Breathe

memory.

The next few days went by with a blur. Clay and Nick went out a lot to buy furniture, groceries, and to settle payments with the bank. George still had not arrived, but all of his things had been shipped. He had encountered some trouble with his visa, and he wasn't able to come on the day previously scheduled. Because of this, Nick and Clay stacked all of the boxes in the remaining room and called it good.

Clay still struggled, but he was doing much better than before Nick found out about the self-harm. He had to break his habit, and it was proving incredibly difficult. Clay found himself playing Minecraft for days on end without stopping so as to keep his mind off of things. He even ended up crashing his computer with the amount of stress he was putting on the CPU. But slowly, things got easier, and time moved forward.

One day, Clay decided to go into George's room and unpack a couple of the boxes for him. He could at least plug in the hard drive under the desk, or even put some clothes in the closet. He knew it was a slight invasion of privacy, but Clay also knew that George was really stressed out about moving to America, so it was the least he could do to help. 

He started hanging the shirts on hangers and putting them in the closet. It was mindless work, and George owned many more shirts than Clay though possible. His clothes took up four massive boxes, but Clay was willing to help. He sorted through pants, pajamas, undergarments, and suits, hanging and folding and organizing. It was therapeutic. Before long, all of George's clothes were neatly folded and put away in the chest of drawers and closet. 

Then he moved on to the basic desk set-up. He carefully placed the monitors on the desk, put the keyboard in front, then moved the hard drive to under the desk. He set up the chair, unwrapped the headphones from their bubble-wrap encasement, and pinned up the sound-proofing cushions. He didn't mess with the lights or plug anything in (except the hard drive)- he wanted George to personalize it himself.

He soon lost himself in the work. He made the bed, dusted the blinds, and fixed the clock on the wall so it was on the correct time. He cleaned the bathroom, stuck a sticky note with a smile on it to the mirror, and put the shampoo and conditioner in the shower. He cleaned the mirror over the dresser, dusted the ceiling fan, and vacuumed the floor. Finally, he moved on to the decorations box.

There was mostly fan-art inside. There were lots of paintings and drawings of the Dream Team, some of them incredibly detailed and precise. Some of the paintings were amazing, some of them more mediocre, but all of them clearly meant something to George. He shifted through most of it until he found what he was looking for- a set of 3-D printed figurines, one of Sapnap, one of Dream, and one of GeorgeNotFound. These were made by George once he got access to a 3-D printer, and he was so excited when they turned out. They were each about three inches tall, weighing less than an ounce, but they meant the world to George. Clay put them on the dresser, admiring how they stood up on their own and how much effort George must have put into them. 

He turned back to the box and looked inside, seeing if there was anything else with which he could liven up the room. Most of it was just fan-art, and George had explicitly stated he wanted a separate room for fan-art, just as Clay had wanted. But then something caught his attention. A little white pebble sat at the very bottom of the box. It was perfectly oval, and it shone in the light of the room. Tears spiked at Clay's eyes as he reached in for the pebble.

This was the pebble he gave George about six years ago. They had met up once when they were younger, and it was just by chance. Both of them were at Minecon in Brighton when they happened to stumble across each other. One from Florida, one from London. The odds were incredibly low, but it had happened. 

They ran to the beach together, both screaming at the wind and having the time of their lives, when Clay found this very pebble on the ground. It stood out from the others, as most of the surrounding rocks and pebbles were stark grey and dull yellow, and all were oddly shaped, but this pebble was pure white and perfectly oval. He picked it up and ran to George.

"George, look !!"

Clay ran over to George, who was looking at rocks of his own. When he got there, George was instantly enticed by the strange beauty of it. He grabbed it gently, holding it in his palm, and a smile lit up across his face.

"It's a ghast spawn egg."

Clay giggled. He could have never made the connection on his own. To him, it was nothing but a pebble. But to George, this was the key to worlds unknown, a key to incalculable adventures and mighty triumph. Clay looked at his friend, fascinated by how quickly George illustrated the pebble as something other-worldly. It was beautiful, and it was lovely.

"It's yours."

George met eyes with Clay, curiosity sparking. "Really ?"

"Yeah, dude !! It's yours."

Of course, it was nothing but a silly pebble. There was no monetary value to it, but to the boys, it was worth more than gold.

"Thanks, man !" George laughed, holding the pebble up to the sunlight.

"And remember, George, that this pebble is special. It's very special. It holds the secrets to millions of seas. Keep it safe, and every time you look at it, remember that one day, we will explore those seas together. Just you and me and the stars."

George smiled. He wanted to explore those seas more than anything.

They played pirates under the burning sun for the next hours, watching as the sunlight slowly faded into moonlight. The boys laughed and sang and played, and there was nothing but innocence behind it. There was no danger here. There never would be.

"Clay ?"

Clay snapped his head up, tears falling down his cheeks. "Yeah, Nick ?"

"Uh... you okay ?" Nick said, walking carefully into the room.

Clay wiped the tears off of his face and nodded. "Yeah, it's just-" he sniffed, "After all this time, he kept it."

Nick was confused, but he figured he'd hear that story later. He crossed over to Clay and sat down beside him on the bed. 

"George is going to be here tomorrow."

Clay's head shot up. "Really ?!"

"Yeah, man !! He just called me and told me. Said he tried to call you but you didn't pick up."

Oops. Clay looked at his phone, which had three missed calls. 

"Did you tell George about me ?" he asked carefully.

"Not yet," Nick replied. "I figured it was probably a better conversation to have in-person rather than over the phone."

Clay nodded, then he turned to Nick and smiled.

"You're a good friend, you know that, right ?"

Nick laughed, standing up and extending a hand to Clay. "Of course I know that, I'm the best !"

Clay took his hand. The two boys stood there for a minute just looking at the pebble. Then Clay walked over to the dresser and placed it in front of the three figurines. It served as a symbol, as a marker of the memories they had together, and the memories to come.

"Want some mac and cheese ?" Nick asked. "I've been craving some, like, all fucking week, dude."

Clay laughed. "Hell yeah, man, I want some."

So they went downstairs and made mac and cheese. They laughed and told stories and jokes and made fun of each other in the lightest way possible. It was camaraderie, it was life, it was good. Maybe this was the way Clay was healing. He clearly couldn't heal alone. It had to be with people he loved, with people he trusted.

The healing process was hard, and it shook Clay to his very core. But it was necessary, and so far, it was worth it.