AT LEAST IT'S ALL ABOUT YOU // Dream X Reader

11

You settled down on the edge of the bus next to Clay, who was still picking at his guitar. You hadn't been able to see it from the ground, but he had brought a spiral notebook - like the kind you would be able to find at a back to school sale - with him. It was pretty beat up, and the pages fluttered in the breeze from where he had it laid open. From what you could make out of the chicken scratch on the page, it was a song.

"What are you writing?" You asked.

Clay hummed thoughtfully. "Don't know." He said. "I'm just kind of waiting for the next song to write itself."

You kicked your legs out into the air, swinging your feet back and forth. "Is that how it works?"

From where he was sprawled out on the roof of the bus, Clay's eyes connected with yours. They looked more blue tonight - maybe it was the night sky. "Sort of." He said. "I mean, yeah technically I write the songs, but also, they just kind of... happen? It's hard to explain, but you never know when an idea is going to come along."

"I think I sort of get it." You said. You had seen Myra do something similar many times - she would sit in her room for hours, doing nothing, until all of a sudden she just wrote an entire song in two minutes, like it had just been swirling around in her head, waiting to be born into the world.

"Can I ask why you were just walking around the lot?" Clay asked, strumming his guitar again.

You shrugged. "Just wanted some fresh air, I guess." You said. "There wasn't really a reason... just because."

Clay hummed, switching from mindless strumming to the melody of one of the songs he'd already written - a cute little song called Patches, from one of the older albums. You recognized the tune and began to hum along the melody, catching Clay's eye as he smiled.

"You know that one?" He asked.

You nodded. "I've listened to all of your stuff."

Clay picked out a different melody now, pulling at each of the strings individually, creating something that sounded a little like windchimes. "You didn't tell me you were a fan."

"How could I not be?" You laughed. "You guys are amazing. You're like... if one direction was alternative and had a lot more drums."

Clay laughed. "I've never heard us described like that." He paused for a moment, thinking. "It fits though."

You stretched backwards, laying down on top of the bus so that your head was next to Clay's. The few wisps of cloud that had been hanging around when you had first walked out of the bus had blown away now, leaving the sky completely clear. A breeze passed over you, brushing some of the humidity away for a moment.

Clay shifted, pulling something out of the pocket of his jeans. You didn't look until you heard the flick of a lighter, and saw the flame out of the corner of your vision. You turned you head to see Clay bring the joint to his lips, inhaling quickly.

"Again?" You asked. "You just smoked last night."

Clay shrugged, exhaling. "It's kind of a thing after shows. Helps me unwind. And sometimes it helps me write too." He took another hit, forming a ring of smoke that drifted off into the night sky.

It was quiet for a moment. You just looked up at the night sky as Clay smoked, still plucking at the guitar every now and again. It was nice... peaceful. You were happy that you had chosen to stay here instead of go to that party with Myra, this was much better in your opinion.

Clay took another hit and sighed, exhaling. "Do you want to try?"

You looked over at him, and then at the joint in his hand, still trailing smoke lightly. You hadn't exactly felt comfortable last time with Nick and Myra there as well (you had a feeling Nick would have laughed at you for being inexperienced - nothing against him, he just seemed the type) but Clay... just Clay...

"Sure." You said.

Clay grinned, pushing himself up on his elbows. You did the same, taking the joint when he handed it to you, copying how he had held it.

"Start small." He said. "Don't breathe in too deep."

You nodded, bringing it to your lips and inhaling lightly. Smoke filled your mouth and tickled the back of your throat. You coughed at the sensation, exhaling quickly. The taste of it was strange, but not terrible.

"Not too bad." Clay said. "You should have seen Nick's first time... he almost coughed up a lung."

You smiled. Maybe he wouldn't have laughed then.

Clay took the joint back, plucking it gently from your fingers and taking another hit. He tipped his head back, exhaling in concentric rings. You watched as they floated up into the sky until they dissolved.

You took the joint back from him when he offered, taking another small hit, ready for the feeling of the smoke this time. "How do you make the rings?" You asked.

"One thing at a time." Clay said, taking the joint back from you. "You're literally on your second hit."

"Just for future reference then." You said, watching as Clay took another hit.

He shrugged. "I don't know, I just kind of do it, you know?" He said, exhaling the smoke out through his nose and watching as your eyes widened in surprise.

"How'd you do that?" You asked, awe present in your voice.

Clay laughed, taking another hit and blowing the smoke in your face. You waved it away, spluttering, and took the joint back from him, fully intending to return the gesture. The only problem though, when you took another hit, you broke out into a coughing fit, your eyes watering as you coughed up smoke. Clay wheezed, flopping back onto his back.

If it was anyone else you would have been embarrassed. But it was Clay. And it was pretty funny.