The Most Formidable Thing

In Spite of Everything

A.N. — Back with a new chapter! Hope you are all doing okay :) I know that it may be midterms for some of you, whether you be in high school or college, and if that's the case, I wish you the best of luck with any project you undertake. Shit's stressful as hell, but you'll get through it, and you'll feel so good when it's all done. Even if it isn't midterms or exams, I hope that whatever it is you're worried about doesn't stick around. You got this! Hang in there <3

Enjoy the chapter :]

***

Perfectly on cue, the tall blond stepped into the room, a coffee in hand.

In seeing George awake, his eyes widened, his hand slipping slightly and almost dropping the hot drink enclosed in it.

"Thank fuck." Clay exhaled, slumping back against the glass wall. He looked exhausted: his shoulders slouched, dark rings underneath his eyes.

The nurse finished what she was doing and stood back up. She glanced back and forth between the two of them, before heading to the door.

"I'll leave you two to catch up. George, feel free to hit the button if you need me. Otherwise, you should be good to head out of here in a couple of hours!" she smiled warmly one last time then disappeared down the hallway.

George turned his attention back to Clay. The other straightened his back carefully, rising to his full height and setting his coffee down on the side table. The two of them were silent for a couple minutes.

"Thank you." George whispered, his voice cracking.

Clay didn't meet his eyes. He kept his vision trained at the ground below him.

"Seriously, I...I owe you my life. God knows what would have happened if you hadn't somehow been there."

More silence, until:

"...I thought you...it looked like you were trying...trying to..." The blond struggled to voice his thoughts.

George's stomach flipped.

"...Like I was trying to...what?"

Clay's words burst out suddenly, his tone wavering.

"I don't know, I saw the pills next to the sink, and–and then the glass, and the blood–I–I...thought you'd...given up."

Those last words were especially quiet.

Oh god, what have I done.

"Oh my god." George's voice was now barely a whisper. "Jesus, no...I–I'm such a fucking idiot. Holy shit Clay, I'm so sorry."

Out of the corner of his eye, George saw something fall from Clay's eyes, hitting the bleak concrete tiles with a splash.

Is he...crying??

And then guilt came crashing down on George's shoulders, heavy and painful.

"I wasn't. I promise. I just...I get these panic attacks, and...things must have just spiraled downhill last night. It's kinda complicated."

Clay lifted his head for a second, and George saw that his eyes were red and watery. Clay shook his head slowly, returning his gaze back to the floor.

"My sister..." The American started. George waited patiently for him to continue, his heart heavy.

"She tried to...you know. A couple years ago."

"Jesus."

"Yeah." Clay took a shaky breath. "I was the one who found her."

George wanted nothing more than to pull the other into his arms, hold him tight, forget about everything else. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

"It's...it's okay. Well, it's not...but she's okay now. She's doing much better."

"Thank goodness." George whispered.

Yet another stretch of silence followed.

"God, I really am so fucking sorry, Clay. I had no idea."

The tall man simply gave a small nod.

"I swear I'm not...I wasn't thinking about that. I was just having a weird night, and things didn't exactly go my way. Mostly though, I'm just clumsy. I'm just..." George searched for the right word. 

"I'm just a fucking nimrod." He laughed, in spite of himself. In spite of the situation.

And maybe it was just that the two of them were just so sleep deprived, or that both of them were in such a pitiful state, but before long, they were giggling like fools. George laughed himself light-headed. The whole situation was just so ridiculous and strange, he couldn't help it.

After a few minutes, Clay sank down into the chair beside the bed, exhausted, traces of a smile still lining his mouth.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too." George sighed quietly, closing his eyes. "I'm glad I have someone like you."

Shit.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean George???!!

His eyes snapped back open and he saw that Clay was sitting straight up now, staring at him weirdly.

Uh oh. Uh...

"I just mean...uh...I'm–uhhh, I'm glad you were there to, erm, help me in time." he scratched the back of his neck, his facing going bright red. "You're a good, uh..."

George gulped nervously.

"A good friend."

Clay continued to observe him, giving George serious deja vu from his dream. He subtly pinched his arm, just to make sure he wasn't, in fact, still asleep.

The blond coughed, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Do you...consider me a friend?"

George could have sunk into the ground and dissipated into hundreds of thousands of tiny specks of dust right there and then.

"Uhm, yeah. I...yeah I guess. Is that–is that okay?"

To his complete shock, he saw the green-eyed boy crack a smile. He looked...happy.

"Yeah."

George couldn't help but smile as well.

"Yeah that's...more than okay." Clay spoke quietly, looking down.

George grinned, feeling his heart skip a beat.

"Okay."