November 5th
We finally charged our phones, and at first it I was excited. I got to hear from my friends again, and they messaged me A LOT. However, it quickly turned for the worst when Clay's mom called us.
George wasn't popular. The only people who reached out to him were Tommy and Wilbur. However, he was easily mistaken as popular because of the frequency in which his two best friends constantly spammed him. The moment his phone had been resurrected from its technological death, it blew up with a whole day's worth of spams and messages coming in all at once to the point he had to silence his phone.
Clay sat across from him slurping away at his morning coffee as he watched George struggle to keep up with the notifications. The morning diner they sat at was quiet with it being past the breakfast rush. In fact, it was nearly noon. Their table sat against a wall, and between their seats were outlets. They each charged their phones with George's coming to life first.
"You can mute them, you know," He said.
"I did that once. They blocked me for the rest of the school year." He watched the notifications come in, and he nearly spat out his breakfast when he saw a missed call from someone whose contact name wasn't 'The Child' or 'Wilbur Soot'. "Drista called me yesterday."
"Really? She told me she hates calling," Clay replied as he bit into his breakfast burrito. "Either she's pissed off or scared. Those are the only two occasions she's ever called me."
His phone buzzed, and his face paled as he checked the notification. "I missed a call from my mom." He brought the phone up to his ear and sat back. He took slow, deep breaths as he listened to the phone ring. When his mom picked up, he sat up and ruffled up his hair. "Hi mom—" He cut himself off, and the small voice of his mother nagging him could be heard from across the table. Clay glanced up at George for a brief moment before the latter's personal phone went off.
Tommy: GEORGE IF YOU DONT ANSWER RIGHT NOW THEN YOU'RE CONFIRMING THAT YOU LIKE DICK
Wilbur: There's nothing wrong with George liking dick, Tommy
Tommy: shut up, dickhead. I'm trying to get him to answer
Tommy: HE READ IT GEORGE ANSWER RIGHT NOW
George had begun to type up a response when Clay slipped out of the booth. He stepped up to George and handed him a twenty-dollar bill.
"Can you pay?" He asked, still holding the phone to his ear.
"We just got here, how long is that going to take?" He took the money anyway, and Clay left without another word. As George peered over his shoulder, the younger boy exited the restaurant. Before his mind could wander, his phone went off again, and he went to finish up his response only to find Drista was calling him. He picked up.
"Where are you?" Drista said the moment he picked up. She didn't sound mad or scared as Clay had assumed. She sounded indifferent. If she had felt any strong emotions, she hid it well enough for George to not pick up on it.
"Having breakfast," He replied.
"Why did you and Clay just fall off the face of the Earth yesterday?"
"Both of our phones died. We're fine, Drista. I'm keeping your brother out of trouble." He could hear the chatter of the lunchroom in the background. It reminded him of how he up and left. He should have been in the cafeteria right now with either Bad and Skeppy or Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity. There were things he forgot to do before he unexpectedly left such as giving Techno back his homework and gathering all his friends' numbers. The only number he had was Bad's, and he never used it and preferred to use socials that George didn't have.
He wondered how Sapnap was doing; he didn't seem to line up with the classic signs of someone being 'okay'. Though, George didn't see their break-up as a bad thing— if two soulmates don't love each other, then they shouldn't be together. It was such simple logic that, had Sapnap known, could have saved him from unnecessary heartbreak. Maybe Sapnap didn't know why Clay had broken up with him, even if there weren't many other reasons for these break-ups to happen.
"How'd your soccer game go yesterday?" George asked instead. He sat back and gazed at Clay's empty seat in front of him.
"I messed up bad, George," She replied. "I was out of line and I kept missing the goal. It was bad. We got destroyed by St. Francis."
"I'm sure you did better than you think you did."
"No, I did just awfully. I'm glad you didn't go. It's so embarrassing."
"Well, all great athletes have terrible games. If anything, that gives you something to have in common with them. You're one step closer to the big leagues now."
Drista chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I guess. This is why I go to you when I feel bad."
"Yeah, it's only one game— and it's the first game of the season at that. It's good to get all the bad plays out now rather than later."
"Why did the season have to start so early?" Drista groaned. "Clay told me soccer season starts after Thanksgiving break. It would have given me more time to prepare."
"You'll be okay. It's only one bad game. Were your parents there?"
"Obviously. They never miss a game," Drista replied. "I've been playing soccer since I was seven and the only game they've missed was when Clay ran away. But even then, they made it to the last half after finding him."
"Wait, he ran away?"
"He always does. Every time he gets in trouble he claims he's running away and never coming back, but he always comes back by curfew," Drista replied. "Mom told me he's just doing it for attention. The last time he ran away was, like, a week before you arrived. Nobody went looking for him and he was back home by curfew."
"Ah," George mumbled.
"What do you mean 'ah'?"
"Are your parents worried about us at all?"
"Oh, mom's pissed." Drista laughed. "They saw your little money withdrawal all the way in North Carolina and they freaked. They thought you guys were just driving around the block or something." George heard the faint ring of a bell. And the chatter was replaced with the scuffling of the students around her. "Welp, got to go, George. Oh wait, one last thing. Will you be back in time for my next game? It's on Thursday, and it's a home game."
"Um, we can try to make it. I don't know when Clay is planning on taking us home. I've just been going along with whatever he wants."
"Oh, that must suck. We can talk about it later. Bye." She quickly hung up before George could say goodbye.
He decided that if Clay wasn't back yet, he probably wasn't coming back and decided to pay and take the leftovers with him. Clay stood in front of the windows, pacing back and forth. Occasionally, he'd stop and say something before returning back to pacing with his open hand fidgeting with his sweater. George waited inside until he saw his phone lower from his ear and him sit down on the sidewalk with his head bowed.
He pushed open the diner door and hovered over the younger boy.
"I have leftovers." He held the plastic bag out.
"I'm not hungry," Clay mumbled as he lightly tapped the edge of his phone on the concrete.
"Well, I am. I thought you weren't coming back and paid." He sat down next to the boy. Taking out his breakfast, he pulled out Clay's phone charger as well and handed it to him. When he didn't seem to notice it, George dropped it into his lap. "So you're making me carry the conversation this time?" He stabbed into his french toast. It was as if George was talking to the air as Clay leaned against the window behind them and huffed a heavy breath. "Looks like we're sitting in silence then."
And so they did. Neither said another word as George finished his breakfast. They, instead, listened to the soft tunes of the wind rustling through the trees. Leaves spun and scuffled down the parking lot. Birds dropped in front of them in search of any litter left behind. Occasionally, George would see a flock in the sky. How birds were capable of staying so coordinated, he didn't know. It amazed him how such a limited language birds spoke were enough for them to stay so coordinated in the sky. They knew exactly where they stood in the group. Meanwhile, humans had hundreds of far more organized languages to speak and communication was still full of misunderstandings and misinformation. Perhaps it was because of how complicated humans were. They couldn't live simply. They always made life complicated.
"Do you even want to be here?" Clay asked, glancing over to George as he swirled his french toast around the syrup.
"Not really, at first, but now it's cool," George replied as his thought process brought about by the pigeon walking around in front of them was interrupted. "I'm surprised you care enough to ask."
"Did you feel forced to go?"
George snickered. "No. You're not that intimidating, Clay. Your sister is scarier and she's fourteen."
"Then why'd you come with me?"
"Because." He shrugged as he mixed the syrup around absentmindedly. "It's kind of like when you know someone is hurt, you let them drag you around and do whatever they want to help them feel better."
"You do that with your friends. We weren't friends."
"You don't have to be friends with someone to know when they're hurt."
"I'm not hurt."
"Then why are you driving me up the east coast?"
"Because I want my hours."
"Oh yeah. Your hours that won't even count because I'm not a legal driver. Okay." He took a bite of his food. "I know what it's like to want to run away, Clay. That's why I'm here with you and not back home with my two friends and dysfunctional family."
"You didn't have to come."
"Yeah, but my best friend is Wilbur. And whenever I felt down, he never left me alone until I felt better. I guess some of his stupid tendencies rubbed off on me. You know, he was the one who told me to leave."
"Why?"
"Because when you reach a point where you feel like you stopped moving, it's time to go in a new direction."
The birds chirped generously throughout the plaza. It sounded as if they sat under a bird hotspot. The wind brushed up between the two boys, and it caused light goosebumps to erupt against George's skin. They were barely into November, and it was already growing colder every day. He shivered, and Clay stood up.
"Alright, let's go. We can quickly buy a portable charger and head up to Virginia."
"How'd your phone call with your mom go, by the way?" George asked as he cleaned up the food and stood up.
"It went," Clay replied as he threw his hood over his head and turned to George. He had a slight frown, and George held out the plastic bag.
"You should eat before we go."
Clay stared down at the bag. "Umm, no, I'll be fine."
"You haven't eaten all day and it's already noon."
"Yeah, because I spent the majority of the morning asleep. Like I said, I'm not hungry. You can have it if you want."
As the two reached the car, Clay was quick to enter and slam the door. George, meanwhile, took a quick sweep of his surroundings. North Carolina was beautiful. It was full of nature and trees. The air smelled sweet like the maple trees surrounding the parking lot. He hoped Virginia would have similar weather.
The moment he entered the car and clicked on his seatbelt, Clay asked, "Mind if I use your phone?"
"For what?" Clay made grabby hands for the phone, and without his answer, George handed it over.
"Nice phone case." He messed with the pop socket and ran his fingers down the light blue phone case. "Why does your pop socket say 404 on it?"
"Because it's a cool number."
"Isn't that an error message?" Clay smiled softly. "404 not found. What are you, some kind of nerd? Shortynotfound? Georgenotfound?"
"That's a stupid name."
He snickered. "Maybe. It's catchy, though." He took his own phone and flipped it overand held the two cases side-by-side. They both had IPhones, though Clay's was a tad longer. He had a faded black and lime green case that was full of scratches and minor cracks. As he started the car, he rolled down the window.
"Unlock your phone." He handed the phone back to George.
"Why?"
"Just trust me."
George was reluctant to give in, but unlocked his phone anyway. He had nothing to hide, anyway. All that was in his phone were all his conversations between Wilbur and Tommy. The most embarrassing thing Clay would find would be his search history. It was full of random questions he thought to himself either in the middle of class or the middle of the night.
The first thing Clay did upon receiving the now unlocked phone was go straight to the camera and began taking random pictures of himself. He ruffled up his hair and erratically changed angles while spamming the camera to the best of his ability.
"That's what you wanted to do?" George asked, unimpressed by the amount of blurry selfies he'd have to take the time to delete later.
Clay took a picture of the inside of his mouth and laughed to himself softly. "No, I do this every time I get into someone's phone." He exited the camera app and scrolled around. After a few moments of complaining about George not having any folders and having no organization for the minimal amount of apps he had, he showed George his screen. On it was the map with a clear route from North Carolina to Virginia.
"Alright, ready?" He asked.
"Yeah, but why do you have to use my phone?"
"Because I don't have a phone."
"What? Yeah you—" Clay chucked the green and black phone out the window, and George's heart dropped as he watched it disappear down the street. "What the hell?"
"Time to go." He revved up the car, and before George could process exactly what happened, they had already driven away.
==========
Tbh I wrote like four chapters in a row LOLLL and I can tell you rn that it's gonna be interesting.
Also read my wattpad/discord wife's books plz :) (yes, both of them).
Oh wait now I remember what my a/n was supposed to be about LOL. School is starting on Monday for me so that means ~slower updates~ woooo but I'll try just for you lovely ppl. Sooo I'll see you guys in the next chapter :) bye!!