ACID RAIN // DNF AU

Chapter Three (George)

He stood next to Clay, near enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of him. Someone had put on a slow song. He couldn't tell if hearing about someone who was happily in love was better or worse than the songs they'd been playing before.

"Will you teach me to dance, George?"

He looked over, blinking, heart thrumming in his chest. "What?"

"You heard me. I want to dance with you."

Would this be too much for him? It couldn't be—it was just a dance, after all. He wasn't that hopeless, was he? "Okay."

"Excellent." He stepped forward, placing his hands on George's waist. He rested his fingertips on Clay's shoulders nervously, letting the music rush over him, drowning in his hidden love as Clay pulled him close and they started to sway. Even the stupid sway of awkward kids melted him, and it didn't feel awkward at all. It felt right to be dancing together on a moonlit night. A shiver ran up his spine, but his skin was singed everywhere Clay was touching him. They had done this once in elementary school, when they were learning how to waltz, but it hadn't been anywhere near what it was like now. That had been a joke, back when there was nothing between them. Now, it was silent, tense, terrifying, and sweet.

Your eyes, so crisp, so green / Sour apple baby, but you taste so sweet / You got hips like Jagger and two left feet / And I wonder if you'd like to meet / Your voice is velvet through a telephone / You can come to mine, but both my roommates are home / Think I know a bar where they would leave us alone / And I wonder if you'd take it slow / Oh, we're dancin' in my livin' room / And up come my fists / And I say I'm only playing, but / The truth is this / That I've never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss / And I'm terrified, but I can't resist / And I said / Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms and I know / That beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong / And I hope / Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms / But I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe / For me to fall / I grab your hand and then we run to the car / Singin' in the street and playin' air guitar / Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar / And I wonder if it goes too far to say / I've never recognized a purer face / You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place / Used to think that lovin' meant a painful chase / But you're right here now and I think you'll stay / Oh, we're dancin' in my livin' room / And up come my fists / And I say, I'm only playing, but / The truth is this / I've never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss / And I'm terrified, but the truth is this / I said / Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms and I know / That beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong / And I hope / Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms / And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe / For me to fall

The song reminded him of the time when they had to talk and text over the phone, living a thousand miles apart. Back when they had first started getting to know each other again, maybe a month after they found out they were applying to the same school, they had fallen asleep on call together. Then he had flown to meet him for a campus tour, even though Clay had already been there. Everything had felt so natural and so strange, to be back with his best friend from middle school after over three years of barely talking. By the time he'd gone back home, he'd known he felt things he shouldn't. Now here he was, hopelessly enamored with a straight boy. Even if he turned Tasha away, some other girl would come and take him from George. It was just a matter of time.

It was far from safe for him to fall for Clay, but he knew it was much too late. There was no escape from these feelings.

"You're so pretty, George," Clay slurred. George's eyes widened, and he felt like laughing maniacally. This could not be happening.

Clay raised a hand to cup George's jaw, turning it towards him. There were stars in his drunken eyes as he swept a thumb softly across George's bottom lip, the sensation feather-light.

Clay leaned in a hair, his warm hands still holding George.

He was drunk, and George knew it. Drunk enough to forget a kiss with his best friend?

If he knew it had happened when morning came, he'd know that George could have pushed him away. He'd know if George kissed him back or if he let Clay kiss him, and he'd find out the truth.

George sprang away, eyes already watering. He wanted it so much that it hurt, but the one time Clay would ever do this, he didn't let it happen. He was so used to rejection by this point in his life, but it hurt at least a little every time, depending on how much he cared about the person. Having Clay turn him away would kill him.