It's Just a Game... Right? (DreamNotFound/MCYT)

~~8~~

Ahaha angst go brrr-

~~~George's POV~~~

My jaw dropped. 

I gently took the mask away from his face and set it down on the wooden chair. 

I had been astounded when I came here and realised I could actually see in colour, proper colour.  Sure the glasses I have helped but it wasn't the same- These colours were vivid and bright and there were so many of them. 

But now, now I can see Clay's face in colour. 

He's beautiful. 

His eyes were green, the light of the rising sun reflected orange in them, they were amazing, and not piss yellow like I'm used to seeing. His hair was blond- actually blond, the roots were brown, and I wanted to run my hands through it. His pink lips were slightly parted, he was breathing loudly and shortly, as if he was nervous. I wanted to trace my hands over the freckles that dotted his face, the scars that we-

Scars? 

They should've been the first thing I noticed but for some reason they were the last, he had three, one tracing through his right eyebrow, across his nose to his left cheek, one through his lip, and a smaller one on his left temple.

His throat bobbed and he looked away. 

"Cl-Clay you're- so..."

He met my eyes again nervously. 

I've always had trouble expressing my emotions, all my life even saying I appreciate someone is difficult, it makes me feel vulnerable, but looking at my best friend right now, showing me his face for the first time, as vulnerable as he's ever been, my mind said fuck it. 

"You're- You're so beautiful, all of you. Every single part of you."

I smiled.

He seemed to be holding his breath.

"...E-even the scars?" He asked shakily.

"Especially the scars."

~~~Clay's POV~~~

Especially the scars. 

He thinks I'm beautiful. 

I looked for a trace of dishonesty, pity, anything. But I couldn't find it, 

My face, covered with scars from an accident I had in my childhood, dotted with ugly freckles. My mud green eyes and disproportionate eyebrows. 

He think's I'm beautiful. 

I think I started crying at some point. 

He hesitated, and pulled me in, holding me close and allowing me to shove my face into his hair- which smelt amazing by the way- and cry. I sobbed for a while, astounded at the total honesty and acceptance he had for me.

~~~Nick's POV~~~

I walked to the river. 

The increasingly more muddy ground squelched underneath my sturdy boots as I scraped at the dried blood caked to my blistered hands. 

I opened my inventory as I trudged towards the running water, pleased with what I had. Almost a stack of rotten flesh, bones, two stacks of arrows, lots of string and spider eyes, and so much gunpowder. 

I winced at the dull pain in my left leg as a knelt down to the river to wash off my hands and arms, then, pulling off my weapons, armour and - with a glance backwards to make sure I had no followers- my clothing, leaving only my boxers on, I took a deep bracing breath, and waded into the freezing water.