But We're Not Normal

Snap

As it turned out, Clay still hadn't gotten used to the pain that having to not talk to George left behind. Every hour he had to spend ignoring him was becoming more and more hellish than the last. Did George still consider him his boyfriend after six days of radio silence?

He'd looked happy in Nick's post yesterday, fingers tangled in Ophelia's hair. Clay couldn't even find it in himself to be jealous. Ophelia was beautiful, much like George and not like Clay at all, he believed. She wasn't famous, like Clay, so George wouldn't have to be hidden away like some sinful secret. She wasn't thousands of miles away either. He wouldn't blame George for moving on, if he decided too. Clay wouldn't wait for himself either.

"Hey, you still with me?" Keres whispered, placing her hand on Clay's forearm. They had decided to go out for dinner and try to think of something, anything, they could use to get in touch with George and Nick while the rest of the band continued Clay's work from home.

The group had seen the way he had closed off more and more each day and tried desperately to keep taking him out and reducing the stress on his shoulders. Clay was thankful for their efforts, he could see how much they really did care for him, but it wasn't the stress that was getting to him. He thinks Vincent might understand the most.

"We can skip dinner if you don't feel like being out right now?" Keres offered gently, brushing her thumb back and forth. Clay shook his head; he was already out and they had paid a good deposit for the booking, he might as well stay. It would keep Damien satiated too, since he hadn't stopped looming over his shoulder and breathing down his neck.

"I'll be fine. Have you had any more ideas?" He dismissed, getting straight to the point. Keres watched him with sad eyes. Every new idea they presented that failed only made Clay worse, how many more could he handle? Had she not been so utterly afraid of confrontation - especially from a man like Damien -, Keres may have gone straight to Damien herself. But, from what she'd heard, it wasn't likely he'd see reason anyways.

"I thought of creating a new account, completely disconnected from us all, and using it to just suggest everything that's happening to a third party and having them message George? That way it could look like George came to the conclusion himself." She suggested, watching for Clay's reaction. He sighed and shook his head.

"Damien will trace any messages we send to anyone explaining the situation back to us no matter how far from us we try to make it." Clay shot down, bringing one hand to pick at the scabs on his knuckles. They were healed enough to be covered by his foundation but that didn't stop Clay from constantly reopening them with his incessant scratching. Keres watched for a moment before sighing and standing. Clay watched in surprise as she picked her black cardigan up off of the back of the chair and pulled it on over her yellow, floral summer dress - he wasn't sure how she still wore summer dresses in October.

"Come on. We're going home." She looked shaky and the demand was weak but she stood her ground all the same, hand out towards Clay and determination in her eyes. Clay sighed and placed his hand in hers anyways, standing from his seat.

Keres stood on her toes, gently wrapping her arms around Clay's shoulders as he shook. He felt hollow and lost and desperately tried to imagine George in Keres' place but he just couldn't. As she pulled back, Keres pressed a lingering kiss to Clay's forehead in hopes of it bringing some semblance of comfort. She sent a silent prayer for the lord to remove the demons that haunted Clay's mind. Clay just held her tighter as his world darkened and closed around him.