Clay's POV
He collapsed onto the cold floor. George was gone, he made him leave, he drove him away. His eyes burned, strained from too much sobbing, but he wasn't focused on that. All he could think about was the brunette, his love, no, he couldn't say that anymore. Fuck.
Seeing his mother interact with the brit made Clay think about what was to come. Family dinners, proposing one day, them getting married. Sure, it was distant, but it all seemed so within his reach, a future was easy to imagine with George. Anything with them together sounded like paradise.
Clay was a burden, he encumbered those around him. He was an anchor, dragging his loved ones down until they hit rock bottom along with him. He'd done it before with friends, even his family, he couldn't do that to George. A future together would ensure the eventual demise of their relationship, he'd end up wounding the other beyond belief, it was guaranteed, that's what Clay did. He ruined things. He'd never forgive himself if he ruined George.
It'll be better for him, Clay tried desperately to convince himself. He had to tell himself that, anyway, or he might've done something very bad. He regretted it, telling George to leave, of course, he did. He wished with all of his heart that he would have kept his mouth shut. He loved George more than he loved himself, that was why he let him go.
He felt so selfish, all he wanted to do right now was call the brunette, tell him he made a mistake, that he was sorry, that he loved him, that he needed him. He shakily reached for his phone, quickly retracting his hand. No. This was what was best. He repeated that phrase over and over, wearing out the words until they didn't make sense. All that did make sense was George. He was gone.
Dial the number, just dial it, tell him to come back.
A compromise. He pulled up his and George's text chain.
I'm sorry. I love you.
Sent.
Seen.
No response. Fuck.
It was over. He needed to come to terms with that. George was gone. That was a good thing, right?
It was. Clay's mind rambled on and on and on.
George. Love. Happiness. Alone. Pain. George.
He wished he could forget about everything wonderful, about the past few days-amber eyes, pink cheeks, how strange and fantastic it felt to say I love you seriously. If he forgot, it wouldn't sting. If he forgot, this would all go away. He and George would still be best friends, just best friends. And he would hate it, hate not being able to love him, but George would still be there.
That's what hurt the most. Saying goodbye meant goodbye forever. George would never forgive him.
This was the end. He wanted his eyes to stop, he didn't want to cry anymore. He wanted to be happy, happy that George would get to be happy. But his eyes just wouldn't stop. This should've been bittersweet. It wasn't.
Tears kept flowing. Then it all went black.
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Seeing Stars - DreamNotFound
عاطفيةThe overwhelming chemistry between them and debilitating, omnipresent yearning for each other had grown to be too much for George and Dream to handle virtually. Discord calls and Minecraft worlds were only fabricated realities, after all. They had t...