Chapter Text
George Smith was born November 1st, 1972 in London, England. He had dark brown hair, pale skin, with freckles on one side when he spent enough time in the sun. His eyes were one unique thing about him, one was sky blue and the other a dark chocolate brown.
He lived contently in the city, running around and playing as children do. His family moved to a smaller town in Florida 1979, awaiting the birth of his younger sister and his start into school.
George was good in school. He was good with numbers and didn’t cause trouble with teachers. They did face a small bump in the road when they discovered George’s vision problems. It was discovered he was far-sighted and he picked the biggest dorkiest white glasses possible. He just thought they looked funny and he stuck with it.
Other than that, the elementary ages flew by with excelling grades and proud parents.
Problems only began to arise when George entered middle school. He had never been one for many friends. They caused a lot of unnecessary drama and their interests never aligned with his. His purposeful loneliness became less of a choice as people didn't see this as normal.
George liked video games and computers. Which much like today, wasn’t considered cool by kids at school. He also liked books. He liked reading or imagining worlds where life was different. He spent most of his middle and high school years day dreaming whenever he wasn’t doing homework or listening to lectures.
During this time George began writing a journal. Kids at school called it a diary, but George would assure you there is a difference. He wrote down short stories or simply about what was going on in his life at the time.
Also during his teenage years, George grew to discover he was different. In more ways than just his interests in hobbies. His interests in people.
He was gay.
People at school didn’t take this well. Many guys took it upon themselves to lead him on then get their gangs to harass George after gaining his trust. George slowly began to give up on trusting anyone after having his heart tossed around and stomped on so many times.
He didn’t come out to his parents. It was more forced. George was caught kissing a guy behind the bleachers after school. Which of course, the school called his parents. That didn’t go well. He wasn’t kicked out or beat, shouted at a little bit yes. For the most part he was just ignored and judged, now by his family not just school peers. Luckily, his sister was secretly there for him behind his parents’ backs.
He spent many Christmases driving to the beach over an hour away. It beat family parties with weird looks or uncomfortable questions.
Life began to look up during his senior year. He joined math leagues and met his first real friend, David. They both liked math, computers, stories, etc. His family was nice too. They let him stay over for dinner, even on holidays.
Nearing the summer of 1990 their team won and was able to afford Letterman's jacket for everyone on the team. George loved that jacket. He wore it non-stop despite the hot Florida weather quickly approaching.
As the seasons changed, he finally graduated high school. David moved across the country to California. They kept in contact occasionally, but both got caught up in their own lives as the summer went on.
George was excited for college, unlike anyone else he’d spoken to who were all overcome with anxiety. George saw it as a fresh start. Somewhere where he could hopefully be himself and start making some decent progress towards his future.
He moved into his dorm as the summer faded, his roommate never showed up. George saw this as an absolute win. He wasn’t forced to make friends with anyone and he was finally away from his family.
Back in high school George wasn’t able to take any technology motivated classes, but his college offered some great ones. George signed up for as many as they would let him. This resulted in him becoming pretty good friends with the professor.
Paul Watson was barely older than George at the time, freshly graduated into teaching, his first year was the same as George’s freshman year of college actually.
George spent most of his time in the computer lab, doing homework or messing around with the computers. Mr. Watson appreciated the company and he loved seeing how passionate George was. Of course, he couldn’t say this, but George was definitely his favorite student. Even years later, long after George was gone, he’d say the same thing.
Mr. Watson was the one to report George missing. After George didn’t show up in the morning to say hello or to any of his classes later on, he went to the front office and asked around with the students to see if he’d shown up on campus at all. Only to be met with various unbothered shrugs.
Anyone he tried to talk to had the same excuse that college students run off all the time and it was nothing to worry about. Mr. Watson knew better. George came into class even when he was deathly ill and really shouldn’t have been out of his dorm. Even if George was to skip a class, for a definitely serious reason, he would have let Mr. Watson know. He would never just disappear.
The local authorities were notified and a missing persons report was filed. After just over a week, the police were quickly giving up attempts. Even despite Mr. Watson’s protests the case was left behind. Nobody wanted to waste their time looking for another college student who likely ran away with some partner and had no family coming forward.
George Smith missing since 1991.