International Relation(ship)s

Chapter 7

"Then can you get off of me at least?"

"I'm American , you can't tell me what to do." Clay retorted childishly as he awkwardly manoeuvred himself off of George to a sitting position with his one usable hand. The closet was very small, only about two metres or so both wide and long and was cluttered with cleaning equipment, so the pair found themselves sitting, the whole of one of their bodies awkwardly pressed against the other.

"Could you please move over ?" George whispered hesitantly.

"What do you mean can I move over- can you move over?" Clay scoffed with a rather aggressive glare.

"There's no space on my side."

"And you think there's some on mine ?"

They fell into an awkward silence. Both desperately wanted to say something to dissipate the strangulating tension, neither really knew what.

"So, Harry Potter, huh?" Clay's halfhearted attempt at conversation was admittedly rather pathetic, but it was something. George shot him a quizzical, belligerent look. "You said the cat looked like Crookshanks." He followed up after a few more seconds of unendurable silence.

"What about it?" George was no longer hostile, just confused.

"I didn't think that there would be time in the royal schedule for popular culture."

"I still had time to do normal stuff Clayt-Clay." George retorted, unamused.

"What, alongside waltz lessons and manners coaching?" Clay was sarcastic, but George didn't laugh.

"I.. err yes." He sounded uncomfortable.

"Has anyone ever told you that sometimes, when you're not being a stuck up prick, you are almost pleasant to be around?"

"Why do you hate me, Clayton?" George let out an exasperated sigh, receiving a silent scowl at the full name.

"Is the conceitedness and permanent air of superiority not enough of a reason?"

"I thought we were over this." George uttered under his breath.

"Do you remember the first time we met, George?" Clay's tone suddenly changed. It was intense, yet wholly indecipherable.

"I.. umm..." George paused, trying to gauge any sort of a reaction from Clay's enigmatic expression. "I can't say I do actually."

"At the Olympics."

"Wh-What?" George spluttered, unsuccessfully grasping at shreds of memories.

"I was so excited to meet you, you know? I had built you up in my head to be this perfect fucking Disney prince like the media told us normal people." He scoffed. "I thought you were the same perfect, charming, British prince that everyone else thinks you are, and do you know what happened? Do you remember what you said?"

"I- I don't, sorry?"

"That was the problem. You said nothing at all... at first at least. You just took one look at me and ignored me. You looked like you had just seen something disgusting- something- something dirty ." Clay spat, rancorous. He was only getting hotter, his cheeks flushed in anger, his hands shaking. His emerald gaze was feral and sharp, mutilating George's mind, slicing away any defence he held as it drew out vulnerability, solace, even fear of the man confined next to him.

"I- err- Jesus, Clay. I'm so sorry, I- I had no idea."

"You then turned to Zak and you said- you know I was so excited to see you, I had been looking up to you, you were who dumb teenage me wanted to be!" His words were muddled and wild, both bruising and bruised. "After I had just introduced myself, you shook my hand and you turned to Zak and you said ' can you get rid of him? '"

George's face dropped, the memory had returned. "Oh. I didn't think you'd heard that."

"That doesn't change how fucking shitty it was!"

"No it doesn't. I'm sorry." George's tone was impossibly gentle, the sincerity allowing Clay to calm down a little. "Is that why... all this time ?"

"It's not just that, George, I just..." He let out a sigh, composing himself. "I'm the son of the first female president. A lot of people aren't exactly her biggest fan. And if that wasn't enough for people to eagerly despise me, my dad is half Mexican and an immigrant, and I know I'm so goddamn fortunate to be white passing but that doesn't mean that people don't remember it. I used to look up to you, you know. Especially when I was thrown into this shit head-first, I looked to you to see how to deal with it all, at least until... that happened. But you've always had it so easy; you were born into this life. This is all you know. You've been brought up to deal with all this shit and everybody loves you. You're fucking perfect."

"Clay I... I don't know what to say. I'm so, so sorry for how I acted back then but if it means anything at all it had been less than six months since my dad had- he had passed . I was a massive prick to everyone back then, and I know it doesn't fix it... but perhaps it makes it a little better..." he trailed off. "You know, he always adored animals... my Dad I mean..."

"Is that why-"

"Yeah, that's why I picked here." They fell into a lulled silence again, just processing everything that had happened. "He would have wanted me to get a pet, especially if he knew how lonely I am! We used to have a dog, and two cats. Because I'm the youngest, they had got them when Wil and Phil were pretty young so before I was born, and that meant that they also passed around the same time. I couldn't face pets for a while, dogs being walked outside the palace, royal horses... they all just reminded me of him... so when I picked here I- I thought it- I knew it would make me fall in love with cats again, and I knew that I would end up getting one... so that's that, I guess." He let out a defeated sigh, his head hung to hide the fact that he was blinking away tears, but Clay could still see them, and his heart was straining from the turmoil of emotions he had felt in the past few minutes.

At least it's nice to know you're not perfect!" Clay laughed feebly, and he could practically hear George roll his eyes, but he did notice the corners of his mouth curve upwards too.

The moment - if you could even call it a moment - was interrupted by Techno flinging opening the door and pulling them out. They were swiftly briefed that a crowd had gathered outside the shelter after people had posted about the pair's location on social media. Someone had set off a firework and the crowd thought it was a gun. Luckily, no one was hurt. They met Zak, Darryl and the shelter staff at some sort of back exit, the cars parked outside to presumably avoid the mass of people.

The awkwardness between the two had quickly resurfaced after the outpour of emotions, and Clay wasn't entirely sure whether to give the Prince a handshake or a hug.

"I - err- expect you to let me know when you get the cats, alright?" He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

"It may just be one, don't be disappointed."

"It better be two, Your Royal Highness." He mocked with a small bow.

"Whatever, maybe I won't ask to adopt Twix too-"

"You better-"

"I'm joking you idiot ." George rolled his eyes playfully once again. The term was endearing this time. Clay liked it more that way.

"You should probably text me anyway- we've got to keep up this act."

George nodded in agreement. "Have a safe flight, I guess."

"Bye." Clay said, giving him a stiff wave as he left. 

So here marks the end of where I had written to previously! This means that unfortunately no more daily uploads, sorry guys! I am going to take a short break from this fic (when I say short break I mean no more than a few days) to FINALLY write the highly anticipated and long-awaited third and final chapter of my dnf oneshot "Nothing" over in my MCYT oneshots book, and then it will be back to this! I'm going to aim for 2/3 chapters a week moving forward, so I guess we will see how that pans out!Artio <3