Bridging Hearts (DNF)

Chapter Twelve - Steps Forward

Fanart is not mine.

George's POV:

My heart is pounding in my chest as I pace back and forth in my bedroom. Yesterday's argument with Clay still stings, and I feel foolish for letting things get so heated. Emily's words replay in my head, offering a gentle nudge of reassurance.

I take a deep breath, pull out my phone, and type a simple message: "Can we talk?" It's short, and probably too vague, but it's all I can manage without letting the weight of my emotions spill over.

A few minutes later my phone buzzes with his reply: "Im omw"

Nervousness coils tight in my stomach as I tidy up my already-neat room, trying to keep my hands busy. When I hear the familiar sound of Clay's car outside, my fingers tremble as I race down from my bedroom and open the front door. He's standing there, wearing a white t-shirt and a yellow jacket layered over it, paired with black ripped jeans. He looks perfect, as usual.

"Hey," I murmur, stepping back to let him in. The silence between us is thick but not angry-- more like the silence between two people who have a lot to say but don't know where to begin.

I led Clay up to my room and shut the door behind us. I stand by my window as Clay looks down towards his hands. "I'm sorry for what I did," he starts, voice low. "I never meant to hurt you."

Relief washes over me, and before I know it, my own words come tumbling out. "No, I'm sorry. I overreacted like I always do. I was scared. Scared of losing what we have, and scared of what we were going to be. But I know that... that I don't want to be just friends, Clay."

"I want you," I murmur.

There. It's out now. Raw and unfiltered. I watch as confusion flickers in his eyes, quickly replaced by something softer, almost tender.

"What do you want us to be?" he asks quietly, stepping closer.

My voice wavers, but I meet his gaze. "I want us to be something real."

---

Clay's POV:

George's voice wavers, but he meets my gaze and says, "I want us to be something real."

My heart is beating so hard I'm afraid it might burst out of my chest. George's voice is so vulnerable, and the way his dark eyes search mine makes it impossible to breathe. I've thought about this moment so many times, about how I'd say all the right things and make everything perfect. But now, standing in front of him, all my rehearsed words disappear.

"Something real," I murmur, stepping even closer to him, inches away. I reach out slowly, giving him a chance to pull away or stop me. He doesn't. I gently cup the side of his face, feeling his warmth under my fingertips.

"I want that too," I whisper. "I've wanted that for a long time, George."

The look of pure relief on his face makes my chest ache. I brush my thumb along his cheek, feeling bolder.

"I like you," he says, his voice barely more than a breath as if saying it any louder would shatter the fragile moment.

I chuckle, "I like you too. More than I've ever liked anyone."

His breath catches, and for a second, I worry that I've pushed a bit too far. But then George reaches his hand up, covering mine where it rests against his face.

My heart stutters, but I lean in, pulse thrumming in my ears. When our lips finally meet, it's soft, and hesitant, like the first drops of rain after a long drought. His lips are warm and a little chapped, and the way he sighs into the kiss sends electricity sparking through me.

This isn't my first kiss, but I know that it's George's first kiss. Even though I've never really been in a defined relationship, while he has.

It's not perfect-- we bumped noses awkwardly, and George let out a small, nervous laugh hallway though-- but it's real. And that makes it perfect in my eyes.

When we finally pull back, his cheeks are flushed, and I feel like I'm floating. We stare at each other, wonder and disbelief mirrored in both our expressions.

"Something real," I whisper again, and his smile lights up the room.

---

George's POV:

The rest of the evening feels like a dream. After our kiss, we sit across from each other on the bed, hands together as we talk. The tension from the previous day has melted away in a single moment, leaving a new, easy calm between us.

We talk quietly about everything and nothing. We're together now, closer than ever, officially boyfriend and boyfriend.

A soft knock on my door makes me glance up. Emily pokes her head in, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Everything okay in here?" she asks, looking between us. I notice her gaze linger on our joined hands.

I blush and squeeze Clay's hand a little lighter. "Yeah," I say softly. "Everything's... really good."

Her smile is gentle, her eyes filled with happiness and something else that I can't quite place. "I'm glad," she murmurs. "You two deserve it."

After she leaves, I turn back to face Clay, my heart swelling. "I'm really lucky to have you," I say quietly.

Clay's smile is the kind that makes me feel like the only person in the world. "I'm the lucky one."

We stay like that for about two hours, talking until the stars come out and the moon casts a gentle glow through the window. We end up sitting side by side, and I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling heavy with sleep. I look over at Clay, afraid he'll leave if I fall asleep.

"I'm not going anywhere," Clay whispers, his voice a soft promise.

And as I drift off, I believe him.

---

Clay's POV:

I stay awake long after George has fallen asleep, my heart still racing from everything that's happened. I glance down at him, now curled up against me, his soft breaths a steady rhythm in the stillness of the room.

Careful not to reach him, I shift slightly and reach into my pocket. I pull out the small note I wrote days ago, the one I've been too scared to give him. Unfolding it, I read the words again, my chest tightening.

George,

I don't know how to say this, so I'm writing it down. I think I'm falling in love with you.

Biting my lip, I glance at George's peaceful face. With a small smile, I carefully tuck the note under his pillow, my fingers lingering for a moment.

One day he'll find it. Maybe by then, I'll be brave enough to say the words out loud.

But for now, being here, with the boy I care about more than anything-- that's enough.

"I'm not going anywhere, Georgie,"

And I mean it.

Word Count: 1114 :)