No More What Ifs (DreamNotFound)

11. The Right Choice

That sentence hit me harder than any punch. I stumbled backward, my eyes wide with shock and pain. I was out of breath and tears were streaming down my face. Time had stopped; my head was spinning and it was as if and the world punched a hole through my stomach.

George immediately knew he had gone too far and had put his hand up to his mouth, stuttering, "W-Wait, Clay, I-I'm sorry-"

I sprinted out of his room and down the stairs. George was calling after me, but I didn't care. The sprint towards the stairs felt like an eternity, and I heard George collapse onto his bed behind me. I was stopped by George's mom - or, more accurately, I ran headfirst into her. If I hadn't just finished coming down the stairs and lost all my momentum, I would have knocked her clean over. I wasn't paying attention to anything by now - just breaking down and sobbing.

Next thing I knew, she had led me over to the couch and helped me sit down. From this new position, I was crying into her arms as she held me close. Something about this feeling was new to me and I couldn't quite put my finger on it for a few moments. Finally, though, I realized. This was motherly affection, something I've never experienced before. The weirdest part was that I'm not related to her at all, and yet she was caring for me as if I were her own child. It felt strange yet so incredibly comforting.

"Why..?" I muttered aloud. "Why do you care so much about me?"

She thought for a moment. "Well... This might seem a little like a nonanswer, but... I do it because I can. I do it because I can help you and care for you like the mother you never had."

I choked out another sob. She kept patting my back softly as I slowly, but surely, returned to my senses. The tears were still coming down fast and hard, but at least I was becoming fully aware of where I was and what I was seeing.

After what must have been a few minutes of comforting me, George's Mom said, "I'm going to go check on George. I promise I'll be back soon. Okay?"

"O-Okay," I sniffed.

She laid me down on the couch gently and quickly made her way up the stairs to comfort her actual son. I sat up and wiped fresh tears from my eyes as they came down harder. Of course, it makes sense that she'd want to talk to her biological child more than me. That doesn't make her a bad person, and I don't blame her for it.

I noticed a small gray figure from the corner of the room that was approaching me curiously. Wiping a few more tears out of my eyes, I saw that it was George's cat. We looked at each other silently before he hopped up onto the couch and stepped onto my lap, purring softly. I rested my hands on his soft back, stroking it and smiling internally. Both he and Patches had a tendency to cuddle up with me when I was feeling distressed, and to be honest, having a fluffy friend really helped sometimes.

As he got more settled, I felt the tears stop coming down as fast. I was nowhere near composed, but at least I wasn't ugly crying like earlier. I even broke a little smile when George's cat brushed his tail against my arm. I was able to stare at his light gray fur and just forget.

I had to come back to the harsh reality when George's mom returned downstairs and walked over to me, softly taking a seat next to me. The cat on my lap didn't seem to care.

"Hey, Clay. Do you want to talk?"

"I-I..." Staying composed was so much easier when I could be silent, but when I had to speak again, I just couldn't stop myself from crying.

"We don't have to if you're not feeling ready," she assured me.

"No, I want to," I sniffed. "It's just... kinda hard to stay composed."

"I understand." She averted eye contact for a moment to softly pet the cat on my lap, smiling lightly. "Do you want to start, or would it be easier if I did?"