miserable town.
One bright Saturday morning, George sends you a text telling you to meet him at the local frozen custard shop in ten minutes. Perplexed, you change out of your pajamas and get dressed casually, no clue what would happen once you got there. He normally wasn’t one to make plans so spontaneously.
Upon getting there, you see that George was already waiting at what came to be yours and his table with your favorite treat on the table in front of him.
“What’s got you so chipper today?” You ask with a wink, taking your seat in front of your best friend. “It just felt like a good day, really.” The comment, strangely, fills you with pride. Ever since you met George, you had a feeling he wouldn’t do much, if anything, in the heat of the moment.
Soon after getting to know him, he was always anxious to be doing something other than what he was doing in that moment. Always wanting to escape from other people’s stares and ideas of how he should act, he barely went out or made a spectacle of himself.
Now, not so much. He had the nerve to go out on his own, buy two treats (that he couldn’t eat by himself, he was sensitive to cold foods he told you), and sit ALONE in a public place where people would wonder why he had a second treat sitting in front of him and an empty chair. You cared about George deeply and are immensely proud of your friend, being all spontaneous and stuff.
“George, I know you. You wouldn’t just do something random like this. That’s my thing.” He laughs and nods at your statement. Some nights you would climb the side of his house at some ungodly hour of the night, knock on his window, and drag him outside in his pajamas to just go driving and look at the stars. Junk food included, of course.
It took him a few months to get used to those nights.
“You caught me, Y/N,” He seems to think for a moment before adding more. “My plan is… to go on a drive to somewhere you don’t know. To no place at all.” You smiled as he took a dignified lick of his ice cream cone, raising his eyebrows in a successful attempt to make you laugh.
Hearing you laugh made his day better knowing he made it happen. “Okay, maybe you’re learning from my spontaneous ways, Padawan.” He chuckled at the reference as he took a bite of the cone, spinning it in a circle to make the edges even.
Once finished, he said, “When you’re finished with your ice cream, we’ll take my car and for once, I’m driving.” You nodded as you continued to eat, excited to see what George has planned.
You and George get into his red ‘17 Chevy Malibu, you reaching for the aux cord to hook your phone to. As he sees this, however, he swats at your hand playfully. “Nuh-uh-uh, driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole. You know the rules.” Rolling your eyes, you hand George the aux cord.
You don’t regret it, though. Soon the two of you are singing at the top of your lungs to some of the funnest songs you two know. The songs that you couldn’t recall the lyrics to if you tried, but when the song is flooding through the speakers, you suddenly remember every word and every drum solo.
(A/N: Beware, it’s all songs from the famously infamous Songs that Never Fail to Make White People Beyond Turnt playlist from Spotify. EVERY SONG WORKED ON ME!!! You know why? I’m white. All there is to it. Read -and rock- on, Padawan.)
“I LOVE ROCK AND ROLL SO PUT ANOTHER DIME IN THE JUKEBOX BABY” (I Love Rock’n’Roll by Joan Jett)
“CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SOOOOOOOOON THERE’LL BE PEACE WHEN YOU ARE DONE LAY YOUR WEARY HEAD TO REST DON’T YOU CRY NO MORE” (Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas)
“I SEE A LITTLE SILHOUETTO OF A MAN SCARAMOUCHE SCARAMOUCHE WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGO” (Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen)
“JEALOUSY TURNING SAINTS INTO THE SEA SWIMMING THROUGH SICK LULLABIES CHOKING ON YOUR ALIBIS” (Mr. Brightside by The Killers)
“HE WAS A SKATER BOY SHE SAID SEE YOU LATER BOY HE WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER” (Sk8r Boi by Avril Lavigne)
“I DUG MY KEY INTO THE SIDE OF HIS PRETTY LITTLE SOUPED-UP FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE CARVED MY NAME INTO HIS LEATHER SEEEEEEEEEEEAAAATS” (Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood)
“WE WEREN’T FAKIN’ AND YOU SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG YEAH YOU SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG” (You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC)
“WAKE ME UP” “WAKE ME UP INSIDE” “I CAN’T WAKE UP” “WAKE ME UP INSIDE” “SAAAAAAAVE MEEEE” (Bring Me To Life by Evanescence)
“YOU CAN DANCE YOU CAN JIVE HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE OOOOOOHHH SEE THAT GIRL WATCH HER SING DIGGING THE DAAAAANCIING QUEEEEEEEN” (Dancing Queen by Abba)
After Dancing Queen ended, you noticed George slow down slightly. Looking up, you smirk when you see the sign that told you where you were. No Place At All. That sneaky little-
“We’re here, Y/N!” George turned the music down just as I Write Sins Not Tragedies was starting to play. ‘Rude,’ you thought jokingly to yourself as he got out, opening your door for you, to your surprise.
“Why thank you, good sir.” You curtsied mockingly and he smiled widely as he replied in a similar posh tone, “Anytime, m’lady.” Unable to contain the laughter any longer, the both of you began to cackle at your silly antics.
“I must comment on your location choice, dear Georgie. Quite clever, I must say. Quite clever.” He knew why you said that because technically, he had planned the so-called “spontaneous” getaway day.
You weren’t going no place at all, you were going to No Place At All, an apple orchard open to the public a few towns over.
“Are you just going to applaud me and boost what little ego I have, or are we going to go have fun?” Taking his hand, you begin to run into the front entrance, loving this idea of his.
Hours later, you and George were nestled in a fork in one of the larger trees in the orchard, eating what was probably yours and his sixth or seventh apple. God, you probably wouldn’t be able to eat apples again for a long time.
It was a peaceful silence occasionally interrupted by chirping birds or the sound of either of you biting a chunk out of an apple. Enjoying each other’s company the same way you do on his roof late at night or on your late-night drives. Those are the nights you don’t want music to interrupt the sound of silence, the camaraderie the two of you shared in silence. Peace. It was relaxing.
You were somewhat in his lap in the tree, one of his arms lazily wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling. Your right arm was twisted upwards, hooking around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.
You remember days where he was stiff as a board when you hugged him. Thank goodness that only lasted a few days because you were a really huggy person. Hugs were inexplicably great to you, and poor George had to get used to receiving them because he always looked like he needed one, poor lad being so awkward.
Oh how the times have changed; ten months ago, George wouldn’t have thought he would have been able to have so little personal space between him and someone, especially in a tree where one could fall at any time and even die from the fall.
You really brought a side to George he was never comfortable with showing to anyone, until you came along and signed his cast. He never thought he would find anyone that would like that side or embrace it like you did.
It got him to thinking. You were his only true friend. His ONLY friend. Sure you had introduced him to people you knew that weren’t half bad, but they never really became a staple to his life like you did. They never really got along with him as well. Maybe it’s because he was a Gemini, maybe the world will never know.
(I have nothing against Gemini’s, two of my best friends are Geminis)
“Hey George, you awake?” You whispered, not wanting to interrupt the serenity of the moment. George let out a tired-sounding hum of affirmation, slightly adjusting his arm around your waist to make sure he would be able to keep you from falling if need be.
“Yeah, what’s up?” You smiled internally at his sleepy voice. You found it adorable. Instead of speaking, you adjusted your body to where your head was under his chin. ‘Now or never,’ you repeated the mantra as you craned your neck up, kissing his cheek so delicately it was like a butterfly kiss.
George turned red but didn’t move away; in fact, quite the opposite. He nestles his face in your neck, his grip on your waist tightening. The thumb on that hand began to move back and forth methodically, creating the same hypnotic sensation for you that you had for him with your fingers in his hair.
You curled into his chest and he began to cradle you, the two of you still processing what just happened. Your world would never be the same after this and neither would his. Neither of you speak though, reveling in the events that transpired with cordate eyes. You, to George, were his ataraxia. His freedom from himself. Or at least, the doubts he creates in his head about himself.
You felt him shift, placing a kiss to your hair and bringing you as close as possible without falling out of the tree.
This was bliss. You realized why the silence was so comforting with him. It was like being home. Scratch that, he was your home.