George POV.
Unfortunately, I did have nightmares after that horror movie last night. I lay awake tossing and turning for hours before giving up on sleep entirely, sighing in defeat.
My eyes wandered over to the digital clock beside my bed and I read the numbers a few times before my brain actually took them in. 2:23.
When I was a kid my mother had always said a glass of water could help someone with nightmares sleep better. I never knew if it was true or not but it worked for me, so I slipped out of bed and down to the kitchen. This house is hell to try and navigate every day, but when you're tired it is 10 times worse.
There were 4 floors to the house, with my bedroom, and Clay's on the second, my parents on the forth and our cleaners on the third.
I didn't know why it was laid out like this but it makes it easier to sneak into the kitchen for a midnight snack without getting caught.
Silently, I had crept to the kitchen and stumbled tiredly over to the shelves of glasses and clumsily grabbed one, still feeling half asleep. Clumsily, I knocked one of the glasses off the shelf and it shattered on the tiled floor. In shock I stepped back, hoping nobody heard the glass smash, and on edge from hearing the loud sound.
Without caring about my hands I began picking up the glass shards I could manage, my tired brain refusing to register the pain. I dumped it in the trash before looking down at my hands, small streams of warm, metallic blood trailing over my pale skin, reflecting the moonlight glowing ominously from the window.
As my brain began realising the pain flowing through my hand's nerves I didn't notice someone coming up behind me, until the man was peering over my shoulder.
"What happened?" Clay asked softly, still sounding tired.
"Cut myself." I replied, before trying to stifle a yawn.
Clearly the blond heard my yawn but ignored it, grabbing my hand and examining the injury.
"It's not that bad." I replied calmly, ripping my hand away from his grasp examining the wound myself. At least I hoped it wasn't that bad.
"May I at least bandage you up." This wasn't a question and I was about to politely decline but the look he gave me made it clear it was non-negotiable.
We walked side by side to the doctor's office and Clay seemed surprised when I told him we had a doctor living on the grounds.
I simply shrugged and said, "if you lived like me you'd probably need a doctor living here for every day after school." I said it as a joke, obviously, and laughed afterwards but Clay seemed to take my words to heart and looked angry that this sort of thing happened to me everyday.
Seeing as it was about 2:30 in the morning the doctor was obviously asleep, so we let ourselves into his office and Clay made me sit on the bed in the corner while he looked for bandages or anything else to fix my hand.
"So what exactly happened?" The blond asked as he grabbed different medicine bottles and read the labels before putting some back, looking for who knows what.
"Couldn't sleep, so I went to grab a glass of water and the glass smashed before I could have a drink." I explained tiredly while beginning to slump against the wall.
"Could you not sleep because of that horror movie Georgie?" The blond teased as he walked over to me holding a bottle of ointment and some bandages in his hands.
I shook my head as he grabbed my arm and pulled me gently over to a sink in the corner of the room. Clay turned on the tap then guided my hand under the warm water, I flinched slightly at the slight stinging sensation coming from my hand but mostly ignored it.
When all the blood was gone and my hand was relatively clean, Clay removed the last few glass shards from my skin with a pair of tweezers while holding my hand steady with one of his own wrapped around my wrist. After that he grabbed the ointment and smoothly began rubbing it over the cuts. I tried to pull my hand away at the pain but he just held my wrist tighter, "this is just to stop you from getting an infection Georgie, calm down."
Once I'd finally stopped resisting and he'd gotten the ointment on he began wrapping a sterile bandage around my hand. "Where'd you learn how to do this Clay?" I asked, trying to find a way to distract myself and not collapse on the bed and sleep right now.
"My mother was a doctor," the blond responded, not removing his eyes from what he was doing.
Soon after he finished bandaging my hand and flipped it over a couple of times to admire his handiwork, he kept asking me if it was too tight but I just responded with a quiet no, getting to exhausted to focus. Clay must have noticed this because he helped me up and allowed me to lean against him as we walked back upstairs.
"So I noticed you were still wearing my hoodie." The blond stated as we climbed the stairs slowly, with me still leaning against him.
I just hummed in response, "any particular reason why?" He continued, looking at me with an entertained face.
I just mumbled "warm" and "felt safe" before leaning closer into him, practically burying myself into the shirt he was wearing.
We got to Clay's room first, but he was about to walk past it to help me to my room first when I stopped and entered his. "What are you snooping around in there for?" He asked amusingly as I staggered sluggishly over to his bed.
"Tired, your bed is closer." I responded plainly as I fell onto his double bed and made myself comfortable around the pillows and blankets.
I gave the blond a look saying that he could lie down but he seemed uncomfortable, but he sheepishly sat down before climbing under the covers beside me. I muttered a quick goodnight to him and he gave me one back and I feel asleep quickly soon after.
Believe it or not I didn't have any nightmares after that.
_________________________________________
1076 words.