Is This True Love? (DNF)

Chapter 59: The Truth

George POV.

“Why is this so hard?” I glared at the blond, crossing my arms. “If there is something that you have to tell me then just do it!” Yet it might be something that is sensitive for him and so I sighed, taking his hand in my own. “I promise I won’t judge you for whatever it is you want to say to me.”

“This’ll change everything George.” He sighed, repeating the same thing that he had said at least a dozen times already. “Maybe it would be better if we just went back to town.”
“No.” I cut him off, continuing to squeeze his hand. The blond had lowered his gaze, refusing to look at me, perhaps out of guilt for something, or just because he knew I was getting annoyed.

“Please stop this. You know that I love you Clay, you can tell me anything.” I attempted to smile, pushing back my agitation and annoyance.
“I don’t know.” He sighed, and I managed to roll my eyes without him seeing me.

I was trapped between a rock and a hard place. Nothing I said changed his mind, instead it just swirled around in an internal pot of confusion. Part of me considered stepping out of the car and walking off if he didn’t answer my question within about two minutes or so. That is how close I was to my wits end.

“I’m just not sure how to say it.” He explained. “It’s not something you would hear often. You might hate me if I say it, you might think I’m crazy.”
“I’ll never think that.” My teeth gritted, feeling annoyed with him, it showed as I held his hand tighter with my own.

“Okay… promise.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms at the same time. This was honestly getting ridiculous, I was beginning to suspect he’d confess to murdering somebody or something like that. I waited patiently though, reassuring the blond by responding with a ‘promise Clay’.

We had been sitting for ages, and he continued to sit patiently. Without a word I climbed over to the blond, sitting down on his waist. He was shocked but I figured this may ease his nerves slightly. “Look, I would do anything to make you happy.” I muttered. “You make me feel good, and I love you dearly. You could never say anything to make me upset.”

My lips moved to press at his cheek. He didn’t react, just allowing me to do with him as I wished. “I love you so much.” I kept muttering, arms settling themselves comfortably on his shoulders. The blond’s breath was shaky, yet he allowed me onto his lap.

I kissed at him, shifting on his lap as he shuddered. “How can I prove to you that I will do anything for you? That I would never hate you no matter what you said or did?” I sat there and waited patiently, continuing to slowly rock my hips against him while kissing against his face. “I want you to know…” I trailed away, connecting our lips in a long kiss.

When we eventually pulled apart he shuddered. “I want to kiss you.” He quickly responded, hands immediately travelling to my waist. We began kissing more desperately at one another, our lips slick against one another. “You feel so good George.” He grinned.

We made out for a while, before he pulled away. He took a few deep breaths. “Okay,” his hands clutched me tightly. “You are definitely sure that you want to hear this?”
“Yes.” I smiled, feeling thankful that he was finally going to be telling me whatever it was that he was thinking about.

He sighed. “Well, do you ever feel as though you are the centre of the universe?” He asked. “As though everything revolves around you?” The questions confused me, and my brows furrowed.
“Doesn’t everyone think that?” I questioned, since it was something that was exceptionally common, thinking that you were the centre of your own respected universe.

“Not like that.” The blond added on. I watched as Clay took a few deep breaths. “God this is going to be hard to explain…” My brows furrowed, feeling sympathetic towards him. “I want to let you down easy, but I don’t know if I can.”
“Then don’t.” I told him, firm yet caring. “You don’t need to dance around it.”

“Are you sure?” I nodded, muttering about how it could be as blunt and raw and difficult as he wanted. Regardless, I would be able to take it. “Well you feel that way because you are. You are on a TV show.” Clay screwed his eyes shut as he said that, but when he opened them he just saw me, still on his lap, and confused.

“George?” He asked, studying my expression. “Are you okay? Did I… freak you out?”
“No.” I responded. I shifted off of him, feeling agitated. “Just annoyed that you hyped it all up as though it was some big important secret.”
“So… you know?” Now it was his turn to feel confused.

“Know what Clay?” I had stepped out of the car now, crossing my arms as I looked at him. “Since what you just said about a TV show sounds like bullshit.”
“But it’s not.” He reassured me. “This is a show, your show.”
“Prove it.”

For a few moments he didn’t say anything, and I was more certain that he was lying. After taking a few deep breaths he began. “You were born to Ashley and Richard Davidson, twenty-five years ago on November first 1999. First you went to Truman Elementary, followed by West Manburg High School.”

I was slightly surprised, but quickly cleared my throat. “You could have just been told that.” I rationalised. “Niki’s known me since high school, so has Sapnap, and Karl’s known me since we were toddlers.” It was strange that he had talked about this with my friends, yet that was more believable than being on a show without my knowledge.

He didn’t respond to me, instead just continuing to list stuff he knew. “Your first crush was your friend Quackity, however you never said anything to anyone since it was before you came out as gay and didn’t want to ruin your friendship. You would talk to yourself about it in the mirror every day, planning on how you would ask him out…”

“Stop…” I believed him now, as he was going on about something that I truly had never told anyone except my journal which was sitting unused for years in a box in Niki’s garage.
“...You and him had been closer friends than you had been with Karl, but when you had finally gained the confidence to confess to him he drowned.”

“Clay, you can stop.” My voice was a fearful whisper.
“When he and Techno both died you did cry for both of them, I mean of course you did, but it was more for Quackity as you had lost the first person you loved.”
“I said stop!” I was louder, breath shaking.

“I believe you…” I added. Without realising it tears had begun running down my face. Clay seemed sympathetic, regretting what he had said as I turned and walked off.
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1232 words

How would you convince someone they were living in a TV show? Just a genuine question.