After Fire - Dreamnotfound

Thirteen|old traditions or none at all

They say that when you fall in love, you'll know it. Usually that's in the context of meeting your soulmate. You'll remember the exact moment you knew you'd last forever. I have learned that that doesn't always happen with soulmates, but can it happen to those who aren't? I've only seen it happen with my mom, but they didn't last. My mom said he cut ties with her when he found his soulmate. Non-soulmate relationships don't last, and I don't even have to try to remember it. That fact is always at the forefront of my mind.

George could barely make out what he was writing as a gust of wind flipped his hood over his head. He didn't understand why Clay always had to park as far away from the streetlights as possible into an abandoned parking lot with less life than a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but he did so almost every night, and George had decided to depend on the dim light of the moon instead. Sitting on the roof of the car presented him a better view as well as a strange feeling of being on top of the world despite only being a couple feet up. He could see across the entire parking lot and the many closed stores surrounding them.

A car door below him slammed, and George glanced down as Clay pushed himself onto the hood of the car and climbed to the roof.

"Whatcha writing?" He asked, sitting criss-cross next to George as he quickly flipped the page of his notebook to a brand new blank page. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing," He mumbled, and Clay laughed. "It's just about soulmates."

"Soulmates? That's pretty broad," He said, pointing George's phone light at the older boy and causing him to squint. "Do you think you'll meet yours soon?"

"I kind of don't want to."

Clay cocked his head. "You don't? Look, George, not all soulmates are like the ones you've seen. Those are just messed up cases, and you're not messed up."

"That's not why." He clicked his pen against the empty page. He avoided Clay's eye, though he could feel the daggers of his stare pierce into his skin. His stomach did the curl it always did when he knew he was too close.

"Then what is it?"

He shrugged. "I don't feel like I need to anymore."

"Oh." Clay glanced around the empty parking lot. "I have a question."

"Hm?" Mumbled George as he began doodling fire and stickmen around the page, finally able to clearly see what he was doing. He started with a building and escalated it into a city with fire lining the streets. Stickmen and their stick families fled the streets. After realizing how dark of a concept it was, he scribbled the doodle out and restarted with fireworks instead.

"Do you think we'll still be friends when you leave?" His eyes trailed up George, and everywhere he looked made George's nerves in those spots tingle.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Because what if you're only tolerating me because you have to? That's why everyone else were friends with me. They were all Sapnap's friends, and the moment I broke up with him, they all left."

George tapped Clay's hand with his pen. "I won't leave you. Well, emotionally."

"Everyone told me that, George." He took the pen from George's light grip and fidgeted around with it; he clicked it and rolled it around his fingers. "I enjoy your company. You're funny and chill and— I don't know. I think I understand why everyone likes you now."

"Why is that?"

"Because you have a way of making the people around you feel safe and comfortable."

George smiled. He had heard many different variations of the same thing. People have told him that he was a great listener and that he wasn't judgmental. Hearing it in a new way from Clay, however, seemed to set his chest on fire, and his stomach acted similar to a fire department with the way it jolted to ease the flames. His face burnt a bright shade of pink as he began to laugh. "Thanks, Clay. You don't just like me because I'm giving you free validation, right?"