Clay's POV
After pushing George away Clay stayed in his room for a long time.
He didn't leave for anyone. He pushed everyone away, Sapnap, Maia, even Jesse.
For five days he sat in his room, thinking about nothing and everything. He paced and paced, only interrupted by food and sleep, although he hardly slept. Five days filled with overthinking, crying, wishing, and regretting.
He thought about sneaking out through his window, but the drop was too steep. The first day, Clay left his room and tried to lose his guard, but everywhere he turned, the guard would be instantly at his side.
Clay longed to see George, he wanted to explain everything. But as each day passed, he could only imagine how bad George felt. He knew that he would understand any hatred felt towards him. Clay had taught George how to become close with someone and now they were farther apart than ever.
His chest broke at the thought of George alone. He hated himself for what he did and how shitty of a person he was.
Clay could only hope that George was okay.
Today was the day. Clay stood in front of the mirror, eyes blank. That last event was in a few hours, it was another dance. A dance that was held all night, from sunset to sunrise. At midnight, the winner would be announced and Clay would be expected to dance the rest of the night with that person.
It was also his birthday, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. He studied his reflection, an emotionless person standing in front of him, dressed in dark green, his signature color. His hair was ruffled like usual, clearly tugged on. The dance wasn't a masquerade, so he didn't need to wear a mask.
All he could think about was George. Was he okay? Did he hate him? Clay wouldn't blame George if he decided to skip the dance.
Clay let out a long, tired sigh and left his room. He headed to the ballroom, the event starting in a matter of minutes. His face saddened as he looked at the stairs where George had descended all those weeks ago. Where George had looked ethereal and how he looked at Clay with caution, but slowly accepting his feelings. George had looked perfect under the moonlight on the balcony, his dark eyes always observant and on that night they had looked thoughtful, open.
They would not look that way tonight.
Clay grabbed a glass of wine, barely hearing the birthday wishes sent his way. He swallowed a glassful, letting the tart flavor burn down his throat. The fine wine was soon gone from his glass. He set it on a servant's tray and looked towards the stairs, waiting for the royals to be announced.
His guard wasn't at his side tonight, his parents didn't want him getting in the way, so that was some relief. Clay saw Wilbur at the top of the stairs, holding a scroll and instructing a few royals. He could see a few princes and princesses, but not George. Wilbur started announcing the royals one by one, going in order of how close their kingdom was to the SMP.
Clay offered Cara a small smile as she walked down, in turn she waved gently. The royals proceeded, Clay only knowing a few. He should've introduced himself to more, but he never had, too focused on George. He saw Maia and Fundy, and eventually... George.
His breath caught in his throat as he saw George. He was dressed in a dark blue, a color that suited him extremely well. His dark hair was brushed, framing his pale face and brown eyes. George's expression was carefully blank, not meeting Clay's stare.
"Clay! There you are, I've been looking for you!" a familiar prince exclaimed as he approached.
Clay gave him a small smile, "Hi Fundy."
"Would you like to dance?"
Clay looked between Fundy and George, hearing the music start up. He said, "Actually, I have to talk to someone. Dance later?"
Fundy nodded enthusiastically and walked to talk with someone else as Clay left. Clay walked to George hesitantly, stopping in front of the prince and holding out his hand.
"Dance with me?"
Clay could tell that it pained George to look him in the eyes. George swallowed and asked, "Why?"
"Why not?"
"Not the dance Clay," George said blankly. "Why?"
Clay inhaled sharply and replied, "I didn't want to hurt you."
"Well you did."
"I-I know George," Clay stammered, "and I'm sorry. I hate myself for what I did."
"So why'd you do it?"
"I... I don't know."
George frowned and looked at Clay's hand, still outstretched. He hesitantly accepted the offer, letting Clay pull him close.
"This is the last time," George whispered, "you do realize that."
George's breath brushed against Clay's chest, his head resting on Clay's shoulder. Clay swallowed, pushing away the tears that pricked in his eyes.
"I want you to stay."
"And I want to stay, Clay, but I can't."
Oh god, not that word again. "You can," Clay pleaded, "I―"
"No, I can't," George interrupted quietly, "... and it's not your fault, I should've tried... not just for the tournament, but for us."
Us...
"Us?" Clay asked weakly.
George pulled his head from Clay's shoulder to look him in the eyes, "Yeah... but not anymore, I- I'm sorry... we could've had so much more."
Clay saw George's eyes fill with tears and his own did as well. He took a deep breath and breathed, "We can, George, I can convince my parents―"
"No, you can't," George whispered, "I can see them, they don't like how we're dancing together. I didn't win, you deserve someone who tried for you."
"George..." Clay mumbled, trailing off. George did try, maybe not in terms of the tournament, but in terms of their relationship, whatever it was.
George looked away. "I- I should go."
Clay's grip on him tightened reflexively and he repeated quietly, "I want you to stay."
He watched as George swallowed, painfully bringing his eyes to Clay. "Clay... I didn't win, we both need to accept it."
"I won't accept it, we can leave together," Clay said desperately, "we can go someplace else, where we don't have to be princes."
"This isn't Romeo and Juliet, Clay, you can't deny your family and kingdom."
"I don't want to be king, if it means I don't get you."
George's face softened, "You have a whole kingdom to rule and so do I. We can't just leave."
"But we can," Clay breathed, "we can sail away on a boat and travel the world, just like you wanted, remember? You said you didn't want to be a prince."
"I know, but I can't leave just because I don't want to be prince, I have to be prince. You do too, it would be irresponsible of us to leave."
"I don't care," Clay replied persistently, "let's leave―"
"No," George said stubbornly, "you're not throwing your life away for me."
"For us, George, for us. We still have a chance."
"Stop, Clay," George whispered, his eyes full of tears, "you're making it harder."
"It should be hard, it's not supposed to be easy."
George looked away, his gaze turning to their interlocked hands. Clay followed it, squeezing lightly, their fingers fit together perfectly. George sighed shakily and Clay leaned forward, pressing his forehead to George's.
George looked up, his voice trembling, "Stop. You're making this so much harder."
Clay didn't back away, instead he held George's eyes, keeping their foreheads together. Their noses brushed and their breaths mingled. Clay looked into George's eyes, losing himself in the mesmerizing hues of browns.
"Clay..." George whispered and pulled his head back.
Clay squeezed the hand in his and murmured, "I love you, George."
George's eyes widened. He brought his mouth to Clay's ear and murmured, "I love you Clay, but I can't stay." He stepped away, their hands remaining connected for a moment longer before George unlaced them, whispering, "I love you."
A tear slid down Clay's cheek and he watched as George took a shaky breath and turned around, walking away. His hands curled around nothing, empty air sliding through his fingers, lacking warmth. He stood on the ballroom floor, watching George's figure disappear behind many people.
Someone walked up and stood beside him. Wilbur said quietly, "It's for the best."
Clay didn't turn, his hands now fisting in anger. "You don't get to give your opinion."
"I'm sorry Clay, but this is how it has to be... oh, and happy birthday."
Clay walked away, not bothering to reply to Wilbur. He followed the path George took, wanting to find him and try to persuade George to leave with him. He couldn't find George anywhere, ending up at the balcony.
Clay leaned over the rail, the same rail that George had leaned over all those weeks ago. He looked up at the moon, almost full. He didn't know how long he stood there, time passing without realization.
Eventually he was interrupted by a servant who directed him to go sit with his parents. He sat next to his mother, listening to Wilbur summarize the events of the last several weeks. Many people stood up and offered Clay birthday wishes and congratulations for the marriage. Soon enough it was midnight and Wilbur was announcing the winner.
Clay scanned the ballroom, searching for someone. He didn't see George anywhere, much to his dismay.
"And the winner of the tournament for Prince Clay's hand in marriage and kingship or queenship is..." Wilbur paused for dramatic effect and announced, "Prince Floris from the Kingdom of Bootsford!"
Clay's heart fell. He knew it wasn't going to be George, but there had been a little part of him that hoped for George to win.
Applause echoed throughout the room, no one caring about how Clay was feeling. He stood up, as per his role of the night, and Fundy walked towards him, taking him onto the ballroom floor.
The prince prattled on and on in excitement, but Clay couldn't pay attention. His eyes leapt around the room, meeting Maia's small smile, Sapnap's wave of congratulations, Wilbur's nod of encouragement. They were all happy for him, but Clay could tell that they knew what Clay wanted, and it wasn't Fundy.
His eyes snagged on a figure by the door. The man smiled weakly, unable to hide his tears. He lingered for a moment, holding Clay's stare before leaving.
Clay's heart cracked, his feet gravitating towards the door, but hands gripped him, holding him steady on the ballroom floor. He couldn't bring himself to smile at Fundy, who was still talking enthusiastically about how he won and what their plans were as kings.
Clay may have been on the dancefloor with Fundy, but his heart was with someone else.