Best Friend's Brother But It's My Brother's Best Friend

9: For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

Nick.

Clay is shaking me awake, two plates set on the coffee table in front of me with diner pancakes. 

"Breakfast for dinner tonight." He says, planting himself next to me and grabbing one of the plates. I grab mine and we eat in silence. It's probably comfortable for him, but I have to tell him about what happened. It puts all of us in danger, and all the boys need to know, but I want it to be a one on one conversation with each of them. The TV is still playing in the background, some show I don't recognize, but I stare at it intensely under the pretense of watching. I don't know how to talk to them about this. I feel guilty for bringing them into my mess, feel like even though Clay said it's okay, he doesn't know the full story, and I'm going to just, fuck everything up by telling him. I'm barely eating, more pushing bits of food around my plate and wracking my brain.

"You okay, baby?" No.

"Yeah, just not all that hungry. I'm gonna save this for later." I get up, plate in hand, planning on just tinfoiling it and putting it in the fridge. I'm nervous, fear of rejection, of anger, of what will happen when I tell him bubbling in my stomach. I steel myself before I walk back out into the living room, hands clenching and unclenching. "Can I talk to you about something upstairs?" Clay looks confused, maybe a little worried, but he nods. His plate is left on the coffee table, something I know George will yell at him about later. But that's not as important as this.

He looks decidedly more worried when he sits down on my bed and I don't. I feel restless, pacing the length of my bed and looking everywhere but at him. 'You need to tell him.' Thanks, internal voice, I know. 

"Something happened last night." I'm deadly serious, so quiet you can barely hear me. I can barely hear anything over the heartbeat pounding in my head. "I got a dm on my twitter."

Clay's worried brow furrows into one of confusion. He opens his mouth to speak and I hold up a hand.

"I think it's from my father." He still looks lost, and I realize I'm going to have to explain more of this. There's certain details I can't say, but he deserves to know as much as I can tell him. "I had to call the agent in charge of my case and tell him."

"What does this mean? Like what do we do about this?"

I take a deep breath to calm down my racing pulse.

"There's gonna be cops stationed outside the house in plainclothes. We are allowed to leave and use like, the technology in the house as long as we have a whatever it's called-"

"A VPN? We already have those."

"Since when?"

Clay looks like he's going to crack a joke and then his face falls back into as deadpan as he can get. "I'll install one for you."

"Okay. But we have to be careful about what we do in everything." He nods, looks like he wants to ask me more, wants to push me further. "Do you have any questions?"

"No, no. I-You look like this took a lot out of you, I don't know how the hell you took care of this all by yourself, baby." Guilt hits me like a fucking brick. I didn't do this alone. I didn't want to tell him, didn't want to worry him. 

"Nick helped earlier." Clay takes a minute before he speaks.

"Makes sense, he's your brother." 

"Yeah."

It's silent. Heavy. Deafening. All I can hear is my heartbeat. 

"I'll beat the actual fuck out of whoever lays an ill hand on you, you know that right?" 

"Thank you, bubbas." He smiles, but his eyes aren't in it. I step to him, wrap my arms around him and hug him close. It takes him no time at all to return it, rests his head on top of mine and breathes deep. 

"You know I'm here, and you can talk to me about this kind of stuff, yeah?" 

"Yeah, I know." It's hard though. It's hard because I want to tell him, I want him to know everything, I just- It's not a good time for me to. There's a lot of shit. I didn't get to tell Nick, he found out everything from his parents before I had even showed up. I told Olivia while crossed out of my mind our first week of living together my sophomore year while puking my guts out. Clay is the first person I've told sober, one of only a few people who I have told. I want to tell him, but I'm scared as fuck. "It's just hard."

Clay nods, pulls me impossibly closer and presses a soft kiss in my hair. It's sweet, so much that I want to cry. Today has been an emotional roller coaster, and I just want to sleep until all this has blown over. 

After a while I wave Clay off, tell him to go do the things I know he needs to get done and hasn't. 

"I'm just gonna take a nap, I swear. I'll be okay." He accepts it begrudgingly, heads off downstairs. I do want to just pass out, but I want to shower first, scrub as much of this day off of me before I rest in the hopes that I don't end up having a nightmare about it. It's been a while since I've had one, but waking up screaming in a cold sweat doesn't sound particularly fun. I take my time, let the oppressive heat of the water and steam release as much tension from my muscles as it can before I step out, towel off and get dressed. It's one of Clay's hoodies, now one of my favorite things to sleep in despite the obnoxious green color, and a simple pair of sweats. I want to stay as warm as I can.

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When I wake up, it's because someone is yelling. Two people, Nick and Clay, full on pissing match. 

"It's not my shit to tell you about!" I hear Nick yell. "If you want to know, ask her, and if she doesn't tell you get your fucking nose out of it." Ahh. It's about me. I had figured Nick wouldn't be able to be okay with it for long, but his words have my mind running. 'Not my shit to tell you about'. Is Clay asking him about me? I get pulled from my thoughts by more yelling.

"Forgive me for not wanting to traumatize her further, she obviously doesn't want to talk about it!" Clay. No denying it. 

"Shit doesn't matter, if she doesn't tell you, you don't know. It's not my fucking place to tell you her shit." I'm used to them yelling, they're rowdy boys, but the malice they're directing at each other has me worried. I want to go down, break it up, but I'm afraid that will do more harm than good. Picking sides in this won't end well.

"We're supposed to be fucking friends, Nick, and I'm worried about her. Having all the fucking information would help me help her."

"You're not coming to me as a friend about this shit. Right now, you're my sister's whatever the fuck y'all are, and I would never break her trust like that. I'm fucking pissed you'd think I'd do something like that." There's silence for a moment, and then a loud sound. "I'm fucking leaving till you can get your shit together. This isn't a fight we should be having. Grow the fuck up, Clay, talk to her like she's a person. She's not going to fucking break." I hear the door to the mudroom slam, and then Clay is storming up the steps. 

I don't want to deal with this, don't want him to come to my room until he's calmed down. I'm scared of him right now. 

But he just thunders past my room, slams his own door, and leaves me alone. 

Fuck.

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1365, so it's a shorty but the tea oml