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George wishes he understood what was going through Alex’s mind at any given point. He often sees his boyfriend stare out into nothingness, escaping to some realm where George cannot reach him. He wonders where it takes him -- is it happy there? Does he smile more? Does he find what he’s looking for?
He’s not sure Alex is ever satisfied and an unpleasant tightness settles at the base of his ribcage. If George isn’t enough for Alex, he doesn’t think anything or anyone ever will be.
Does it matter that George has spent every waking hour trying to fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed? Does it matter that George doesn’t want to see Alex cry himself to sleep for the fourth night in a row? Does it matter that George can hold him all he wants and yet Alex feels miles away?
It’s not fair, this distance between them. A small part of George curls around the jealous voice in his head, telling him that Alex has found someone new. It’s the devil’s advocate to his rational thoughts and it’s gotten easier and easier to fall prey to it.
It’s not reasonable -- there’s nowhere Alex could’ve found someone else. It doesn’t stop George from imagining someone better than him -- taller and broad-shouldered or petite and manicured. Last time George had asked Alex what his type was he had just giggled and said “you, Georgie” and George had flushed immediately.
Now he’s not sure he knows when he’s heard Alex laugh last. The flat seems emptier for it.
He misses Alex and he’s only a room away. At least, physically. Mentally, there’s no chance he’s grounded. He hasn’t been in awhile.
--
For what it’s worth, Alex still sleeps in George’s bed every night. It’s technically their bed, but Alex never calls it that. George thinks that offers him some sort of protection from that final layer of commitment. If Alex treats George’s bedroom like a sleepover rather than his own, he can protect himself should something go wrong.
It’s ridiculous considering they’ve moved house three times together, but George lets him be. He doesn’t mean it maliciously and George loves him too much to push it.
It’s a comfort to see Alex’s chest rise and fall next to him - George spends too long watching Alex sleep. It’s the only time the worry that normally creases his pretty face softens into something more relaxed. George misses when it was always like this.
George brushes a kiss against Alex’s forehead and he feels Alex stir. He’s still loose-limbed from sleep and his voice is rough when he says George’s name. It feels intimate, a brief glance into what they used to be.
“Hello, love,” George whispers, the pet name oddly fitting. Will used to give him so much shit for being soft around Alex, but George just reminded him of how he spoils Alex himself and Will had shut up. They’re all a little enamored with Alex -- George just gets to be the one who reaps the most benefits.
“What time is it?” Alex turns onto his side facing George as he squints at the blinking red numbers on George’s nightstand.
“Mm, like around 2,” George replies, the darkness of the night wrapping around them like a cloak. The shadows are fuzzy around the edges where the moonlight melts into the floor and George always liked how everything gets hazy when he’s not wearing his glasses.
“George, I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Alex’s voice is clearer now as he gets more lucid. It’s a startling turn that has George reaching for the bedside lamp. The yellow light is a bit harsher than he expects in the dimness, but it illuminates Alex’s tired expression.
“What do you mean, Al?” George thinks he knows, but he wants to hear Alex say the words himself. He wants to know that Alex wants him to help. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to send Alex back into his shell.
“Like everything is going wrong no matter what I do. Like I’ve let everyone down,” Alex explains, tone wavering. George is used to seeing Alex like this, but it doesn’t stop his heart from hurting.
“You know you don’t let me down, right?” George asks, shifting closer to Alex’s trembling frame.
He pulls the duvet tighter around them as he slips an arm around Alex’s bare shoulders. The shared heat is enough to make George sweat, but Alex’s need for comfort outweighs his own petty concerns.
“I know,” Alex allows, but he seems unconvinced. George is happy Alex is even willing to talk about this. He’s been distant for so long.
“I’ve been doing some research,” Alex continues, reaching a hand up to where George’s fingers span the junction between his neck and shoulder. He squeezes George’s hand once, twice, three times.
“I think I should start talking to someone, you know, about all this,” Alex finishes the thought, letting the concept hang in the air.
“Yeah? I think that’s a great idea.”
“What if they don’t understand?”
“You won’t know until you try, babe, and I want you to try,” George runs a thumb over the back of Alex’s hand and he feels Alex’s hold tighten.
“Okay, for you, I will,” Alex mumbles as he leans down to rest his head on George’s chest.
“No, this needs to be for you,” George emphasizes, tone a bit sharper than he intended. He just wants Alex to know that it’s okay to put yourself first sometimes.
“You’re right,” Alex says more into the fabric of George’s shirt than to George himself, but it’s a start.
“I love you, George - I couldn’t do this without you.”
George suddenly feels terrible for ever thinking Alex would want anyone other than him. It’s always been them; no one can take that away.
“Love you, too, Al,” George replies as Alex wraps himself further around him.
And just like that, the voices clambering to tell them they’re inadequate and failures fall silent and they’re alone in the darkened room.
George is thankful that that’s finally enough.