I blink blankly. That was so much worse than just saying that he'd kill me if I did it again. No, he had to phrase it as gory as he could.
"You need help," I raise my brows, finally finding the words to say.
"I don't need help," Clay throws his phone on the table carelessly.
"Do you wanna talk? Like genuinely, let's just talk," my offer came from the depths of my heart, I wasn't being sarcastic or anything.
"I don't want to talk," he now throws his head back and rests it on the couch. His body language, the way he's using full sentences to answer my questions.. it's all scary.
"What you said was scary," I admit, "not okay. Not okay at all."
"You know what else is scary and not okay?" He sits up straight to look at me, "Going to sleep alone and waking up with somebody."
It's not that he doesn't have a point. But firstly, he went to sleep with George, and the "somebody" he woke up with was me. We live together, it's not like he woke up with a random dude from the streets. I don't think it scared him that much.
I think what really bugged him was the thought of me being his ex. I know he won't admit that that was the thing screwing him over cause he doesn't even know that he mumbled her name while spooning me.
I could say all of that to his face, but I think that's too much and just unnecessary. He's in a much worse place than I imagined and nobody seems to notice or care.
"I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry," I try to soften him up a little bit. A confrontation will make him lock up even more.
"Can't say the same," Clay shrugs.
I narrow my eyes at him. It's like he's being mean on purpose.
"Do you really hate me that much?" I'm curious to see what he has to say.
"Hate you?" He chuckles ignorantly, "That's a strong feeling to have towards someone you don't care about."
"So you don't care about me?" I don't know why I'm in disbelief.
"Yeah, I don't care about you," he nods, using the full sentences again.
"Not even one bit?" My brows raise higher and a small smile appears on my face because I know that he's lying.
"Not even one bit," and his face gets closer to mine - supposedly to make his words have a greater effect on me.
I part my mouth and something almost escapes that would make his mouth shut forever.
I don't think he'd bother to cover me up with a blanket if he didn't care. I don't think he'd help me lift the weight from my chest if he didn't care. I don't think he'd put his phone on mute to not wake me up if he didn't care.
And I'm not saying he's doing all these things exclusively for me. All I'm saying is he has a good heart, he's soft and maybe cares a little bit too much about every small thing. He's trying his best to look tough and independent, yet in reality I think he's so fragile and lonely. I have never felt so much sympathy in my life, not towards people that were doing their best to be as rude to me as possible.
"Okay," I nod, "I can't change that, but maybe you can try trusting me a tiny bit?"
He's exhausted. Probably thinking why is this conversation still going and why do I care so much. And I don't know. I just do.
"I'm not used to trusting random ass people without a reason," he looks satisfied with the choice of his words.
"You'll get used to it."
"Just like you did?" He chuckles.
"Oh?" I know where this is going. I just know it.
"I mean you did trust three random guys enough to let them live with you, right?"
I'm sick and tired of having to hear the same shit all over again.
"Why are you still talking about that?"
"I just thought it's relevant to the topic," he shrugs.
"It would be relevant if my decision backfired on me," I state, "so far I'm okay and enjoying your company."
"I like how you said "so far", that's a necessity to add a bit of sense to your sentence," he laughs.
Every time I try to talk to him we end up circling around this stupid topic. I want to put an end to it. But I'm nearly sure he's going to act mysterious and use stupid metaphors again.
"If you know something I don't, go ahead and tell me," I lean closer to him. I'm surprised we haven't ripped each other's hair off from this tension.
"I've told you enough," his voice is low, words are slow. His eyes are focused on mine.
"No, you haven't. Go ahead, Clay. Educate me."
"I would if I cared enough," he gives me a sinister smile, "but for now.. nah."
I always thought I had nerves of steel. But even steel would bend if it talked to this guy.
"You're so fucking annoying," I speak through gritted teeth.
"You'll get used to it."
This bitch.
My hand curls into a fist on my thigh, and he breaks the eye contact just to look down and admire the fact that he managed to get something negative out of me.
I don't even flinch when he grabs my fist and lifts it up to inspect it mockingly.
"Look how frustrated you are.. why do you even bother?" He looks back at my eyes. It's not the image I expected to see. He doesn't look that cocky, he looks surprised.
"You know, I just want to help, and you're being a dick," if I knew how to cry, this would be the best time to cry out of frustration. But luckily a change of voice tone is the farthest I can go.
"What will you get out of it?" He speaks, my fist slowly uncurling in his hand when I finally hear sincerity in his voice.
"Do I really need to get something out of it? I just want to fucking help, that's it!" My hand tenses up again with my words, but Clay doesn't let it curl.
"The world is not as kind as you think, Anastasia."
"Don't bring up the world when we're talking about you," he gets silent after I cut him off, "I'm not trying to help the world, I'm trying to help you. Speak for yourself or just shut up and go to sleep, you're fucking annoying."
The attitude catches him off-guard. He's unlocking every single form of me that even I didn't know existed. All I feel is the urge to dig my nails in his flesh and draw blood until I feel pacified. I'm not even capable of describing the feeling, but his face looks biteable.
"I'll go sleep then," he gets up.
"Good." I frown. At least we agreed to something.
"Will you be there next to me when I wake up?"
I'm about to throw something at him and I don't even know what he means by that.
"After you threatened to hug me so tight that my bones crack and my face turns purple?" I'm hoping he hears how disturbing that sounds.
"C'mon, don't you want me to hug you that tight?" I swear he's giving me a headache.
I don't think I have anything else to say to him. The only option is this one.
"Fuck off."
And he laughs like an absolute asshole. I'm giving up. I don't think even a factory reset can help him at this point.
YOU ARE READING
Signed /Dream Team/
FanfictionSigned / Dream Team [Clay, George & Nick] x OC [Anastasia] / Not a poly ❗️Warnings❗️ •Contains mature language •Any scenes that might not be suitable for all audiences will have an additional warning ~~~~~ Notice ~~~~~ Dream, George...