Statues In Time-DNF

Pt 2 Ch 3

George's POV
The gentle sound of rain pounded on his window, the quiet dorm feeling so desolate and almost foreign to him. Over the past few months, Clay had become a part of his day to day life, the always nervous tall man a buzz of emotions and words that George could hardly even keep up with. Sometimes Clay would brush against him accidentally and the smell of freshly rained on grass and the ocean would fill his senses. It was soothing in a way that nothing ever had been to him.
He cupped his hands around the warm mug of tea before him. The steady ticking of the clock drumming in his ears, flooding his already full brain. Ever since he was a child he loved the ocean. He loved the fact the he could feel the waves and the sand. In a way, Clay reminded him of that feeling. He reflected the waves and oceans of George's feelings in ways no one ever could. Relentless, unforgiving and wild. Except for those who knew how to navigate them. George supposed Clay was one of the rare few that could navigate him. Sometimes George's waves were calm. Soothing even, other times... other times George could hardly recognize himself. Call it cruel fate that his parents were both wrecks that could hardly take care of themselves, let alone a half blind child, but having to navigate the world nearly alone and with the guiding hands of therapists that came and gone had left him a name on the sand, washed away by the harsh waves of his thoughts and self. He turned to horrible relationships in hopes of some sort of love. Consolation. But none ever came. The waves only got harsher and harsher and before long he was no one. A pitiful sob story older people sympathized with and a freak of nature to those his age. Clay had been one of the only people to notice him as a person. Not as the weird half blind kid who sat in the front of the class, but a person. A person with feelings and dreams and ideas. Clay in a way was the warm soft sand to George's relentless harsh waves. And before he could realize what his feelings were becoming, he longed for Clay. He loved his warm hands, his halo of blond hair he could see when he was near him, his gentle voice and more than anything he loved him. In a way, this was his love letter to him. A love letter that would never be seen by the supposed recipient. Clay was a beautiful person. But what was George in comparison? He would never be good enough, normal enough, to be loved by anyone in a serious manner. His mother had told him something once, when she found the self created scars covering his arms, thighs and stomach that stuck with him for the rest of his life. "No one will ever love people like you normally. You will never genuinely be loved George. I want you to always know that." And he did. He knew it better than anyone. His life was pathetic. He was pathetic. And no one, not even kind Clay would be able to see past that.

Author's note:
Hello everyone! Just wanted to clarify really quick that George is partially blind, basically meaning he can't see anywhere in his peripheral vision but can still see (to an extent) in front of him a bit. Just wanted to clear up some confusion lol!