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

CHAPTER 56: DICTATE

The boys and I talk for a while before I head back to my room. At this point, I have to be awake in three and a half hours, so I'm debating whether or not I should actually sleep or not.

The boxes in my room are in the way of the door, getting in the way of shutting it. I give up on trying after a few attempts and keep walking. Something pops under my foot.

"Stupid bubble wrap," I say right before bumping into another box. I groan as I pick the box up to move it.

The box is placed onto another before I realize another presence in the room. I turn my body to see Clay standing in the doorway. He raises his brows. "Need some help?"

I nod, admitting defeat. "Yeah, I just want the boxes to be in this corner."

"Okay." He starts to pick up a box.

"And you know that the people are coming at three in the afternoon to pick these up and ship them, right?" I ask to clarify, beginning to stress. "And at the moment, you're the faceless one, so you should answer the door. Don't dox yourself."

He rolls his eyes. "We got it covered, okay? Don't worry about it."

I sigh. "I'm going to anyways."

He chuckles. "I know, y/n." I lean down; my hand touches a box when Clay turns to me again. "I said I got it; please, just get some rest."

I don't even argue. My body falls onto the bed; my head rested on my hand. I allow my eyes to follow Clay around the room as he works. My mind wanders to what he's thinking about right now.

When the boxes are where they need to be, Clay doesn't leave the room. He leans against a wall, leaning his head back to the ceiling. My eyes stay glued to his actions.

"Why?" he asks in one breath, not looking at me.

I glance around what's left of my room, unsure what he's talking about. it's stripped bare besides my bed and the boxes. "I wanted everything in one spot, to be kind of organized," I explain with a shrug, "and I didnt want them in everyone's way. So I just thought-"

"I'm not talking about the stupid boxes, y/n." Clay's heel hits the wall once harshly. He's looking at me once again. "I'm talking about New York, about you leaving all this behind."

I sit up straight. "I told you," I say, "It's a good promotion, and I've always wanted to travel." Clay looks unimpressed by my reasoning. "I owe it to my younger self, Clay. I owe it to her."

"You don't owe your younger self anything." He pushes his fingers to his temples. "She didn't know what your life was going to be like; she didn't know what was going to make you happy." He's standing up straight now. "And running away is never going to fix anything."

"What am I running away from?" My voice is sharp.

"I don't know." He throws his hands in the air. "It feels like your leaving as soon as the idea of us came up."

My head snaps up to meet his eyes. My blood boils. "There was never an us," I say, "There was never a me and you." My voice is cold. "There was a you, and then there was me. That is all."

He shakes his head. "The very second we kissed, this became an us thing."

"We kissed long before that night, and we both know it." My voice is louder than I intended. I can't even imagine George and Nick hearing this. I'm hoping they choose to ignore it.

"Are you saying that it's just a coincidence that you all-the-sudden need to go to New York weeks after we kiss?" He raises his voice too.

"I'm saying that I'm done." I stand up as I speak. "I am done with whatever little game this was."

His expression is unchanging. His brow is furrowed and his whole body is tense. He firmly believes that I am running away to avoid him. He believes that I would rearrange my entire life for him. He thinks he can storm in here and I'll immediately decide to stay.

I continue before he can get a word in, "And how dare you assume I would change my whole life around for you." I'm border-line shouting now. "You are not that special, and you do not have that power, not anymore."

"I didn't expect you to," he says, holding his ground. "We had talked about this, and how was I supposed to know space meant a new region of the country?"

I step forward until we are face to face, breathing the same hot air. I look into his eyes, making sure to get my final point across, "If I want to move to Antarctica to feel alive, then you should let me move to Antarctica. Because this is my life, therefore you do not dictate what I do with it."

"You have a life with people who care about you right now." His voice is sharp still; he doesn't back down as he keeps his eyes locked on me. "And that life is right here."

My hands curl into fists. "Ask me where I'd rather be right now," I say, "Ask me."

"Where would you rather be?" He throws his hands in the air.

"Anywhere but here," I say the words calmly, almost to the verge of being calculated, and I know they hit like an arrow right in his chest.

He sighs, unsure what to say now.

"This could make me happy," I point out, "You never know."

"What about what happened between us?" he asks.

"I can't, Clay." I shake my head slowly. "I waited for you to want to meet me, I waited for George to be ready, I waited for you while you were in a relationship, and now you want me to wait till your ready?" My hands fall pathetically at my sides now. "How much more waiting do you want from me?"

I can see the gears in his head debating, wondering if he should say what he wants to. I let him process, wanting to know what's going on in his head once and for all.

"You have people who care about you." He hasn't given up yet; he sounds so sure of himself and strong.

I sigh, turning to take a few steps away. My head's tilted towards the ceiling. "Don't you think I know that?" I sound defeated.

"So what happens when you're gone, then?"

"Listen." I turn back to him. "I'm going to be gone for a year, and I don't want us to dictate each other's live while I'm gone," I explain, "so please, just live your life and I'll live mine."

His eyes search mine for a moment, and I don't even try to answer anything for him. He sighs and turns away from me. "Night, y/n."

"Goodnight," I call out sarcastically.

He walks out of my room and shuts the door. The click of the lock holds some sort of finality to everything, and it hits that I'm leaving tomorrow.

I search to find some sort of sadness for the argument we had, but all I can find is anger. Anger towards Clay. Anger towards the situation. Everything is a reddish-black, clouding my vision.

The only thing that's clear is I cannot wait to get to the city.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

okay so NOW what are we thinking about the move?

have an amazing day <33