Clay sat up on his bed. His tired gaze search his room. Just yesterday George had slept in the very same bed. Clay glanced to the side of the bed in which George slept and ran his hand over the disturbed blankets. With a sharp inhale, Clay's mind started to wonder. It was now the Sunday. So much had happened in the past few days.
Friday he nearly kissed the boy he loved. Saturday the boy he loved life's went to shit. And now on Sunday morning, the boy he loved was passed out upstairs in a guest room, running a fever. Clay bit his lip as he slipped deeper and deeper into thought.
He thought of the first time he and George studied together. At the time, they were studying the novel War And Peace in their English class. It was a tough book to get through, but Clay remembered one details. In a particular section of the novel, the character named Natasha looks in the mirror and holds a candle. In old Russian folk-lore, holding a candle as such will show you your future. It was an old wives' tale, if a girl did so she would either see a man or a coffin. A man would signify her future of having a husband. And the coffin... a future of dying alone.
He didn't know why he thought of this. Clay shrugged and got off his bed. He had a white candle his mother gifted him nearly a year ago,, he never used it. He took it, as well as a lighter into the closest backroom.
It made him feel silly. Why was he doing this? What propelled this football player to do this? Clearing his throat, he locked himself in the bathroom and turned off the light, making it as dark as he possibly could. Next, he lit the candle and stared into the mirror. Luckily for him, his bathroom was set up where two mirrors faced each other.
Clay saw his face. He also saw the endless rows of candles stretching back and back. He narrowed his eyes as he looked. At the end he saw nothing. He let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding and nodded, giving up. Before he turned to flick the overhead light back on, something caught his eye.
At furthest mirror he could see, a shape formed. It was a man. Clay blinked in disbelief and rubbed his eyes, and yet the figure still remained. He stared back. According to the tale, he was to marry. But the figure, he was laying down. What did that mean? Clay gulped.
"Clay? Hurry up! What are you even doing?" The voice of Clay's younger sister sounded on the other side of the thin door. Clay grumbled and flicked the light on.
"I'm..." He thought. He quickly grabbed a cloth and ran it under cold water. Once it was wet, he ringed out the lose water and opened the door. Drista, his sister, was sitting there, looking rather annoyed. He showed her the wash-cloth.
"Thank you." She blinked walking into the bathroom. "Also Eliza is awake and downstairs." She explained. Clay nodded. Eliza wasn't really his concern right now but it was good to know nonetheless. He walked down the hall to the first spare bedroom.
He knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again. When he heard shuffling around, he opened the door. The bed was empty, the sheets and blankets thrown about carelessly. His soft gaze shifted as he looked around the room, seeing the once open side bathroom door was close. He slowly approached and swung open the door.
On the floor, clutching his stomach, was George. He looked worse for ware. "George...?" Clay spoke softly, as if he didn't want to wake the dead. George groaned in response. "Oh Georgie..." Clay crouched down and helped George to his feet. From there, Clay lead him back to the bed.
He looked so sick. His pale and sickly green skin, glassy eyes. Clay hated seeing the boy he loved like this. He fixed the bedding and laid him down. He took the cloth and place it on George's forehead. But he didn't remove his hand. Clay pressed his hand against George's burning cheeks and held it there, brushing his thumb across his skin.
"Where...?" George mumbled.
"You are at my house, Eliza is here too." Clay sighed. "I found you by the pond and you were freezing, I thought being at your house sick.. after what happened... was bad so i brought you were, and I got Eliza after you were settled." Clay explained.
George gave a soft and very weak smile. George lifted a shaky hand and place it on top of Clay's. "You have pretty eyes..."
"George." Clay laughed weakly. "Why do you only flirt with me when you aren't fully there?" Clay asked jokingly.
"Because I don't have confidence when I'm straight-sober." George cheekily grinned. But then his smile melted away. "Is Liz okay...?" He asked. Clay blinked. Should he tell him all that Eliza said?
"Yeah, her and Drista have really hit it off. I think i heard them planning to take over the world or something..." Clay decided against it. George exhaled shakily, then shot up, scaring Clay.
"Fuck I have work!" George gasped.
"I called, Dr. Major said you weren't even suppose to come in today anyways, he cut you from the schedule." He explained. George looked like he was about to cry.
"Clay..." His voice wavered as he was overcome with emotion. "I can't... just not work..." Tears formed on the edge of his eyes. "I need the money..."
Clay wrapped his arms around the sickly boy and held him. "Hey... don't worry about money, my family can help you..." George pushed him away.
"No, it's not fair to you, I'm not taking for money, it's not your problem." George protested.
"George." Clay cupped his face and pulled him close. "You have been on your own for too long, you mean the world to me, if I can help your life be a little bit brighter... I'm going to do so..." George started to cry now. Clay pressed his forehead against George's and he hummed. "I like you a lot... I wanna see you smile." He admitted.
"I-" George murmured.
"I have to go to school tomorrow, I will bring you make your homework and stuff... my mom will stay home and take care of you..." Clay sighed heavily. "Promise you will relax and allow yourself to heal... once you are better we can visit your mom... you need to be healthy for you family right now..." Clay could feel George nod. Without a second thought, without a hesitation, Clay planted a kiss on George's burning forehead.
(lool i hate this chapter)
