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Snow sprinkled the snow around him.
Shaking and sucking in a breath, he rubbed at his bare, bloody and bruised arms with purple-tinged fingers. Come on, you are not dying like this. Not after everything, he swore to himself. Forcing his legs to move, he sucked in a shaky breath. The wind kicked up. Threw freezing ice and snow into his face. Shaking his head, he curled in on himself. Threw an arm up to block his eyes. Kept his head down and kept walking.
One step after the other. That was what this was. Just one step, one more step. Just until he found somewhere, anywhere to rest for the night. He was not going to die with the last person seeing him being…
He was not going to die.
Taking a breath, he narrowed his eyes. Forced himself to walk harder, counting a slow beat in his head. Bare feet crunched into red-splattered slush. Raising his head, he saw something.
There was a light in the distance.
Sighing with relief, he tipped his head back. Just for a second. Snowflakes drifted down around his cheeks. Softer now, the wind ran gentle thumbs over the tears running down his face. Stroked them away with a delicate movement. Pressed a kiss of snow to his forehead and hair. Then, he dropped his gaze back down to the light in the distance. Readied himself again.
Then, he started walking.
+++
George had been avoiding Tommy for weeks.
Walking through the hallways, glancing around nervously, Tommy swallowed. Looked for any sign of the brunet or his blue hoodie. Come on, George. Where are you? Whatever it was, whatever Tommy had screwed up, he was going to apologize for. He could make it up, too! He could edit a couple series episodes. Or—or he could help with filming. Storyboarding, writing. There was always something that he could do.
Beside him, Pog trotted along. Nudged his knee every so often to remind him he was becoming too stressed. Looking around, Tommy sighed. Then he sank against the wall. Mostly because Pog gently grabbed his fingers in her teeth. So, he settled down on the floor, and the Rottweiler-Lab cross climbed into his lap and started licking at his cheek. Closing his eyes, he rubbed her ears, slowed his breathing down.
They must have been sitting there for a while. Eventually, he heard the main door to the house creak open. At the familiar beat of George’s shoes tapping against the wood planks, Tommy opened his eyes. Looked over to see the man there with Dream. (How did Dream walk so quietly? It was creepy. Like, really creepy, in a way that Tommy couldn’t even really explain to anyone. Dream himself wasn’t creepy. Just how quiet he was.)
“Tommy. Are you alright?” George asked, concern masking his features. Nodding, Tommy pushed himself upright. Black dots danced in his vision for a moment. Beside him, Pog huffed in displeasure. Hands wrapped around Tommy’s arms, and he was slowly guided to the couch by Dream.
“Yep, totally fine, big man. Thanks, Big D.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Huge D.”
“That’s somehow even worse.” Dream settled Tommy down on the couch. Swallowing, the admin sighed and then looked over to George. The pair shared a soft smile, and then George settled down on Dream’s other side. Pog got the whole side of the couch on Tommy’s left. Because she needed it, obviously, with her head settled in his lap.
“Are you mad at me?” Tommy asked, looking at George. Immediately, Dream’s mouth drew into a thin line beneath the bottom edge of his mask. Getting up, he strode away.
“I’ll go get food.” He excused himself. Glancing back after him, George rolled his eyes good-naturedly with a soft smile, then turned back to Tommy. Frowning lightly, he tipped his head to the side.
“What do you mean, Tommy? Why would I be mad at you?” George asked.
“I’ve—I noticed that you were avoiding me?” Holding up his hands, Tommy hurriedly said, “I mean, it’s alright, I know sometimes I can be—“
“No, no, Tommy. Tommy. There’s nothing wrong.” George reassured immediately. “Sorry for interrupting, but you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m avoiding you.” Sitting up slightly, he explained, “You haven’t done anything wrong at all. There’s just…you know how we’re doing some weird sort of…thing with snowy forests, being lost in a blizzard, all that kind of thing.” Swallowing, Tommy nodded. Taking a breath, George looked to the side. “Well, I have…I have some past issues with that kind of thing. I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve kind of just been avoiding everything to do with the filming and editing for the moment.”
“Oh.” Laughing, Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m…sorry about that. I guess I made things a bit over the top, huh?”
Shrugging, George smiled and reached over to touch his arm. Tommy glanced over at him. “It’s alright, Tommy. Sometimes anxiety makes us do weird things. Trust me, I know.” Sitting back as Dream returned with three cups of hot chocolate and what Tommy was pretty sure was a panicked expression, George smiled at the admin. Looking at the pair, Tommy paused and then took the hot chocolate that Dream offered him. So he took it and drank a few sips.
“So…how have your days been?”
+++
Coughing into his fist, he looked around.
As he moved, he could feel frostbite settling on his shoulders. Shaking his head, he swallowed again. Took a slow breath. Okay, come on. Everything’ll be fine. Glancing back behind him, he watched as his footsteps slowly began to be covered by the snow. Hot blood dripped down the side of his head from a cut above his eye.
Wiping a hand over his head, he took a slow breath. Looked at the blood smeared across his fingers. Swallowing, he paused. Okay. I’m okay. I’ll be alright. Rubbing a hand over his face, he paused and then took another hot second to breathe. To keep walking.
Just get away, you just need to get away now.
+++
Snow had covered the SMP, despite it being the middle of summer.
Sitting down at the couch, Bad set out quite a few more hot chocolate mugs and a few bowls of chocolate syrup-covered popcorn on the table. Everyone was in the main room, sleeping or reading or just hanging out. Mostly because there was a blizzard. Not the best of weather, obviously.
Curled into Dream’s side, George was busy playing with the admin’s free hand. Dream’s other hand was currently sitting on George’s shoulder, arm wrapped around him protectively. Outside, there was a crash of thunder. “Whoo, thunder snow!” Quackity cheered, throwing his arms in the air. George flinched and swallowed, Dream’s grip on him tightened. Tommy caught Sapnap giving Quackity a look. Then, Sapnap plopped into his fiancé’s lap and not-so-subtly pinned him to the couch. He and George shared a quick smile.
Clearing his throat, Ant waved a couple movies he and Velvet had found. Both of them were covered in dust, Velvet looking absolutely miserable as he dragged his hands over his face and tried to clean his clothes off. “So, who wants to watch a movie? The choices are Treasure Planet, Big Hero 6, How to Train Your Dragon, The Legend of Vox Machina Animated, and slash or…” Squinting at it, Ant asked, “ Extreme Days? ”
“Not Extreme Days I don’t want anyone messing with a lighter and—“ Skeppy slapped a hand over Bad’s mouth and shook his head.
“We also have High Hopes Low Rolls: The Animated Series. ” Velvet said, raising his hand. Meanwhile, Ant set the Extreme Days disc to the side. Velvet picked it up before Tubbo could get his hands on it. Then, he tapped the young man on the top of the head with the disc, smiled slyly down at him. “No, Box Boy.”
Crossing his arms, Tubbo scoffed and then dropped down into the bean bags again. Michael crawled into his lap. So, of course, Tubbo busied himself with entertaining the little kid.
“Well, Vox and HHLR aren’t something Michael is ready for yet.” Ranboo commented.
“He’s totally ready for them.”
Expression flattening, Ranboo shot his platonic husband a look and added, “I say no.” there was a sigh, and Tubbo rolled his eyes good-naturedly before turning back to Michael and speaking in some other language. “Don’t speak badly about me to our son.”
Reaching over, Tommy took Michael from his dad and cradled the zombie piglin closer. Pog padded over, and Ranboo shifted over to Tubbo’s other side with a teleport. “Pog, side block.” Tommy ordered, snapping his fingers and gesturing to his left. Sitting down on that side, she leaned forwards and started sniffing at Michael’s face.
Soon enough, they had put the movie to a vote and decided on How to Train Your Dragon. The thunder outside had grown more consistent. It was to the point where Tommy could see flashes of white outside on the blinds. In the middle of the movie, Quackity threw his arms to the side and flailed a fair bit. George let out a sharp yell.
“Quackity!” Sapnap scolded, and Quackity held his hands up.
“Sorry, sorry!” George shook his head, he and Dream quickly whipped his shirt off. No one made any jokes, but not just because of the fact George had hot chocolate spilled on him. No, it was because of the scars he had.
“George…” Tommy trailed off, staring at him. Everyone had gone quiet. Reaching over, Tubbo scooped up Michael and then hurried out of the room, head down. Ranboo glanced at Tommy, then to George, then after Tubbo and finally back to Tommy. Nodding after him, Tommy watched Ranboo get up and hurry after his platonic husband.
On the couch, George crossed his arms over his chest. Sapnap was struggling out of his flannel, although Karl had already moved. Throwing his hoodie into George’s face, he settled back against his fiancés. Bad cleared his throat. Jerking, Tommy averted his gaze, waited for a second until he looked back to George. Now, George was wearing Karl’s hoodie, scars hidden away completely. He wasn’t looking at anyone. No one said a word.
Tommy was pretty sure that no one had to.
+++
“Get out of my house.”
Scoffing, Jane moved closer into his space. George took a step back, looked away. She moved closer, grabbed his arm. Thin, pointy nails dug into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me.” He didn’t. Face contorting, Jane tightened her grip. Already, he could feel blood welling up under his skin. Swallowing, he took a slow breath. “ Look at me, ” she hissed. Swallowing, he looked over and met her gaze. Smiling coolly, Jane added, “You don’t tell me to leave. This is my fucking house. You don’t get to say shit to me. Understand?” When he didn’t reply, she slapped him across the face. Skin stinging, he stared at her and blinked a couple times. What. Did that just happen? Did that really just happen.
It wasn’t her house. It was in his name. He paid the rent, he paid for it in general. Paid the bills, because she always said she didn’t have enough money even as she went out and spent hundreds of dollars on awful fake nails that scarred up his wrists and shoulders and scraped across every surface imaginable. If she wanted nails, he would be perfectly fine with it. They were her hands, she used her money. It was just because they struggled paying the bills. He struggled paying the bills. And then she complained and threw things and threatened to tell people he was hitting her.
Grabbing onto his jaw, Jane yanked him down towards her. Then, softly, she threatened, “You tell me to get out of this house again, and I’ll break in and kill you. Understand?” Swallowing, he nodded. Her eyes narrowed, and she grinned. Then, she kissed him gently. Shoved him away. “Good. Now, I’m going to go make something to eat. Why don’t you go and clean up the bedroom? There’s a bit of a mess in there.”
Sighing internally, George mumbled something. Then, he wandered into their room. His clothes and shoes and the books he’d been reading were scattered across the ground. Sitting on the covers like some sort of prize were the speakers his brother had given him for his birthday. Or, really, what was left of them. They were smashed and destroyed. In pieces.
George glanced outside. It was snowing. Looking back at what was left of his belongings, George took a slow breath. Walked over to the bed and crouched down. Slowly, he pulled out his old school backpack from under the bed. Checked through the food, the supply of money that he had hidden there a long while back.
Something smashed into the wall behind him.
Jerking his head up, George watched in horror as Jane stalked into the room. In one of her hands was a frying pan. The other was extended, where she’d just thrown the plate now lying in shattered pieces at his feet. “I knew it. You are hiding secrets!” She screeched. Staring at her, heart dropping to the floor, George held up his hands. She was in front of him in a moment. Shards of ceramic cut into his feet. Holding up his hands in defense, George tried to block his face as she scratched at him, shoved him to the ground.
She raised the frying pan.
+++
It was a long couple of hours and a completely new outfit later that George decided to explain.
No one asked for an explanation. Actually, they started protesting. But George held up his hands, stopped them before they could even get the words out. “So, you all know I’ve been avoiding filming lately. And thank you all for covering for me in the meantime, since I haven’t been able to do this.” Looking over at Dream, he smiled lightly. Dream reached over and touched his wrist, and the pair exchanged a smile. Then, George closed his eyes, took a breath. “Bad and Skeppy know this story already. I met them during a blizzard. My partner at the time was a cruel person, and she did a lot.” Brushing his hair back with one hand, George showed a thin scar that ran from the corner of his left eyebrow up over his ear. Laughing weakly, he said, “She hit me with a frying pan once.”
“Hold on. She hit you…with a frying pan.” Quackity said. Shrugging, George smiled at him. “A frying pan.”
“It was a long time ago.” Looking around, George commented, “You’re a lot better. And no,” rolling his eyes lightly, George looked around and added, “nothing that happens is your fault. Unless I say it explicitly. In which case, it is your fault.” Crossing his arms, he sat back into Dream’s side and leaned his head onto Dream’s chest. Dream held onto him, didn’t say a single thing at all. Neither did anyone else.
“She hit you with a frying pan?” Quackity asked.
“Yes. She did. She also threw a microwave at me once in a store.” George added, shrugging again.
“Please tell me she ended up in prison.” Karl sat up a bit. Biting his lip, George looked over at Skeppy and Bad. Skeppy was smiling knowingly. Meanwhile, Bad was just…looking down. At his lap. Where there was a knife. A really, really long knife that he had had for years. That he was also currently sharpening. And then he spoke, softly.
“You could say that.”
+++
Snow pressed into his cheek.
Swallowing, George blinked a few times. Tried to look up. Tried to get moving. But his arms weren’t…he couldn’t pull himself along. Couldn’t move. Nothing worked . He didn’t know why. It just…it wouldn’t. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe.
Somewhere, there were footsteps crunching in the snow. “Oh my gosh. Skeppy. Skeppy, come here. Now.” An unfamiliar voice murmured. Warm fingers touched his cheek. Groaning, George cracked his eyes opened and met a dark gray gaze. Swallowing, he looked up. “Hey.” A soft smile lit their face. Gently, they smoothed George’s hair back, glanced in shock at their fingers. “Oh, you’re hurt. I’m sorry. Skeppy! Get over here!” At the sound, George flinched. Immediately, the person winced. “Sorry.” Pulling him into their arms, they cradled him closer. “Let’s get you somewhere nice and warm, okay? My name’s Bad.”
Then, they were walking. George let his head fall against Bad’s chest, closed his eyes and listened to their heartbeat. Eventually, there was the creaking of a door. Cracking open his eyes, George watched as they walked under an archway. He was settled on a bed, and then Bad and Skeppy started carefully removing his clothes and getting him in new, clean ones and under several blankets. Bad spoke softly, smoothed his hair back as Skeppy treated the cuts on the bottoms of his feet and wrapped them with bandages.
Then, eventually, he was being fed soup. Smiling, Bad carefully helped him eat. “You’re very good at this.” George mumbled. Smiling, Bad spooned some more soup into his mouth casually.
“I raised a kid.” Bad explained, shrugging. “What’s your name?”
“George.” George smiled at him. “My name’s George.”
Bad smiled back.