( ACT TWO; CHAPTER EIGHTEEN )

" the blink of an eye "

GEORGE WAS STREAMING, ONLY FOR FUN, OF COURSE. It was just him, Quackity, and Karl messing around on the SMP. Only, George didn't realize he had made a big mistake. He had forgotten to cover up the...love mark Cami had left on him.

For the majority of the stream, the first half of an hour, he ignored it. After all, he was having a great time messing around with his friends. Then while they were waiting for Quackity to finish using the restroom, Karl confronted the topic.

"George, I'm just, you know, being a good friend and watching your stream. Have you been looking at your chat?"

"Uh, no, just donations really."

"So you have no idea about the thing they keep pointing out about you? The thing on your neck?"

George, like a deer in the headlights, locked eyes with the camera. Looking at the screen of himself, he noticed that indeed there was a bruise. Barely visible, of course, yet there nonetheless.

"Oh, shit. That."

Karl bursted out into an outrageous fit of laughter. "What do you mean "that?" Are you just gonna ignore the fact that your entire chat just got #GeorgeHickey trending on Twitter?"

For the second time in seconds, the Britt's face became flushed, embarrassed beyond extent. He leapt for his phone, pulling up Twitter, eyes scanning over the trending hashtag.

"Chat!" George exclaimed, pulling his hoodie up and placing his hand over the hot spot on his lower neck. "Please stop!"

Karl, still cackling, came back to a talking state. "Yeah, don't tweet that, you're creating drama."

"Karl, you're laughing. Do you realize how fuc-how bad I messed up?"

"That's exactly why I'm laughing, nimrod."

Quackity then returned, "Wait, what's going on?"

"Chat noticed I had a certain type of mark on my neck. It shouldn't be a big deal because I told them to respect my boundaries, but Karl's laughing at me," George spoke, head rested in his hands while a scowl of regret rested on his lips.

"George you had a hickey? What is going on?!" Quackity screeched, stunned.

In annoyance, George snickered, finally turning off his facecam. "Chat, please stop. This is gonna get out of hand."

Karl took some deep breaths so he wouldn't start laughing again, still staring at George's chat, as well as the amount of viewers suddenly peaking.

"Wait it's trending on Twitter?" Quackity questioned, looking at the hashtag blowing up his friend's chat and now Twitter.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," George mumbled, mentally slapping himself across the face. Then a text rolled in from the girl herself.

Cami had texted a simple message, GEORGE!

He was fast to reply, i am so fucking sorry i'm literally the biggest idiot to grace this planet.

She typed, then the bubble disappeared. Then it happened again. A message reappeared. i'm as red as a tomato lmfao

but aren't you mad? i mean i'm mad at myself, he said back, listening while Quackity and Karl tried to change the topic.

they can't contact me, george, i'm fine.

George exhaled, calming down. Eventually, he found it within himself to speak up. He had to admit, it was a little funny. The chat was simply playing around; they didn't mean anything harmfully.

"Yo, I'm back," he spoke up.

"You good?"

"I mean, the chat's just joking around. They know that whatever I do is my business and if they wanna play around with that I don't really care."

Karl busted out laughing, as per usual. "So it's fine? I mean you're not gonna get cancelled for getting some."

"KARL!" Quackity and George both screamed in sync, shocked by what the fellow friend said.

"I'm gonna murder you. That's not even- you're such a nimrod."

"George, you gotta say, that was kinda funny," Quackity said, holding back a laugh himself.

George joined in, hesitantly, watching his phone with his camera still off. This all seemed too good to be true...Cami was bound to be upset.

"Sapnap is never gonna let you live this down, you are so lucky he's not here," Karl pointed out, trying to brighten the mood.

"He'll find out, don't you worry," Quackity barked back, voice laced with an undermining laugh.

George scoffed, scuffling his hair and exhaling. Eyes still locked on his text messages, he blocked out all the further mockery his friends were making.

turn your facecam back on, i like seeing you, she messaged, almost as if somehow knowing he was waiting for her to say something. His cheeks became furiously red, and he complied to her wishes.

"Alright chat, calm down, the joke's over. My views just went by like, 10k, what the heck?" George stated, still nervous as ever.

"The joke's never gonna be over, you literally walked into this one. You're lucky it's not Nimrod November anymore," Karl acknowledged, and him and the other American giggled immensely.

George peaked over to the chat then continued onto the SMP, glancing at himself in the camera every here and there, observing the mark on his neck. Since Karl and Quackity had just finished a fit of laughter, it was silent. Then someone spoke up.

"Wait, shit, George."

It was Karl's voice. It had changed. It's entire demeanor was now dead serious.

"Hm?" the Brittish man hummed, wondering what the issue was. His eyes diverted their attention to the chat, and now his entire body locked up.

A message was being spammed by multiple accounts, and though you could only catch glimpses of it because of how many people were talking, it was still there.

George scrolled, taking time to read it. It was a list, almost like a graph of statistics.

Someone had doxed Cami.

Somehow. Someway. Sitting there, in front of his own eyes, was her full name, address, email, and a few more pieces of personal information. Even a credit card number.

"End the stream, George, end the stream. George, end it!" Karl ordered, voice strict.

Heart pounding, fingers racing, he stopped the vid and deleted it just as fast. Everything around him seemed glazed over.

The one thing he promised her. The one thing that kept them together. The one thing she had put all of her trust into, put all of her bets on.

And here he was, dumbfounded like an idiot, letting it get farther onto social media every second.

"George," Quackity called out. It was muffled, like the speaker was underwater.

All George could thing of was her. He rose his phone to his ear, pressing the 'call' button next to her contact. It rang once before she picked up, dead silent.

"Cami, I'm- that wasn't ok, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I promised you that wouldn't happen and I messed up. I should've done better. I...I don't even know how that happened."

Still, silence. Both of George's friends knew better than to talk, listening intently to the conversation on the voice channel.

"It's ok, George. What happened, happened. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry." Her voice was dry, monotone, drained of any emotions.

"You're sorry?! No, no, don't apologize! You didn't do jackshit wrong! Why are you apologizing?"

A shaky, anxious inhale could be heard from her lips. He waited for a reply, a sign of hope that they would be ok.

On the other side of the phone, Cami sat curled up on her couch, staring outside at the rainy streets, droplets rolling her windows. No lights were on in her abode, the only brightness available being the light from outside reflecting off the strings of her harp.

The same harp that she had played for George only a day ago; when she had completely and utterly surrendered to the love he filled her with. Yet now, in the shortest amount of time a human could imagine, it had all flipped upside down.

Her email was already pinging from anonymous messages. She'd be willing to bet money was disappearing from her bank account this fast, and who knows, maybe someone would even show up at her door to invade her privacy yet again.

Cami knew what she had to do, she just didn't know if had the strength to do it.

A couple of days earlier, Cami had a conversation with herself. She had asked herself if this was worth it—the risk of hate from his fans, or taking the step further and starting a relationship with a man that has thousands upon thousands of eyes on him constantly. She had wondered if in the end it would all end in chaos, like an unfinished melody .

And now she had an answer to her question.

Hands barely able to hold up the phone, she muttered into the speaker.

"I'm sorry, George. Maybe we'll meet again one day, but for now, this has to stop. I'll..." she paused, biting her bottom lip and feeling a tear drop down her pale cheeks, throat gone dry with the invading crawl of a fit of sobbing.

"I'll miss you."

( AUTHOR'S NOTE! )

end of act two. hope you are
shocked because i sure as hell
am. also i fking hate how i write
angst ugh this was messy</3

ok bye time to go fucKIN CRY😀👍

-cal