𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦. | 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

25

Clay rested his fingertips against the aluminum doorknob like he had done to Nick's just hours before. Only this time, the handle was unfamiliar in his palm. He squeezed it, his eyes staring straight into the wooden door.

It was much later in the evening, way past visiting hours. The hospital was completely still, completely void of all of the daytime shenanigans and bustling workers. As deafening as the silence could be, Clay felt almost as if he was at ease at this time of day— alone.

It had been a few hours since the blonde retreated back to his room after talking to Nick. He couldn't stand being in that room another night without talking- or at least checking up- on George. He felt restless whenever he closed his eyes, the picture of the brunette constantly being reflected back to him.

Clay gently pressed his other hand against the door. As much as he wanted to rip the door open and bound inside, another side of him pleaded for him to just go back to his room for the night and leave the poor boy alone.

After what felt like decades of debating, Clay let out an exhausted sigh and squeezed the door handle somehow even tighter then before. He pulled it downwards and braced his arm up against the door, using his weight to push the door open.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing the dark room inside. No signs of life seemed to inhabit the room besides the slow turning of the overhead fan. Clay shallowed thickly, turning his palm over against the door to push off of it and walk into the darkness.
His eyes quickly darted around.

"George?" Clay's voice quivered as he spoke, coming out smaller than he intended. The room remained dark and unmoving, the shorter brunette seeming to have never inhabited the room in the first place. In his arising panic, the blonde walked forward and eventually felt his way around to the cot in the darkness.

"Pu- Luke told me you're in here.." Clay said aloud, more to himself than anything. He felt himself growing more with worry, the clear and unanswered absence of George causing his mind to think of the absolute worst. He felt around on the cot for a few moments longer and realized there was no warmth- no body.

He cursed under his breath, his clammy hands running along the sheets as he scanned the room. "Geor-" The blonde began to call out again, but this time he heard a rustling noise from the other side of the room. Now curious more then anything, Clay cautiously stepped towards the noise.

As he got closer, he realized he was looking at drawn curtains covering up a windowsill. A long, baby blue blanket poked out from underneath the curtains. Clay outstretched his hand, his fingertips slightly grazing what felt like a shoulder. He quickly retracted when the muddled-up curtains let out a small, distressed hiss.

Clay slightly drew some air in through his teeth. His body filtrated with guilt as he again reached up his hand- this time grabbing one end of the curtain- and began pulling the fabric back. Clay's heart practically lept into his throat at the sight in front of him.

George was perched on the little edge of the windowsill, his entire body leaning on the window itself. He was curled in on himself- the blanket fully wrapped around his body. It practically swallowed his entire body because of how big it was.

Clay would never be able to describe how exhausted he looked. His eyes- both normally so full of emotion- were completely dull, pools of melancholy. The bags under his eyes were darker than Clay has ever seen, darker than he knew they could get.

His lip quivered with such clear reluctance, Clay almost wanted to close the curtain and leave him alone. Going against his consciousness, though, the blonde wordlessly reached forward to rub George's back. Much to his dismay, George blatantly pulled away.