All In Love Is Fair (dreamnotfound)

7: Self Control

Self Control by Frank Ocean

Falling asleep on the floor by George was never Clay's plan. He just found himself missing George when he left to his bedroom. Spending the day with him changed something in Clay, suddenly his mind was running wild with thoughts of George. Listening to George talk for hours, admiring the way he talks with his hands and constantly shifts his legs to sit in a different position. Something about George is so attractive to Clay. It should be painfully obvious that it's simply just the fact that they're soulmates, but Clay can't help himself from overcomplicating things in his head. For so long he needed the reason why they get along so well to be that they're just good friends. Clay wants to let himself go, pull George close and get a good look at him, up close. Maybe Georges light freckles will look darker up close. Clay's heart runs wild at the thought. After he left George with a simple "Night." he lied in his bed with the strongest desire to go back out to the living room and wake George up, kiss him senseless, and satisfy the desire inside. When Clay walked back out to the living room and saw George curled up on the couch he felt terrible waking him, so instead Clay lied on the floor to sleep. It turned out to be enough just being near George.

Seeing Clay asleep on the floor so close to him made George's insides feel warm and mushy. He kept leaning over to admire the sleeping man. By the time Clay finally woke George had scrolled through a least ten thousand tweets. George peeked over the side of the couch down at Clay to get another look and nearly jumped out of his skin when Clay was starring up at him, "Jesus! Why the hell are you just lying there with your eyes open like that?!". Clay wheezed, leaning over onto his side to accommodate his laughing, "I just opened them like two seconds ago!" He says. Hearing Clay say a full sentence that isn't rude made George incredibly happy. Every time he hears Clays voice he remembers how much he misses it, especially since it's been so long. When Clay and Georges laughs subsided a seemingly comfortable silence crept in. George thought more silence would be the death of him, but right now, it feels okay.

"Do you want to go get something for lunch?" Clay asks. George leans over to take a look at him, read his emotions through his body language. His eyes scanned Clays face, does he have to look like he was sculpted by Michelangelo? As though he's been carved and chiseled at until the artist was certain Clays features would be timeless. George understands why Clay was popular with the girls in high school, he always has, but especially now that he's seen Clays physical appearance. George nods.

Lunch was decided, Chinese food. George wasn't super keen on the idea but at this point he'd eat roadkill if it meant he could have Clay talking and happy. Kindly, Clays mother called and dropped off Georges suitcase before they left. She quickly brought the suitcase in, smiled and gave George a thumbs up, then left. Clay sat on the couch acting as though he didn't even notice his own mother. George thinks it's just because Clay wants to be right, he's the type of guy to fight for his case even if he knows he's wrong. It's okay, George just takes his suitcase then waves at Clay to get up and take them to the restaurant.

A few hours after lunch and driving around Clays town they find themselves back at Clays apartment, this time sitting on the same couch. George had to hold his breath when he sat down, letting it go when Clay didn't tell him to move. The whole day had been quite blissful. But George knows they can't do this forever. Dancing around having difficult conversations is okay for a while, but eventually you get tired and collapse on the floor. George didn't want to do it, he would much rather pretend everything's okay. Act as though he didn't have to fly across the ocean just to convince Clay its okay to love him. Something about mimicking contentment was assuaging. The pair had such a good day. Clay pointed out his High School to George, drove him through his old neighborhood, told him stories about random stores and parks they passed. They laughed and joked the whole time and George bathed in the information, loving the feeling of learning more about Clay.

Of course George ruined it. "Clay? Can I ask you something?" He shifts nervously on the couch.

"Um, yeah I guess." Clay swallows. He knows what's coming. How could he not?

"Why does it bother you so much?" George picks at the skin surrounding his fingernails. Clay watches George's hands. "What?" His voice is faint.

"You know what."

Clay moves, turning his body fully towards George. He debates saying it, saying everything. The last thing Clay wants to do is rip his own chest open and expose all his most vital organs. Perhaps Clay's wants have changed. Maybe George won't hurt him, maybe George won't laugh. "When I was in school I spent so much time trying to fit in and be cool. I was convinced I had to be this perfect version of myself, I got so obsessed with making everyone like me." Clay says, glancing over to see George carefully listening with a look on his face that assured Clay that George wouldn't laugh. So he continues, "I saw guys at my school who were, you know, uh, gay, and the way people treated them. I just didn't want that to be me. So I had girlfriends and whatever, you know?"

George nods, not because he knows but because he validates Clays feelings.

"Anyway, when I met you and we started talking I just." Clay lets out a breath. George smiles sympathetically, "It's okay. Keep going." Clay bites his lip, "I realized when I talked to you I just couldn't control myself. Every time I heard your voice all my fears went away. It's just, I don't know, weird I guess." Clay says. After he does he looks at George, his eyes swimming. George yawns wide, covering his mouth. "Are you tired?" George nods, "Yeah but we can keep talking." Clay lets out a gentle laugh, "I'll let you sleep Georgie."

"Okay." George grins tiredly at the nickname. Clay stands up from the couch, about to walk away he turns back to George, "Can I give you a hug?"

Yes. A million times yes. I've been waiting for you to ask. "Yeah." George replies smoothly, despite the quickening of his pulse.

Then he's standing up and Clay's pulling their bodies close. Georges arms wrapping around Clays torso, and Clays around George's shoulders. With George's head pressed to Clays chest they both allow all their worries to calm. 'It'll be okay' rings through their heads when Clays hand strokes his hair. Pulling away only to place a chaste kiss on George's head, say goodnight, then vanishing down the hallway.

A couple hours later Clay wanders back out of his bedroom, curls up on the floor next to the couch just as he did the night before. The only difference this time is it was Clays plan to sleep there.