saturday mornings are for pancakes // a dream x reader fanfiction

CHAPTER 44: JUST LIKE OLD TIMES

"Don't go," I say the words I never expected to hear come out of my mouth, "I need someone to be here."

"y/n, I have plans."

"Cancel them," I practically beg, "I'll pay you."

"I need food."

"Uber Eats."

"I hate you."

"I hate you, too."

He sighs. "There's other people in this house to bother, you know?"

I glare at George now. "But I need someone to force me to work right now."

"I've been sitting in your room for the past hour, and you've done nothing," George points out, "Even Nick left."

I slump in my swivel chair. "Stay?"

"You're weird, and I've had enough." George shakes his head, going to walk out of the room.

I'm not surprised or particularly hurt that he left. I just wanted someone to hold me accountable.

I spin in my chair once before turning back to the list of things to fix. I took the liberty of moving them to a google docs, so I can check them off as I go. Now I only have to actually start.

I sigh, glancing at the door George walked out of. He said there are other people in this house, and I know exactly who he was referring to.

I grab my laptop and slowly walk to Clay's door. It's closed, so I can have time to mentally prepare.

It's been awhile since I've walked into Clay's room. In my head, it's not a space for me to be in anymore. I take a deep breath, not wanting to push any boundaries.

I know there's boundaries, though. I know he's in a relationship. I know he's really happy. I know that it would be wrong of me to think I could change any of that. And I repeat that in my head over and over again.

I get the courage to knock on the door. It's quiet for a second, and I feel myself regretting it already.

"Come in," a voice calls.

I open the door slowly, laptop in one hand, and peek inside. Clay's sitting at his desk, wearing sweatpants and a tshirt, and his face looks confused.

"Why did you knock?" he asks, "I don't think anyone actually knocks in this house."

I shrug. "I didn't want to bother you."

"What if the knock bothered me?" Clay squints his eyes.

I shake my head before glancing at my feet; I'm wearing my strawberry socks, which I consider to be good luck. "You're ridiculous," I mumble.

"Whatever." He chuckles. "What's up?"

I sigh, risking to meet his eyes. "I was wondering if I could get some work done in here?"

He smiles. "Can't focus?"

"Not one bit," I admit, "and George wasn't helping at all."

Clay laughs. "He never is."

Clay gets up from his chair. He picks up a pile of clothes from the bed and puts them in a basket. "Do you want the bed or the desk?" he asks.

"I'll take the desk," I say, knowing it's the safe route.

He motions towards the desk. "Be my guest, then."

I settle into his gamer chair. It's comfortable; I make a mental note to look it up later for my own room.

Clay's sitting on the bed and already working on his laptop now. I open my own computer and pull up the document. I know it's time to focus.

Clay's playing music from his speaker. He's always played his special playlist when he's trying to work. It actually relaxes me and takes me back eight months when I practically lived in this room.