The Most Formidable Thing

Something About You.

A.N. — New chapter bitchezzzzzz

Hope everyone is doing well today, but if you're not, I'm praying that things get better for you soon. They will...just give it time. Hang in there :)

Until then, it would make my day if you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be out with more content soon! 

(I've linked Wilbur's EP "Maybe I Was Boring" f you want some music while u read. it's absolutely FIRE and, coincidentally, I wrote a lot of this chapter while listening to it sooo)

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For the first time in months, Friday morning, George woke up feeling excited and ambitious.

He had a list of things he wanted to do; things he wanted to say. Things he wanted to say specifically to one person. A person who, before yesterday, George hadn't believed was even capable of cracking a smile, much less towards him.

He showered and changed quicker than the speed of light, throwing on his favorite dark blue sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans. He searched by his bedside table for his contact lenses, but to his dismay, couldn't find them anywhere. He groaned frustratedly, walking to the cabinet above the bathroom sink to grab his dark-rimmed glasses.

I guess it's look-like-a-total-fucking-geek day today.

He hated wearing his glasses. He felt stupid and vulnerable wearing them, even though he'd never gotten anything but nice comments from others when he put them on.

He brushed his hair in the bathroom mirror, scarfed down a bowl of cereal, packed his bag and then practically flew out the door, turning the corner and colliding with something tall, muscular and lemon-scented.

"Oof." George stumbled back clumsily.

"Hello."

The pair of bright green eyes observed him curiously.

George pushed his glasses up the brink of his nose, averting the other's gaze out of humiliation.

"Sorry 'bout that." he mumbled.

Clay tilted his head to the side slightly as he stared down at George.

"S'okay. Nice glasses."

If George had felt stupid before, well now he felt downright idiotic. He grimaced, looking down even more.

"You don't have to lie to me. I can handle the truth."

Clay only shook his head, confused.

"I wasn't lying."

"Oh. Well...thanks. I guess."

The silence that followed was despicably uncomfortable. It took every ounce of George's abilities to not turn on the spot and run back into the bland safety of his dorm. Thankfully, Clay spoke again:

"I wasn't even at your door yet, there's still half an hour until your first class starts. You're...early."

"Oh...am I?" George pretended not to have noticed this, as if he hadn't just gotten ready in half the time he usually took just so he could spend more time — for lack of a better word — interrogating Clay before class. He had at least several dozen questions he wanted to have answered, which he knew was wildly unrealistic given the level of sociability his bodyguard possessed.

Again, George was met by another confused glance.

"Yes."

"Oh. Well I guess I could go grab a coffee then."