i'm coming home, my friend

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you

it'd always stayed platonic with george and i. having known each other since 10 and living together since 19, we'd never progressed our friendship to a relationship.
we definitely had the feelings and idea to, it just never happened.
it wouldn't work, anyway; i was a writer and he was a touring musician. i stayed home, always and he saw every city in the world for a living. we hardly saw each other. by now, we just helped one another to pay the rent.
george was the best person in my life. always has and always will be. he's my rock.
and i'm his.
currently, he was seeing the sights and sores of europe. i would receive a photo everyday of his agenda. rome yesterday, paris today and stockholm tomorrow, probably.
i scrolled through the photos he'd sent before my phone froze briefly. the screen then switched to alert me i was receiving a phone call.
it was george.
i didn't hesitate to answer and was perhaps too enthusiastic to speak.

"hey!"

he replied to my previous greeting.

"guess what's happening tomorrow?"

george began a conversation about his busy schedule.

"not a clue. enlighten me."

"i'm coming home, my friend."

he let out a small giggle and informed me of his respite at our apartment.

"no way! i'm so excited to see you."

george's use of the word 'friend' this time in particular sting more so than every other time he'd used it. i let it slide until we ended the call.
definitely can't wait to see how tomorrow pans out...

george ezra imagines - HIATUSWhere stories live. Discover now