Hayden Christensen & other characters imagines

Something I Don't Trust (Clay)

Prompt: Your Clay's best friend and get introduced to Sam.
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"(y/n)!" You hear your name being called from down the sidewalk. You turn around and see your best friend Clay walking with his hand in a beautiful woman's.

"Hey Clay." You say going to hug him, giving him a soft smile. "How are you?" You ask.

"I'm good, but I'd like you to meet someone very important to me, (y/n)—this is Sam." Clay introduced indicating the woman next to him.

You smiled and held out your hand, "it's nice to meet you, Sam—I'm (y/n) (l/n), this guy's best friend." You introduce friendly.

Sam takes your hand hesitantly and shakes it. "Samantha Lockwood, his girlfriend." She says, the name and title with a hint of venom in her tone, like she was claiming Clay or something. You being a registered psychologist picked up on the tone, and felt something off about her.

Her smile seemed too forced and too fake to you. But you kept the smile up for Clay's sake. You took your hand from hers and she wiped her hand off on her clothes. You didn't carry cooties! Get over yourself, bitch!

"Clay I'm gonna keep walking home, why don't you and your little friend catch up?" Sam said looking at Clay before walking off.

"Well she seems like a delight." You say when she was out of earshot.

"Don't be like that, she might just feel intimidated by you since I've known you for so long." He defends and you just roll your eyes at him and scoff.

"You're joking, right?" You ask quirking your eyebrow in question. "She looked at me like I was a piece of gum stuck under her shoe." You say as you walked with him.

"I'm sure she didn't." He brushes off and you stop walking and turn to him.

"Clay, I've studied body language for a good 5 years of my life, I think I'm aware when I'm being looked at as less than." You retort, reminding him of your credentials.

"I think you're over reacting, you're making something out of nothing."  Clay says and you just huff annoyed.

"Clay I care about you so I'm going to ask you this and you better think long and hard on your answer: I know you say you love her—but does she love you—or just the prospect of your money?" You ask him and his face grows angered, and he scoffs.

"Gosh you're just like my mother!" He snapped, "can you stop being a dumb psychologist for one second and just be my friend?" He spat at you with narrowed eyes.

"I can't stop being a psychologist when I'm presented with warning signs, Clay." You say, "but you know what?" You toss your hands up in the air, "you wanna be a fool—you be my fucking guest. But when this all blows up in your face—don't say I didn't warn you." You say before walking away and Clay watches as you go; wondering if he had just lost his best friend?

A few months later you receive a knock at your apartment door. You open the latch and open the door only to find Clay Beresford standing in your threshold. You cross your arms and lean against your doorframe. "What do you want?" You snap coldly.

Clay had expected the cold greeting, in fact he expected nothing less from you. "You were right." He said softly.

You quirked an eyebrow, "about what? I'm usually right about a lot of things, you'll have to narrow it down for me." You spit back sarcastically.

Clay started to get annoyed at your antics, "about Sam, okay." He said, ashamed. "The only reason I'm alive right now is because of my mother." He said sadly.

"I heard about what happened to your mom, I'm sorry Clay, she was a good woman." You tell him softly, Lilith had always been kind to you, and treated you like a daughter. "Nevertheless, don't expect any other sympathy from me, Clay; you chose to believe a woman you had known for what—a year—over the person who had practically known you all your life." You say a tad bit hurt that he hadn't believed you. "Because if you had believed me, maybe your mother would still be alive. But you know—what do I know, right, I'm just a dumb psychologist, remember?" You say spitefully.

Clay cocked his head now feeling horrible for saying that. "(y/n) please, you're all I have left—I have—no one else—left." Clay said on the brink of tears. You didn't feel any sympathy for him, maybe a bit about losing his mother but that was it; you weren't completely heartless.

"And whose fault is that, Clay, cause it sure as hell isn't mine?" You ask him before beginning to shut the door.

"I'm sorry okay!" He apologized and your hands freeze on the door. You look up at him and see his sincerity in his broken blue eyes.

"What did you say?" You ask unsure of if your ears had played a trick on you.

"(y/n), I'm sorry." Clay repeated, "I took you for granted and I said those horrible things to you because I was blindly in love with someone who I thought you were wrong about and loved me back." He said, but he smiled sadly, "you're smarter than me, (y/n), you always were; I should have known you were just looking out for me, like always." He said. "I guess I just wanted somebody to love me as much as I love them, but maybe I'm kidding myself." He said sadly.

Your heart softened a bit towards him in that moment, "Clay, how long have I known you?" You ask him.

He smiled hearing that you no longer sounded mad at him. "Since we were kids." He answered.

You nodded, "yes and because of that, I've watched you get your heart broken, so many times I've lost count. "You're deserving of love, Clayton Beresford, and one day I hope you get that." You tell him in confidence. "She didn't deserve you or your love anyway, she wasn't right for you."

"Well then who is right for me, miss, (y/n) (l/n), PhD?" He joked.

Me! You thought before you shook your head, "I don't know, but you'll get your chance Clay, one day. Any woman would be lucky to have someone like you."

"Even you?" He asked.

You're taken off guard by the question before growing confident, "sure—yeah, even me." You chuckle.