he's got a lot to learn about the world beyond his screens. she's willing to show him the golden beaches and every secret corner of the city she loves. they just have to work out how they're going to survive when his existence is a secret from publi...
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IRENA IS LEANING AGAINST him on the couch, the small TV playing some old show with terrible graphics and warped noise. Clay is content after a long night of following her around the city. They spent hours walking through the bustling streets of downtown Miami, the lights reflecting in their eyes and the warm gusts of sea air swaddling them in wonder. It had been an amazing night that took every malicious thought from his mind and turned it into joy. He's almost forgotten about earlier as he shares a pizza with Irena. They should be asleep, but neither are ready to say goodnight.
"George texted me."
Those three words send Clay's heart plummeting down. He pulls his arm away from her shoulders.
"Yeah?" Her eyebrows are raised as she twists to look at him.
"And I'm glad he did because I doubt you would've said anything to me otherwise."
"About what?" Clay has to look away. Is it possible she's better at reading him than his friend is?
"What you told him. I'm not going to pry because I don't want to to make you uncomfortable, but I want you to talk to me. If this is going to work, you have to communicate, okay? It doesn't have to be right now...you don't even have to tell me out loud. You could write it out, email it to me, text, whatever. Just don't bottle yourself up. I can't know you if you keep all that shit hidden."
"I-I know. I'm not very good at telling people," Clay looks down at his hands, pressing them together until his knuckles turn white. "George...once I started telling him stuff I couldn't stop. Sapnap too, I guess, but he's a lot less open to the shit I go through than George. He's not afraid to tell me to fuck off if I get too serious."
"I get it," she murmurs, hand crawling down his arm. He's forced to release the tension in his shoulders as she intertwines their fingers. "It feels like you're going to explode, so you have to let it out. Then you get comfortable with one specific person solving all your problems. You rely on them until you both implode, or your guilt boils over and you start keeping it in again because you don't want to worry that person. That's a sure fire way to lose a friend, Clay."
"I know," he whispers. She speaks from personal experience as much as he does, but he doesn't rest on that fact. She's rubbing calming circles into his skin, reminders that he's not slipping away. "I don't know what else to do sometimes. Let it out or...or just lose myself. I get really angry sometimes and it's the only thing that feels right."
"There's nothing wrong with being angry. It's just when it starts hurting those around you that it goes bad."
Clay winces at her words. She's like George, her voice gentle but firm as she lays out plans for him. He knows he should be grateful that she's talking to him, but it's starting to feel repetitive.
