Clay kept having his nightmares. Often many anxiety attacks too. George would watch as he starts to panic and tended to pull him close, uttering words of apology and reassurance. George will let him cry into his shoulder and he'll stroke his back as he shakes.
He'll offer to bathe Clay and he'll do so incredibly softly, the movements he makes are so filled with love, that Clay finally relaxes. One bath in the morning helps Clay get through the day, but it's his nightmares that fuel the thoughts at dark.
George will lay by him and comfort him so that if he wakes he'll be reminded he's safe and loved and George is, "Right here, my love."
He'll take Clay's face in his hands and with one smooth motion, his thumbs will wipe the tears from the blonde's cheeks. George will then kiss, caress, and love Clay until the morning.
It's a soft love. Gentle and caring. One that makes butterflies seem normal and goosebumps raise continuously. It's trusting and pleasing. It's everything George ever wanted. The way Clay would press his body against his and how his blonde hair would fall softly onto his face. How he could look up and meet Clay's eyes that were watching his so adorably.
The tenderness in Clay's touches, his delicate kisses. His awareness to George's body's reactions, his breathing, his heart rate. The brunette's subtle neediness and the blonde's attentiveness to desperate grunts. They'd be flush against each other, touching skin to skin, chest to chest. Clay's legs bracketing George's and George's arms wrapped around Clay's neck.
George loved how it felt.
He loved how he felt in his arms.
Against his skin.
He loved how they became one.
How they stifled moans but also giggles when they realised what they were doing. How their initial 'close' became all that bit closer.
They'd make it about them for once. A night all to themselves. No nightmares, no sadness, no grief.
Just them and their sounds, echoing through their room. Their happiness.
They'd wake up in silky sheets and instead of crying, Clay will smile. A real smile, for the first time in a while. George will giggle and smother Clay's smile with kisses, repeating how much he loves him and his beautiful smile. Telling him how much he missed it.
Because he has. That smile hadn't shown so wide in weeks. It makes sense; a lot happened.
Today marks a month since Haitie passed.
George has requested there be a memorial service through the gardens later this evening. The gardens that neither George nor Clay have stepped foot in for a month.
It's still blooming, beautifully scattered in the flowers George loves. But all Clay sees are the blood stained blades of grass and the small frail skeleton of his friend. His duelist. It tears him up from the inside that he can't see her smile anymore. Can't see her dance and play. He can't see her. And it hurts.
George sees it too, the invisible imprint of her pain on the garden, but it's what he doesn't hear anymore that hits him. Her little giggles. Her laughter. He never thought he could miss something more. Haitie's voice got him out of bed in the morning, helped encourage him to do more than sleep.
He missed the reassurance that he always had someone in the castle to keep him happy, distracted. Clay does this now, but there's no guarantee they can stay in the castle. The king said what he said, but he's a notorious liar and George has every right not to believe a word he says.
Clay finally sat up in bed, wide awake after their eventful night last night. But then the contents of today's day hit him. He had to face his fear.
YOU ARE READING
Our Fallen Kingdom {DNF}
Fanfiction{COMPLETED} George has a lover. One not approved by his father, the king. Why are they not approved? George is being forced to marry for the sake of the kingdom. Will he fight for what's right? Will he love for himself, or for the sake of his famil...
