Comfort in Silence // dnf

Glass

The Morning had been, well a little chaotic.

It started with Clay, waking up to Patches knocking over glass in his bathroom. He got out of bed to see it was one of his cologne bottles that was now shattered on the tile. The smell hit him only a second later and he cringed at the overwhelming aroma.

"Geez." He muttered, kneeling down to pick up the glass pieces off the floor so that he could clean up better. He should have looked for his dustpan or put on a pair of gloves, but he didn't and instead felt the glass break his skin.

He flinched at the feeling and pulled his hand back. It wasn't a big cut but the alcohol in the cologne seeped in and made it burn. He stood up, grabbing a tissue from the bathroom sink and held it onto his palm. He had band-aids in the bathroom across the hall.

He ventured out and heard the sound of a shower running.

Shit

He knocked on the door a few times. He heard a muffled voice come through, it sounded like George, and it made sense that it was him.

"I'm in here! Did you need something?" George called, talking over the running water in the bathroom. "Band-aids!" Clay yelled back, hoping that he could be heard.

"I'll stay behind the curtain, get what you need." George called back, going back to washing up. Clay took a big gulp and went in with his eyes pointed at the floor. He opened the mirror above the sink and grabbed the box of band-aids from the shelf and then quickly exited the bathroom.

He made a mental note to put some in his own before making it back to his room.

Why was he even nervous in the first place? It was George. They were friends why would he care if Clay ducked into the bathroom really quick to grab a box of band-aids. But the action seemed far more intimate than it actually was. For some reason it felt like Clay was intruding on something he shouldn't have.

But who was he to assume that George would care. Who was he to assume that George felt the same butterflies every time Clay spoke to him. Who was he to assume that George would think of their bathroom interaction as something more. Who was he...

Clay was distracted from his train of though at he felt a sharp pain stem from the little cut. He had been pressing into it the more he convinced himself that George was only a friend. His thumb was white from the sheer amount of pressure it was placing in his palm.

He watched as he let it go, seeing the color flow back into the area. He let out a sigh and went to the box of bandages and pulled one out. He placed it down and rubbed it into the skin to make sure it was secure.

He sat and stared at the evaporating puddle in his bathroom.

Did he really want to clean it up? He probably should have before he accidentally stepped on it later.

He decided it would be a better idea to get the dustpan this time and left his room again. He traveled down to his closet in the living room where he kept a little brush and dustpan. He only noticed the time now, it was barely 8 AM. He could be sleeping. He could be comfortable in his bed had it not been for Patches who decided to be a little demon that morning.

Nick was almost definitely asleep, and the only reason George was awake right now was because it was around 1 PM in London. Clay sighed as he carried the dustpan back up to his room.

He crouched over the glass, the puddle now completely evaporated into the room. He gently brushed the glass pieces into the pan and made sure there weren't any smaller pieces that would threaten his feet later.

He didn't even notice when George slipped in and saw him on the ground.

"What is that smell." He asked, pulling the towel around his neck up to his nose to block off the overpowering scent. Clay turned around startled with wide eyes. He wasn't expecting George to come in his room. Now that he though about it, it was a mess in there.