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————————(Chapter #1: Conflict)————————
The bedroom air was dry and stale, the itchiness in his throat making it hard to fall asleep. In an almost instinctual manner, George grabbed his glasses and groggily rose from bed, his eyes, still heavy with sleep, were practically closed, and his once silky curls now a frizzy mess.
Sleepily wiping drool from the corner of his mouth, George began to make his way down the stairs, creeping quietly, past the front door, and into the kitchen, not wanting to wake either of them while searching for a snack. After settling on a glass of cold milk and a few of the biscuits Lockwood kept so heavily guarded, he plopped down in front of the fridge and munched quietly, the cold kitchen air chasing away any remaining sleepiness and providing him with a bit of clarity to think about what Lockwood had said during their argument. The fridge's LEDs, being his only source of light, cast his features in a pale glow whose shadows practically painted anguish on his face as he recalled their argument:
“Lockwood, why can't you see that she's messing everything up. Our company, our lives, everything has changed horribly.” George shouted, trying to suppress the feelings behind his behind childish remark. "It's not her fault that you've gotten so used to this. You're clingy and terrified of change. But for what? Look around, George, there's no way we could've kept living on our own like this. It was bound to happen, and you're the one making everything harder than it needs to be." Lockwood's words weighed heavily in every part of him, and for a brief moment it felt like with each breath he took, they were that much closer to crushing him completely.
George's thoughts of inadequacy were merely pushed aside as he remembered the rationale behind his argument, never mind the messy feelings attached. George just couldn't understand why Lockwood was so intent on changing things. Bringing another person in just complicated everything, especially when they were already drowning in bills as is. He made sure to let Lockwood know this, as well as the fact that out of all the people he could have possibly employed, he had chosen the absolute worst.
That girl, Lucy. She was irrational and arrogant, constantly breaking rules and risking all of their lives with each mistake she made. So why had he been so insistent about hiring her despite knowing how horribly her past employers spoke of her work? Why did he continue to defend her when it was always her accidents that cost us so much? And why the hell did he always look at her like that? George sniffled, accidentally crumbling the biscuit he was about to eat out of frustration. Taking in a deep breath, thoughts of what he wished he had said then came spilling out, along with the growing desire to shed tears. "We weren't on our own Lockwood, we had each other. But now you have her, and she has you. Where on earth does that leave me? He questioned, his voice beginning to tremble.
George was already struggling to fight back the warmth of his cheeks and the dampness forming at his eyes, so the second he caught whim of the scene playing out before him, he began to unravel completely. It was Lockwood assuming the same stance he had only moments ago in an attempt to be silent, only Lockwood was carrying bags. George’s heart sank. He shot up from the cold kitchen floor and silently reached the front door just in time to witness Lockwood standing there in the doorframe staring up at the starry night sky, with a bag of his belongings in hand.
George hesitated to speak, after all the years he spent hiding his emotional episodes, he didn't want this to be the last thing Lockwood remembered him as, —a teary, trembling mess as the slightest thought of him leaving. But more than that it scared him, to know what Lockwood would do if he found out he wasn't as strong as he lead on, maybe he'd be disappointed, or feel betrayed, what if he never wanted to see him again
The icy air escaping from the open door snapped George back, and something told him that if he let Lockwood go now things would never be the same again, so despite his better judgment, he spoke: “Lockwood—” George paused, his voice seemingly startling him. “George...” Lockwood sighed. Sounding audibly fed up, as he slowly turned around, fully expecting another argument to take place. However, once he had gotten a clear view, it was obvious that George had been crying. His eyes were red and puffy, matching the rest of his face, and his swollen cheeks were damp with tears that he unconvincingly attempted to hide. It was a pitiful sight, yet one that struck something within Lockwood.
Unsure of what to do, Lockwood just stood there, his stern expression along with his unbothered facade slowly beginning to crack as he continued to take in the sorry sight unfolding before his eyes. In an attempt to break the silence, Lockwood picked his brain for anything reassuring to say, nearly promising a quick return, if it weren't for a soft voice cutting him off before he could even finish his thought. “Anthony, please… don't leave.” George spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and more tears beginning to form in his eyes despite determined attempts to hold them back. It was a simple request, one that could've been easy to ignore if it weren't for the desperation in his voice, he was begging.
In all the years they had spent living under the same roof Lockwood had never once seen him shed a tear, let alone get this vulnerable. Though truthfully he always knew George was always a bit sensitive, their walls weren't sound proof after all, and those documentaries on the Problem could only muffle so much in their quiet home. But Lockwood respected his need for privacy, it wasn't like he was the world's most outrageous sentimental either. Instead he told himself that some space was all that was needed and left the subject untouched. But now? He was standing face to face with all the uncomfortable feelings he kept behind closed doors, (literally) and how they had grown.
In that moment Lockwood realized what he should've done from the beginning, he should've been there, he should've never let it come to this. For George, the most logical person he knew, to feel like he had to give up all rationale and beg him to stay, instead of running away from his problems like he always did. Was the awakening Lockwood needed.
He dropped his bags and stumbled back into the house, desperate to make up for all the times he decided his indifference was just disguised empathy. “Hey, hey, it's ok” he said, speaking softly as he approached. George was shaking now, and no matter how many times he called his name Lockwood's words just didn't seem to reach him. So he took a deep breath and leaned towards George, wrapping both arms around him and holding on tight.
George froze, the confusion and relief he felt was visible, but neither of them spoke. Lockwood could feel every single tremble, and hitched breath for himself now, and it terrified him. The fact that someone cared for him enough verge an emotional breakdown. The guilt weighed heavier as he watched George notice the trembling and try to force it away, frantically putting his hands up to his chest in hopes of muffling the feeling, but Lockwood only held him closer. Resting one arm over his shoulders and pulling him onto his chest and the other around his waist pulling him against his own. Lockwood didn't want to choose indifference any longer, he wanted to know every emotion George felt and to help him through all of it, but truthfully didn't know how to say any of that.
George buried his head into Lockwood's chest feeling humiliated, he was still shaking and now Lockwood had seen it, he didn't know why but tears kept falling and it felt like a million things were happening all at once.
Lockwood began rubbing soft circles on his back in hopes of calming down the trembling but it just wouldn't stop and George still hadn't said a single word, his only indication that this wasn't for nothing was the way George held him as well. Both his arms remained tightly wrapped around Lockwood's lower back while his hands clutched the bottom fabric of his button down for dear life, slightly raising it.
He definitely needed to get his shirt ironed and dry cleaned after this but at least he knew that George didn't seem to mind his hug. But after a few minutes of this embrace, Lockwood was getting desperate, he just wanted to know how George was doing, but he refused to make eye contact, instead just staring down the buttons of Lockwood's shirt and holding him, completely lost in thought.
Lockwood felt the warm dampness of more tears seeping through the thin fabric of his button down and clinging to his skin when he finally spoke the words he knew he should have much earlier. As he began to speak, the hesitation in his voice was palpable, but it was clear his words were genuine “...George, I won't leave you. I'll stay right here as long as you need me to, ok?” He said reassuringly, running one hand through George's dark hair and using it to push the curls from his eyes, finally allowing the eye contact they were both desperate for. “…ok,” George said gently, finally lifting his gaze to meet Lockwood's, his cheek still resting on the front pocket of Lockwood's button down.