~ Bad Habit ~

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Clay woke up to sunlight glaring in his eyes. He looked down at George's head and carefully buried his nose in his hair. He inhaled slowly and deeply. He slowly opened his eyes, taking in the position of their bodies.

George's back was against his chest as Clay's arms wound protectively in front of the brunet's chest. He squeezed him slightly, wincing at the slight numbness in his arms. Clay nested his nose in George's nape when he suddenly remembered that they weren't technically together anymore.

He sighed, carefully pulling his arms away and turning to face the wall. He curled in towards himself under the blanket as he thought about everything that had happened. He went over every detail in his head, from the moment George left until they fell asleep last night.

He felt George's legs shift and his torso turn towards him. Against his better judgement, Clay looked back and was surprised with open eyes.

"Good morning, Clay."

"...good morning, George. How long have you been awake?"

"A while."

"Oh."

Clay felt a twinge of guilt. That meant that George felt everything that he did. It wasn't bad but... it was embarrassing. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Touching me? Smelling my hair and hugging me like I'm still yours?"

Clay swallowed the stale morning air, "Yeah. To all of that." George's expression was unreadable. He was stone faced and Clay couldn't decipher if he was actually upset or not. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I... forgot."

"You had a board of pictures of me."

Clay looked down in shame, eventually rolling on his back. He felt like crying. Again. He didn't want to remember what happened. "Yeah. I'm sorry for that too."

George tapped his finger against Clay's bicep, "I missed you. I couldn't stop thinking about you, no matter how I tried to distract myself. You were in my dreams too. Even in sleep-"

"You were dreaming about me?"

George blinked a few times, "Yeah, I was."

"...were they nightmares?"

George looked down, fiddling with the hem of Clays t-shirt sleeve. "No. They were good dreams. Like my brain was punishing me for leaving." He scoffed.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing. It's not going to change anything..."

Clay turned back to George, placing his hand next to George's that stood still on the mattress. He inched his hand closer until their fingertips were touching, then George interlaced their fingers. He wouldn't look up at Clay, and that made him nervous.

"It's weird to think about. That I could be an object of desire, so much so that you'd go through the lengths that you did."

"I'm not proud of it, George, and it sounds like you're romanticizing the... misfire in my brain that makes me want to watch your every waking move."

"I'm not trying to but it's nice to think that you'd never toss me out for someone else. Because you're obsessed with me."

Clay sighed, "I'm not okay, George. Obsession isn't just a word, it's much more than you realize. I have been holding back so much just so that you'd stay-"

"And what if I didn't? What if I wanted to leave?"

Clay's jaw tensed, "I don't know if... I..." his words trailed off as he swallowed nervously, "I wouldn't want you to leave." He decided a euphemism might get his point across.

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