You're Known //DNF\\

I meant it

Upon entering the bathroom, he opened the cupboards which were underneath the sink. The cupboards revealed cleaning products and a small case. George reached in and grabbed the case, pulling it out and placing it on the counter.

Opening the case was very hard for George. He felt like he was reliving something he's done several times, just within the last week or so. The case clicked open, showing off three brand new razors, the metal shined in the bathroom's warm lighting.

George grabbed one, placing it between his index finger and his thumb. He turned away from the sink and grabbed the red towel which also laid hidden in the cupboard. George closed the cupboard and took both the towel and the silver razor, to the tiled ground. He closed his eyes as he slid down the wall.

Alone.

George looked at the razor, his eyes still loosely letting go of tears. He raised his shaking hand with the razor to his left arm. His hand still shook as he placed the razor onto his arm carefully, not wanting to draw blood yet.

Alone.

He looked around the room, half hoping his mom or dad would barge into the unlocked bathroom. They never did. He started to apply pressure, reddening his skin. George watched his arm, slowly applying more and more pressure. He did it slowly to create the same mental pain he thought he caused Clay.

I'm all alone.

When George could feel the razor pierce his skin, he slid it across his arm. He gasped at the sudden gash of pain. Tears streamed faster down his face as he continued this process again. Soon, one line of blood turned to three, then five, then seven. These ones were deeper than normal.

Then something decided to cross his mind.

Clay! I'm not alone. Oh god, oh god!

"What the fuck have I done!" he shouted through the empty house. His angry tears stung his eyes. "Clay, I need to call Clay." He mumbled, beginning to dab his bloodied arm with his red towel. "Fuck." Every touch hurt worse and worse, but he didn't want an infection.

After spending five-ish minutes cleaning his self-made wounds, he walked back into his room, accidentally slamming his door in a rush. He pushed his backpack off his chair, sitting in it and grabbing his phone. George quickly tapped the messenger app on his phone, bringing up Clay's contact immediately.

It rung once and then was answered.

"C-Clay, I-I need y-you. P-please." George stuttered out, taking a harsh breath in afterwards and continued his cries, "P-please, Clay." he sounded defeated.

"Shh shh, George are you safe? What's in your hands right now?" Clay's soothing voice came through, calming George in the slightest. On Clay's side of the phone, there was a slight sound of a door closing and steps into puddles.

"I-I'm safe... Um, I have my ph-phone in m-my hands." George's breathing was still quick but at least he wasn't bawling over the phone anymore.

There was the sound of a car starting and driving off, "Okay George, I want you to stay on the call with me, okay?" George nodded, forgetting Clay couldn't see him. Clay took the silence as an 'okay'.

George sat in his chair, looking at what he had just done to himself. He needed Clay, he needed him now. "C-Clay?" there was a quiet hum of question on the other side of the phone, "I d-didn't want to d-do it." There was silence from the phone. Then, a long sigh.

Great, now he's mad at you. Good job.

"It's okay now George, right? You're safe." Clay assured George. He didn't sound mad, just worried.

After another three minutes of waiting and the call ending, George heard a faint knock at his front door. He wanted to run down the stairs, open the door, and have Clay engulf him in a protective hug but he felt so exhausted. So, he walked down the stairs, stumbled to the door, opened it, and showed his slumped, small body to Clay.

The blonde immediately took George into an embrace. George cried into Clay, burying himself inside the crook of his neck. He could smell the strong cinnamon scent on Clay's sweater. Clay squeezed him closer if possible then released, grabbing George's hand and walking them both to the brunette's room. George followed as he soon sat on the edge of George's bed and had George sit as well.

With on hand being already in Clay's hold, he investigated the poorly cleaned wounds which were already scabbing over with blood. "You know I'm going to clean these." Clay said, looking down at the defeated, teared up, boy.

George nodded, allowing Clay to get up and walk to the bathroom.
Clay found some gauss, alcohol wipes, and grabbed a damp towel as well. He walked back into the room and placed the items down on George's desk. Then, he walked over to the blinds, pulling them open and revealing the bright, clouded skies which were outside. This brightened the room, letting Clay see George's arms clearer than just having the orange tinted light on.

Clay spent the next ten minutes, cleaning and bandaging up George's arms. When he finished, he got up and put the extra supplies away, back in the bathroom. He came back into the bedroom to find George leaning against the headboard of his bed and looking hazily at the other wall which laid ahead of him. Clay walked to the other side of the bed, laying back and reaching to George, pulling the brunette closer to himself.

George melted into Clay's arms, cuddling into the warm greyish, blue sweater he wore. Clay tightened his grasp, while bringing his hand up to George's head to fiddle with his brown wavy hair.

When Clay felt George relax fully, he built up enough confidence to say what he needed.

"You know when I said, I love you?" Clay let a giggle slip, "I meant it George. I really love you, Georgie."
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1650 Words

:] AwwWwwWWww!! When rereading this to edit, I was bawling like a baby. Of course "Jubilee Line" by Wilbur Soot came on and made me cry harder.

Anyway, ignore my emotional mess! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and such! Thank you for reading! Go get some water or some snacks if ya want! Goodnight/good morning/ good afternoon!!! <333333