Stay Inside (by my Side) : Gream/DreamNotFound

17. The Peak

He paused, remembering all the different scenes, "...God, I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Clay felt himself slipping away, comforted by George's presence. His mind wandered past boundaries of what he could and couldn't say.

"You're still here, though," he smiled, talking to no one, "you're safe; that makes me feel better."

"Was I in your nightmare?" George spoke suddenly.

He wasn't asleep? Clay thought, turning red and fully awake.

He craned his neck to face George, who had his eyes open and staring at Clay in the dark.

"Yeah," Clay whispered, unable to breathe.

George smiled softly.

"I'm safe, Clay."

His eyes stood their ground, looking deep into Clay's. Subconsciously, his gaze traveled down, landing on his lips. Clay lifted his clammy hand and set it down softly on George's knee, as if to confirm that this was real and he was safe. He peeled his eyes away.

"You should go back to your bed," George whispered.

"But I thought you were staying in my room?"

"You need the comfort more right now. Besides, I'm way too tired to move."

Clay was conflicted. In no way, shape, or form did he want to leave, especially when he was the closest he had ever been and ever would be to George. Nevertheless, he got up, wobbling and struggling to make his way through the living room.

"Oh lord, okay," George chuckled as Clay walked into a wall.

He got up off the couch and held Clay's shoulders, guiding him through the dark to his bedroom where he allowed the American to collapse onto the sheets. George felt too weak to go back to the sofa, so he sank to his knees and rested his arms and head on the mattress.

"Soft..." he mumbled absentmindedly, catching a break.

Clay looked at the top of George's head that poked out at the foot of the bed. The pit in his stomach from his nightmare was replaced by loneliness. He knew he would regret the words he was about to say, but he said them anyway.

"George, I don't want to be alone," he whispered into the silent dark, fully expecting George to get weirded out and walk away.

Clay buried his face in his pillow when he saw no movement whatsoever from the brunet boy. But then, he heard a shuffle and felt a gradual pull of sheets from behind him. He turned around to the back wall and came face to face with George, who separated the distance between them with one of Clay's decorative pillows. With Clay on the left and George on the right, they lay motionless. George's eyes dropped sleepily, but a shy smile was evident on his lips, one that released butterflies in Clay's stomach.

George passed out quickly once again, barely even impacted by what was happening. Clay was just shocked, unable to fall asleep. Here they were, sharing a bed and slightly drunk, and his brain was going haywire. What did George think of all this? How was he so chill with Clay outright telling him he didn't want to lose him and then asking him to stay in his bed?

He tossed and turned, facing away from George to gather his thoughts. At this point, it was around 2AM, yet Clay felt more awake than ever.

The bedroom door drew apart slowly and Patches slinked in, strutting soundlessly to the bed. She leapt up onto the blanket, her soft paws leaving prints as she trotted over to Clay's chest. When she reached him, she sat down, flicking her tail and piercing Clay with wide eyes. He scratched her ear, feeling her purr rattle his ribcage. Patches glanced over at George nonchalantly.