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Chapter 49- Why?

TWs- hinting at s3lf h4rm, hinting at su1cide, hospital.

George's POV

Well, in saying that Clay was doing something I wouldn't approve of I was definitely right. Because when he finally came back he was wearing longer sleeves than before and had changed out of shorts into joggers. Guilt flooded me the moment I saw him, because for Gods' sake did he not have enough issues already? Was he not suffering enough?

But unsurprisingly, he still fake smiled at me like the only thing wrong was me being in a hospital bed. He still walked into the room ignoring the pain he felt on accord of, not himself, but the world around him. On accord of me.
Ah, shit.
Of course, I had the respect to wait until the nurse left the room before I said anything. I'm not an idiot. She just picked up her empty notebook, quietly explained to Clay what I had been doing, and simply walked out of the door. Simply left him, already vulnerable in a room with me. Me- the source of his problems, his fear, his pain. Me- the one who had screamed at him just because he was trying to help me live. But he didn't care about that, because he knew I was in trouble so that's all he acted on. He was prepared to drop all of issues for however long it took just for me. Because he is a stupid, beautiful, selfless idiot.

He turned to me. His fists were clenched, and his face expression showed me I was about to get a lecture, but it's not like I was about to let him speak first when it was so blatantly obvious what had just happened.

"I know I was wrong. But before you say or do anything, give me the blades in your pocket." Green eyes stared at me, hesitance and surprise filling them.

"How-"
"No bullshit Clay."
I put out my hand. I waited. And, like the dumbass he is, he shook his head. "George, no. This is about you. Just let me cope the way I cope for now, okay? We're helping you right now, fixing your problems. Worry about me later." Wtf no, that's stupid.

"No, that's stupid. I'm already getting help."
"Wrong, you're avoiding help."
"I'm here, aren't I?" There was a silence. He gave me a look. Dang it.

"Okay fine maybe I'm avoiding help, but so are you."
"I don't need help. I'm just coping."
"Bad coping. Unhealthy coping. Coping that could kill you."
"George, I'm not gonna give you the blades."
"OH MY GOD CLAY I just had the most amazing idea."
"Is it for me to give you the blades?"
"......."
"..So yes?"

I sighed.

"Yes. Gimme the blades."
"Stop closing your IV."
"It's called a tube spine. And no.
"Then no."
"No to the blades or calling it spine tube?"
"Both."
"Oh my GOD you're so gay."
"Only for you."
"Gross."

And he smiled. His gorgeous, tear stained face finally smiled, and it was the best gift I had been given for months. Dumb, I know. But it filled me with the same warmth I had been desperately lacking. It made my cheeks flush, made my chest flutter, made me feel like the shy man I was when I got out of the car and saw his face for the first time.
But even that couldn't fix what was happening. Even the genuine emotion on his face faded, being replaced by an all too familiar sorrow. My hands shifted.

"I really wanna help you, George." It was solemn. It was real. It was him.
And that only made it more painful. Knowing he had no way to really forget, or feel better, or even try to until I did as well.

"I know." The tear rolling down my face left a streak of warmth, drying even as it appeared and falling slowly on to the covers. Our eyes stayed locked on one another, no one moving. And again, new water filling his eyes, he smiled. The same dimple appeared in his left cheek, the same lips stretched and got slightly thinner, the same skin under his eyes crinkled. But it wasn't happy. It wasn't right.

It wasn't him.

I swiped the new tears from my cheeks, throwing my head back against the bed frame and pressing my hands against my face. It was all so wrong.
"Fuck's sake." The voice that left my mouth was finally somewhat recognisable, but it still broke in the middle. It still burned my throat.
It still made me look back up at him, cheeks still wet despite how I rubbed at them. It still made me wonder- about everything.

"How did we get so broken, Clay?" We didn't move, eyes still glued to one another's. Tears still streaming down our faces. Questions still rushing through my mind.

How did we lose everything so quickly? How did we grow apart so fast? How did we turn the best thing that ever happened to us into this? How did I misplace my understanding of you?

Why?

When did we stop laughing? Smiling? When did it end? Will it ever be fixed? When did it start? When did our home lose it's meaning? When did we start fighting?

Why?

What did we do to hurt this much? To deserve it? What decisions led us to this room, right now? What kiss did we share that broke the bond? What words did we speak that made it so hard?

Why?

Why are we here? Why have we lost one another? Why have we been enveloped by this overwhelming darkness? Why have we let it happen? Why didn't our love fix it? Why didn't we let it? Why have we bothered coming this far when everything we say has become a lie?

Why don't I think you love me? Why don't I still see it in your eyes? Why does it hurt so much? Why do we deserve to be in this pain? Why can't we have a break? Why don't we deserve a break?

Why hasn't it stopped, yet, Clay? Why have I bothered to make it this far? Can you not tell me? Don't you know? At what point did you stop knowing? Why did you stop? Why haven't I stopped?

Why am I still bothering to be alive, Clay? Why am I still breathing on this bed?

"I..I don't know, George."

(1037 words)

Thoughts?

I'm serving you pain on a platter at this point, so enjoy :D

If ur reading this ily<3