Coming Undone by purplesunsets

2

Soft shadows flicker across the wall as the fireplace crackles and sparks. It's cold— for Florida. George doesn't have the heart to tell Clay that in England weather like this is considered balmy.

The flame warms the room and makes it feel more like a home, less sterile. George has his feet in Clay's lap, while Patches lounges on the back of the couch. Ever so often her tail will flick George's nose as if to say, 'Know your place, bitch.'

Suddenly, the tennis match on screen is replaced by a breaking news segment, reporting on a tropical storm approaching the eastern side of the state. On the predicted map, it doesn't look like it will affect areas other than ones directly on the coast, and they're far enough inland that it'll probably be fine.

"Can you step on me?" Clay's voice jolts George out of his thoughts.

"What?" George asks, because he had to have heard that wrong.

"I picked up something heavy last night and think I pulled something in my back." Clay explains before laying face down on the floor. "I want you to basically realign my spine."

"I can't stand on you. I'm not a chiropractor. I'm going to break you or something."

"I trust you."

"This isn't a matter of trust, Clay."

"I trust... that you won't break me."

"I don't." George scoffs.

"Come on, you weigh like half of me, you won't crush me." Clay insists. "I'll even pay you if you want, just get on me."

"That's what she said." George mutters even though it doesn't really make sense. With a grimace, he remembers that the nearest hospital is at least five miles away and prays he doesn't smush Clay's spleen.

"Ew, why are you so squishy?" George wrinkles his nose.

"I'm not squishy." Clay grits out as George moves his feet as though he's mashing grapes. "I'm two hundred pounds of pure muscle."

Suddenly, Clay's back cracks impossibly loud and George is certain that he's just paralyzed him.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" George pulls Clay to his feet and gives him a once-over at an arms length. "I'm this close to calling an ambulance."

"That felt good. Thanks." Clay replies as he rolls his neck.

"Masochist." George mutters.

Clay says something under his breath that George can't quite make out, but it sounds suspiciously like 'Yeah, actually.'

—

"For today's stream, I have George with me." Clay announces to the camera, a bit muffled by the white hockey mask he's wearing. It has a crudely drawn smiley face on it, and is mildly unsettling to look at. "No scams, no pranks. This is real."

"Hi. It's me. George." George says and does awkward jazz hands.

"Since George is literally next to me, we thought it would be fun to have him control the mouse while I control the keyboard and see if we can beat Minecraft." Clay smiles. "Kind of like the Siamese twins video we made before."

They are—unsurprisingly—able to beat the game, despite George accidentally elbowing Clay in the side a half dozen times. At one point, Clay does that dumb yawn-thing and slings his arm over George's shoulders.

"Stop it." George complains, while the chat has an absolute meltdown.

"What? I'm just trying to be efficient with our space." Clay says innocently.