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Chapter 45- bad guy

TWs- mentions pan1c att&ck, mentions murd3r and d3ath, bl00d, glass, mentions drunkenn3ss and addict1on

Clay's POV
That night George had stayed laying beside me, sobbing. It was well after 1am when he checked if my eyes were closed, kissed me on the head and left. For what felt like forever I didn't move, just stayed completely still and silent as George's whispers to himself rang out through the hall. The words he said were muffled and unclear, but every now and then I'd hear things like 'calm down, calm down', or 'what if he remembers'. If you didn't know George you'd assume he was on call to someone, asking what to do about his crazy boyfriend- even George didn't consider me crazy. But he spoke to himself when he was scared, or trying not to freak out while very clearly freaking out. Living with him for months had proven that to me.

My hands were shaking slightly as the desperation for an escape clouded my mind and body. I just wanted the emotions to stop, I wanted to make them stop, I wanted to feel the safety of a blank mind and a blank memory. Everything in me was angry with itself, a curse feeling sharp on my tongue as I sat up, rocking back and forth to try and get my thoughts moving. George was ruined. He was broken. He was alone. But I still didn't do anything about it. I was still sure I wanted to drink it all away and pretend nothing ever happened. When I was sober was when I felt my worst, because it was when I could actually feel anything at all. I hated having the thoughts in my brain unmuddled, identifying themselves as actual shit instead of one cloud of darkness covering my senses.

A sudden anger filled my body as I realised what I was thinking. The most important human being in my life was going through an inconceivable amount of pain, and I was sat there wanting to fuel my fucking addiction. Pretty much no part of my body wanted to stay sober, everything yelling at me to run. But I couldn't do this to him, I couldn't bear to hear the way he was crying and then move on as before. That would be evil, that would be disgusting- and I didn't wanna be a bad guy.

George's POV
I had cried.
I had broken.
I had finally let go.
And now it was back to the way it always was.

The same routine would be followed through every day, because once again this would simply be a hiccup in my repetitive life. Clay needed looking after, even now. In fact, especially in a time like this. Everything seemed slightly hazy as I dragged open the cupboard door, filling a large glass with water and grabbing the painkillers he always needed. My body worked like a robots as it walked back, ready to place them on his bedside table. Ready to fulfill the job I never signed up for or got properly trained to do. But that was fine. He just needed my help. He just needed me to keep him happy, and alive. Then as my arm pushed open the door and my head looked up, yellow eyes met mine attached to a sat-up Clay who was looking like a mess. A sat/up Clay who wasn't drunk, or shaking, or even asleep. He was just, there. Looking back at me as I stared at him, my body swaying.

Nothing even processed as the glass dropped out of my hand, a smash sounding from somewhere far away. When the same sound came again and more glasses from previous days were swept onto the floor by my shaking arms, not a single thought flew across my mind. The blood pouring from my knees wasn't felt as I stared at him, black stars covering my vision as my entire body started going limp. Nothing made sense. It was all so unusual. My body was wet with water and blood, and again from far away I heard noise as if from another world entirely. Sobbing, cries of a name, loud and all too overwhelming beeps of buttons being pressed on a phone. And then the shake in my hands started increasing as the pain in my body took over, and my eyes reopened before rolling to the back of my head, and I was feeling every feeling with my heart pounding blood into my ears, the same blood that was on my knees, my elbows, my head, my throat, and it was all so much and all so overwhelming and the voice in my head was screaming to fall, to let go, to leave, and then it was all, just......gone.

Clay's POV
He was on the floor, glass in his hands legs and face. I couldn't tell the difference between the blood or the water covering his body,but I knew that there was too much of everything. The woman on the phone told me they'd be 10 minutes but that was too long and he wasn't okay. He wasn't okay. I needed help. I needed SOMEONE to HELP. I was alone and afraid and he was bleeding in front of me with nothing I could do. Nothing I could do. For once, for ONCE in my FUCKING life I was meant to help the boy that meant more to me than ANYTHING! AND I COULDN'T DO SHIT! BECAUSE I WAS USELESS!!

I was a USELESS little BITCH, who couldn't do anything for anyone other than his alcoholic ass. My fucking BOYFRIEND was DYING right now, and I couldn't even breath! Too busy worrying about my own feelings yet again, daring to have a fucking panic attack while he lay in front of my covered in his own blood. I was disgusting, and there was no fucking POINT in tricking myself anymore, because there's no denying it! I was a bad guy! Everyone around me had the right to hate me as if I was about to kill them, because the one person who actually cared about me was lying on the floor covered in blood. No one deserved that. No one deserved me. But the only was to remove myself was death, and even considering ending my life without making sure George didn't recover would simply make me deserve anything worse than hell. And if he didn't? I'd live the rest of my life going through as much pain as I could without dying. Because if you kill George, nothing that happened to you would be painful enough.

(1110 words)

RIP that gogy ayyyyyy

Lol sorry. Thoughts?

Btw I was thinking abt doing a kinda oneshot story thing of dsmp where U do like mini stories of angst or fluff. Would u read it or be interested?

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If ur reading this ur drop dead gorgeous and ily<33