this love ☼ dreamnotfound

{ 47 }

( cw // throwing up - why do i have so much throwing up in this story i literally have crippling emetophobia )

clay's mom was always gone for work before he was even awake and she never bothered him by waking him up early, so clay was confused to hear his bedroom door creaking open. he had fallen asleep on his bathroom floor last night and genuinely didn't remember doing that.

"what the hell," caylee's voice rang in clay's ears as her head peered through the door.

he struggled to lift his head from the cold bathroom tile. "i'm sick," he managed to mutter, wincing at the pain in his throat and shocked by the raspiness of his voice. "leave me alone," he demanded.

"i will," caylee promised. "my friend is here to take me to cheer, but i'm inviting george over for you. you look rough and i'm convinced he's the only thing that can fix you," she insisted.

"do you even have his number?" clay wondered. he was laying on his stomach with his head shoved into his forearms.

caylee walked over to clay's bed. "no, but i have your phone," she told, picking up clay's phone from his bed. she added, "and i know your password."

clay didn't have the energy to argue, but he did anyways, "don't. i have a stomach bug and george has... a thing with throw up. he doesn't like it."

"george has butt-fucked you, i'm sure he'll be fine," caylee guessed as she typed out a text to george.

"how did you know that?" clay asked without thinking. nobody ever said that to him because nobody assumes that clay ever bottoms- what's the fun in only doing one thing all the time?

"seriously?" caylee questioned in sheer disbelief. "i was joking- george seriously tops you?" she dropped clay's phone back onto his bed.

"not- okay, i'm not talking about this with you. this is weird," clay groaned from the bathroom.

"i've heard worse," caylee shrugged. she walked back to the door, dismissing herself, "i have to leave, but thank you for giving me a new thing to make fun of you for."

"fuck you," clay spoke into the floor. he loved caylee, but he felt like shit and did not want to talk to her about his sex life. in his mind she was still a baby, but they were barely two years apart.

clay heard the door shut and he fell back asleep almost immediately. he wanted to take a shower and brush his teeth so he didn't feel absolutely disgusting, but he genuinely could not pry himself from his bathroom floor. george would probably get on him about having his face against the tile- he was a germaphobe. george was more than that; he was obsessive about everything being perfect. they had talked about it briefly, but never really got into it. it really did affect george a lot, but clay had his own mental health issues to deal with and it wasn't his place to address george's. they both needed some serious therapy.

soon enough, clay heard his front door opening and closing followed by footsteps running up the stairs. he heard george's key's jingling as he got closer and then his bedroom door opened again.

george peered around the room, not seeing clay for the first few seconds. "clay?" he called out. "oh my god, get off of the floor you idiot," he scolded once he saw him. caylee didn't disclose that clay was glued to his bathroom floor when she texted george.

"i don't want to," clay opposed.

george bent down and ran his hands over clay's back and shoulders, trying to find a way to get him up. "c'mon, this is gross. you're only gonna get yourself more sick," george warned him. he started to lift one of clay's arms as he encouraged, "get up, please. i'll help you. we'll get you in the shower."