After Fire - Dreamnotfound

Fourteen|glaring eyes

Clay's curious green eyes widened and his face flushed as he got off of George and pulled him by his wrist up. Before the older boy could process what happened, Clay had thrown his hood over his eyes and pulled the string.

"Look, George, I have to tell you something," He said quickly as George pulled back his hood again. The soaked blond boy paced the room, his mood taking a plummet. He snagged a pen from the cup on the desk and clicked it over and over again. Spinning it around, he faced the confused boy on the bed again.

"What is it?" Asked George, his heart reaching an all-time high as it invaded his hearing. His mouth dried up as his palms became sweaty. After all the prodding and poking Clay did to his body, his nerves were still on intensive alert.

"Umm, look." He took a deep breath and sat down on the broken down couch and a couple of springs echoed. "I really appreciate you coming with me. We had to have racked up thirty-something hours. That's great."

George nodded. "Yeah, you learned fast. I can tell you really want your license."

"That I do, but it was only for a particular reason. I've run away a lot, George. It feels like a routine at this point. Every few weeks I take my stuff and go to Sapnap's house or something while my family calls me and looks for me. It was nice. In a sick way, I felt needed. Like my parents actually cared about me." He glanced up at George, perhaps waiting for a response. Though, he didn't have one, so he continued. "They stopped looking for me. They already replaced me." He pointed at George. "And I was very mad at you for that, but not anymore. Because now I've talked to you and I understand that you didn't have any control over that. Hell, you didn't even realize this was a problem in the first place."

George's stomach turned sickly as he listened to Clay speak. He couldn't pin-point why, and turned to drink some water from his backpack instead.

"I don't want to go home, George." His eyes pierced into George's with a slow dagger. As if he wanted the latter to feel every emotion possible as he sipped on his water.

"You have to, though. Your parents are going to be worried sick."

"They won't. They'll get over it."

"Clay, they stopped looking for you because they knew where you were. They don't know now."

"You'll tell them when you get home. I can get you a plane ride home. I saved you enough money for one."

His mind struggled to wrap itself around the point. Either he was in denial or was far out of the ball park. Drista told him Clay always came home, and he'd drive them both home tomorrow morning. They'd be back in time for Drista's soccer game. Both of them would. Because both of them were important. Both of them were cared for within the family.

Even though Drista always complained about her brother, she had also told George all about how he inspired her to take up a sport because he once told her he believed she was the fierce competitor every team needed. She always stole his belongings not because she enjoyed annoying him, but because she admired the way he dressed and his passion for his interests. Clay may say that she was better off playing without him watching, but she lost the one game he missed.

Though, this wasn't about Drista, and George knew it.

Wilbur always told him he had a difficulty saying no, especially when it came to his host brother. Though, he never had a particular reason to deny him harshly enough to say an abrupt and harsh—

"No." The word slipped his tongue like a dangerous bullet. Based on the way the younger boy sat frigid with a blank stare told him it shot into his heart.