Bloodshot eyes//DNF

Alone.

CW/TW//panic attack, crying, nightmare, mentions of suicide, BPD, depersonalization, ADHD, blood, overdose attempt.

Please no sexual comments they make me uncomfortable:/
—

Clay woke up, or what he thought was waking up, not remembering what happened. He rubbed his eyes, then started to feel cold air hit his back. He looked over and saw that George wasn't there. Why was he gone?

Did he leave him?

Alone?

In the dark?

Hes alone. Hes all alone. He has

No one.

No one is there for him. Why did it feel like this? It always ends up like this. But something felt off. He wanted to wake up so badly.

Wake up! He internally screams at himself. Just wake up please wake up..

He kept fearing the worst. What if George left him? What if George committed suicide? What if George cheated? What if George was gone..?

He had no one.

-end of nightmare-

The blond boy shot up, sweat dripping down his face. He felt like he was drowning. He couldn't breath. Oh god he was trying to. It felt like he was falling, trying so hard to stop.

But he couldn't.

He was alone.

Forever.

"Clay?"

He couldn't breath. He could hear but he couldn't breath or move. He was slipping out of reality into his own world where he got what he wanted. But he had to pay for that. With his own mental illnesses. Of course George didn't know about them, he didn't want to worry him.

But George could see the signs. Constantly zoning out, the boy acting out at random times, Clay constantly looking at his hands, everything. He knew it first when Clay was just screaming at himself. Saying "I'm sorry" "I'm a failure" "i should have never been born"

And he wanted to die so badly. George still vaguely remembered when they were friends and he had to drive Clay to a hospital because he tried to stab his own chest.

Of course George knew, but Clay didn't know that he knew.

Clay kept feeling someone shake him, saying his name over and over again, practically yelling at him. But he couldn't talk. He couldn't do anything but hear and feel. He couldn't open his mouth.

He couldn't move.

Suddenly he regained all the senses all over again. Movement, smell, taste, everything. He just started..sobbing. He couldn't stop. He just couldn't it hurt too bad.

"Clay...?"

George crawls infront of him, looking at him. "Hey darling..can I touch you?" Clay doesn't answer. He took that as a no, scooting away only to make the boy sob more. "Do you want me to?"

Clay only leans into his side, nodding. George rubs his back, not letting go. The boy started hyperventilating, trying his hardest to breath. "Hey hey hey. Hands above your head."

George gets behind him, grabbing his hands from his ears and raises them above his head. "You're okay. Try taking deep breaths with me. In 3, out 4."

The two boys both take a deep breath. "1..2..3.."

"Out. 1..2..3..4"

"You're doing good sweetheart."

"In. 1..2..3"

"Out. 1..2..3..4."

"One more time honey."

"In..1..2..3"

"Out. 1..2..3..4"

The blonds breathing slows down, George dropping his arms. "Do you wanna get some water?"

Clay nods. George quickly goes into the bathroom, grabbing a cup and filling it up half way. He gets back into the room, going behind the shaking boy. "Open your mouth." Clay obeys, George titling the cup back and pouring water into his mouth. "You're okay honey. It's okay."

George was trying his hardest to make the boy feel better and talk but nothing worked. He knows that something is going on and he needed to get him the help he needed but he couldn't. He needed to get him to a mental hospital or even a Normal one. Maybe a therapist? He didn't know yet.

God he just wanted to help his boyfriend.

"Hey baby..can you say something please?"

"Yeah.." Clay sniffles. "Can you maybe tell me what's wrong?" George asks. He sits by the boy on the bed, slipping the taller into his lap. The blond looks out the window, then looks down. "I just.. I need help..and I'm so scared to get help."

George rubs small circles into his stomach, kissing his cheek. "Hey. First step to getting help is admitting that you need it. Next step is thinking about what that help is."

"So what help do you need?"

Clay sobs more. "I dont know! I need help but I don't know what type of help I need.."

"Shhh..you're okay..it's okay baby."

George places little kisses on his cheeks, calming him down. "Maybe a therapist?"

Clay shakes his head. "Do you wanna talk about what's going on?"

"I've..George I haven't told you..you already know I have ADHD, anxiety, and depression but I also have bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and depersonalization I'm sorry I didn't tell you it was putting me under so much stress and I just-"

George hushes him. "It's okay sweetie. I know.." he whispers in a soft voice. "And I've- ive been so stressed about everything and I keep feeling like you're b-bored of me.."

"And that i don't make you happy.."

"Baby you make me the happiest person in the world."

"What if I don't? You're only saying that cause you f-feel bad!"

"I'm not saying it because I feel bad darling." George says softly. "I'm saying it because I love you."

"B-But you don't! You don't l-ove me George you're only saying it because you feel bad! You don't love me."

"You love what you see me as."

George just kept running his thumb up and down the boys hips. "I love you. Not what I see you as. I love you. Your personality. I love the way that the only way you show that you love me is either telling me or touching me. Touching me like, hugging me, cuddling me, kissing me, everything darling."

Clay sniffled, looking down. "Hey..how about i make you some food? Would that help a bit? I keep hearing your stomach grumble."

The blond boy slightly nods. "Okay! Do you wanna come with me or stay up here?"

"Up here.."

"Alright sweetie. You lay down while i do that okay?" George says, slipping the boy off and stepping infront of him. "Hey. I love you okay?"

George places a soft kiss on his cheek, smiling slightly. "Now lay down.." he says as he walks out the room. Clay lays down for a bit, then getting an idea. He slowly gets up, walking to the bathroom.

Then, he opens the cupboard and grabs his antidepressants. He twisted the cap off, slowly shaking out almost the whole bottle. His hands were shaky, but he still raises his hand to his mouth as they drop inside. He swallows, cringing slightly.

Minutes pass, soon his vision going blurry and his head getting dizzy. He grabs the sink counter, slowly looking at his reflection only to see a stranger staring back at him.

If he took his hands away, he would be one step closer to death. But that's what he did and his world went black as he fell and his head hit the wall.

—

CLIFFHANGER BITCHES MWAHAHAHAH