Homocide Fifty || DNF

26. Distract You

George very visibly gulps. Clay looks so good.

He's wearing baggy, faintly coloured blue jeans. They've got some kind of white imprint on them. He's wearing an oversized, grey t-shirt with black stripes and a chain. George is certain they're wearing the same type of chain.

"Hi," he says for the second time, smiling at Clay.

"Hi, George," he laughs. He's holding a red cup and George makes himself look away when he realises how big Clay's hand is wrapped around the cup.

What's going on with him?

"You bought drinks without me?" Sapnap scoffs jokingly, grabbing both Clay and George's arms. He pulls them all the way over to the food and beverage.

The capped man is quick to get him and George a drink as well. Wilbur's voice is deafening, resulting in Sapnap having to ask George what he wants twice.

Sapnap is the only one that drinks alcohol. George simply orders a water, while Clay sips on a fizzy drink.

George can make out every detail on Sapnap and Clay's face. They've made their way to the crowd and are all standing undeniably close because of the close proximity generalised in the crowd.

Clay's curls look fluffy. His eyelashes look long. Sapnap's eyes are a beautiful pattern he hasn't paid much attention to before.

As they move in sync with the crowd, George gets a sense of happiness down his spine. It's crazy how he's transitioned from eating soup every day to standing in the middle of a yelling, hyped crowd.

Wilbur has sung about two songs by now. Everyone goes wild when they hear that the next song he's going to sing, is Come A Little Closer.

George smiles widely. His whole body becomes untamed, loosely dancing in the crowd. Sapnap laughs loudly next to him, singing the words loudly. His voice is rough and George is glad Sapnap isn't a singer.

But he doesn't care about imperfections right now. He only cares about one thing, the adredaline rushing through his body. The feeling of happiness. The feeling of reaching the edge, like he's close. Like he could do something crazy.

"Hey, Clay!" He yells, not even sure why he's making a conversation in the middle of a loud, yelling crowd.

"Hi George!" Clay giggles, the red cup in his hand bouncing up and down. Clay looks at George with glistering eyes before downing the rest of his drink. He throws his head back slightly to make sure he gets it all.

Oh god, his Adam's apple. George can't control himself even though he's completely sober. The only thing he's intoxicated by, is the viridescent eyed smiling at him widely.

George impulsively grabs Clay's hand and squeezes it. Clay's smile drops, his pupils becoming wider. He smiles weakly again before throwing the red cup to the side. George and Sapnap follow his actions.

George raises their intertwined hands in the air. It feels like a puzzle finding its missing piece. A piece of Clay.

It feels right.

George squeezes again. Clay squeezes back. The brown-eyed can't stop looking at their hands locked together.

He feels elated, rapturous. He laughs again, screaming the lyrics. He doesn't care if he sounds bad. Or if he looses his voice.

Maybe he's exhilirated because it's a concert. Maybe he's overjoyed because it's Wilbur's concert. His childhood bestfriend's concert.

Deep down, George knows why. He knows that it's the overstimulation caused by interlocked hands, the loud music, blissful happiness surrounding him and the fact that Clay and Sapnap are next to him.