1 am || dreamnotfound

fourty - five

clay sat in his room, it’s only been thirty minutes since he left the hospital.

since his life went to shit.

george’s skateboard hung on his wall next to other possessions clay managed to grab from his boyfriend’s room.

he walked over and frowned when he saw something sticking out of the wheel, a paper, a note.

he took it in his shaky hands, gasping quietly when he saw his name in recognizable handwriting.

hi clay!

i'll be gone when you're seeing this, and i'm sorry, i truly am, babe, but it was for the best, for me.

i just want to talk for a little, one last time, even if it isn't from my voice, it'll still be from me.

remember when we first met? like two years. it was one am, we were skating down the same neighborhood, the same gas station, the same park. i saw the slightest glimpse of you, and i didn't think anything of it... until i got distracted by something else.

i wasn't paying attention and i crashed right into you and we toppled right over--you specifically went straight to the ground, face down. you broke your nose, i remember it. you were so fucking mad at me, yelling and cursing at me. i deserved it though, 'cause i did kind of break your nose because i wasn't paying attention... whoops.

annnnndd we stayed enemies for two years, huh. i eventually grew to hate you too, you just began to annoy the shit out of me, i'm not gonna lie, babe, but whatever let's move on from that.

we just kept on seeing eachother that it was like fate was trying to say something to us, but all i believed was that it was only a coincedence. who knows! it didn't matter though, because i finally got to be with you.

so, about my cuts. i never did tell you, did i?

so, here it is.

i did it because i deserved my suffer and misery not only emotionally and mentally, but also physically. i did, i did, i did.

my parents always put me down and i could never bring myself back up. i told myself i deserved everything that was fucking with me because it was happening for some good reason.

i started when i was twelve, clay, twelve, that's when my parents started to fuck me up mentally.

and it just continued for those five. i thought that maybe everything would get better. but it never did.

my parents went on trips, some were just simple vacations and some were business trips, but they didn't try to invite me. never. not once.

i was always left alone.

pretty much ever since the age of maybe... i don't know, thirteen?

but yeah, there's that.

honestly, i don't know how to say this but... i'm glad that was one of the days you decided to get high and shit. i know, stupid, fucking stupid as hell, but if it didn't happen, then i wouldn't have taken you home and i would've never started falling for you.

all the memories we made, the new friends i made because of you, you, you just being my boyfriend--i'm so glad all of that happened, babe, i really am.

but it was time for me to go.

i love you, okay? i'll love you forever and always.

- george <3

clay was sobbing by the end, tears streaming freely down his face and splattering onto the now-soaked paper.

so many emotions swam through him. he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t walk straight, couldn’t do anything straight.

like he was drunk on grief and disbelief.

he dragged himself off his bed and into the bathroom, slowly taking off his clothes, not wanting to look at himself in the mirror.

when he did, the eyes in the reflection widened.

those eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and his hair was a mess. he looked like he hadn’t slept for days.

and who knows, maybe he won’t.

or, he’ll sleep forever.

he stepped into the steaming hot shower, gritting his teeth as the bullets of water hit the bare skin on his back. he sobbed and sobbed, salty tears mixed in with water as he leaned his forehead against the cold tile wall, trying to block out the painful grief in his chest.

he was there for an hour.

once he was back out, he slipped on a big hoodie and sweatpants, shaking out his hair before stepping out of his room to get a glass of whatever.

what if he filled it with some shitty alcohol drink instead? maybe chug a few cups.

so he could forget and pretend it was a few days ago.

ignoring the thought, clay filled his glass and opened a cabinet, taking out pills for his pounding headache.

when he drank it, he squeezed his eyes shut, not being able to look at the pills without the image of george in his arms, unconscious from the sudden—maybe not so sudden—overdose.

swallowing, he glanced at the cabinet.

what if he just swallowed the whole damn thing? he’d be able to see george again.

fuck it.

gritting his teeth, he stumbled back upstairs and reached for his phone, pressing the groupchat and hitting the call button.

it rung for a split second before one by one, they answered their phones.

"clay? is everything okay?" nick asked.

said blond let out a shaky laugh, a laugh of distraught and hopelessness. "i--yeah, everything's okay. i just want to say... thanks guys, i love you guys, so much."

a breath hitched. punz. "clay, where are you?"

"still at home." the for now was heard, even though no words were spoken.

"clay, just stop it, no, don't do what you want to do," karl said. "we're gonna come over, okay? we'll get this all figured out. if we need help, then we'll get help."

he scoffed. "what's the point. all i need to do is say sorry, one way or another."

"clay..." alex began.

"why?" nick asked. "what did you do wrong?"

"everything! i fucked up when i screamed at george for his stupid outfit. it wasn't stupid, goddamnit! i couldn't fucking think straight, i screamed at him to take it off even as i told him hours earlier that i loved it."

"jaxx fucked it up," punz said. "you didn't. you understand? that bitch did and it's over, you did nothing wrong. you only wanted george safe."

"but i couldn't save him," clay whispered.

"i'm going to the bridge, i'll love you guys forever and always."

he hung up, slipping the note next to ally's bear and hurried downstairs, onto his skateboard and to the bridge.