I meant it

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The blonde's head shot up, his wetted curls of hair covering his swollen eyes slightly. George hadn't left, Clay was crying over him, right in front of him. George stood there, guilt showed on his face, this was exactly what he didn't want. He didn't want Clay to get hurt because of how he reacted. He didn't even want to bring up the sleeping words, but they just came out.

George walked back over to Clay, sitting back on the bench, "Ignore me, I'm fine George. Go to your classes." George saw how upset Clay was with himself. He couldn't leave Clay, Clay never left him.

"You're not fine. I'm not going to my classes." George tried to say sternly, he's never been the one to comfort people, not good with his words. He's always the one to be comforted, this was new to him.

"No George, go to your fucking class! I said I'm fine!" Clay looked up at George, right in the eyes, as he yelled. George flinched back. He had never seen Clay this upset with himself before, it scared him. Clay's body softened, seeing how scared George was. Before he could do anything, George got up.

"Um, I-please call me, I guess." George said weakly, grabbing his things and walking away to the building. Not once looking back but Clay watched.

I fucked up so badly.

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The rest of school, the boys avoided one's presence. George would pass Clay, head down, hoping that Clay would just engulf him in a hug, bring him up close and protect him from any bad thoughts he had. Though, Clay only continued to walk on. Ignoring the brunette, not even saying his usual 'hello'.

It hurt them both equally.

That school day dragged on and on until finally the school bell rung, telling everybody it was the end of the day. Clay's unhappy mood followed through his actions, as he slowly slumped out of the school and to his white car. He turned it on and drove to his house.

Today he rolled down the window, letting the cold humid rain enter his car and wet the inside just barely. The wind chilled him both mentally and physically, cooling his thoughts and bringing goosebumps to his arms. He inhaled this brisk air and continued driving through the puddles which littered the streets.

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((TW for rest of the Chapter: Self Harm))

Entering his house today was a struggle, like it was all back to what George would call normal. As George always did upon entering the unoccupied house, he removed his shoes and walked up the stairs into his dimly lit room, the blinds closed allowing no natural light in. He felt like he used to.

Angry.

Sad.

Alone.

He placed his backpack on his desk chair. Looking at his door which had a long mirror against it. George walked up the mirror, looked at his slumped shoulders and slim body.

He then removed his sweater, underneath there was a grey t-shirt, meaning he could see his scars.

George looked down at his wrists, bringing his arm up to look at them closer. He remembered going to Clay's house and showing these scars to Clay. He remembered how when Clay held his arm to get a better look, just like how he did now, Clay traced each scar gently, purposefully not touching the newer ones.

When George looked back up at himself in the mirror, he saw tears running down his face. "I did this. I caused Clay pain. I made him angry. I fucked up, not him." He said ever so silently. George reached out to his door handle, opening the door and closing it behind him. He then walked into his bathroom which was across from his room.

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