Addict. (DNF ANGST)

Chapter 13

♡Clay pov♡

I woke up with a pounding headache. I slowly opened my eyes. George's back side was pressed against my front. My arm was around his waist, and we were both in our underwear.

I remember last night. I remember us kissing and hugging in the shower after we had sex.

I smiled.

I should tell him to break up with Miguel and date me instead. I want him to be my boyfriend. I fell so fucking hard for him.

He shifted a bit and groaned quietly. I kissed his bare shoulder.

"Good morning." I mumbled.

"Hm?" He hummed.

I couldn't help but smile more. I pulled him closer to me. He turned around to look at me.

"Hi." I said softly.

"Hey." He replied.

"I need to tell you something." I stated.

"What?" He asked.

I took a deep breath.

"I like you, George. Like, a lot. This wasn't just meaningless sex to me. I really do like you. I want to be with you." I told him.

He just stared at me.

Say something. Tell me you like me back.

He sat up and climbed out of bed. I sat up as well. He put his pants and shirt on.

"George, what?" I mumbled.

"This was a mistake, Clay. God, you're fucking pathetic. I sleep with people all the time. I sleep with you and suddenly you're just fucking in love with me. Grow the hell up. This meant nothing to me." He said.

I felt my heart sink in my chest. My throat got tight, and my eyes watered.

"But I-"

"Don't. I don't like you. I don't love you. You're nothing more than a friend I fucked when I was drunk. Why do you think you're so different? Huh? Cause you protected me? Do you think you deserve something out of it?" He asked angrily.

I shook my head.

"I don't think that way, George. I promise. I just want to treat you well. I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved." I told him.

He scoffed.

"No, you don't. You're not different. Stop fucking acting like you are. You're just like the rest of them. You're all the same." He said.

"No, please, I can show you that I'm different. I won't hurt you. You know I won't hurt you." I mumbled.

"How would I know?" He asked.

"Last night. Did I not care for you well enough? I can do better. I can be better for you. Just please don't leave me. I promise I can treat you well." I told him.

He put on his shoes and left, slamming the door behind him. The tears finally left my eyes and slid down my face. Thoughts flooded my mind.

Do it.

No, I've been clean for years. I can't.

You deserve it. You aren't good enough. You made him leave.

This isn't worth relapsing over.

He called you pathetic. He's right. You are. Spilling your feelings like that. Fucking pathetic.

I got off my bed and put on some pajama pants. I went into the bathroom, and I shut the door behind me. I opened the bottom drawer and saw the pack of blades.