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“George? George! Dont’cha know you're the best?”
George sharply opened his eyes, yet again kept awake by another memory of Lennie. Yet again, his eyes got filled tears as he remembered himself blushing as Lennie hugged him tightly after he said those words.
“Goddammit, Lennie… I knew I shoulda shot myself too back then. I shoulda joined ya, Lennie, I shoulda joined ya!”
He yelled his last four words and made sleeping birds around him fly off in surprise. George sat up from his spot in the grasses and and looked around. He had devolved into nothing short of a thief, making his living running from town to town stealing food, travelling, and taking rests whenever he could in the middle of nowhere. George no longer stopped at ranches for work—he just travelled the country without a purpose, reducing him to a vagabond. He was nothing without Lennie.
It was a clear, beautiful, summer night by the river George was sleeping at, and fireflies danced around him like glowing pixies as he got on his hands and knees and looked for something. He sighed with relief when he found it, a white bunny he found once and adopted for his own.
“There you are, Len. I thought you’d run away after I been yellin’.”
He petted the bunny with as it slept peacefully. He let one tear shed, then gently took the bunny and held it against him.
“Goddammit, Lennie, I miss ya so much. Ain't ya proud of this rabbit I named afta’ ya? He's so cute and fragile but really damn strong, kinda like you. One o’ the reasons I named ‘im after you.” George frowned and buried his face in the bunny. “I miss ya so much, Lennie,” he sobbed.