mcyt oneshots

nothing {dnf} part 3

The day was wasted with almost-plans, idle gaming with no real intent and Clay, being the housewife he had somehow become, insisted on making spaghetti bolognese for dinner instead of ordering a takeaway. At the beginning, it was awkward. Like, really awkward. Neither said a word whilst they ate, George reluctantly turning on the news which only served as some sort of noise in the unbearable silence that had settled between them, droning on about covid this and covid that, as it had for the past few months. Fortunately for them and the insufferable tension, Sapnap called whilst the taste of pancakes still lingered on their lips and the last of the cooking equipment was being scrubbed dry by a rather numb Clay who insisted on doing the washing up. Even if some of the tension lingered, most of it dissipated as the poor middle ground that was Nick forced them to get along. When the sunset had all but faded into indigo and the stars broke through the largely interrupted expanse of sky, they were almost back to normal. Almost.

"So," Clay started, throwing himself onto the plush leather sofa with a soft 'oof', "what do you want to watch?"

"I don't mind, you choose." George sighed, sitting down on the same sofa, creating as much space as was physically possible between the two of them. Clay raised an eyebrow, but he knew better than to comment on it.

"Come on , you've gotta give me something !" He exclaimed with a chuckle, watching tired tawny eyes blink slowly, lazily, like a cat's. "Just- pick a genre at least. I need something to go off of!"

George hummed in acknowledgement, in thought, pausing for a second before looking back up to meet Clay's gaze and speaking, "How about a romance?"

"A romance ?"

"You told me to pick a genre, I picked one! What are you complaining about?" George shot back a little defensively, pulling his legs up from where they were swinging (they couldn't reach the ground. He was rather sensitive about it.) to hug them by his chest, curling in on himself.

"Wait- no, I'm not complaining, just... surprised." It was the truth. Clay certainly wasn't expecting George to pick something romantic. To be honest, he didn't really know what he expected, he admitted to himself. Perhaps Harry Potter? Some generic action movie? A comedy?

George raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher Clay's thoughts. "Didn't take me for a romantic?"

Clay chuckled despite nothing being funny. It was curious how someone could be so blunt yet so enigmatic. "Well you've never given me any reason to, to be honest." George had dated one girl whilst Clay had known him, and it didn't exactly go well. He took her on two dates, both of which he would complain about for hours before they happened, as if dates aren't something you go on for pleasure. George groaned like they were something he was being forced to go on, like the girl was an object in a tiresome game that it was necessary he play- and then it hit him. He wasn't going to bring it up, but the idea he had been so adamantly pushing away, trying so desperately to disprove was clearly the answer all along but he was forced to accept it. George didn't like girls . He never had. So that's why he had never seemed like a romantic.

"Half of all romance movies and books are poorly written excuses of work which make me want to be sick. I guess this will show me if you have taste." George paused for a second, watching as Clay's face was drawn from the deep ponderance it was stuck in, and speaking again before he had the chance to start. "I don't watch many movies anyway... I never really have the time- and when I do, I don't often feel like it."

"When do you feel like it, then?" George noticed that Clay's tone had changed. It was much more gentle, cautious. He didn't know what had changed, and he didn't know if he liked it.

"I prefer to watch movies with other people, I guess. It's much more entertaining when there's someone else around..." He trailed off, watching Clay intently before speaking again without much indication that he would, "what about you , then?"

"What about me?"

"Would you call yourself a romantic?"

The blond took a few seconds to think, subconsciously cracking his knuckles with his thumbs, an action which earned him a disproving glance from George. "It depends how you define a romantic... but if I had to answer, I would say probably."

"Huh... interesting ." George responded. And he meant it. People have a tendency to say 'interesting' in response to something dry, something they care nothing about, a topic to move away from, but it was clear to both of them that he meant it. There was another little silence, they seemed to litter their conversations, just about as prevalent as the words being said. And it was too much, too much for George, at least. So he spoke, changing the subject, reluctantly, utilising 'interesting' in the very way he had intended not to. "Well then, are you going to pick a movie or not?"

"How about the Notebook ?"

"Sure - I've actually never seen it. People do seem to like it though, from what I've heard."

"You've never seen it?! This will be the, like, seventeenth time I have! My sister's used to always pick it on family movie nights. It's kinda stupid ," He rolled his eyes, much to the amusement of George, "but we always come back to it, so I guess that counts for something."
The changes in pace of the conversation were giving him whiplash. It was difficult, because they fell into a pattern of almost acting like they normally would, laughing, comfortable, mundane, but then somehow the goddamn tension would remain, like a fog forced down for a second only to spring up twice as thick as before it was repressed. The movie was set up, George mumbling in approval that it was on Netflix, Clay shoving him gently, reminding him that both of them could certainly pay for it without a second thought. They poured glasses of red wine from the bottle Clay had insisted on opening if he was going to make his spaghetti, indulging in the oxymoron of fine wine and tracksuits as they watched the movie.