Signed /Dream Team/

45

I quickly wipe my tears away and double-check to see if they're really tears. Turns out they are, and it feels kind of nice.

"Listen to me," Clay grabs both my hands, "I can't think of many things that are worth your tears, but he's surely not one of them."

That doesn't stop the tears. That makes me sob. And Clay's just there drawing circles on my hands with his thumbs. Too bad I can't feel anything through those hand wraps.

Those fucking hand wraps-

"Can you?" I try to speak but my breath hitches and I sniffle, "Can you take them off?" I pout at the hand wraps, remembering that they were the things triggering a breakdown.

Clay doesn't understand what I mean at first, but when he realizes that I'm looking at my hands, he smiles, "Of course."

I quietly sniffle watching him undo them effortlessly as if it's very easy and I was losing my shit in vain. He's still supporting himself on one knee infront of me, which makes me feel bad about having something to sit on while he doesn't. And it makes me cry even harder.

I push the gym bag that was supporting my weight, sitting on the hard floor, which makes me feel better. We're even now. And he's too focused on my hands to notice, which is a relief cause not only I would sound like an idiot, but I'd also sob trying to explain my actions to him.

"I like your nails," he caresses my fingertips gently. His words make a smile emerge through the tears. It's such a nice feeling when there's at least someone who notices things you're passionate about.

"Yeah?" I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat is getting in the way.

"They're my favorite color," we both look at my forest green nails. It compliments his eyes, "And I like the shape too."

Crying is such a nice thing. Expresses every feeling perfectly, especially the unexplainable ones. I hope this becomes a habit.

"Thank you," I finally smile properly through the tears and he catches the moment instantly.

"There it is!" He cheers, poking one of my dimples with his index finger, which makes me giggle, "I also like your skin, it's very soft."

I know he's fishing for a smile at this point from the way he's repeatedly poking my cheek, but he succeeds. I sniffle and laugh softly avoiding the eye contact and focusing on my hands instead that are still in his bigger one.

Even without having to look up, I can tell that he's looking at me when his hand brushes against my undereyes to get rid of the tears. And he looks at me for way too long with a frozen smile on his face. Makes me wonder.

"Am I an ugly crier?" My head snaps to look at his face and Clay looks like he's snapping out of something.

"What?" He either didn't hear or didn't understand the question.

"Am I ugly when-"

"You're the prettiest."

I hope he really means that and is not just being nice to me because I'm crying. But something about his voice and the way he's looking at me makes me think that his words are genuine. I'm having a hard time adapting to his newfound respect and softness for me.

Maybe he can be my friend after all.

"Can I get a hug?" I see an opportunity, and I take it.

Clay stands up and pulls me with him. And his hugs are the best. He wraps his arms around my head, neck, and upper back, using one of his hands to secure my head on his chest. His head dips into the spot my neck and shoulders meet.