Muffled words

10

TW: panic attack

George's POV

I rushed to the door the moment I heard Clay's car pull up, opening it harshly and running up to him as he climbed out looking slightly dazed. Tear tracks were still on his cheeks making it very clear that my theory of him crying was correct, but I didn't gesture to it. He looked down at me, a calm look on his face other than the twinge of pain that was clear in his green eyes. It hurt to see. I went on my toes, reaching up toward him and pulling him down into a hug. For a while there was no movement given back until his arms lifted hesitantly, wrapping around me but going no lower than my shoulders. Even though it was better than nothing there was still disappointment filling my heart when he pulled away and smiled gently before simply turning and going inside. 

Nick was sat on the sofa staring at his phone, a look of anger on his face. He had given quite a similar look when I leapt up at the sound of wheels on tarmac, but I was sure there was no correlation between the two. Before I could put on a film or find anything for us to do together Clay had made his way up the stairs with a bland expression on his face, avoiding any eye contact. The harsh slam of a door made me jump slightly, bringing back the lump in my throat from earlier. The boy on the couch didn't even notice, just continued to scowl with his eyes glued to his phone. 

There really wasn't much I could do in this situation, because it's not like I could start a conversation with either of them. My stomach had filled with a familiar anxiety, and I knew that if I didn't distract myself soon it would end badly. Even now my hands had already started shaking, my breathing getting rougher every second. But instead of going and doing what I was meant to when I felt like this I just made my way up to my room, forgetting to close the door behind me and seating myself on the edge of my bed, feeling hot tears start to fill my eyes. My nails dug into my hands as my breathing went out of control, me gasping for air I couldn't quite reach. 

A dry sob ripped out of my throat and I let my body curl into a ball, rocking back and forth as the world turned to darkness for my thoughts to take over.

You're not good enough, Clay hates you, you did everything wrong. They're gonna kick you out because you ruined their time, you're just annoying and weird like everyone says you are. They think you do everything for attention, they think you're stupid, they think you're fat and ugly. They're glad you don't speak because they agree with you that your voice is whiney and gross. Your existence is useless, just like you. Your parents were right. Your friends were right. You were right. You deserve every ounce of pain you feel, because no one cares about you. Not Nick. Not Clay. Not even yourself.

____

Clay's POV

I had shut myself in my room, too tired to care. The other two could probably tell easily that I had been crying but it's not like it really affected them- I mean they had one another. Clearly.

George made his way upstairs soon after me, his feet quiet against the carpeted floor. The sound of his door closing never came, meaning he was just in his room with it wide open. That was the first sign that something was wrong. The brunette always closed the door behind him, I knew that. He had shared his fear of leaving it open behind him with me a while ago, and I had always kept it in mind.

The next thing was the complete silence, because though George never spoke he always had a noise in the background, whether music or a random radio station or just the usual whirr of his monitor. An evening ages ago he had told me of this, saying that the sound of nothing made him feel lonely beyond compare. I had always made sure to keep conversation going over call, talking as he typed to me just to make sure he felt comfortable. But now there was nothing, just empty air left with no sound filling it. It made me more conscious, sitting up and worried about the boy in the next room.