TW: Mentions of disassociating, bad eating habits, and self harm.

George and Oliver were the perfect couple.

He remembered when he had tweeted about their relationship, finally comfortable with his sexuality and ready to be open with who he was as a person. George's community had still been growing but was so accepting, offering congratulations and wondering when Oliver would show up in his streams.

And they did stream together. The two of them had laughed hysterically as George attempted to teach his lover how to play Minecraft, giggling together when Oliver would make some dumb mistake, like falling off a mountain or hitting a pigman.

They were in love, and everyone knew it.

Everyone was wrong apparently.

"I just don't....think this is going to work anymore, George."

George gaped at his boyfriend (ex?). "What?"

Oliver sighed and shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Their sofa. "It's just....I've been thinking about this for a bit and..."

His eyes flicked up to George's nervously, then lowered in shame.

"There's someone else."

George's heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel his blood rushing from his face, paling.

"Someone else?" he asked, astonished. "We've been together for two years, Olly. How is there just 'someone else' out of nowhere?"

Oliver glanced out the window at the darkening sky. It was getting late. "I've been...talking with him recently. His name is Edward."

George scoffed in disbelief and stood up, pacing angrily up and down the living room. Oliver watched him anxiously.

"Are you upset?"

George exploded. "Of course I'm upset, you idiot! How can you just throw two years out in the bin? I don't understand it!"

"Oh it's not just my fault, George!" Oliver said, sounding irritated as he stood up as well. Marching over to the other man, he jabbed his finger into his chest, making George stumble back a step and glare coldly at him. "You've been acting odd for weeks now! I can't even remember the last time we had sex!"

"Don't act like this is about sex," George said in disbelief. "This is about you wanting to be with someone else. After everything we've been through!"

Oliver frowned and grabbed George by the wrist, yanking him closer. "This isn't my fault," he said desperately. George struggled to pull his arm from Oliver's grasp.

"Let go!" he snapped, finally pulling free. Without stopping to think, he reached back and smacked the other man right across the cheek. Stunned into silence, Oliver looked at him with wide eyes, hand pressed to his reddening cheek, meeting George's tear filled ones.

"Get out of my house," he whispered, rage filling his quiet words. When Oliver didn't move, he yelled.

"NOW!"

The other staggered to grab his things, slipping his shoes on and throwing one last glance at George before leaving the apartment. George swore loudly and collapsed onto the sofa, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his face fall into his hands.

Where did this all go wrong? He thought they were doing fine.

Was it really about sex the whole time? He knew they hadn't done anything in a while, but George had been busy with his channel and Oliver had been busy working at the office - though he assumed half of that time that he was 'at work' he could've been with Edward.

"Fuck," George whispered, tears falling down his cheeks and onto his jeans, darkening the blue fabric.

This was all his fault wasn't it?

He fell asleep on the sofa that night, only waking up when his phone started ringing from where he had set it in the kitchen last night. His head was pounding from the effort he had put into sobbing before he fell asleep, and he winced as the room whirled once he got to his feet. Hobbling towards the kitchen, he picked up his phone, heart sinking once he saw the caller ID.

Dream.

He declined the call, only then realizing that his phone was flooded with dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts from both Dream and Sapnap. Both were curious as to where he was - he had been AWOL for nearly 24 hours by now. Normally he would call one of them, explain what had happened, and they would help him through it. Like they always did.

Right now, he was too numb. He couldn't feel a thing.

Rubbing a hand through his dirty hair, he walked slowly down the hall to his bedroom, staring blankly at the closet before he realized that Oliver had already packed his clothes and other things. He must've been planning last night for a while. With that thought, more tears filled George's eyes and he collapsed into his bed, curling his thin frame around a pillow and holding it close.

Thoughts swirled through his mind, none of them good. His stomach growled but he couldn't be bothered to feed it.

He fell asleep with tear tracks staining his cheeks.

His phone was ringing again. This time it was Oliver. George opened his eyes and hesitated before answering.

"Hello?"

"What do you want, Oliver?" George mumbled, too upset to be anything other than sad. Being angry took up too much energy that he didn't have.

"I...just wanted to check up on you. I'm worried about you. I know you never really ate unless I reminded you and that you used to have issues with-"

"I'm fine," George snapped, his eyebrows dipping in irritation. "It's not your job to check in on me. Not after...what you did. Don't call me anymore."

He hung up before Oliver could say anything else, and burst out in tears once more.

No one ever told him that love would hurt him. If he had known it would, he never would have gone in so deep.

He was sitting on the floor of his closet, boxes scattered around him as he tried to work up the emotional effort it would take to pack the things that Oliver had forgotten. He hadn't managed to pack up a single thing, opting instead to stare blankly at the loafers sitting atop a pile of wrinkled dress shirts.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Then thirty. It felt like only seconds had gone by before George blinked and glanced down at his phone - Dream was calling again. He let the call go through, watching as his screen lit up with the notification before dimming back to black.

He couldn't tell him what had happened. Dream had been so excited for George when he had gotten together with Olly. Oliver.

He couldn't call him Olly anymore. He wasn't his anymore.

TW: SH

He sat with his legs crossed, holding his wrists with each hand around his knees. Looking down, he studied with mild interest the deep white scars that littered his arms. None fresh, but still painfully visible.

He hadn't harmed in two years. He had stopped for Oliver. He had cried into George's shoulder when he found out what George had been doing. It hadn't happened since.

There wasn't really a point in keeping that up now, was there?

He stood from his spot on the floor and moved robotically towards the bathroom, towards the sweet relief that waited for him in the bottom drawer, beneath the sink. As blood trickled slowly down his arm and onto the cold, tile floor, a sick smile made its way across George's lips.

This was better. Right?

From where it sat on the floor of the closet, his cell phone rang again, lighting up with Oliver's contact photo. In the bathroom, George ignored it and turned the shower on, watching the water run pink.