~~~

George opened his eyes slowly. He blinked and glanced around, noting with surprise that he wasn't in his bed. Turning his head, he looked at his friend who was still sound asleep. All was silent in the flat, except for the sounds of Clay's even breathing. George rolled over onto his side to face him, a small smile playing on his features.

He stood quietly, being careful not to wake Clay and padded off down the hall towards his room. The closed sketchbook was still sat on his desk, a jarring reminder of what had happened the day before. George looked at it and flinched.

Questions whirled through his mind. He wondered what Clay thought of him now that he'd had a glimpse into George's mind. Grabbing the book, he tucked it in the back of his closet. He wanted to believe that Clay wouldn't look again but he couldn't trust him yet. At least, not after yesterday.

After grabbing his phone charger George made his back to the living room. He plugged his phone in, seeing that Clay was still fast asleep.

The boy was lying on his back with a blanket pulled up to his chin. light creeped into the fort through the gaps and shined in patches on his face. George's eyes softened. Clay looked surprisingly peaceful, very different from the teasing and energetic boy he was slowly getting used to.

George moved to lie down next to him again. He was shocked to see that it was still before eight o'clock. Closing his eyes, he decided to try and fall back asleep.

Clay stirred at the movement beside him, unconsciously shifting closer to George. Warmth radiated off of his sleeping form. The heat made George even more drowsy. His muscles relaxed and he started to doze off. Half asleep, he couldn't quite tell if he was dreaming or not. He faced away from the other but he moved a little closer, his back almost pressed up against Clay's chest.

His breath tickled George's neck. He shivered, his heartbeat quickening. I should move, George thought, but he couldn't. He felt trapped, as if he'd slipped into quicksand and couldn't get out. But he was comfortable. I don't really want to move.

He was caught between a state of sleep and wakefulness, unsure which side he should give into. Eventually, he couldn't help but succumb to his unconscious and into the warm blanket of sleep.

     "George, wake up," He heard a faint voice call. He felt something touch his arm.

     George groaned, burying his face in the covers. "No, it's too early,"

     "Come on, it's already after ten. I let you sleep for an extra hour."

     The tired boy slit his eyes open. "You've been up for an hour?"

     "Yeah, but I'm bored," Clay whined while sitting down on a pillow. "Entertain me."

     George sat up, his eyes adjusting to the bright room. The clouds that had covered the sky for the last couple of days were finally beginning to clear. Sunlight streamed in the window through gaps in the clouds. "I'm hungry," He complained, lying back down and clutching his stomach.

"Well if you'd get up we could make breakfast."

"But I'm too tired," George made a face and closed his eyes again.

"Someone's clearly not a morning person," Clay teased playfully. He grabbed his friends wrist, trying to pull him up but the boy refused. "George, stop being lazy."

He swatted Clay's hand away. "I want breakfast in bed," George pleaded, making puppy dog eyes.

"Yeah and I want a million dollars, we all want things we can't have. Now get up!" Clay threw a pillow at him.

He complied, standing up. "Ugh, I hate you."

Clay chuckled ruefully. "C'mon, let's go make breakfast. I'm starving."

As if on cue, George's stomach grumbled. He followed Clay into the kitchen and pulled out a pan. "Let's just do something quick and easy, like fried eggs and toast or something."

"Perfect. Do you keep your eggs in the fridge?"

"No, I keep them in the sink. Of course I keep them in the fridge, idiot!"

Clay fought back a smile. "Why? The sink is obviously the best spot for them," He joked as he grabbed out the egg carton.

"On second thought, maybe I should make the eggs," George laughed as he toasted two slices of bread.

"Chill, I've only set my house on fire once. I can handle this,"

George's eyes widened. "Clay!" He giggled. "I literally can't tell if you're joking or not."

He smirked, cracking the eggs into the pan. You know what they say, George, ignorance is bliss."

"Oh my God, I'm gonna die,"

They both went quiet as they focused on their tasks. George kept glancing nervously at Clay to make sure nothing was set ablaze or burned.

Clay started humming as he flipped the eggs. He continued increasing in volume until George shot him a weird look. "I'm walking on sunshine!" He belted off key.

"Ouch, my ears are bleeding, stop!"

"Shush, you're just jealous of my singing abilities," Clay took out his phone and played the song he'd been singing.

"I'm definitely not,"

"Prove it then," He challenged. "Sing with me."

"I'm not singing!" George declared stubbornly. The song was approaching the chorus. "I don't even know the lyrics!"

"Liar, everyone knows this part!" Clay continued singing loudly.

George sighed and mumbled under his breath. Clay turned up the volume of the song. "What's that, George? I can't hear you!"

He grinned, relaxing slightly. "I'm walking on sunshine, whoa!" He sang, his voice still quiet.

Clay used the spatula as a microphone. "And don't it feel good!" He tossed a spoon to George.

Both boys kept singing and dancing around the kitchen. George was smiling like an idiot, his stomach flipping every time he looked at Clay. He felt light, unstoppable giggles filling the air. Neither of them were in tune, but it didn't matter.

The song ended but Clay's breath still came in short gasps between wheezes. He finished the eggs, almost flinging them off the spatula as he transferred them to the plates. George put a slice of toast on each one.

They sat down across from each other at the small kitchen table. "So, do you have any plans today?" Clay asked, breaking the small silence that had formed.

"Depends, I could potentially fit something into my busy schedule," George joked. "Did you want to do something?"

Clay rolled his eyes. "I was going to invite you to come dessert tasting with me for Layla's wedding, but I guess not since you're so busy,"

"I could rearrange my schedule."

"Mhm, sure."

George hid a smile behind his piece of toast. "What time are you going?"

"Around one." He checked the time. "It's about eleven right now so we still have some time to get ready and stuff,"

"Sounds good to me. I love any situation that involves me getting free cake."

"As long as you don't eat any coffee cake. I heard caffeine stunts your growth and you definitely don't need that," Clay taunted.

"You are the worst. Like actually, you suck. At least my laugh doesn't sound like an old car starting up."

Clay choked on his bite of egg. "Oh my God, how many jokes about that are you going to make?"

"I have an unlimited supply of them."

     "Whatever, shorty. You'll run out eventually."

     "Stop calling me that! 180 centimeters isn't even that short!" George punched Clay's arm playfully.

     The two fell into a fit of laughter. They finished their breakfast and George rinsed the plates before putting them into the dishwasher.

      Both of the boys went to get ready. "We'll have to stop at my hotel first, I have to get new clothes to change into."

     "What, you mean you don't want to wear my sweatpants that only go down to your calves?" George snickered, looking at Clay's legs.

"I'll have to pass. My hotel's about twenty minutes away, so we can leave whenever you're ready."

George nodded. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna get ready quickly. Please don't do something stupid while I'm gone." It was meant to be a joke, but Clay could hear the serious undertone in his voice.

He sat on George's bed feeling like an idiot. Guilt was still eating at him because of his mistake from yesterday. Clay was contemplating ideas of how he could make it up to him. This was a friendship he didn't want to ruin so he needed to do something to regain George's trust.

And Clay was worried too. He'd only known the other for four days but he cared about George. Something wasn't right though, he could feel it.

George walked back into the room, interrupting Clay's thoughts. His hair was styled and he'd changed his clothes. "You ready to go?"

Clay smiled. "Yeah. Make sure you bring a coat today, it's cold outside."

The other boy braced himself, waiting for Clay to make a joke about how shorter people get cold easily but it never came. George glanced at him, a confused smile on his face. "Wow, that was actually nice. I'm impressed,"

"I am capable of being nice, you know," Clay huffed. "C'mon let's go."

They gathered their things and left the flat building. The outside air was surprisingly chilly for April. George shivered, his breath rising in little clouds. He pulled his coat on, thankful Clay had reminded him to grab one. "Jeez, it feels like winter out here," George said while shoving his numb fingers into his pockets.

"I know, right? At least it's not raining anymore."

"Careful, the weather can hear you, you're gonna jinx us."

Clay grinned and hailed a taxi. He gave the driver the address to his hotel and they sped off. Once they were there he quickly changed and finished getting ready.

While he got dressed George looked around the room. Clothes were scattered haphazardly around the floor and the bed was unmade. It was very different compared to his organized flat, but the slight mess fit Clay's personality. They were both unpredictable and capable of making George's heart beat faster.

"It's about a ten minute walk from here," Clay called from the bathroom. He was brushing his unkept hair. "We can leave soon."

"Okay, cool."

George sat down on the stiff bed. It was uncomfortable. He felt a little bad that Clay had to stay in such a cramped hotel room. The entire thing was about the size of George's kitchen. His flat was small too, but this room just felt claustrophobic.

When Clay was done getting ready they started the walk towards the cake shop. The bitter cold nipped at George's ears, turning them a slight red. There seemed to be less tourists walking around the city today, making the streets seem oddly empty. Everyone who was outside was bundled up in warm coats.

They approached the shop and hurried in. The air was warm and an aroma of chocolate filled the air. A tall blonde girl with bright hazel eyes made her way over to the pair.

"Clay, you made it!" She exclaimed. The girl smiled kindly at George. "And I see you brought a friend."

"Layla, this is George. George, Layla." Clay introduced the pair.

"Oh, so you're the guy my little brother won't stop talking about!" She smirked. George could definitely see the family resemblance between the two siblings.

Clay's ears were pink but it wasn't from the cold. "Layla!" He yelped, embarrassed. He elbowed her arm. "Anyway, we'll be over there," Clay made a beeline for the back of the room.

George could feel heat rising in his own face. He turned to Layla. "Does he really talk about me?" He asked curiously.

She nodded. "God, he never stops. You should be flattered, normally he never mentions people to me." She had a smug grin on her narrow face. "Tell Clay to quit hiding in the corner. If he wants to try the cake he has to come sit with us."

George looked at where she was pointing. The table was full of people he assumed to be her bridesmaids. "I'll make sure to tell him to quit sulking."

Layla snorted. "I like you already!" She turned around and went over to the crowded table.

Clay was watching the two of them talk from his own seat in the back. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously and his cheeks were still flushed.

"I see you told your sister all about me," George teased. He was surprised to see Clay flustered but he was enjoying the role reversal.

"I literally mentioned your name like twice, she's just over exaggerating." He rolled his eyes.

"Mhm, sure. That's not what she made it sound like," George laughed lightly. Clay just glared at him. "You two look pretty similar."

"Everyone always says that but I don't see it."

George studied Clay's face. "Your eyes are more green," He smiled as Clay's face darkened a little more. "And right now your face is more red."

"You're such an idiot," Clay mumbled under his breath.

The corners of George's mouth twitched upwards. Clay rarely blushed. "Layla told me to tell you to stop 'hiding in the corner,'" He made air quotes with his fingers. "She says if you want cake we have to go up front."

"Ugh. Fine, I'll move but we're still sitting at a different table."

"Why, are you nervous she'll embarrass you some more?"

"Maybe I'll just go sit at my own table."

George grinned. "Come on," He stood and led Clay to the table adjacent to Layla's.

Not too long after a server brought out a tray of plates, each with a small square of cake on them. George's mouth watered in anticipation as a dish was set in front of him. He grabbed a fork and took a sample bite. "Mm, lemon berry," He closed his eyes happily. "I approve this one."

Clay took his own bite and had a similar reaction. "Layla, you better pick this one!" He called across the table to her.

The server was already bringing out another round of plates. George's square of cake was gone and he was excitedly looking at his next one. "Ooh, I think it's red velvet,"

Clay suddenly had an idea. "George, you have something on your face," He pointed.

"What? Where?" He felt around his cheeks.

Clay chuckled evilly. He picked up his square of cake and smashed it onto George's face. "Right there,"

"Clay! What is wrong with you?" He gasped. The frosting was cold against his skin. "You're wasting perfectly good cake!" He grabbed the remainder of Clay's lemon berry slice and threw it at him, getting frosting in his hair.

"Dude!" Clay objected. "You better watch your back, you've started a war."

The waiter brought out chocolate pieces next. Clay didn't hesitate to grab his square and smear it across George's forehead, leaving a trail of icing behind. "Truce, truce! You win." He giggled and held his hands up in surrender.

Clay laughed hard, his mood lightening. "That's what you get for being mean earlier!"

George grabbed his chocolate slice and dragged in down Clay's cheek. "I had to make it even first, now I really surrender!" He wiped frosting off his face with his finger and licked it off. "Oh, this is really good!"

Layla plopped down in a chair next to George. "Can you two stop flirting for a second? You're making a mess," She pointed to the table, which was somehow coated in the various flavors of cake.

George's face turned the color of the red velvet. He grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe the frosting off. Clay just rolled his eyes and stood up to go clean his face off in the bathroom.

The air was awkward. George kept his gaze on the floor, trying to ignore her comment. "My brother is ridiculous," She smiled lightly. "Did you two actually meet because you took each other's suitcases? I'm not sure if I believe Clay."

George looked up at met her eyes. "Yeah, we have the same bag and we both flew in from Florida so our luggage was together." He explained.

"Oh, wow! That's what he said but I didn't actually think it was true. What were you doing in Florida?"

"Just visiting some family. Some of my cousins live in America."

Layla nodded. "Cool. I know you didn't really eat the cake, but what flavor did you like the best? None of us can agree." She gestured to the table of her friends.

"Definitely the lemon berry," George answered. "Though you could combine a couple flavors if you can't pick just one."

"Oh, that's a good idea. I love cake, I'm pretty sure I have an addiction."

"I'm with you there, cake is my weakness." He joked. The two of them smiled at each other and laughed. They were still talking when Clay came back from the bathroom.

He sat back down and looked at them. "Layla, quit trying to steal my friend!"

"Hey, he's my friend now too, right George?" She looked at him expectantly.

George looked at Clay's irritated expression. "Oh yeah, we're best friends." He linked arms with Layla to annoy him.

His mouth tightened. Clay stood up abruptly and grabbed George's arm. "Well, sorry you cut your time short but we have to go now," He began. "Bye Layla, see you later." He pulled George up and led him out of the shop.

Looking up at the sky, George gasped. Snow was falling down in light flurries, melting as soon as it collided with the pavement. "Clay, look!"

Flakes swirled through the air and landed in the boys' hair. "I can't believe it's snowing in April!" Clay stated, shocked.

Joy filled George's eyes. Like a child, he tilted his head back tried to catch snowflakes in his mouth. He had always loved the snow.

Clay looked at him and felt a smile spread over his features. "This is so cool! I've only been in the snow a couple of times because it never snows in Florida." He let go of George's arm. The two boys fell into a comfortable silence, just watching the snow fall.

"Do you want me to walk you back to your hotel?" George asked.

"Sure," Clay responded. He started walking forwards.

"Isn't your hotel that way?" He wondered, pointing in the opposite direction Clay was going.

The taller boy just smiled. "Let's take the scenic route."

They kept walking past various shops and restaurants. The streets were a little busier now, the phenomenon of spring snowfall drawing people outside. The boys approached a thin canal that cut its way through the city.

Clay stopped for a moment and looked at George. "Oh, you still have frosting on your face," Clay used his thumb to wipe a smudge of it off.

George gasped at the sudden contact. Clay's hand was warm against his cold face.

"There, all better." Clay muttered in a low voice. He withdrew his hand and stepped back.

They lapsed into silence again. Neither of them said anything, but they didn't have too. The boys kept walking along the canal path.

"At least the frosting in your hair doesn't look so out of place now, with all the snow on your head." George broke the silence.

Clay ran a hand through his hair and smiled. "We're both a little bit of a mess, aren't we?

"Yeah, I guess we are."

"Thank you for accepting my apology yesterday. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't." He switched the subject. Clay still felt awful.

"Thank you for apologizing in the first place." The other said, a shy smile on his face.

"I know you may not trust me now, and that's okay, but I just wanted to say that you can talk to me about anything. If you ever want to." Clay fumbled for words awkwardly. He felt strangely vulnerable.

"Thank you," George whispered.

The rest of the walk was quiet, both boys just thinking. Eventually they reached Clay's hotel. George was disappointed the walk was already over. He looked up at his friend. "Thank you for today, I had a lot of fun."

"I did too. I always do when we hang out." Clay smiled warmly. George felt the breath leave his lungs.

"I'm sure I'll see you sometime soon?" He wondered hopefully.

"Of course, shorty."

George shook his head and laughed. "Bye, giant."

Clay waved and turned around, disappearing into the hotel building. George watched him go until he was out of sight before turning around and hailing a taxi home.

George opened his door happily. He touched his face where Clay had wiped off the frosting earlier. It still felt warm against his cold fingers. His smile faded, slowly being replaced by a frown. He didn't quite understand why he could still feel Clay's touch ghosting over his cheeks or why the thought of it gave him butterflies.

     The pillow fort was still assembled in the living room. George looked at it and bit his lip nervously before deciding he should clean it up. He placed the pillows back in their spots and put away the chairs. His mind felt foggy, thoughts shifting dangerously towards topics George preferred to avoid thinking about. But there was nothing he could do to stop his  brain.

{slight trigger warning: mentions of abuse, crying, and alcoholism. i'll put another bolded note when the warning is over. stay safe, and know that you are loved. please read with caution <3}

    
     George was stood at the downstairs window near the kitchen, sketchbook in hand. He was drawing the flowers in the garden his mum had planted last spring.

     "What are you doing down here?" A loud rumbling voice sounded from behind him.

     George froze, his blood running cold. He turned around to face his father. "N-Nothing," He stuttered while hiding his sketchbook behind his back.

     A thunderous slap echoed through the room, leaving a red welt on George's small face. He bit his lip, suppressing a yelp of pain. He knew by now not to make any noise. "Don't lie to me, boy. I know you're drawing those little pictures again." His dad boomed.

     George backed up into the wall. "No, I was just-" but he was cut off by his dad shoving him into the wall with his free hand. The other hand held an almost empty bottle of bear.

     "Drawing is for girls. No son of mine will act like a little girl, I'll make sure of that." He threw the bottle down at George. It shattered, exploding into a thousand tiny pieces, creating little cuts all over his bare feet. The alcohol stung the small gashes, and George couldn't help but whimper in pain.

     "Be quiet! You're weak, you need to learn how to act like a man." His father commanded. He snatched the sketchbook out of George's grasp and tore out the pages. He ripped them to shreds and scattered them by the small pieces of broken glass littering the floor. "You are a nothing, George. A nothing."

      He could hear the contempt in his voice. The young boy's head spun. His knees buckled out from under him and he collapsed onto the pile of glass and paper. George's cheeks stung and his feet ached.

     He was still dressed in his primary school uniform. His father grabbed George's tie and dragged him outside. "I want you to run back and forth until I tell you otherwise. If you stop you'll regret it."

     Tears streamed down George's round face, mingling with the pouring rain. Every step he took made the pain in his feet worse but he kept going, sprinting around the perimeter of his yard.

     "Weak!" His dad shouted. "You're a worthless poof,"

     George sobbed, shivering violently in the cold downpour. His mum and older brother were out for the day. There was nobody here to save him.

     He slipped on the wet grass, landing hard on his already bruised stomach. "Please," He begged. "Make it stop."

     "Just make it stop! Oh God, please," George was still mumbling the phrase. His eyes shot open and he took a shuddering breath. He hated remembering. Salty tears streamed down his face and dripped down onto his jeans. He pulled out his phone and clicked on Clay's contact, his thumb hovering over the call button.

     Weak, he heard his fathers voice in his head. With trembling hands George shut off his phone. The boy curled up into a ball on his couch and buried his head in his knees.

{warning over, it's now safe to read. if you skipped over this part, that's okay. it was just a flashback to George's past}

     He grabbed a blanket off the ground a hugged it close. The familiar scent of vanilla and laundry detergent filled his nose. Clay. Just think of Clay.

     George pictured his smile in his mind. He saw Clay singing off key in his kitchen. He closed his eyes. If George concentrated hard enough he could almost hear his voice. He squeezed the blanket tightly, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply.

     Tension slowly released from his shoulders. Laying down George suddenly realized how exhausted he was. He felt drained, like he could sleep for twelve hours and still need more.

     He stared at his phone desperately wishing he could text Clay. Right now, all George wanted was a hug. That was always how he felt after he thought about his past. But just like when he was a kid, there was no one here to help him.

     When he felt stable enough, George stood up and wandered to his kitchen to make a cup of tea. He looked down at his feet and saw the faded scars from the broken bottle still covering them.

     Everything's okay now, he tried to reassure himself. I'm safe. He released a deep breath and wrapped the soft blanket tighter around his shoulders.

     George sipped his warm tea as he watched the sunset from the kitchen table. Rich hues of red blended with oranges, purples, and crimsons. Silvery flakes of snow still drifted down from the few clouds that remained in the sky.

     His breathing had finally returned to normal. George stared wistfully out the window, wondering what tomorrow could possibly hold. Whatever it was, he hoped it would be better than this.

~~~

that was emotional, i'm sorry! at least the beginning was happy... let me know your thoughts or any suggestions you have for improvement, i'd love to hear them. have a great day or night wherever you're from and whenever you read :)

p.s. i hope you know that you are loved and cared for, regardless of your race, sexuality, gender orientation, or anything else. if someone is hurting you or anyone you know, please speak out! stay safe out there <3