Last Christmas- DNF

~6~

20th December 1921

Stumbling through the door late into the evening at 10pm, George felt himself running off adrenaline, thoughts from earlier forgotten momentarily in his haze of warmth with the blonde and exposure to what the most wonderful time of the year could truly feel like.

His experience at the carols had been nothing short of mesmerising, the way the choir sung was beautiful and with the extra accompaniment of the blonde next to him it felt even more so. Thoughts were racing as his mind replayed one specific moment on repeat- a tanned finger hooking around his pale one and causing such sparks within him that even he was unsure as to what he felt.

Changing into slightly old tartan trousers that he assumed to be pyjamas and a matching button up loose shirt, he turned to face a mirror. The sight before him was one he'd never expected to see, yet one he wasn't entirely opposed to. His face was flushed a crimson pink, complementing the red tartan set upon his body with his hair ruffled where he'd pulled the beige sweater vest over it.

Quick hands brushed through the curls, flattening the mess slightly, though still leaving a few strands out of place which he couldn't be bothered to fix. Shrugging his shoulders at his reflection, his hand pushed down the door handle and opened it, revealing the short hallway that he had to make his way through in order to get to the living room.

His feet tread lightly upon the wooden floor in fear of getting a splinter like he had done in the morning when he'd been too rough, slowly but surely making his way into the living room where Clay was already relaxed against a sofa. There was a different atmosphere than expected when he entered the room, the calm he'd felt before turning tense and sour.

Furrowing his eyebrows at the mood shift, he made his way towards the sofa and sat down cautiously, confused as to why the air suddenly felt so tense between them. Given it may be because of what happened in the church, but Clay was the one who initiated it first, George would never do such a thing with someone he'd just met, especially in a time era like the one he's in.

"George", he snapped his head up from where it had naturally downcast at his thoughts, tilting it to the side slightly as he studied the blondes face. There was no sign of emotion, not a single hint of anything whether it be happy, sad, angry, confused.

"Yes?", it seemed like a fitting response, seeing as Clay hadn't given him very much to go off of with his request.

"What-", Clay cut himself off, furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lip, trying to figure out how to formulate the question he wanted to ask, "How in the heavens did you get here?", regret was instant on his face when he watched George's lip tremble at his words. Knowing immediately that he'd spoken about a sensitive subject he was going to try and comfort the brunette, though they don't teach you very much when it comes to comforting men, they're not supposed to cry in the first place.

"I told you when I got here, I just woke up and all of a sudden I'm a century before where I'm meant to be", George's voice was wobbly, wavering occasionally as he spoke, "I think it was my wish but I'm not too sure", it was as though he was talking to himself, which partially he was, trying to figure out what had happen.

"Wish?", Clay responded quietly, "Similar to those made in fairytales for young girls?", he was trying his hardest to understand, he truly was, but when all you know and your views are a century behind the person in front of you, it's a little difficult.