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Rain pummels the concrete, soaking every patch of grass lining the sidewalks. A thick fog clings to the world outside, so dense, not even the brightest taillights can pierce through it.
Geordie stares out the window with a slight pout, lips curled in frustration. He’s stuck here, unable to get home, and worse - completely alone. No friends, no noise. Just the sound of rain.
He pulls away from the glass and starts down the hallway, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his slacks. Something clicks in his mind—Matt's distortion pedal. Left behind in the studio. The thought alone perks him up.
That thing’s a beast. He’s wanted to try it for weeks.
Without another thought, he bolts, sneakers squeaking loudly on the concrete floor. Then, he opens the door.
Cameron’s already there. Sitting on the floor, head bowed, shoulders trembling. He’s wiping at his eyes, clearly trying to hide the fact he’s been crying.
"..Cam?-"
But the moment Geordie calls him out, he jumps with a high-pitched yelp, startled by his very presence.
"Jesus fuck," he cussed, getting up as he brushes his t-shirt off. "You could've, I don't know, knock the damn door!?"
Geordie just shrugged, closing the door behind him before taking one more look at Cameron. His tear-streaked expression is etched on his face, ridden with unspoken burden. His concern only grew, a soft sigh leaving his mouth. As if he knew.
“…Was it those kids again?” Geordie asks, already moving toward one of the guitar cases and flipping it open.
Cameron scoffs, sniffing hard. “Ugh.. no. Whatever. Yes!” he barks, too loud, too defensive.
Geordie freezes, fingers halting over the pedal. He glances back, then takes a few cautious steps forward. He remembers how Cameron can lash out, slam doors, storm into rehearsals with a storm cloud over his head. It’s intimidating. So, in near slow motion, he inched closer to wrap his arms around him. Hugging him.
Cameron just.. paused. Now, this is something new. Even if he had longed for it before, this still felt unreal. Then, he just pushes him off, sighing. "You.. you don't understand."
"Wh- what?" Geordie looked taken aback, hands still raised a little as he puts on a perplexed expression.
"Why would you hug a faggot like me?" Cameron drops, close to crying again.
He paused. "N-no I.. I don't think you are,"
"Don't think about saying that word!" he cuts him off, sharply.
"..a freak." the shorter man added quietly.
He knows that look on Cameron’s face. He’s seen it before, in the halls, in the bathroom, in passing glances that lasted too long. That wounded, guarded look. It’s familiar. And now, seeing it up close again, it hurts. So he steps forward and hugs him again. Tighter this time.
Cameron huffs out a scoff. “Stop it… jeez…”
“Shut up,” Geordie mutters, face pressed to his shoulder. “Just let me, yeah?”