dream smp oneshots <3

lie with me

warnings :

mentions of death

characters :

nick, clay, george

summary :

clay experiences loss and george is there for him <3

x o x o

Clay didn't get out of bed for weeks after his dad died.

Then Nick called George.

George walked in very quietly when Nick opened the door. He took one look at the group of friends lingering in the living room, then started silently up the stairs. Sadness and anger filled every inch of the hallway, picture frames were shattered and the splintered, broken remanence of a wooden baseball bat laid uselessly in the middle of the hallway floor. George stepped over it all cautiously, his steps light and soundless. The door at the end of the hall was dark and the room beyond it was void of any sound but the whirl of a fan. George opened the door with a soft little creak of the old wood and shut it with a gentle click. The whirling fan he heard was stood in the middle of the room, pointing at a lump of blankets on the bed. The room smelled so strongly of stale tears that it almost made George's knees buckle.

He slid his shirt over his head and let it fall to the bedroom floor, he kept his sweatpants and socks on as he shifted the mass of blankets and crawled underneath. He laid on his side and shuffled towards the wall beneath what must of have been at least 7 blankets until he found a cold, pale body curled in on itself. Clay was too skinny, his skin was too pale, and his eyes and cheeks were too red. His eyes were open but he wasn't looking at anything, they just looked vacant and lifeless. He wasn't wearing anything but red boxers, his hair was fluffy and untamed, and the way his skin was hugging his bones tells him that Clay hadn't eaten much in the five weeks that he had stayed in his bed.

George placed a hand in the middle of Clay's back and pulled the boy into him, wrapping both his arms around him and tucking his face into the warm crook of his neck. Clay didn't fight it, but he didn't hug George back. He just lay there and allowed George to hold him.

George listened to Clay's breathing. They were short, and strained. Like he was always on the verge of crying but he pushed it down every time. George ran his finger through the boy's hair, in the soothing way his mother used to do to him. Clay's tired eyes fell shut twenty minutes after George had crawled into his bed. George could hear the moment he finally fell asleep because his head stopped jumping every other minute and his breathing finally slowed into a normal, even pace. George held him close even though his naturally warm body was overheating and he was suffocating in the stench of sadness.

George held him close for five hours, and when Clay woke again, he started to move his muscles. George could feel Clay's hands twitching against where they were curled up between their stomachs and his legs moved to dumb into George's a bit.

"Come on." George spoke softly and he moved slowly, shifting the blankets up steadily to allow Clay to adjust to the light. He didn't give Clay a choice or an option to get up, he simply gripped the boys thin wrist with one hand, and gripped his hip with the other. George pulled Clay from his bed slowly, in no rush at all, guiding him to the bathroom once he had steadied on his feet. Clay still had that blank, vacant look on his face, but he was moving. George sat on the toilet seat as he started the bath, making it hot enough to relax Clay's stiff muscles but cool enough not to burn.

George made quick work of wriggling Clay out his boxers and gentling him into the bath. Clay sat down silently, hugging his knees to his chest and staring vacantly at the dripping faucet.

to Sappy

go to the the diner on Jay street and pick up a burger and curly fries. arlo street is closer but do not go to that one. got to the one on jay. leave it outside the bathroom door once you get it.

George quickly texts Nick before getting down on his knees and grabbing the shampoo. He tilts Clay's head back and uses the palm of his hand to scoop water up and wet the boy's hair, then he works the shampoo into it, scratching and massaging his scalp. A small sigh leaves Clay's lips but his facial features are still empty and distant. George rinses the top out slowly, having to continuously dip his hand back into the water. he runs a soapy cloth along Clay's back, stomach, arms, legs and face, avoiding the general private areas as best as he can. When the boy is as clean as he can get, George lifts him from the tub and wraps him in a plush white towel. Clay is easy to maneuver into a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a tee shirt, and he sits willingly at the edge of the bed.

George kneels before him, watching for a second as the water from his hair drips down his neck. George places his hands on each one of Clay's hips and dips his head a bit to see the boys full face.

"Look at me." The words bare no question and they leave no room for defiance. Clay's eyes lift slowly, connecting coldly with George's.

"Your dad died." he said, speaking clearly. Something flickered in the boy's eyes and they filled with tears, his cheeks going pink.

"Im sorry for saying this so bluntly. Your dad was shot. The man who shot him was John Harris, he was high on heroin and he shot himself in the head after he shot your dad. Your dad died instantly, and you know what that means?" George gently cupped one of Clay's cheeks so the boy couldn't try and look away. Clay didn't offer an answer so George answered for him. "It means he didn't feel any pain. And I know nothing is going to make this pain go away, but you should have a little piece of mind knowing that he didn't suffer." Tears dripped down Clay's cheeks, his lips twitching.

"your father was a great man and loved by so many people Clay. It will be hard at first, but happier times will come." George ran his thumb along Clay's juttered cheekbones, softly wiping the tears away.

"I-" Clay's voice cracked immediately, his throat closing up and his body shrinking in on itself. George kept Clay's head up, soothing his hip a little with his thumb.

"What? Talk to me Clay?" George said. Clay took a shaky breath, the vacancy in his eyes filling with sadness and anger.

Clay crumbled to pieces in George's arms, breaking, falling shattering completely until he was nothing but wails, sobs and screams of desperation and sadness. George held him tight, pulling him down onto the floor, wrapping his arms and legs around him until Clay was curled up inside of his warm, protective embrace.

"I need you to stay." Clay whispered when all of the tears and all of the sobs had died down, slowly tapering off with small whimpers and sniffles. George gently brushed his thumb against the broken boys cheek and kissed his forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get here." George pulled him in a little big closer. Clay looked up at George with a small sniffle.

"You're here and that is all that matters. Just stay." He said. George pressed their foreheads together. He could feel Clay's lips teasing his own but he didn't get close enough to taste, not yet.

"I'm staying right here." His words a promise.

Clay;s eyes fell shut with a relieved sigh.