Chapter Text
Breathe.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breath in, breathe out.
Breathe in…
Breathe out.
George’s eyes were fixated on the wall on the other side of the room, trying desperately to ignore the flashing screen in front of him and not freak out as he sat at his desk. He held his water bottle in a death grip, trying to distract himself by fiddling with the grey flip-top lid.
Breathe in…
He was not going to have a panic attack on Tommy’s stream. Nope. No way.
It isn’t even that bad , he tries telling himself, leg bouncing. It’s just noise. I’m used to noise. I can do noise.
He’s just thankful his webcam is off.
A few weeks ago he had gotten his visa approved, which they had promptly announced to the internet as soon as they could. What the Dream Team left out was that George was flown out mere days later.
So yeah, he was in Florida. And honestly, it was great! While he was still waiting for some things to be shipped from London, he was glad to finally be with his found family in person. There was something different and special about the smell of Sap’s cologne, or watching the way Dream’s eyes would squeeze shut when he laughed a little too hard. He noticed the way Dream popped his knuckles and how Sapnap used both thumbs to cradle and pet Patches’ face. You know, the little things that you don’t pick up through video.
He really fucking loved his best friends.
And right now, he was really fucking sick and tired of them.
George grit his teeth, set the water bottle back into his lap, and undeafened his audio just in time to be hit with a barrage of yelling and laughter from both Sapnap and Dream, mixed in with a lot of lewd insults and shrieking from Tommy. It was the aftermath of a heavy lore stream on the SMP, and George was already exhausted from trying to arrange his PC setup from the night before. Being productive at the last minute; both a blessing and a curse.
He was thrown into the lore at the last second, and he was already tired from the events of yesterday (moving in was a long process, and he just wanted a break, especially from the constant people time), yet everyone insisted it was crucial he be there for the events of the stream.
Breathe. It’ll be over soon.
“-EAM YOU FUCKING UGLY SON OF A BITCH-” George swivelled his character around to see Tommy chasing DreamXD, who was tauntingly flying above him pelting him with harming potions.
“Just SHUT UP Tommy, I’ll give it back, I-”
“I WANT MY FUCKING AXE BACK YOU SICK PRICK-” he cut off with a shriek as Sapnap stabbed him from behind, effectively killing him and running off with his stuff.
“SHITNAP!!” Dream let out a wheeze and started banging on his desk as Sapnap screamed and ran off. George’s hand trembled on the mouse as Tommy screamed back and turned his trademark Able Sisters music, and it was too loud, too loud-
The AC was blowing cold air onto his feet, which he kicked at uncomfortably, and realized that the sun was coming in from the window at just the right angle to send blinding rays of light into his eyes, didn’t he have a curtain? Did he forget to close it? He swatted at it, letting out a groan when the sun refused to just disappear, and it was too fucking bright, and-
Ranboo was running in circles around an AFK Tubbo rambling and mumbling and George hated how he couldn’t understand him, he didn’t know what he was saying, his face felt hot, his eyes were starting to swim, and-
Why was he feeling floaty? Not again, not again, not again-
He kicked at the vent on the floor, the cold air really starting to annoy him.
And Wilbur was off somewhere else in the background, trying to yell over Tommy’s music, and holy shit it was too much-
George’s eyes found the chat he was monitoring - who’s was it again? - and everything was going too fast, the words blurring together, too much of the same letters, and he couldn’t read any of it, and-
The panic spilled and bubbled out of him as his hand came down heavy on the laptop next to him, pulling out his headphone’s from the jack and releasing the overwhelming noise to the open room. With a strangled yell he hit the “disconnect” button on Discord and shoved his chair backwards, the feeling of flying back electrifying his senses and making his hair stand on end, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he watched the rest of his friends reign chaos from his characters frozen POV.
Distantly he noticed there were tears, but between his ragged breathing and the way his heart was hammering, it was easy to ignore. Everything around him was too sharp, too saturated . There was still that floaty feeling coursing throughout him, an incessant throbbing he was trying to ignore. He closed his eyes, trying to curl in on himself. What was the term Dream used? When he got too overwhelmed? Overstimulation? Yeah, yeah that seemed right. He was just overstimulated. It would go away.
He sat for a few moments, trying to breathe. From the muffled laughter and shouting outside his room, his housemates didn’t seem to notice his sudden departure from the call.
One of his hands found their way back to the waterbottle, and he mindlessly started to fiddle with the flip-top again. He stared at nothing, trying his best to stay grounded.
Unfortunately, staring at nothing isn’t exactly the best thing to focus on to stay tethered to his body. He let out a whine as the floaty feeling returned tenfold, as if someone were sending TV static through his body. The floaty feeling wasn’t going away, and he was suddenly cold and hot all at once, feeling goosebumps erupt everywhere.
He tried, he really did. He did his best to focus on the chair beneath him, the way his jeans were suddenly too uncomfortable. His one hand gripping the arm rest, water bottle forgotten. The other grabbing at his face. His one leg pulled up to his chest, the other still on the hardwood floor.
Another flood of tears as he realized he couldn’t fight it this time.
He forced himself to stand up, the floaty feeling seeming to push and pull at him like waves, following him and lagging behind before slamming into him with full force again. He opened his eyes, and suddenly he was leaning against his door. He locked it. He shakily stumbled towards his bed, feeling the way his legs wobbled underneath him, and shoved a hand into one of the many boxes piled up against the wall.
George hiccuped as his breath stuttered, his heart continuing to pound inside him. The floating pulsed behind his eyes, and he whispered to himself, “not yet, p’ease not yet,” words slurring together.
Somehow he managed to pull out the moobloom plush, a cute pastel yellow.
His small mind had simply called it “Squish”.
George doesn’t remember ending up in the dark closet, but with the door shut tight and the soft blankets around him, he decided it was safe enough. He clutched Squish in his arms, allowing the floaty feeling to take its time as it finally started to wash over him, the crashing and pulling ebbing into a lull, the crashing waves starting to calm.
George was safe. They couldn’t get to him in here.
And in the quiet darkness, George concentrated on the hot tears that trailed down his cheeks, still feeling too cold and too warm and too uncomfortable.
Too scared.
I don’t want to be here. I can’t.
He shuddered and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would take him before his younger self did.