stormy weather (dreamnotfound)

chapter 11 - warmth

tw: mentions of s/h & the events of last chapter //

-

I woke up feeling warm and fuzzy, like sitting by the fireplace on a snowy evening. My arms were still wrapped around him, holding him close to me as he snored softly. The memories of last night replayed in my head, and I couldn't decide between excitement and dread. Were we going to become something? What would be do about our families? My marriage?

I shook the thoughts from my head and decided to take it one step at a time. I still had no idea how I felt, and I barely knew what Clay thought, either. All I knew was that I had spent the night in his bed instead of her's.

I heard heavy footsteps approaching down the hallway, and I shot up out of bed, pushing Clay to the side. I leaped for his closet, shutting the door quietly behind me. I heard him shift in the bed and yawn, sleepily muttering something to himself. I held my hand over my mouth as his bedroom door flew open.

"Get up, you lazy ass, it's past 10." Schlatt croaked. I cracked the door ever so slightly, trying to get a good look at him. He grasped the doorknob angrily, a half-drunken bottle of some suspicious liquid in his other hand. I could smell the alcohol from here, the reeking scent ruining the peaceful environment of the morning.

Clay hummed an agreement, stretching his arms over his head. Schlatt squinted his eyes and stalked over to his side, Clay's eyes widening as he got closer. He peered down at him, examining him like prey.

Clay's sleeve had rolled down, revealing the wrinkled bandages on his arm. Splotches of light pink painted across it, the leftover blood seeping through. Schlatt grabbed his arm and stared at it, a flame of fury burning in his eyes.

"What's this? Are you messing with those street rats again?" he spat, dropping his arm back on his chest.

Clay flinched at the pressure, leaving his arm laying on his chest.

"No. I fell. On the front steps," he muttered in response, turning over on his side away from him. Schlatt shrugged and seemed to believe it.

"Be more careful next time," he seethed through gritted teeth, taking a swig of his bottle. He hiccuped before stomping away, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he was long gone, I swung the door open and jumped back into Clay's bed beside him. He had no reaction and he kept his stare on the wall behind me, even when I placed both my hands on the sides of his face.

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with that," I said quietly. He acknowledged me with a small hum, his eyes clouded and distant. His hand rubbed up and down his bandage slightly.

I noticed his movement and sat up. "Do you want to change it out?" I asked, patting the bed beside me. He nodded but didn't move.

I turned my head away, gazing out the window. I felt a sickening feeling tighten in my chest, like someone had their hand gripped around my heart. Knowing that this is what he lived with disgusted me, and especially after I had complained about my own parents, who were nothing like that.

I really hoped I could find a way to help him out of it. Out of his dad's grasp, and out of his own head.

I stood up and walked to his side of the bed, looking down at him for a moment, even though he was faced the other direction. I grabbed his hand lightly and tried to pull him up, but he aggressively shook my grasp away and tucked his hand back to his chest. I gasped at the sudden action, taking a step back and he immediately looked up, his eyes widening in shock. I pursed my lips in confusion, my hands hovering beside me as I awaited his next move.

"Ohh.. oh," he muttered, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "I thought, I thought you were-"

"It's alright," I said quietly. I reached my hand back out, learning to not touch him when he's not paying attention and to not catch him off guard. He took it gently and let me pull him out of bed, and I lead him over to his bathroom.