Hello! First of all, I just want to thank all of you. The fact that we're up to 8K reads is completely beyond me, I'm so incredibly grateful to each one of you. I am very critical of my own work, so the fact that some of you seem to be enjoying the story so far warms my little heart. Thank you to the moon and back. Also, special shoutout to TikTok because that's why most of you are here! Love you! <3
Clay approached the door, George's heart accelerating rapidly, his mind filled with scenarios in which the blonde's mother despised him. He'd never met a significant other's parents before, but even if he had, Clay was so much different from any of George's previous partners. Clay was his person, perhaps he could even say soulmate. Or was that wishful thinking?
George's body raised itself and joined Clay by the entrance to the home, the blonde interlaced their hands, dissolving a minor portion of George's nerves. Clay shot George a reassuring smile, simultaneously melting George's heart and settling some of his nominal hysteria. The door was opened and there stood the Floridian's mother, a beaming grin plastered on her face. George couldn't help return the jubilant expression, the woman's demeanor oozed altruism and amenity, George felt instantly better.
"George!"
"Nice to-oh!" The woman immediately pulled the brunette into a snug bear hug.
She detached them and embraced her son as well. "It's so nice to see you both!"
Clay invited his mother inside and the three of them sat at the dining room table. The conversation flowed easily, not at all how George envisioned moments before meeting the woman. George told her about himself and his and Clay's history, to which she burst out into numerous apologies on behalf of her son for not confessing his feelings sooner.
She described the blonde's childhood and Clay pitched in, disagreeing about certain rebellious aspects. George marveled at their dynamic, obviously, Clay and his mom were close-he knew this not only because Clay had told him, but their similarities were undeniable. George noticed certain mannerisms that Clay must have inherited from his mother, it intrigued him.
By the time the visit had come to a close, the three had finished their lunches and George had been filled in on various embarrassing anecdotes regarding his boyfriend's youth.
"George, it was absolutely lovely to meet you. I can proudly say that Clay made the right choice," she eyed her son, "no matter how long it took." Clay rolled his eyes.
George laughed, "Thank you! It was great to meet you, too!" They said their goodbyes and Clay walked his mother to her car, George collapsed onto their couch, emitting a sigh of relief.
Clay sat beside the brunette.
"How'd I do?"
"Oh, she loves you." He smiled but his eyes didn't reciprocate any happiness.
George chuckled, somewhat confused, "Good." Clay scooted in closer to the other, examining and playing with George's fingers.
"I don't deserve you." His voice was too honest, it lacked its normal air of affection. Too humorless.
"I don't deserve you."
"I'm being serious, I still don't know why you stuck around."
"What do you mean? Of course, I did, Clay." The blonde shook his head, his face dropping slightly. George felt a pit form in his stomach. Seeing his boyfriend sad destroyed him. But, why was he sad? Today was a good day.
"You're too good for me." George felt the exact opposite.
"That's not true."
"It is, George." Definitely not.
"What are you on about? I'm here, aren't I?"
"You are..." Clay's eyes avoided George's, "I think that's what I'm scared of."
"I'm confused..." He was more so terrified of wherever this conversation was headed.
"People will get too close and then... I just don't know what I'm gonna do if I lose you."
George furrowed his eyebrows, "You're not gonna lose me. What even makes you say that?"
"It's happened before, George!"
"Well, then this is different." His volume increased.
"But, it's not."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
"Where is this even coming from? You were fine before."
"My mom likes you a lot. I don't want her to get her hopes up."
"Are you expecting this to end? Is that what you mean?"
"I don't want it to, but..."
"Neither do I!"
"Maybe not yet."
"Can you stop? I'm happy, I thought you were too."
"George, I've never been happier! This is all too good to be true, you're too good to be true." He looked George in the eyes, his voice breaking.
"Then stop trying to ruin it!" George heard the ghost of a faint beeping and an aching in his chest.
"I'm afraid I'm gonna hurt you." He sounded so matter-of-fact. George felt his eyes begin to water, he didn't want this. This couldn't be happening.
"What the fuck does that mean?" His voice was a whisper, laced with sorrow.
Clay looked at the floor, "I love you, George."
"I love you."
"That's why I'm doing this."
"Please don't, Clay."
"I'm sorry."
George was barely audible, "Please."
"I'll pay for your ticket."
George didn't realize but he had started crying at some point. "I don't care about the fucking ticket."
"I love you, George, so much." The same phrase that previously made George's cheeks red and the butterflies explode in his stomach now felt like a dagger, plunging deep into his skull. "I don't want to do this." He sounded so damaged.
"Then, don't."
"It'd be easier if you hated me than if you loved me."
"I could never hate you, Clay."
"That's the problem."
Clay stood up, leaving George. The world ceased existing, his heart stopped beating, perhaps the sun exploded, also. He wished it had, that'd be better than this. George was all alone. The same loneliness he had felt for years, the longing so desperately to have Clay within his grasps, this was that suffering but amplified.
George had become too attached, Clay was his lifeline, the only thing he wanted or cared about, yet he somehow fucked it all up and flatlined. Within an instant. He was empty. His soul was ripped from his being and locked away into that compound of a guestroom, so close yet hundreds of light-years away from Clay.
What filled the soulless void was pure pain, it trickled down from his head to his toes, leaving his body shaky and cold. He was frozen, in fact, frozen somewhere, he couldn't quite remember where, though.
All he could recall was a discord call, a dream featuring a faceless someone, an airplane, a statue, lots of hands and skin, clouded minds. It all blurred together, were they even real? Had George just imagined this perfect person and those perfect nights and those perfect feelings? He must have. Such perfection, a sense of purpose, that fairytale feeling from the movies, Clay, the result of all of that couldn't be heartache, right?
If this was what was best for George, according to Clay, then why was he broken?
Reality faded for a while before George found himself below fluorescent lights, sitting on a cold surface. He breathed in through his nose, feeling a stinging sensation enter his nasal cavity, the disinfectant they used smelled of chemicals and sour lemon. Something was called over the loudspeakers, probably an announcement, George was still too dissociated to hear it clearly. He zoned out, another booming from someone overhead. This time, he made out his own name.
"Final Boarding call."