The looming figure stood tall in the corner, threatening a swing of his arm. Threatening to hit the little boy standing in front of him
The same familiar smoke filled the room, fogging up different details, making them elusive and irrelevant
"What did you think you were doing?"
The large man was closer, he was scarier.
"YOU IDIOT!"
Closer.
The arm came down, striking the boy across the face, leaving a large red handprint on the youngers face.
Clay stood, staring with his wide eyes filled with fear and brimming with tears. He didn't dare speak, he knew it would only result in more pain. What was he to do when he was 9 years old and defenseless.
He continued to look up, to drink in every detail of the man in front of him. To internalized the terrifying figure that was his father.
-------
Clay shot up, intaking a huge breath which he soon regretted as his lungs filled with smoke. George was standing at his bedside, he looked orange.
The room looked orange. The room was orange.
The room was burning.
"We have to go, come on!" George yelled, pulling his friends arm. He was dragged down the stairs to the downstairs which was in a worse shape than upstairs. They escaped the burning house, breathing heavy and covered in ash. Nick was already outside, watching his friends burst through the door. He was far less dirty and looked worried.
Sirens could be heard in the distance and their lights reflected on the horizon.
"Patches?" Clay looked around frantically, remembering his cat who was no where to be seen.
Nick shook his head, and George obviously didn't have her as he was too preoccupied with Clay. He turned around, running back into the house, narrowly missing Georges hand that had shot out to stop him.
"That idiot!" He yelled as his friend disappeared into the doorway.
Clay searched around, feeling the heat warm him up to an uncomfortable temperature. He didn't care, he had to find her.
Then he heard a faint meow. It was upstairs.
He ran, he ran as fast as his body would let him. He ignored the pain in his lungs as he rushed to find Patches. He went into his room, seeing her in the corner, a look of pure fear in her eyes. He picked her up and whispered "its okay" to her as he reached for his phone on the bedside before exiting the room. Was that the smartest decision? Not really. But he needed to call his mom, and his family and he needed to be able to have some way to talk to people.
He cornered out of the room, heading towards the stairs, only to see a beam had fallen, blocking off a portion of it.
I can make it through there.
He curled over Patches to make sure she wasn't hurt by the fire. Instead he was, as flames licked up his back as he pushed through the opening. He hissed at the burning feeling but kept going, getting out and watching the beam fall all the way, blocking off the stairway completely.
That was too close.
Now that he was clear of that obstacle, he was able to make it out, coming out of the doorway to the approaching emergency vehicles and a very worried George. He was gasping for air, about to pass out, his muscles ached and his back burned. But he was alive.
George noticed and started walking up to Clay. His face angry, but also concerned. He pushed Clay back, watching him stubble with a confused face.
"What were you thinking!" George cried, on the verge of tears. "You idiot!"
Clays face turned into one of utter fear as he backed away reminded of the dream he had before he was woken up. Georges soft and gentle face was replaced with his fathers. He looked menacing, and Clay was frozen with fear, truly believing that his father was standing there in front of him, threatening to beat him bloody right their in his own front yard.
He only looked at some indistinct area ahead of George as he tried to remind himself that his father was dead. His father was gone.
He can hurt me anymore.
By now Nick hand rushed forward to place a hand on Georges shoulder to maybe calm him down. Nick saw the look on their friends face and he knew that he was one sentence away from breaking down completely.
The hand didn't work.
"You could have gotten yourself killed! Why did you do that!"
Nick saw Clay crumble, then and there. His eyes turned glassy as he stumbled backwards towards the burning house. Nick rushed forward, getting ready to help keep the flood gates closed. George had realized what he had done at this point and moved forward, hoping to apologize at least.
"No, go sit, he needs space." Nick said shooing away the other, while keeping a hand on Clay, who was now on the ground having a panic attack. He had his arms gripped around Patches who looked uncomfortable in that situation, and tears wear leaving lines on his face, where they cleaned away the ash.
Nick carefully pulled Clays arm away from the cat, letting her slip out and walk a little ways away. She sat and watched at Nick pulled the other into a hug.
"In," He said, pausing a bit to let Clay follow his instruction. "and out."
He repeated this a few times before the breathing was steady and his friend was only crying into his shoulder.
At this point the firefighters and paramedics were on scene, setting up to take care of anyone hurt, and hopefully put out the fire before it could spread or get worse. Nick was directed to one of the ambulances and he helped Clay up so they could be looked at.
George was already sat at one, breathing through a mask that was hooked up to an oxygen tank. Clay was handed off to another paramedic who handed him a similar contraption to use while she attended to his burns.
Nick sat himself next to George, not needing the mask because he got out before the smoke really filled up the house.
"I'm sorry." George muttered, pulling the mask from his face momentarily so that he could apologize. "You were worried, this is new to you. It takes a while to get used to not yelling around him. Trust me I know. Give him time." George frowned, would Clay even bother talking to him now?
"George, don't beat yourself up over it please. He just needs to sleep on it and he'll be fine. He understands that you were only scared." Nick tried to comfort. Why did he have to be the middle ground between the two.
George watched as Patches padded over, hopping up next to him and rubbing against his body. He reached a free hand to rub against her as she settled next to him. He knew why Clay cared so much about her, and why he risked his life in that house.
He felt bad for yelling at him like he did.
He looked over to the other ambulance where a nurse was picking pieces of shirt out of his burns. His face was twisted in pain and his eyes were puffy, was it from the smoke or from crying? George couldn't tell. He then noticed that he was shirtless.
He was shirtless.
Georges face flushed pink as he looked at the freckled skin and slightly defined muscles. He shouldn't have been looking at him like that right then, but he couldn't help himself as he continued to stare.
"Hey gay panic." Nick said nudging the other in the side. George looked over, he was caught. "I'm gonna go see how lover-boy is doing, take it easy while I'm gone." Nick said, lifting himself from the butt of the van and heading over.
The nurse was finishing up by the time Nick made it over and he made sure it was okay he was over there. She only nodded, retreating back into the back of the ambulance, leaving the two alone.
"You doing ok?" Nick asked looking Clay up and down, trying to get a read. Clay only stared blankly at the ground. No movement. Just the ground.
"George feels bad, he didn't mean it I want you to know that." Nick explained, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. Clay only blinked, which seemed to be some form of acknowledgment.
"Patches?" Clay finally vocalized, hoping that she was alright. He was too caught up before to even know if his cat was alright. "She's fine, George has her right now, see." Nick pointed to the two, with George gently running a few fingers down her back.
Clay only nodded a little, and it seemed minimal, but Nick could see the tension leave his friends shoulders. At least he was still talking a bit, right?
"What's your plan? House is kind of trashed." Clay cringed at the question, knowing that all of his belongings were gone and his house would need extreme renovations before it could be livable again. At least it stood and they had managed to get the fire out by now.
"Hotel?" He offered, knowing that was the best option for the moment. There was another 4 days before his friends were scheduled to go home and he wasn't keen on ending it early. He didn't want to handle the insurance and everything alone.
"If that's what you want Dream, I'll call and see if there are any hotels with a room or two open."
"Thanks."
"Of course."