Chapter Text
George was falling, he was falling deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of his own creation. He couldn't, he couldn't do anything; not breathe, think, sleep, or deal with Lockwood and lucky incessant need for a complicated romance.
Why couldn't everything just go back to how it was before, before lucy- before everything after? Though he loved lucy and her presence, after she had come everything had become all the more complicated, from the bone glass to simply his and Lockwood's relationship, Lockwood had put less and less time into it as lucy and he became closer and closer, and since she could never apologize to Lockwood whenever they had an argument- he would take it out on George.
George knew that Lockwood liked lucy so when she showed the first sign of trouble George is still shameful to admit that he indeed wished for her to leave. But now, now things were different. Yes things were easier before her, but they were better with her, right? George did not know, he only knew that he missed Lockwood's presence, his soft smiles, and warm glances, he missed their undying truce and the way they never really fought. At least never fought before.
George does admit yet another one of his still shameful moments was his argument with Lockwood, though he doesn't quite remember how it started, he remembers the quiet anger he had felt, and even worse than that, the jealousy- in which the guilt had soon followed. In his defense, he had been tired, lonely, and frankly heartbroken when Lockwood had lashed out at him, even now it still hurt to think about it.
But right at this moment, he needed their help, their help and attention they had promised- well lucy had- a mere week ago after Pam's- no her psychotic episode, Lucy had apologized for not paying enough attention to his needs, and to put it quite bluntly- being a shit friend to George, whereas Lockwood hadn't even mentioned the incident since.
Now in the house alone, left to research a mad amount of work for the sudden demand for their skillset. There had been at least 5 cases only this week, and George liked to be thorough with his work, that meant taking 2-6 hours of time in a day to research the cases, depending on how much info they got from their clients (which usually wasn't that much). Nevertheless, here he was in the living room ignoring the looming deadline, and instead of heading to the archives, he was having a mental breakdown on the expensive carpet.
'I will not pass out,' he chanted in his head, though in reality, he hadn't slept for around 2-3 days, ' I am absolutely fine' he repeated like a mantra over and over again, as if that was magically going to make him ok; to make the tightness in his chest go away, the pounding in his head, and the burning from his eyes. 'Breathe' he tried to tell himself, "Bloody breath George dammit" he muttered, so he did, he slowed his quickening breaths now coming out as slow gasps instead of panicked ones. 'I am fine, absolutely fine', he then brushed his cheeks relieved to find them dry. '
'Not at that level of panicking yet are we then.'
George laughed "Yeah, thank the problem for that." he said to nobody in particular, or perhaps to somebody, no, no just to himself. God, he was really losing it.