dreamland | dreamnotfound

20

20 - i love you ; hugging you | tom rosenthal

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sure, when and where? george replied, sending the text and watching the text bubble appear and disappear in clay's side of the conversation. to say that george was nervous was an understatement, i mean, he didn't know what clay wanted to talk about - would they stop being friends? do they need space? did clay have a terminal illness and only had a month to live but george ruined it by falling in love with his seemingly straight best friend? the possibilities are endless. even if he were to make a tree diagram to count the possible outcomes from this pending situation, the diagram would be too big for any paper to contain.

george shut off his phone and placed in on the table infront of him, he was in his apartment again, seated on his couch. it was night now, only replying to clay after a few hours, he needed time to think - to rationalize. but that did more bad than good, the overthinking was too much for him and he impulsively replied to clay almost nine hours after he messaged george. how embarrassing was that? george would surely never live it down.

when he was young, george messed up alot. he was a clumsy child, but his parents loved him nonetheless, meanwhile - his grandparents nitpicked at his flaws, him coming out as gay amplified the underlying hate. but yes, george was clumsy, that was common knowledge, but he didn't care, he only cared about it now - when it was about clay, he felt like he was walking on eggshells, but he would be lying if he said that he would be upset if said eggshells broke if he shifted his weight to his tippy toes to press a kiss on the tip of clay's nose.

not now, george! he thought, gay thoughts later, focus about what's important now.

his phone buzzed, lighting up when clay replied, and it was embarrassing to see how fast george dove into the table to grab the blinky box from the table. george quickly unlocked his phone and stared at their conversation.

we can walk in the park, if you'd like?

george's fingers were quick, he typed out a response, but didn't send it yet. he waited three minutes before replying, he didn't want to seem eager and clingy, but he did want to get it over with. if clay was going to politely reject him in the park with the stars and the moon as their witnesses, then so be it. george just wanted to rip it out fast, like a bandaid, so then he'll go home and go to sleep to get rid of the pain. maybe he'll call darryl and ask him to come over with strawberry flavoured ice cream, who knows. one thing's for sure - how george uses sleep as a way to cope with issues and all the terrible things happening to him.

sure, let's meet at the bench. george finally send the message after waiting five whole minutes. he stood up and walked up to his wardrobe, opting to wear a pastel blue oversized sweater, white pants and a pair of yellow converse shoes. leaving his hair to its fluffy state, because god knows that if he tried to comb it - george will end up looking like a cheap, watercolour paintbrush a five year old child pressed down the paper tip down. oddly specific, but you know what i mean.

to buy more time, george walked slowly to the park. appreciating the blurry streetlights and the hues of the night sky, he can't see it -- but in his own little way, the blues look so enticing. the gravel beneath his shoes made unmistakable sounds as he walked to the bench - which, clay wasn't there yet, so george sat on the bench by himself, looking up at the stars. they were so beautiful tonight.

"what'cha thinking about?" george heard someone say behind him, he turned around to see clay, wearing a lime green hoodie and jeans. the shoe game was weak, but george didn't mind.

"not much, the stars just look so pretty." george responded, clay smiled, walking to the bench and sitting beside him. the blond relaxed and leaned back, in contrast to how tense george was, sitting upright and straight.