The Mushroom Prince // DNF

7/Sleepless

That night, George was lying awake in his bed. He was exhausted but couldn't seem to sleep, his mind running wild with thoughts of the eventful day.

He was lying on his back, head turned to look out the window at the moon hanging low in the sky. Moonlight was streaming into the room, a light breeze cutting through the warm air.

George let out a sigh, pushing himself to a sitting position. He wondered what time it was, and if anyone else in the castle was awake and restless like he was.

He swung his legs out of the bed and pushed himself up, pulling a robe on and tightening it around his body as he made his way to his bedroom door.

He gripped the cold handle, opening the door just enough to peer out into the hallway. He was surprised to see candlelight just outside his doorway, a man sitting in a chair pushed up against the wall.

"Clay?" George whispered, the man in the chair lifting his eyes to meet the brunette's.

"George? What are you doing up?" Clay whispered back, leaning forward in his chair as a small smile spread over his face.

George shrugged and leaned against the doorframe as he quietly answered, "I couldn't sleep. What are you doing awake?"

"Couldn't sleep either."

George grinned at him, wondering if the reason Clay couldn't sleep was the same reason he couldn't sleep. He hoped it was true, but he wasn't brave enough to question it.

He pushed off the doorframe, opening the door more as he asked, "do you want to come in?"

Clay nodded in response, rising from his chair and following George into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

George watched as Clay's eyes flitted around the room nervously. He had always entered the room so confidently, sitting down wherever he pleased, but tonight he seemed more hesitant. George couldn't help but wonder why the change in demeanor, but resigned to simply blaming it on lack of sleep.

George glanced over at his bed, his body was exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of his mattress but didn't want Clay to feel uncomfortable. He made his way over to the small table instead, lighting the candle on it before sliding into one of the chairs, Clay sitting down across from him.

A silence lingered between the two, but George didn't find it to be uncomfortable, more peaceful than anything. He let his eyes settle on Clay, a soft smile on his face as he studied his features. He noticed a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of the blonde's nose, something he hadn't noticed before.

Clay's eyes were cast down, his fingers running over ridges in the wooden table. George wondered what he was thinking about, he felt a strong pull to know more about him, but didn't know where to begin.

George tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his voice slightly hesitant as he spoke, "Clay? Do you remember when you talked about your parents, the day we read the poetry?"

Clay's eyes lifted to meet George's as he nodded in response, a questioning look on his face as George continued, "that's the only time I've ever heard you mention them. Do they live in town, or-"

Clay's eyes dropped back down to the table, a look of sadness washing over his face. George regretted asking the question as soon as he saw the reaction, but he couldn't take it back so he kept his eyes focused on Clay as he waited to see if he would respond.

Finally, Clay spoke in a quiet voice, "no, they don't live in town. They're actually not alive anymore. They died a long time ago, when I was young."

"Oh," George responded in almost a whisper, "I'm sorry, I didn't know-I didn't mean to-"