Take Me To London

2

Clay woke up with the sound of cars honking outside. He rolled over in his bed, noticing that his roommates were gone. Shit. He grabbed his phone and checked the time. 11:42. God damn it. He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself awake. Why the fuck would they just let me sleep through the entire morning?

He took a glance outside, noticing the frost on the window. Cold, as usual here. He put on the sweater he bought from the shop. It was a deep blue. Clay hadn't looked much at the style of it, he just needed one to stay warm. He threw his jacket on over it, and left the hotel room.

Final day, and I feel like I haven't done anything. He walked towards the center of London. Clay looked at all the buildings around him. None of them stuck out to him as much as he'd except. His eyes wandered from building to building as he walked down the sidewalk. Unfamiliar stores and unknown shops. Big Ben... that one ferris wheel over there... what's that even called again? Nothing stood out to him. The constant tours of useless historical facts. Did they really think a group of 16 year olds would pay attention to that shit?

I haven't seen anything. People continue to walk past him, bumping him side to side as he stops moving. He stands silently on the pathway. His eyes search through the people, taking in their differences. Different heights, usually shorter than himself. He was 6'1 at the time, still growing. A variety of hair colors and styles. Multiple different shapes and sizes. Different eye colors. Eye colors... eyes... Clay looked around, searching. He looked at everyone, almost looking for someone, but not finding them.

I haven't seen anyone...

"You're not from here, are you?" A soft voice says over the loud bustle of the London streets. Clay turns around, and meets the eyes of the person speaking to him. The eyes, the ones he's seen twice before. The doll like skin, the perfect features, the dark hair. He's seen them all before. The eyes, the ones he saw in the shop before.

His lips curve into a gentle smile, his eyes not moving from the other man's. "How could you tell?" The other boy perked up, his smile turning slightly into a smirk.

"Around this time of year, there are a lot of tourists, school trips, things like that. America?" Clay was drawn to his voice. The accent itself make him swoon, but it felt as though his voice was calling for him. He nodded slightly at the question, still being distracted by the boy in front of him. "I also figured that when I saw you in the shop the other night. You only thought to bring a t-shirt here?" He chuckled slightly, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Clay let out a laugh, putting his hands in the pocket of his jacket. "Okay, to be fair it's much colder here than I was expecting" The giggles coming from the other boy made his chest flutter and his face blush. His eyes never left his either.

"Well, how do you like it here so far?" The boy asked, slowly walking towards a bench. Clay followed him while answering.

"It's not bad, a little cold but not bad." He took a seat next to the boy, their legs nearly touching. "It just feels like I haven't seen anything yet."

The shorter boy's head tilted. "What do you mean?"

Clay sighs and sinks slightly into the bench. "I've only seen what the tour has shown us. I haven't been able to really experience London," The other boy chuckles slightly.

"There's nothing really fantastic to see about London that the tours don't already show you." His face lights up slightly, a smirk forming.  "Come with me," He takes Clay's hand and pulls him up out of the bench. Clay's face reddened when their hands met.

"Woahh where are we going?" The brunet didn't respond and continued to lead him away from their bench. "What are you doing?" He asks again.

"Don't ask questions, you trust me don't you?" The other boy says, still pulling him. Clay nods, and continues to follow him.