The World Below [DNF]

Chapter 22: Time to meet the parents

Clay POV

He woke up once again in the warm bed that belonged to a certain brunette. George was still asleep with his head on Clay's chest and his arms tightly wrapped around Clay's torso. It was a nice change of sleeping environment from the park. It hit him how extremely touch-starved he was. Just this moment felt like waking up in heaven. The brunette showed no sign of waking up, but Clay wasn't complaining. He let himself run his fingers through the soft mess of brown locks that was covering his chest. 

The events of the former night was returning, and the suppressed questions started to bubble up again. Like why George had been so distant? Why his dad had paid to get his son beaten up? And why he found the brit sprinting in panic to the park in the middle of the night? The questions were important be he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Little did he know then that all the answers would unintentionally be revealed the same day.

It was as if George had read his mind because he began shuffling around and slowly opened his eyes. Still, he didn't move away, which Clay was utterly thankful for.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." George mumbled a quiet response. 

"You know that school's awaiting?" George tilted his head and quirked one eyebrow in Clay's direction. "I'm suspended, genius." 

Clay felt like an idiot for forgetting. "Right." The disappointment was hard to disguise. George smirked. "But you have no excuses, rise and shine."

Clay entire body complained when George left his side and began dragging Clay out of bed.

"Can't I just stay here with you?" George shook his head. "No chance, plus I got things to do." It was obvious that George wasn't going to elaborate about what these things meant. So, Clay let it go for now.

They both got dressed and Clay was again prepared to follow George downstairs to get breakfast, but was once again forced to wait in George's room. The reason was per usual George's dad. Clay sat down to wait on the bed. Two holsters was laying on the floor. One containing a shiny silver object and the other a black one. 

Knives. 

The mere thought was horrible enough to make him cringe. Yet, something urged Clay to reach for them. His hand gripped the silver one and pulled it out. But right as his hand closed around the knife, It was as if he was back in the kitchen re-watching his father's execution. He hated the power these objects held over him.

Someone shook him back to reality. He hadn't even noticed that he was crying. George brown eyes were filled with worry and guilt. "Clay. Let go of the knife." It snapped him out of the trance. The blade had cut into his hand. He swiftly threw the knife away, like it was poisonous.

"I fucking hate it!" He erupted. "These stupid fucking things, the make me completely helpless!" George slowly took the knife from the ground and put it back in the holster. He turned back towards Clay with a unreadable expression. "What is it that the knives trigger?" 

Clay stared to the floor and kept his head resting in his hands. "It feels like I'm back in the kitchen, where they killed my dad." The bed shifted and Clay figured that George must be sitting beside him. 

"Does it matter what type of knife?" 

That got Clay thinking. Kitchen knives were bearable and normal knives that you used to eat with was fine as well. The ones that bothered him the most was the ones that looked like their purpose was to cause harm.

George held both his knives in each of his hands. Clay nodded towards the butterfly knife. "The ones that I know can cause a lot of damaged, like the silver one over there, those are the worst."