Clay POV
It must've been close to eleven when Clay stepped inside of his house.
Ever since George had entered his life, it felt like everything had been flipped upside-down. George had become an obvious part of their group and that night that they'd first met in the park had marked the beginning of Clay's favorite activity to escape reality.
Both of them had this silent agreement to not pry into the other's family situation more than necessary. Though, it was quite clear that they were both dealing with some stuff and that their time together in the park meant a lot to both. Clay had talked a little bit about his father and his death and he knew that George lived alone with his dad. However, that's about as far as their knowledge about one another went. George's unwillingness to speak about his home-life was rather transparent. Although Clay was curious about the mysterious brunette, it was nice to just pretend that everything was perfect for the short time that they spent together at the park.
Because that's how it felt, perfect.
His mom laid passed out on the couch when he entered the house. The reason why was obvious: Alcohol.
He carefully shook his mom's shoulders "Mom? Mom, please wake up." The woman remained unconscious.
Clay sighed. It wasn't a new thing to find the woman passed out, but it was equally heartbreaking each time. She wasn't a bad person, but alcohol brought out her demons. His mom hadn't dealt with his father's passing well. Her grief had turned into anger, which then caused her to drown out her sorrows in alcohol.
Nick was the only one who knew the true extent of his mother's habits. There was this one particularly bad time when she'd been convinced that Clay was the reason for his dad's passing and proceeded to kick him out. Clay had no other choice than to evacuate to his friend's house, who demanded an explanation. It wasn't a one-time occurrence either. He would either crash at Nick's place until his mom had calmed down or sleep outside. It all depended on how bad her tantrums were.
He wanted to resent her, to hate her for all the pain and suffering that she'd caused him. But he couldn't. After his dad's passing, they'd been informed that the investigation would be put on hold with the excuse that the killers most likely worked for a bigger, underground organization, and it'd be near impossible to pin him for the murder. The news had been his mother's last drop and everything went downhill afterwards. He'd been the primary target of her anger. Sometimes she'd shout, punch or cry about how Clay should've saved him. It was sad to admit, but Clay much preferred that phase than her current one. To get home, not knowing if his mom would even be alive anymore. It was a constant fear in the back of his mind.
He concluded that his mom wasn't in any immediate danger and was about to evacuate to his room when a faint voice disturbed his plan. "Clay...". He braced himself for what's to come as he turned towards the half-conscious woman. "Yeah?" His mom sat up. Her blue eyes were bloodshot, her blonde hair was a mess from neglect and she looked as though she hadn't eaten in decades.
"Where have you been?" It was an unexpected question, his mom never cared what he did. "I've just been in the park with a friend." She nodded. "Is it someone that I should know about? You've been awfully distant these couple of weeks. Is it a girl?" Clay didn't know what to answer. No, it wasn't just a friend, but it was also not a girl. He doubted that his mom would approve if he told her the truth. Of course, he'd been distance. But could she really blame him? After the "anniversary" of his father's death, her alcohol consumption had spiraled out of control. George was his escape, his way of not going under during his mother's episode. Sure, Nick played a crucial part in his life but he would demand answers. George just let him live in the moment and never requested an explanation.
"I've just been hanging out with this new kid that have helped me with homework and stuff. He's just a friend." The words hurt to say. George was so much more, but it was easier this way. His mom hummed before quickly grabbing an empty bottle and launched it his way. The bottle splattered behind him and the broken shards cut his face and hands.
"Get out! You'll eventually leave me anyways, just like he did!" The sudden mood-switch was unexpected and terrifying. "Mom, please I –" "Get out Clay! It's all you fault! You were there, you saw everything but chose to do nothing!" He bit the inside of his cheek and felt the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. The accusations hurt, like really hurt. He knew deep down that she didn't hate him, but the guilt was unbearable. Tears threatened to escape his eyes.
His backpack was leaning against the wall. It contained the most crucial items such as a toothbrush and a change of clothes. This type of situation was sadly way too familiar, so he made sure to always keep an emergency-pack when his mom would lash out on him. He quickly grabbed it and was out of the house in a matter of seconds. He dialed Nick despite it being close to midnight.
"Hello?" a sleep-drunken voice answered. "Nick, please, I need a place to stay. My mom kicked me out again." The call got quiet. "I'm sorry Clay but I'm ironically enough at Karl's. My parents were about to kill each other." Clay's heart dropped. "It's alright, mate. Take care and I'll see you tomorrow. " He would have to sleep outside again. The clouds didn't look to friendly either, so rain was to be expected. He sat down at an empty bench, scrolling through his contacts. His eyes stopped at a certain name. Debating his options made him realize that it was either this or sleeping out in the rain.
He sighed and pressed 'Call'. A few tones went through before a British voice answered.