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So sorry about ghosting you all! Writer's block has been treating me very badly :( I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter!! :D
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It had been an hour since Clay met George. Ever since he left Darryl's shop, a bitter feeling overtook his heart. That bakery had been a private slice of heaven, a gentle reminder that not all was bad in the world. But now it's miles away, and the problems that were outside of his little utopia were visible.
Clay took a deep breath. He was never this clingy, but there was just something about them. Darryl and George made him feel warm, a warmth that's way too complex to explain. It's as if the pair that bakery emitted a light that washed away the darkness in Clay's life.
Especially George.
He wondered if they were thinking of him.
What would they think of him?
Would they think that he was a spoiled rich child? An abuser of power? Worst of all, an open wallet? Clay continued to destroy himself with his thoughts, subconsciously preparing for disaster, as he always did.
A gentle breeze blew past Clay. The rain had stopped, but you could still feel the light saturation in the air. Clay inhaled through his mouth, tasting the misty air. He was mere blocks from his home. For most people, they would've given anything to live there, But it was sometimes too overwhelming for Clay. Every room was supersized, and you could easily get lost in the labyrinth of hallways.
In all honesty, it was lonely.
Sure, he had his parents and several assistants, but at the same time, he stood out. He was never really part of the crowd, and when he was, he lacked interest in socializing. He was never really into the people that hung around the manor during parties, who would gossip and whine about the littlest of things.
As he walked into the manor, a short, balding man who looked tired beyond belief greeted him.
"Welcome home, master Clay," He mumbled monotonously, almost like Clay wasn't even there. He was always like that, even on good days. Clay mumbled an unheard thanks and continued into the dimly lit, gloomy hall.
As he made several turns through neverending hallways, he couldn't help but feel small. For someone who had everything, Clay felt like nothing. Every trait he had could never outshine the riches. Every lady who tried to court him, every man who attempted to form a bond with him, they were all after one thing: the money.
Clay's thoughts drifted back to Darryl and George, and his heart sank.
Was everything they said just lip service?
He had never felt so disconcerted.
Clay stopped at his door and reached for the doorknob, his grasp shaky on the cold metal. His eyes burned as he fought back the thoughts creeping to the forefront of his mind. He turned the knob and pushed his door open, the familiar scent of dyed paper wafted through the room. He flopped onto his bed face-first and immediately winced as his mask pushed uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose. He untied the knot holding the mask to his face and shifted his neck uncomfortably to pull it off.
The grandfather clock in a room a few doors away chimed ten times, and he knew it was time to rest. As he closes his eyes, his mind starts to wander.
His mind drifted from subject to subject, but every thought was plagued with a smile that he'd only seen once.
His smile.
Clay didn't fall asleep that night.
YOU ARE READING
Shimmering Crystals
Romance|| It's the 19th century. Wealth was power. Power was happiness. Happiness was a lie. At least, it was for Clay "Dream" Bryce, a wealthy aristocrat who tended to keep to himself. Hell, nobody had ever seen his face before. But when a young, enthusia...
