him after me || dnf ✓

Chapter 11: Perspective

I think the thing ill miss most about being alive - apart from not being with George of course - is feeling things. I can no longer savour the sun's warmth on my skin or the breeze as it tugs at my hair, I physically feel...

nothing.

-

George hasn't left his room in 2 days. It's typical at this point, he spends most of the day crying and sleeping and at night, unbeknownst to Clay, he crawls out the window and sits on the roof to cry some more. 

The calm of the roof brings peace to me and I think it has the same effect on George. We lay on our backs while he stares at the stars and I stare at him. The dim moonlight always reflects onto George's skin in the most perfect way as if his skin glistens under the stars. He talks to me but directed to the stars, a specific star that is visible almost every visit and stands out being brighter and having pink undertones. I can only hope that he thinks I'm listening through that star. Most nights, he tells me about his day, tells me about what he did and how he thinks he's getting better.

Other nights, he just cries for me.

Tonight, he was reading a book, my favourite novel.

'Wuthering Heights' by Emily Brontë, a classic no doubt.

He used to read it to me when I had trouble sleeping. It's one that I've heard a multitude of times but also one that I would gladly hear a thousand times, but only from him. His voice was hoarse from crying and his lips were dry from the soft wind of the night as his hands loosely clutched my old copy of the book. The words slip from his mouth effortlessly, practically memorised from the countless recounts. I collected my thoughts and turned my attention back to George as he reached a familiar part - quite an infamous part.

"It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of-

"His and mine are the same~"

Both mine and George's heads snap to look behind as Clay is approaching from the window.

"Quite a classic there eh? Wuthering heights? I didn't think it'd be your thing" Clay spoke gingerly

"Well no...your right, it's not my thing at all I much prefer books like John Greens narratives. It was Oli's favourite, I used to read it to him when he couldn't sleep~ he would say that it sounds better coming from me rather than himself." George explained, turning his attention to keep his gaze at the rosy star. 

"He must have good taste then, I also wouldn't peg you as a book person either to be honest" Clay hummed out.

"Truthfully, I dont understand half of it but Oli was quite opinionated on it, part of the reason he loved it so much. Every time we would get to chapter 9, he had this whole thing about their relationship being toxic and incestuous"

George went on to voice my opinions almost word for word, much like I had once done.

Did I really speak about it so much to the point where George had memorised my entire rant?

"I never actually looked at it in that way, I think I might actually agree with Oliver. I feel like I would have wanted to be his friend." Clay says with a smile

A silence falls over them as their eyes were fixed on the stars and crickets chirped softly from the distance until Clay decides to speak up.

"You know I have a personal library right?"

"Libary?" George questions with piqued interest.

"Yeah! It's near my office, it's quite large as well, I would've told you about it earlier if I had known about your interest in reading, I would be happy to show you but it's..." He takes a pause to check the ornate watch decorating his wrist "-2am, we should both probably call it a day and get some rest." 

"Oh yeah okay sounds good" George states with a slight hesitation that Clay seems to miss.

-

After Clay had shown George the, quite exquisite, library; George's presence had expanded to it and he was now there relatively often in fact most of his time was spent there. He read books upon books and I would peer over his shoulder to read with him. This served as a rather good distraction from my death for George and it gave me much needed entertainment while I still spent time with George seeing as there wasn't much at all I could do. 

Now, every so often when he didn't have work, Clay would join him in the library. The two would simply sit in silence as we read, completely engrossed and enraptured by their novels.

Undoubtedly, they both appreciated the much-needed company.

Clay did in fact look more into my perspective on Heathcliff and Catherine's relationship and ultimately agreed with most of my opinions that were shared by George.

I have to admit I'm quite proud of the fact that I influenced Clay's opinions even though we had never even met and I was dead.

-

George and Clay were becoming much closer, close friends now rather than the awkward roommate/acquaintance relationship they shared not too long ago. George seems to be crying less and instead, continuing to bury his head in the novels that they would recommend to each other. 

It was nice, seeing as the books Clay would recommend George were often more my taste so I was also being fed entertainment.

Clay was helping George, not in the way Nick and Niki did. Nonetheless, it was obvious George still wasn't moving on and hanging, as if his life depended on it, to the pink-flushed star in the sky.

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1.1k Words

If I dont specify whose POV the chapter is in, assume its Oliver's :]

Stay hydrated <3