laminated lavenders | dreamnotfound

1

1 - floweret

~

clay and george, now 12 and 13 respectively, are still inseparable. clay has gotten crazy good in minecraft, with george trailing closely behind. they enjoyed life, because what will life put against them that they can't handle? what can't they handle? - they have each other to rely on. 

life was beautiful, yet it is very vile and cruel. they have yet to see and feel the earthworms wringing itself around their fates and destroying the small flowers who poked their head right out of the soil.

however, lately clay has been questioning stuff about himself, more specifically - about his preferences. he liked girls, but he found his eyes lingering on george. clay took notice of george in a different light, nothing more than wholesome; george lived within the rustling of lilies of the valley, and the brit's hair flows behind him as the cool wind brushed against the flowers of humility, purity and sweetness. clay couldn't help the gentle smile resting upon his face whenever the wind gently kissed his face, whenever he heard george's honey sweet voice. asking his parents about it, he was met with calmness and serenity - being told that it was normal not to like girls sometimes, and that he had all the time in the world to figure himself out. it was moments like those that made clay miss his parents - they were busy with work and sometimes clay wanted them to stay at home, but, his parents needed to work in order for them to live comfortably.

clay often stayed over at george's, because the latter didn't want clay to be alone while his parents worked overtime - maybe, that wasn't just the reason; george loved being with clay, the blond made him feel safe and loved, plus, his mum adored clay's company and the smile it brings on george's face. more often than not, clay stayed with george for sleepovers. of course, george's mum sensed something bubbling within the two boys, but that didn't bother her - it was just raw love, like the one she had for her late husband. who was she to tell her son that the love he felt for his friend was wrong? love is love, and that is enough.

staring up at the stars, the two best friends talked about their favourite bands as unknown feelings blossomed in their hearts, stomach and lungs - growing flowerets within their empty chests. they talked about the emptiness they felt inside, about how lonely living in this world felt, but they had each other, and that's all that mattered. nothing else mattered, yes, there was the occasional sadness they felt - the listlessness and the depression, but george had clay to fall back on and vice versa, sometimes they were sad and that was okay, it was valid. and when people picked on george? they usually ended up with bruises from clay's fists, the blond was a football player - athletic, and he didn't hesitate to use his strength to defend his scrawny best friend.

"have you heard of what happened to mr. halo?" clay asked george, to which the latter hummed in question, urging clay to continue. "his husband helped his advisory class plan something for the teacher appreciation thing, and he got mr. halo a dog."

"a dog?" george asked, and clay nodded frantically.

"it was this small." clay replied, using both his hands to show george how big the canine was, "she's white and small and her name is lucy, but his husband just called it rat."

"aw, that's adorable." george smiled, and clay made a noise in agreement. they continued talking, bouncing from a topic to another.

the two boys weren't aware of the feelings that will come after, teeth cutting through bandages and bones. but they didn't care about the future, opting to live in the moment, hypocritically - they talked for five hours about what they'll do after school, coincidentally including each other in their futures.

they talked, until the sun fell asleep, and the moon gazed at them in adoration and awe - an unlikely friendship and love between two souls. clay was a creative child, ink and light swirling around his insides, he was always desperate to create and george just encouraged it - to be frank, george was clay's inspiration, his muse, and his entire support system all in one, and clay was george's, too.

george stared at clay's sandy, blond hair blowing in the violent breeze, listening to the secrets his best friend passed from the birds to the trees. basking in each other's presence while the stars, the moon and the sun shone brightly above them. the streetlight stars blinking, their light getting caught on clay's freckles.

clay has memorized the tangible feeling of petals in between his dainty fingertips, his mind travelling back to when george handed him a piece of lavender - still inside his mathematics textbook three years ago. though faint, it released a herbaceous aroma; woody, mellow and earthy. it was calming, and pleasant.

to be frank, clay didn't know how it felt to be loved before george. before meeting and getting close to george, he spent years and months and days clenching his jaw and fists. but, he got a friend, which he doesn't know if he wants them to be more or not - they were young, but all clay knows is that george was and is important to him.

the blond adored writing, praying with muddy hands and poetry - perfect, both in design and execution, sometimes - when george has nightmares, clay sings him lullabies and hymns he made on the spot, the topic varies - it can be about sheep and dandelions, or about how important george is to clay and everyone around him. the blond appreciates his best friend so much, and it is very much reciprocated.

"how are you? like, in general." george asked clay, the former sitting on his bed with the latter's head on his lap. such a simple question, yet it got clay thinking.

clay no longer felt the need to convince everyone that he was happy, he no longer needed to hide how sad he feels sometimes. because his soul no longer cries out for connection, he no longer cared about his parents' unintentional emotional neglect towards him. clay can proudly show his face to the world while walking through the mossy cobblestone path overgrown with moss, wildflowers and weeds. clay remembered the time he met george's grandfather, and they went on a boat and caught fish, laughing at each other's jokes; it was clear that the old man saw the impact the boys had on each other, and he appreciated it - he adored it, he loved seeing his grandson so happy within clay's presence.

the younger boy was talented, honoring everyone around him through his craft; allowing his words to fall through ambrosia coated rubber lips, allowing the ink from his fingertips to smear colours on the blank canvas given to him. clay can paint and tell people about their eyes in the prettiest ways possible, and he doesn't have to let yellow paint and razorblades slide down his throat to gather inspiration, for george vocally shows him his support. george, his best friend, adored his craft more than anyone else. george was the first one to see the artworks clay made, and he was also the first one to read whatever clay has written, george loved seeing clay's eyes shine whenever he complimented the latter's work. clay did art for himself but the validation from george made him swoon.

"i'm good." clay smiled, looking up at his friend. "how 'bout you? what are you thinking about?"

george longed to walk upon glistening cobblestone paths with clay beside him, with smiles on their faces and their hair flowing with the wind, underneath the clear blue sky, but because of how close they are to each other - people started to judge them, and they felt like they're stuck within glass boxes, and if they get even closer to each other - they're as good as dead, disintegrating into thin air as the people around them forcefully contaminate the two with the germs, and the viruses from their self-loathing.

"not much, really." george responded, "but i'm fine! because, we have each other."

"yeah." clay mumbled, "of course, and we won't let anything keep us apart."

clay and george lived life to the fullest, but they always relied on a better future - which isn't bad, but they shouldn't have allowed the thought of a bad future linger around in their minds. what instead came for them was worse.

life, was beautiful. yet it is so, so cruel.

--

02/07/21 - first draft
03/09/21 - edited