George was completely alone.

Tears fell on the white glasses in his hands. He clutched them tighter.

He sat on the railing. The dark water rushed under his feet.

He was cold; everything was cold and still wet.

Everything was also quiet. Besides the black river and the sound of his crying.

Don't ever talk to me again.

George squeezed the glasses and hugged them against his chest.

Dream hated him. He had proof. His worst fear came true.

And he still wasn't over it. It was 17 days ago. It could have been last night. It still hurt like a fresh stab wound.

He didn't remember everything that happened.

He had gotten way too drunk and embarrassed himself. Embarrassed himself so much.

He remembered touching Dream's hair, looking at his face, practically curling up in his lap. He must have been so uncomfortable.

He didn't remember what he said. Or what Dream- Clay- said back. He was only Clay now; George couldn't dream about him again.

He didn't remember anything past blurry images of sitting on the couch with him. Then he woke up hungover at Grian's house.

That was before he knew. He sat up and drank the water, then he heard something crinkle in his pocket. The note.

Don't ever talk to me again.

His world fell apart. He had to get away.

He had to run away.

He couldn't go back home. He passed by to get his bike and threw his phone through the window.

He left.

He couldn't go back to school and see Clay's face. He couldn't see anyone after what he did.

He had destroyed everything.

George sobbed harder. He was completely alone.

Maybe Sapnap missed him, but he had other friends. He would forget soon.

Maybe Grian and Mumbo missed him, but they had lots of friends. They didn't need him.

He looked at the glasses one last time. He had finally come to the bridge to do it.

Clay's gift to him. His favorite present. The thing he treasured most. These glasses.

He hugged them one last time and sorrowfully wiped a tear off, thinking about how pitiful he was.

Then he held out his arm to drop them in the water.

It was time to let them sink like his dead hopes. Dead dreams.

He was about to let go when something came in front of his face. A blur of blue.

George blinked.

The bluejay.

It perched on his outstretched arm and cooed softly, intelligent eyes staring straight at him.

"You came back," he half-whispered.

It bobbed its little head and walked to his hand, where it stole the glasses from him.

"HEY-" Many things started happening at once: George opened his mouth -halfway through getting angry at the thievery- but he remembered he was getting rid of them anyway and the bird might as well steal them as him drop them in the water, either way they were gone; the bird took off from his arm holding the glasses in its beak, but it stopped and hovered for a second to look at him again, beating its wings to stay level with him but just out of reach over the water; as George was processing this he registered a noise coming from the side of the bridge and started turning toward it to comprehend what it was; the sound was just coming to him in slow motion when time stopped and restarted.

"GEORGE!" Dream screamed his name.

George in a split second recognized his voice and glimpsed him running, but the railing was slippery. It was wet and slick and when George turned he shifted his weight accidentally. Something must've- Clay shocked him so much or he wasn't balanced or he turned so fast, but before George realized what was happening, the road and Clay disappeared from his view.

He fell.

(645 words)