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Chapter Text

The lights flash my eyes, yet they don’t get irritated. My hands on my hip, now one is resting on my face. I wink at the cameras and smirk; the girls behind the paparazzi scream louder for me than anyone else on this carpet, and I’m very aware. “George! Look here please! A little closer!”  

Cameramen and journalists surround me so much I can’t see my poor fans, shame; if I couldn’t hear them crying my name, I probably would’ve missed them. After winning my 2nd Oscar tonight, lots of people must’ve been quite interested in the best leading and last year’s best supporting actor which explains the amount of people surrounding me. 

I spot a reporter in the corner of my eye with a lensman approaching me. Lovely, here we go. Elegantly, I lift my dress, mimicking that Barbie Princess walk I kept reviewing, pretending not to see the camera. 

“George Plays! Let me tell you, everyone is going crazy for your new look with your white off-shoulder dress shirt and flowy, flowery mesh gown behind it! The colour gradient from white to red is brilliant! Not to mention the angelic makeup with the glitter and diamonds on your face; are those real red diamonds?” A woman from some TV show asks me. I fake a scoff. 

I look straight at the camera and then back at her. “Well, darling, I had only the rarest diamonds picked out for me, and it turns out the red matches my recent role. My whole outfit was practically planned out by God: a.k.a. my designer Darryl Noveschosch. This whole 'I murdered my own husband in our wedding dress and regret nothing' vibe was exactly what I thought would 'Wow!' everyone and obviously, me!” My face turns from a smile into a stuck-up type of expression. 

She and the cameraman seem to be eating it up, causing me to giggle. “Your tulle gloves top it all off! May I ask why you’ve gone for the femme side of fashion?” Ooh, she’s straight to the point, one of the gutsy ones. 

“Oh, great question!” The camera solely focuses on me. “Men why stop at suits when women have created a whole spectrum of clothing to choose from! Skirts? High-waisted shorts? Crop-tops? Let’s go boys! Besides, I need to create controversy and inspire at the same time. Nothing gets done in this world without a little revolution, right?” I put two of my fingers on my chin and lift it. “Chin up future queens, kings and monarchs, we’ll get the throne soon.” 

“Alright George, this was the most entertaining 90 seconds of the night. I understand exactly why you earned those Oscars, but I’ll unfortunately be leaving to see other celebrities! Goodbye, see you next year!” She concludes the interview and I continue to walk down the red carpet facing all the paparazzi and people waiting to meet me. 

Quite an interesting one, she is. Very bold, yet correct, to assume I’m coming back. It’s rare for someone to outright ask about my choices in clothes, makeup, overall appearance and style. Usually, they state questions in a way for me to find the implicit meaning, as to not get their company ‘cancelled’ for showing someone like me. 

The little stage experience ends after I’ve finally walked that quarter mile of red carpet and get into the limousine. Carefully, I check my gown, making sure it won’t get caught in the door; Darryl would destroy me and probably make all my clothes with less quality material, because I'm ‘going to break them anyways’. I give the final wave to the fans before heading inside. May I note that the traffic is horrible. All I want to do right now is get back to sleep; there was so much alcohol that I drank and to be honest, I'm a lightweight. 

I’d rather die than admit it’s because of how much I weigh and my height. Besides, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not sober anymore, and I do not need to be on meme pages. The doors close; my manager sits in front of me, unimpressed. “What’s the problem now, Nick? I didn’t swear... I think?” He gets even angrier. 

“George! You are getting another personal assistant! That is the 3rd time in a span of 2 years! You must make their job easier on them, but instead, you go around starting wars on the internet and they have to clean up the mess! I’m just lucky that I handle casting and events.” Rolling my eyes, I look back at him and click my tongue. 

My phone receives a few notifications that I was just about to check but then Karl snatches it from my hands. “Hey! I was looking at tha- Never mind. Fine. I’ll try to make their lives easier but on one condition; I will defend my morals no matter who’s show I appear on and I’ll deal with some online haters.” I’m waiting for Karl to reject my offer so that I don’t actually have to do any of it- 

“Deal! Great deal! Amazing, holy shit! You never do anything, so I don’t really care if you snap at someone. Congratulations!” Nick knows exactly what I expected. This asshole  knows  I didn’t mean any of it; I also won’t go against my word. “Once we get back into the studio, I’ll introduce you to the new personal assistant. He’s only 27 years old! Clearly recruited through... connections but we’ll test if he’s actually qualified.”  

27 years old? Oh no, he’s young and his dreams are to be absolutely crushed by the workload. “Are you sure about this? He’s probably not going to be able to breathe. I know you’re literally the same age but you’re some genius kid.”, worriedly asking; I’m genuinely concerned. I started out as one and it did not get easier at all; I just got faster, but not everyone can be that quick. Nick doesn’t seem to be panicked about him one bit. 

“Shut the hell up. I am not a kid; I'm 2 years younger than him and he’s actually one of my best friends.” Nick gives me some cocky smile. I still think that’s not enough to cut it. My workload is half of what a personal assistant does and someone with 10 years of experience quit so how’s this freshie going to survive? 

“Well, if he can handle being friends with you for more than an hour then he must be pretty stro-” My sentence gets cut off by a slap on my arm. “Ow! What was that for? It’s the truth!” 

Nick smiles a creepy smile. What? What is he thinking right now? “He’s from Florida.” Oh shit. He must be tough as hell. “He’s gotten arrested and was involved in a restaurant robbery; I think he can take care of himself.” 

I nod to myself. Look, I don’t know much about the United States, but I know Florida is a fucked-up land and if you can survive the robbery, theft and republicans; you can survive here. Though, I’m not sure he’s fast enough to keep up with the schedule or sharp enough to catch those higher ups’ dirty tricks. “Fine, I'll give him a chance, but if he messes up majorly and gets fired automatically, I'll only save him once.” 

Nick’s face lights up. “YES GEORGE! I LOVE YOU!”, he yells and puts clasps his hands together above his lowered head. I mutter a ‘kinky much’ followed by another slap on my arm. 

——————————————————————— 

The Limousine drives back to my office- well house. My home literally is an office with a bed, a gym and a fridge at this point. I exit the car with Nick. “New guys going to come in, in about 15 minutes, right?” He simply nods in response. “Hold on... what’s his name? I don’t think you told me yet.” 

We stand in front of the villa. Some car is parked so close to it; it makes me think about the time some robbers really thought I didn’t have an alarm system at the porch. Nick gasps at the sight of the vehicle, “Right! Sorry, forgot that he’s actually coming right now; I think that’s his car right there. His name’s-” 

“Clay. The name’s Clay, Mr. George.” My face scrunches up at his formality. I mean, what did I expect, really? He’s new and nervous. “Forgive me for coming early, I got a little anxious thinking about being late.”  

Early bird let’s see how long that lasts. “Eh, even if you were late, I knew you’d have balls to even apply to this shitshow.” Nick furrows his eyebrows at me as Clay is clearly shaken by my language, “Whatever bitches, I’m at my house and drunk at 6pm, give me a break. Get in” 

Doors opened, Clay, Nick and I agree to have the interview in my meeting room in 5 minutes. The 5 minutes is time to speedily get rid of my drunkenness. After about 2 litres of water and lots of fruits, I head back into the room where I see an uptight Clay and a bored Nick. “So, best friend of Nick, what makes you think you’re qualified? I know you had connections and I really don’t care if you can do the job properly. Pretend you don’t have your CV and just talk like you’re getting a side job at starbucks.” 

Clay looks to Nick in confusion, who just shrugs. “O-oh well I'm an efficient manager with a proven record of having experience in SchlattCorps in the management of leading corporate events and/or organisations as well as a past Market Director at the magazine company, What’s innit?.” 

Alright. Not bad, someone who’s normal couldn’t have pulled of speaking so comfortably in this room which was made to intimidate someone. “Sorry Clay, I’d love to listen to your oral CV but try and speed it up. Unprofessional, I know but if I give the word, then it’s final. Go with core skills already.”  

His tense demeanour switches into a calm one without a second of hesitance. Clearly used to intense situations, noted. “I keep daily logs of work in my work planner, my copy typing speed is at 80wpm, my audio typing speed is at 75wpm. In 2015, I was scouted to become a personal assistant of Tommy in his father’s company and worked my way up to marketing director in just 3 years. By 2018, SchlattCorps requested that I work with them as a business manager-” 

I put my hand up to silence him. “Alright, enough. Give me your CV and stay the night, I’ll deal with you later but for now, I'm pretty interested in you, give me your number. Nick, make him sleep somewhere that’s not near the kitchen because he might get killed by robbers who usually come on a Sunday or Monday.” 

Clay, looking concerned turns towards Nick, asking for answers who just lazily replies, “Yeah, pretty much how my job interview went. It wasn’t even a fucking interview; he caught me defending someone from some stuck up white rich dude. Said I was ballsy and bam, got the job.” Clay gasps in bewilderment. That’s Nick for you, fights for what’s right no matter what. 

“Dude, you just swore and used informal language in an interview!” Clay whisper-shouts. 

“It’s ok, I don’t really care. It's my house and you’re gonna start living with me soon so get comfortable already.”, I say casually. Besides, Nick swears a lot in front of everyone, but no one really cares unless they’re over 35 years old. Clay’s taken aback for some reason. 

A long silence goes over the room.  

“...what? Live with you?” My left eyebrow lifts, basically saying a 'yes? Duh.' Did Nick not tell him, or did he completely miss the advertisement saying I needed a glorified babysitter? “Oh my god... Nick!” 

Is he so shocked he has to live with me? I know it’s a lot of people’s dreams but c’mon. Needs to be more aware of situations. Nick groans, “Surprise, bitch. This is the George I was talking about. Have fun, I wanna go home so I'm gonna be waiting outside for you to finish, bye.” Flipping him off, my eye rolls as he leaves me and Clay alone in the room. 

“Well... I don’t know what that was about, but you’re shocked for some reason. You can back out of the job but the pay here is not easy to find and to be honest, this opportunity would be wasted if you leave.” Tired, I comment on that strange realisation of Clay. 

“Hand me a note with your number, I’m gonna go sleep.” Clay nods and writes down his phone number.  239-206-XXXX.  I shrug and exit the room to go upstairs into my bedroom. 

I open the door and take off my gown and makeup inside my walk-in wardrobe that has a built-in bathroom, simply because I hate walking around. After the last bits of my skincare routine and changing into pyjamas, my body flops onto the bed. It’s not like I was seriously planning to sleep, I’m just going to watch some videos and maybe eat dinner if Niki forces me.  

That’s right, I have two managers named Nick and Niki, both the same age. 

I picked Niki out a year after Nick, specifically because I knew her name would piss him off, as childish as it was. Then I'd eventually fire her after a month. But it turned out she produced great results in the industry and even has some skill in modelling, which I am currently helping her out with.  

As soon as I finished changing into my silk pyjamas (from real silkworms in Northern China, since I hate the western world profiting from non-white culture), I head back downstairs to go check on Clay and make sure Nick goes back home. He has a horrible habit of drinking at my house since most of the alcohol is here, so I need him out, fast. 

Looking around for Nick, I only see Clay sitting on the couch, awkwardly. “Ahem”, he coughs. “Should I go back to my house to get clothes?” 

“Oh, wait Nick leaves his shit around in the guest room that’s not near the kitchen so just take those and you can start staying there. Don’t ask why he even has clothes in that room, even I don’t know why.”  

I shudder at the thought of what Nick may be doing late at night in my house. “Wanna eat? I’m too lazy and unskilled to cook so either you cook, or I order Chipotle through Niki.” 

“Niki? Niki from Germany works here too?!” Holy shit, does he know anything? First the sleeping over, now his (probably) friend working here. “I assumed she was Nick’s new best friend or something, they kept leaving first whenever I’d stay over in their apartment.” 

Alright so, I can’t decide whether he’s an idiot or normalised opposite gender friendship. Let me just say (concerning that topic), please normalise any gender friendship, don’t think that everyone will fall in love with you. You aren’t me, babe. “Did you not know that I make my co-workers stay, at most, 10km away from me? Did you not even know Niki worked here?!” 

I mean... I knew she worked as a manager, but she described the person she was managing as... well...” Oh no, did she talk shit about me? Awe, I liked her though. She was sweet and funny. 

“As?” Clay squirms in his seat; now I’m curious. “What? Is it bad?” 

Clay stutters, “W-well, she told me she was basically babysitting a fun teenager who has a lot of money.” I giggle and roar at that. Of fucking course, she called me that. Niki knows how much I spend money. BUT! I do use some for donations and stuff because I’m rich, not heartless. Besides, I love shopping with my co-workers, they get shy but once they have a drink or two, we become best friends immediately.  

“Well, there’s no lie there. Order food already, I’ll have anything, I don’t care. Call me when it gets here.” I sit on the couch, next to Clay, texting my friend Alex. 

QuackityHQ: yooooo george how was the fucking oscars 

I think about it for a little while. How was it, really? Well, I won an award but why does it feel like it’s not fun anymore? I mean I was happy, duh. Nick and Niki wanted to tell their family that they worked for someone who won 2 Oscars, but I feel like it wasn’t really for me. 

I forget to respond to Alex and sit there in silence. 

Do I still enjoy all this? 

Chapter Text

After getting our order from McDonald’s (, since my mind changed every 3 seconds and we finally decided on this) I grab Clay’s and my dirty dishes and begin heading to the kitchen sink behind the dinner table.  

For the 15th time this whole meal, Clay gasps at the sight of me doing normal things. “What is it now? Was it the fact that I drank from the biodegradable cup or that I know how to open the McNuggets box?”, I wipe the food scraps into the rubbish and put soap on the sponge to begin washing our plates. 

“N-no sir, I just assumed you would have a maid instead of doing it by yourself. Not that you aren’t capable or anything, I just thought you would maybe not want to do chores such as these.”, he babbles. Tired, I sigh while rinsing the now clean utensils and plates. 

Perhaps Clay’s vision of me is one that’s a drama queen. He’s completely right but I know that I should do things by myself, despite my profession; I’m already 29. “Look sweetie, I’m flattered you think that I’d have help around the house, but I’m very independent when it comes to being alone in the house. Who do you think cleans this place?” 

Clay gulps. “The whole villa, Mr. George?” I put my hand on my waist and smirk, giving him his answer. He gasps once more. How many more times will I have to tell him that I am a normal person until I’m on the stage. “Woah. That’s so amazing! Are a lot of popular celebrities like you?” 

Honestly, I’m not sure. I’d like to think so, but the rich need more time to be richer so most likely not. “Maybe not. People are quite lazy in the industry yet need to make money.” I look down at the time; it’s 8PM. “Your main shift would be done by now, Clay. From 8PM-6AM, you’re still on the job but I’ll only call you if there’s a meeting scheduled or an emergency.” 

“Alright... Do I just lock up everything and go sleep?”, Clay asks curiously. I nod and make a shoo-ing hand motion. “Thank you, good night Mr. George!” 

“Night Clay” I continue to sit at my couch and look back at Alex’s messages that I ignored. If you’re wondering how that friendship started, it started when I accidentally bumped into his mother, causing her to fall on the ground, and he cursed at me. Even when he found out who I was, he still cussed at me.  

No matter how you look at it, I keep finding friends through strange situations. Each of them has to earn my respect and same goes for me. The people who work for me usually treat everyone the same but, Alex doesn’t work for me, sadly. I tried getting him into the company but he told me that it’d make him unhappy. 

He’s going to be a lawyer but I don’t really know of what.  

QuackityHQ: yooooo george how was the fucking oscars 

QuackityHQ: bitch don’t fuckin seenzone me ANSWER ME 

QuackityHQ: did you meet beyonce 

GeorgePlays: lmfao wait sorry i was j eating dinner 

GeorgePlays: ive met beyonce yes indeed omg i was sitting like 12 chairs away from her and was about to cry 

QuackityHQ: bruhh next time just walk up to her please 

GeorgePlays: i cant im too scared :[ 

QuackityHQ: PLEASE i need to meet her AT LEAST through someone 

GeorgePlays: shut up. you cannot keep using me to get autographs i have a reputation 

QuackityHQ: ok drama queen. i watched your interview very dramatic 

QuackityHQ: cHiN Up fUTuRe QuEeNS wELL gEt ThE tHroNE SoON 

QuackityHQ: whered you get that from?? reddit???? 

GeorgePlays: no... its from tumblr. get your facts right 

GeorgePlays: ok im leaving bye 

My phone rings several times right before I turn it off; hopefully, it’s all from Alex or else I’ll be fucked. I decide to go back to my room to finish my little writing on how great the Oscars were for the journalists. It’s due tomorrow. 

Whoever thought writing essays was going to end at school, then you’re completely wrong. This job requires so much writing and as stupid as it sounds, I’m utter shit at English despite being English. The laptop turns on and I begin to type. 

I bring the laptop to my bed because I know I'll go sleep in 10 minutes. Starting the report, my boss E-mails me. 

Will  Watson   <w watson @saturnfilms.org > 

To me  

Dear George, 

I know that you may be busy sucking your own dick, but I’ll have you know that the essay is due at 12AM. You are not allowed to miss the due date because the website is based in England and we’re very familiar about how unprofessional they can be when they’re mad. 

That being said, like my Instagram posts that I send you. You never check anything I send you anymore. Smh, I know you’re not busy anymore. The Oscars are over so look at the memes that I send.  

-Wilbur Soot 

This man is the most unbelievable person on Earth. When I first joined the agency, I didn’t expect the owner’s son to be my age and such an idiot. Wilbur is currently the new owner as his father thought it was time for him to be a part of the show business. 

Originally, we were to debut together in a movie but Wilbur found it uncomfortable. The names Wilbur Soot and George Plays both came from our Minecraft names. He was said to be one of the most intimidating people in our building because Mr. Phil described him so, but he’s quite the goofball once he settles in.  

Once more, I ignore my responsibilities and click my tongue. Must I have so much to do? Life of someone famous. As someone once said, ‘Rank #1 isn’t an achievement, it’s a prison which forces you to dedicate your life to defending a temporary title.’; even if I know that, I still want to change the world, even for a moment. 

After an hour of work and finishing up the little 3 paragraph review of the Oscars, I put the laptop on the ground next to my bed and wrap the blanket around me. My lights automatically turn off at 10PM and turn on at 6AM so that I don’t have to get up to do it.  

At 9:30PM, while scrolling through Wilbur’s memes, I made up my mind to sleep early today. Knowing Wilbur, he’s most likely signed me up for several interviews for different TV channels. Looking up at the sky, I wonder about where I’m going to go this whole actor thing. 

Flames die out. It’s not my fear, it’s my truth (as edgy as it sounds). Will I do something with my college degree? Will I last long in this job? Why did I do this in the first place? The world knows who I am but do I want that? Lots of people are proud of me, did I do it for them though?  

The cast in my shows are fun to hang out with, learning lines is fun too, changing characters is also amazing but where did this whole career start? I can’t remember. I think too much that I don’t even realise I’m falling asleep. 

My eyes finally close with the last sight being the clouds of pollution hiding, the stars. 

——————————————————————— 

Nick barges into my room and begins rocking my bed, waking me up. “GEORGE! GET THE FUCK UP ALREADY! IT’S 6AM AND IF I HAVE TO WAKE UP, YOU DO TOO! Niki updated me on an interview with AAC in about 2 hours, according to Mr. Watson.”, he screeches in my ear.  

“AND! At the end of today at 12AM, there’s a secret party hosted by Karl Jacobs and you’ve been invited with a plus 1. The invitation is so formal for a club party. Might be drinks so pick someone responsible. A.K.A. not me.” No offense, all right, but I do not want parties because it’s a scandal waiting to happen. 

I rub my eyes and stretch. “What the fuck, Nick? What’s wrong with you? Get out of my room and I don’t want to go to that dumb party; someone I hate is probably waiting for me there to spike my drink and create a scandal.”, I grumpily get up to shove him out of the door. 

Nick tries pushing me back so that he can get inside but I pinch his side to distract him. It obviously works and I manage to lock him out. “GEORGE! Fine, I’m telling Niki that you took her makeup without her knowing.” His muffled voice slowly fades. I assume he’s going back downstairs. 

Someone knocks at the door following Nick’s exit. God, is it Nick? How many goddamn times should I tell him that I am not going to that stupid party downtown? He never really took “No” for an answer whenever he thought I needed a break. 

I open the door in annoyance, only to see... Clay? Wearing an apron and holding a plate of freshly made Carbonara, as well as him carrying something(s?). "Uhh hey, Mr. George! I-I made l-lunch because I n-", Clay breathes out (to calm himself?)  

"I noticed you didn't eat that much earlier and you might run out of energy! Plus, Nick said I could cook you something." He says confidently. Did he just have a personality switch? Nick must’ve told him that because he knows most newbies fuck up my eating schedule. 

I smile, "Thank you! Did you make yourself any? Let's sit together. I don't like being alone.", I invite him to eat downstairs. "Just saying, I'm not allergic to anything so there's nothing you need to worry about." Looking over to his left hand, holding an EpiPen and some Antihistamine. 

Clay blushes a little. It's quite nice knowing he cares if I died. "Yeah, I made myself some. Somewhat glad you requested my company; I wanted to make sure you ate, Mr. George." 

"Oh my god.” I put my two fingers to the bridge of my nose. He’s way too formal and stiff. "Ok, Mr. Clay.", I joke. He blushes even harder. Often, I forget that I'm a celebrity and I realise that someone like me would cause someone like him, a stroke. 

"Thank you, sir." I roll my eyes and start making my way downstairs. Once we’ve sat down, I lift up my fork and twirl it through the pasta. The taste is quite good and he didn’t use cream which is often a big mistake. Maybe it sounds like I'm being way too cautious but for now I know he searches up things which is good to note. “Is it alright?” 

Nodding, I reply, “Yeah, pretty good. Noticed you didn’t use cream.” The colour in his face drains. I want to start laughing but I think it’ll make him more scared. “Chill, Mr. Clay. It’s a good thing. The original Carbonara would never have cream, just egg. Good job on the research.” 

Clay looks relieved to hear that. “Oh... thank you, sir! It’s not really research, but a friend that would chew my ear whenever it concerns food”. The silence comes over the two of us again. “Concerning my job interview... when will I get results? By the way, Nick told me that there’s a small interview at AAC in 2 hours but the place is an hour and a half away so you have 30 minutes left.” 

Nick never told me that part. I would’ve looked like an idiot. “Thank you, Clay, for doing exactly what Nick was SUPPOSED to do. About that job thing, you have my approval to join. I don’t exactly know how to recruit someone so tell Nick that you’re approved.” I hold the side of his face and draw a star on it. “This is proof that I actually approve.” 

“Is this really going to be passed by Mr. Watson, Mr. George?” If I were Wilbur, I would’ve probably just said ‘yes you can join the club’ and never do paperwork. Anything I do is better than how he’d have handled it. I give Clay a thumbs up. 

Right. Before I forget, “You have that planner, right? Can I count on you to write down some of my personal events as well?” Clay nods excitedly and runs to his bag to bring it and a pen out. “Ok, write this down. ‘Get the carrots and lettuce deal 2 for 1 at that local grocery’ for tomorrow at 7AM.” 

He tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows, “Anything else, sir?”. I bite my lip while thinking about it. Nope, can’t think of anything really. Shaking my head, Clay blushes while looking at the wall. “U-um should you get ready? Do I call Niki to do your stuff or...?” 

“Hm? I do my own things, thanks and yeah, I’ll get ready for that dumb interview. Come with me; experience is the best teacher and Nick can’t baby you through everything.” I unlock my phone to text Nick and force him to drive us. 

5 minutes pass until Nick agrees but I must pay him. Isn’t it his job to be honest?  

Climbing the stairs, I think about what to say and what to wear. Am I going to stay casual? Do I ever do that? No. 

Putting on a semi-sheer white ruffled laced blouse with cuffed sleeves and black pants, I start doing my makeup. As I’m already on the road to look like a 50s office lady, I'll finish the look with light blush, reddish lipstick, eyeliner and silver eyeshadow. Subtle yet loud; I like it. 

A click comes from my door. Did the lock just break or did someone try and come inside? I check the door and open it. It seems to be working perfectly. Thinking about working perfectly, I text Nick to hurry up his driving since there’s only 15 minutes left to spare before getting to the road. 

After fixing myself up, I hear several beeps coming from Nick’s impatient ass. “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING HOUSE. LET’S GO ALREADY.”, his screams go through my window. I pick out my shoes and run to the outside to see Clay carrying a new of set of clothes; maybe his clothes that Nick brought from Clay’s house. “Newbie’s waiting for you because he feels bad that he saw you topless.” 

Clay mouths an ‘I’ll kill you right now’ to Nick. Bold of him to think I can’t lip read. “Well, did you like the view, Mr... Clay?” I tease. So that’s what the door click was; good to know it’s not broken. He doesn’t say anything but opens the door to the backseat while looking sideways. “Thank you, sir. You didn’t deny my statement, just saying.” 

“I- There’s nothing to deny, really.” As soon as he gets in and says that, the car goes silent. Clay widens his eyes. “O-oh no! Mr. George! I didn’t mean it like that; I meant that I did accidentally barge into your room while you were... I-I- Nick just drive.”, he changes the subject and covers his face. 

The car starts and we make our way to AAC. 

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yall im j not ok rn and ive made some vent oneshot that can kinda give u an idea about whats been going on ELLEMAYOOO so i will be updating soon doe