The World Below [DNF]

Chapter 7: Aichmophobia

George POV

Nick's injuries looked worse than they actually were. Both Clay and Alex, who also managed to get hit, seemed to be doing okay. Nick still laid down to avoid worsening the injuries but Karl had at least made a pillow out of his colorful shirt to make it more comfortable. Alex sat on a bench with his head tilted backwards to prevent any more nose bleeding, he also carefully held Clay's water bottle against his nose, trying to reduce swelling and the pain. George had examined Alex nose but came to the very professional conclusion that nothing appeared to be broken, only bruised. It did however not stop Alex from complaining.

"Fucking Dave, why the fuck would they involve him? That guy never knows when to stop." Alex whined. Nick hummed in agreement. George felt a presence sitting down beside him, which he assumed to be Clay. He could hear a silent winching from the boy, presumable from the punch from he received to his stomach.

After a couple minutes of silence, a slightly sarcastic voice spoke. "So – an A-student with no other interest outside of school, do you feel like this description resonates with you?"

George nodded "That's me, every parent's dream."

"– Who just happened to have a knife strapped to his ankle and seemed fully calm in a situation that most people tend to find a bit– Of-putting?" Clay continued, voice coated in a thick level of irony.

"What a good coincidence, right?" George returned with the same amount of sarcasm.

"You really don't let people in, do you?"

"What can I say, there's not much to know. What you see is what you get."

Clay raised both eyebrows in a skeptical look. "That must be the lie of the century, after the stunt you pulled out there, nothing you say will convince me otherwise." George tried to defend himself, but Clay continued before he got the chance.

"But don't worry Georgie I bet my extremely good looks and charming personality will sooner or later melt that wall of ice you got around you." He stated jokingly and grinned in George's direction. Georgie?! Really? What a stupid nickname. He couldn't find it in himself to be angry at Clay, but to tried once again to change the subject, he asked the blonde boy about the punch he'd got to the chest.

Clay lifted his shirt up slightly on the left side of his stomach. You could see some bruising over the ribs. George decided that it was the perfect opportunity to get a bit revenge for the nickname Georgie. So, he poked Clay with a little bit of force on the bruised area, which made the blonde jump in surprise and his face twisted in pain for a second.

"What was that for?!" Clay exclaimed

"Georgie" Was the answer he got, but he did give him a slight smirk to signal that the deed wasn't done with any anger behind it.

"You must be a sadist or something to injure an already injured man" Clay said while exaggerating his pain. George let a chuckle slip past his lips.

"Take a deep breath" Clay looked confused but did what George asked, which resulted in him winching again and put his hand on his bruised side. George studied the reaction before continuing.

"You could have a broken rib or something. You should try and put some ice on it" Clay opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Alex shouting from his place on the bench.

"Ok, I'll be the first to say it. What the hell was that, George?"

"What was what?"

"Your goddamm knifeshow? First of all, it seemed like you've done it before and second why are you caring around knives? Don't get me wrong, I'm super grateful that you were able to help us out of this mess but what normal teenager carries knives to school?"

"Old habit I suppose." He didn't really want to elaborate but he realized that after what just took place, he would have some explaining to do.

Alex didn't drop the subject that easy either "What? Where you in some type of gang back in England?" Everyone waited in anticipation for George's answer. He thought back at his life from just a couple days ago in England. Everyone in his "gang" had some type of weapon on them most of the time. They were just broken kids, and most of them only carried weapons to appear intimidating, it was a rarity that anyone knew how to use them. But because their everyday life, more often than not, contained some sort of messing around with drunken men and tricking them for money it wasn't totally impossible that fights broke out. George was also not physically the biggest person. So, for him, knowing how to handle a knife was a way to survive in that type of environment.

Weighing his options, he decided to share some details from his homeland. "Well, I wouldn't use the terminology "gang", it was rather just a group of teenagers who wasn't very fond of school and sometimes we did stupid shit."

He caught Clay mouthing 'I fucking called it' in the corner of his eyes. "But being like 5'7 makes you appear like an easier target than someone who's like 6'4 and looks like he spends every day of the week at the gym. Being able to handle or at least look like you can handle a knife can be quite frightening in itself" He saw that it wasn't really what they expected to hear.

"Who knew you tea-drinkers were so aggressive." Nick coughed out; his throat obviously still sore. Again, the tea-drinking stereotype? Zero points for creativity.

"Can I see the knife" Clay asked, surprisingly quiet. 

Letting people borrow his knives was something that George never did, they had practically grown attached to him. But he figured that showing it wouldn't hurt. He reached down to his left ankle and grabbed the knife. He flicked it open, and he could've sworn that Clay flinched for a second which awoke George's curiosity. To test his theory he did something he'd never do otherwise. He offered the blonde to hold it. He could practically see the conflicted feelings that fought in his brain. To his surprise, Nick interfered.

"You don't have to do it, Clay. There's nothing you need to prove to anyone." The situation was very intriguing but, to seemingly everyone's surprise, Clay grabbed the knife. His eyes betrayed him; George could see the disgust he felt when holding the weapon. His knuckles whitened, it was like he was caught in some sort of painful trance. Without thinking twice, George tock both hands and wrapped them around Clay's hand that was holding the knife. It worked to a certain degree; the grip loosened a little bit but he didn't let go. 

Confused by the situation that was happening in front of him, George let one hand still being wrapped around Clay's and placed his other on the blonde boy's shoulder. Calling his name and carefully shaking his shoulder to get the boy to snap back to reality. Slowly Clay let go of the knife completely and turned his gaze to meet George's. Clay mumbled a quiet "I'm sorry", which felt very out of character from the personality he'd shown so far. Guilt crept along George's spine so he quickly put the blade back in its holster. His hand was still placed the blonde's shoulder and he could feel shakings radiation from the guy, he saw that Clay kept staring at his trembling hand. It was obvious that there was some sort of trauma connected to knives. George furrowed his brows before and wondered what could be the cause of such a reaction.

He took a deep breath. "There's nothing to apologize for, life isn't always pretty and can leave quite ugly scars" George whispered. Clay nodded. To break the tension, George stood up and offered his hand to help the other guy up from the ground and to George relief, Clay took it.