Work Text:
'They weren't meant to be together. In the end he left her. In the end, she still kept her promise, even if he didn't'
Tired, he closed his tablet and relaxed his body after all the typing. He finally finished another new book, another sad story to be cried on. He sighs. People have asked him so many times to write a love story which has a good ending.
Or a story which has a good ending. It doesn't have to be about love.
But George practically cannot. Whenever he tries, his ideas run out. In vain, he sits there for hours, procrastinating. In the end, he types nothing, not even one line. He needs inspiration in his life. Something that could spark him to create a good book.
He wants to grab his readers attention. He wants to write a happy ending, just for his readers. But alas, that's an impossible task to George. He tries every night, but the morning just comes and he comes up with nothing. A week goes by, George doesn't write anything. Just aimlessly sitting on his sofa, thinking about ideas.
George looks at the clock. It reads '3:39'. George scoffs. This is a daily routine. Him staying up after midnight and typing away on his tablet, letting the cold night breeze flow inside his apartment. He looks over the window, loving to look at the stars while taking breaks typing.
He scans over the new book and smiles to himself. Another day, another book. Another day, another cry from his readers. He stands up, and walks inside the flat.
His eyes catch the ticket stuck between his books. The flight tickets. George sighs. "Maybe a break would help me."
——
"You are going on a vacation?!"
His manager; Karl; the head of his blog website was screaming at him. This morning, George had his breakfast and went to his office, where Karl was awaiting his return, excited about a new book.
Instead, George spilled the beans, telling him that he needed a vacation and the flight was tomorrow. Karl freaked out and started screaming at him. George shrugged his shoulders, acting oblivious to his whining.
"Are you going alone?! Have you even told your boss yet? Do you know that you have a press conference in like 15 minutes?!"
Karl spoke so quickly that George didn't get what he was saying, except the last part.
"I have a what? Again?" George matched Karl's note, shocked. He was pissed off. The company literally forced an interview on him last week.
"Well yes! It's about your new book. What else would it be?"
Karl said, taking a sip of his latte, waiting for George to whine about the whole interview thing. George bit his lips. He doesn't want to do this again.
It's always the same question. George, considered writing a love story with a happy ending? George! When is the happy ending book coming? It's always about happiness. None of the journalists talk about his sad books anymore. He's annoyed. He's trying to think of a plot, but if he keeps getting pressured, how is he supposed to write it?
——
"G404! So what is the new book going to be?"
A journalist asks. George puts on his usual fake smile. "Of course the whole idea of the book is going to be a secret, but I can only tell a little about it. A painter and a doctor, falling in love, accidentally."
The journalists perked up when the word 'love' rolled off George's tongue. He awaits the question that they have been asking for a long time. "Is it going to be h-"
"It's not," George simply cuts them off, not giving them a chance to finish their sentence. "I am trying to write one though,I may publish it, who knows?"
"What inspired you to write about this book?" A journalist spoke up. George thought for a while before answering, "Honestly, it's embarrassing to say. I had a plant which I promised my mother that I would take care of. It was a pretty plant, quite delicate. But after a week or so, I stopped watering it and taking care of it, hence it died. My mother scolded me pretty badly.
They laughed, George giggled too. He remembers his mother's angry face when she found out that George didn't take care of her plants. And she swore that she will never give anything to him to take care of. It's a memory, a happy memory.
The journalists kept asking questions about books and upcoming projects, which George answered gracefully. Until one of the journalists spoke up.
"Any changes in your life?" George stopped talking, he hesitated. But he needs a break.
Surely, his readers will understand.
"Am going on a vacation. Am taking a break, until I come back." He smiled.
——
He walks through the busy streets with his sweater on and his cup filled with coffee in his hand. He's back in his hometown, London. It's pretty far, but George doesn't mind. At Least he can venture around his hometown to his heart's desire, and maybe get inspiration.
He thought about going to Paris, as it's called the city of love, but George found it rather distasteful. Not everyone finds love in Paris. That's a destination to propose to someone in front of the Eiffel Tower. Not go there and find love.
His trail of thoughts was abruptly stopped as someone pushed him, the coffee spilling on the ground. George looks at it, sad, he just bought the coffee and hadn't drunk it. He looked beside him, a man, maybe in his twenties, blonde, quite tall; he had a concerned face.
"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry!" The man apologized profusely, making George a little awkward. It's just his coffee that spilled, not like he fell down.
"Ah! I was reading a book and I didn't quite look where I was going! Please forgive me!"
George's eyes twitched. He looked down at his hands and saw a familiar book held between his fingers. "You read G404?" George asks. It was his debut book, the one that got him his fame, George thinks and looks up at the stranger who now had a smile on his face.
"Of course! I read other books too, but sad books were just my thing and I just love their debut so much! So of course I had to buy it as a new edition came out." The stranger said enthusiastically. George's eyebrows furrow. Does he even know that he's talking to the author of the book he's holding?
"G404. A mystery person don't you think?" George said, playing oblivious. People ask him for pictures and signatures when they meet him. So why is this stranger acting so differently when he met him?
"Truly he is. He brings out such a fascinating story, but leaves it with a sad ending. An ending which breaks everyone's heart." The stranger rambled. George tried not to look at him and tried looking somewhere else when his eyes noticed the coffee spilled on the floor.
"Oh! Sorry, I blabber so much. I owe you a coffee." He suddenly spoke up, making George flinch.
"It's totally okay!" George declined the offer. He could buy a mere cup of coffee for himself.
"I'm sorry, but I insist." It was firm, laced with finality and confidence. George was surprised and accepted the offer.
"What's your name by the way?" George asks.
He has been talking to a stranger who loves his books and didn't even catch his name. The stranger gave a soft smile.
"My name is Clay."
——
George sat outside the coffee shop, waiting for Clay to come with his hot coffee. He was looking at the road and the people who were going to different destinations. It's amazing, you never know what the person is feeling at the moment. You never know what's happening with their lives. You never know what they might be thinking about in public, how they might be vulnerable at home.
That's the whole reason he started writing sad stories. It creates a spark, a wave of emotional feelings that overwhelms a person and makes them breakdown. A jingle was heard and George diverted his attention to it. Clay had two cups of coffee in his hands.
"Sorry for the wait! They took a long time, but here you go." George said nothing, but took the cup out of his hands.
"Can I ask you a question?" Clay asked, fumbling with his cup, before taking a sip and looking at George, smiling. George thought for a moment. He really didn't want to talk. But his heart was telling him to continue the conversation with him.
"Of course, go ahead." George said, taking another sip of his coffee before putting it on the table. Awaiting the question.
"Do you live somewhere here?" Ok creepy. "Nope." George said, popping the 'P'. "Am here on a vacation, I had tons of work back where I live, so I needed a break." Clay understands and smiles.
"So why did you pick London?" Clay asked.
"It's my hometown. I grew up here."
Clay seemed amazed and looked around. It felt a little awkward, the silence. But something bubbled up inside George.
"You asked me two questions, so enough about me. Now let's talk about you."
"Talk about me? Of course. Go ahead." Clay said enthusiastically. George looked at him with a hard gaze, he really needs to ask a good question which will give enough information about Clay.
"I know you aren't British. So why are you here in London?" George asks, after a while. Clay was put off guard, but nevertheless tries to make it go away with his smile.
"Am a painter. Family issues didn't support my dreams and career, so I left. I chose London because I always had this desire to visit it, since I was a kid."
Family issues. Guess they have the same things. But George is a writer, and Dream is a painter.
"What do you paint?" George asked. "Honestly, anything. Depending on the mood, inspiration depends upon my emotions. All my paintings are inspired from books or my emotions."
"That's cool!" George exclaimed. He always loved the idea of art. It was beautiful, extraordinary, something stunning a human being could create with a pair of hands, a pencil and a paper. They would create the most beautiful drawings. "I mean-" George let his guard down. He doesn't get happy over little things, that's how the public saw him. They saw him as a cold hearted guy, who doesn't show emotions, unless he is being interviewed.
"There is actually an art gallery where my paintings are hung. We can go look at it if you have time. It's around the corner too!" Clay smiled, awaiting his answer. George looked at his watch, it read '12:20' and he had nothing to do except explore the streets of London. But this stranger he met is interesting.
"Alright. Let's go. I didn't really have anything to do." Clay smiled at his answer and drank his coffee, same with George. They threw the cups in the dumpster and started walking towards the art gallery, Clay leading while George trailing behind.
A cold wind suddenly gushed, making George shiver a little bit. London really has cold weather nowadays. He vividly remembers his childhood days honestly. The memories are fading little by little. They took a turn and stopped in front of a huge white building. 'Galería de arte: el arte es único' was written in bold letters, which stood out.
"Let's go?" George nodded and walked in.
It was quiet. Usually it was dead drop silence in galleries, but there were some quiet murmurs going around when people were looking at specific arts. Clay took George's hand and interlocked it, taking him somewhere, but George was stunned that someone he met had already interlocked hands with him.
"Look! That's my art!"
George followed Clay's gaze and saw a painting which was really different from others. It stood out from the other paintings. The painting was red and blue, clashing together, a tan man standing in the center with determination. George was in awe. The painting also had 24K gold thingie. George's not sure what they are called.
"That's an inspiration, the painting beside it, though, is from personal experience." Dream said. George looked over, it was a painting of a person, whose eyes were hidden by painting flowers over them. The background was full of flowers, and it also had those gold things on it. The person was outlined in black, which stood out and made it look beautiful. George was mesmerized.
"I have another idea for my painting. If you want, you can come over and watch me paint, and maybe let's get to know each other for the time being."
George liked the idea.
——
Clay was funny, kind, generous and a really handsome man. They had spent the night together at Clay's house when he asked to come over and watch him paint. They have been hanging out every day. George got to know Clay better, same goes Clay. They learn something new about each other everyday.
George learned that Clay is scared about amusement park rides. He hates it. With passion. George finds it hilarious and teases him about it. He also learnt that Clay sometimes pours himself a drink and starts painting, drunk painting, if that's a word. Clay tells him that he let his emotions take control of the painting.
George was talking about his childhood days with Clay, Clay laughing at hilarious moments about the brunette's life, when a phone suddenly rang. George whips his phone out to see that his manager, Karl, is ringing him. Then it hit George like a train.
First, he has been here for a week now. Second, he never told him when he's coming back.
Honestly, George thought that will come back to America in 4 days, but meeting Clay has changed his life and perspective. He wants to stay and hang out with Clay. Nevertheless, he picked up the call, telling Clay that it's important.
"George!" Karl screamed on the other side, making George's ears ring.
"Stop shouting your ass." George said, irritated. He loved his friend, but sometimes, Karl just gets agitated.
"When are you coming back?! Boss told me to call you and maybe start writing another book! The recent book was a success." Karl stated, making George .
He doesn't want to go. His heart is yelling no. He doesn't know why he doesn't want to go, but he just can't.
"Did you tell him I'm on a break?" George said, frustrated. He hates his boss, he really does. George sometimes wants to be a self proclaimed author, working at home.
"I did. He doesn't budge, you know that." Karl said, sadly.
When George first joined the company, he was overworked. He couldn't sleep for days and he would wake up after an hour of sleep to brainstorm ideas. Karl was there. He was there whenever George was crying himself to sleep. He knows the hardships George faced. He sometimes wishes that George would just leave the company, be himself.
"You know what Karl?" George said, after a while. He has made his decision. "I think I'm gonna take your suggestion." George said. Karl got confused. His suggestion? He doesn't remember.
"Which was?"
"Leaving the company for good."
Clay watched as George talked seriously to the person on the phone. After all the time they had spent, he never saw George this dead serious. He was goofy, always teasing him and making him flustered. He likes it when he gets George's attention.
"Do you want to drink?" George said bluntly. Clay gets the hint, something must have happened. Clay nodded, unsure. "Do you have wine in your house or do we have to buy it?"
"I have it."
And that's when they started walking to Clay's house.
——
George gulps down his third glass of wine and Clay just watches him gulp it all down. Clay learned a new fact about George. He gets drunk really easily. He noticed the red tint on George's cheeks and ears and his droopy eyes.
George looks hot. And Clay would be lying if he said he didn't.
"You know," George spoke up, maybe for the first time after they entered Clay's house. "I hate my parents." Clay raised his eyebrows. He doesn't know if he wants to stop him from babbling or let his pain get away from his chest. "They didn't like the idea of me being a writer. They hated it. I was a brilliant scholar, straight A+, sometimes called the teacher's pet, so it went downhill when I told them that I wanted to be a writer."
George pours himself another cup, that's his fourth one, Clay thinks. "Now look at me, I am a famous writer. Everyone knows me, but why do I feel so sad? I have everything I ever wanted." George blabbers, Clay is still thinking about what George said, a writer? George's a writer?
"The company I was working for are fucking shit. They looked at me as if I was a working machine." George said, loudly, anger lacing on his voice. Clay sips the drink and looks over. He was caught off guard, to see George sitting beside him. He can feel the heat seeping in his cheeks.
"Did you know when we first met?"
Clay nods. "The book. The book which you were reading?" He does. It was the newest book of G404.
"Have you seen his face?" Clay shook his head. He doesn't want to dig deep, so he stays out of interviews and the internet, so that he can go outside and see the world. "It's me. Am G404."
Something in Clay striked. His eyes widened and his breath hitched. So the man he gets flustered around, the man he was hanging around for days, was fucking G404?! Clay feels embarrassed. George grabs Clay's coat and pulls him in, invading George's personal face.
He can imagine his face being so fucking red, red as a fucking beetroot.
"You know, the past week we have been hanging out," He started blabbering. "I felt something tingling inside here." George motions his hand, pointing it toward his chest. "It's fluttering, really fluttery. I love it. I love it when I am around you."
Clay is going to faint for sure tonight.
"I would be lying if I didn't find you hot."
George didn't register when soft pairs of lips were over his. It was a feathery feeling. George was too drunk to even kiss back, but nevertheless he did. It was a simple, sweet kiss. George's lips felt like honey, while Clay's lips felt like vanilla. Two men, who were in denial, are kissing each other drunk. It was Clay's first kiss, and he wishes that he's George's first too.
The night was blurry after it.
——
George calls someone, hearing the ringing noise until a familiar person picks it up. "How's the blog?" He asks. He hasn't checked out the news about him leaving the company, he hasn't heard the reviews and what people think.
"You should really make an honest announcement honestly. You aren't getting any backlash, everyone is being supportive, you are getting scared over nothing George." Karl said, smiling a bit.
George hums and brings his laptop on his lap, opening it and watching it come to life. He went over to the website and saw the comments. It was… great. People were actually being supportive by taking his decision. He feels happy that they still love him.
"I am happy, Karl. Truly am." George said, laughing as his eyes got teary. Karl giggles.
"Don't tell me you are crying." Karl teased, and George laughed. He knows him so well, maybe too well.
Suddenly soft footsteps were heard down the hall. George smiled to himself. He's awake. Finally.
"Also I have an idea for a book." George said, unsure. Karl sat up and squealed. "That's amazing! Tell me abo-" "It's a happy ending." Karl screams, George feels sorry for his poor ears.
"How did you suddenly get inspiration after coming back?!" Karl said loudly. George laughed.
"I met someone."
Karl started teasing. "You met someone and you didn't tell me? You ass."
George feels someone back hug him, and he slowly melts into the hug, smiling at the sensation.
"Good morning." A deep voice said and kissed George's neck.
"Did I ever tell you that your morning voice sounds hot?"
Clay smiled and kissed his forehead, before standing up and going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. George watched him leave, until a voice broke his gaze.
"Who the hell was that?! You better tell me this instance." Karl screamed, it was like the scream of your best friend finding out that you have a boyfriend.
"That's someone I met. He came back with me. Maybe you two can meet, if you are free honestly." George asked.
"Of course! I wanna see who stole your cold heart that even I couldn't melt!"
"Shut the hell up Karl!"
They said their goodbyes and George walked into the kitchen to find Clay. He saw Clay sitting in the dining room, thinking.
"What's up with your mind this morning?" George hugs him back and looks at Clay, facing him.
"Nothing. Just thinking how I snatched a cute brunette like you." Clay smiled and booped his nose with him.
"Karl wants to meet you. He's my manager and the head of my blog. So get ready to meet him, I'm sure he's taking the first flight to London."
Clay nods and stands up, slipping his hand on George's waist and pulling him close. "Where are my morning kisses?" George laughs before kissing him.
Life is great. He fell in love, really fucking hard, and he's happy that he met him.