It Wasnt My Fault (DNF)

Part 2: Chapter 44

George pov (Clay pov soon i promise)

I was there.

I had arrived and I already hated it.

It was around 4 in the evening and I'd just recently gotten off of school, sending Clay home without me so that I could come here and shop for his present.

And, gods, did I hate it.

The mall was absolute hell, and I was grateful I at least had Ken here to help me through it.

I take a deep breath, listening to the muffled shouts and music that could be heard through the doors of the building, steeling myself and building up the courage to step inside.

It was cold, I had to remind myself, as though the bitter breeze that made my ears red wasnt reminder enough.

I was doing this for Clay.

Dream.

The one who had been through so many unspoken apotheosizes of grief only to fight all that had been cruel to him with his kind and innocent soul.

Why him?

I found myself asking this question more and more.

Why did he have to be the one to deal with all my bullshit?

Why did he have to be the one plagued with thoughts of suicide that I could see shining in his irises at times of misfortune.

Why did he have to be the one that was anxious of the scars littering his arms, a mark of something he didnt want to do.

Why did he have to be the one that never got what he wanted?

I take one more deep breath, stepping inside the mall and trying to drown out the loud shouting and whooshing air conditioning with my own troublesome thoughts.

Now, I was going to get him the thing he wanted.

Clay wasnt a fan of electronics.

He loved video games, but that was as far as it went for devices of any sort.

He didnt enjoy toy knives or guns.

He preferred things of comfort.

Hoodies that he and I could cuddle into.

Plushies that could litter our bed and the couch in the living room.

Matching socks that we could giggle at as we traversed the cold floorboards of our home.

He just wanted something small that he could forever smile at.

I could feel Ken's hand on my shoulder through the blue windbreaker that was my only shield against the bodies that bumped into me and the cold air that was made even chillier due to the stupid air conditioning.

'Stupid people.' I thought as I pulled my collar up. 'Who keeps the air conditioning on in the winter anywa?'

I continued to sneer at anyone who caught my eye, angry at them once more for being the ones that were able to be happy when everyone in my life had suffered.

Everyone in my life.

I didnt know that many people.

I knew my parents, and each one of them was hurt by each other.

My mother was hurt because my fathers didn't love her.

My birth father was hurt because my mother only wanted him for her own sexual desires and married another man during their marriage.

And my step father was devastated in learning that my mother was already taken, was already loving someone else.

I knew my brother, and all this world had done to him was break him past repair while the people around him stood by and watched, unable and unwilling to help him.

I knew Astro, and while I didnt hate him like I once did, I knew he had suffered and made terrible mistakes. He seemed to have been grieving and mourning his entire life.

I knew my first friend.

The one I'd made on the day Ken had died.

Nick.

The raven-haired boisterous boy that I'd only known for a day.

He was loud, always clad in colors of white and black, fiery earrings forever hanging from his earlobes, a bandana tied permanently against his night-black hair.

Nick was sweet and understanding, and it pained me to push him away after being friends with him for only a few hours.

He'd moved away soon after my brother's death.

And then there was Dream.

The most broken of them all, yet still the kindest, the sweetest, the most traumatized.

I just wished he would allow me to do more than I did now to help him.

I visited many stores, Old Navy for hoodies, picking out an assortment of colors I knew he'd look great in with the advice from my brother.

I stopped by Build-A-Bear, as stupid as it seems, to purchase matching teddy bears for us.

My last destination was a place called Make My Plush.

I had put a lot of thought into this gift.

With the head being made of teddy beans and the body stuffed with fluff, perfect for hugging, I bought him a custom plushie.

Something that would remind him that he made me smile.

That his smile made my life better.

Something that would make him smile.

I needed something that he could be happy upon seeing.

And so, with an invisible stitch being sewn onto the face in a slight curve of a grin, I let loose my own, my eyes shining bright with joy at the finished project.

A small blob for a head, a tubular body as a spine, I had Dream, embodied in a plushie that was his choice of a gift.

I walked through the mall, back towards the front doors that were my savior, lighter than I had felt upon entering.

I didnt care that what I had bought might have been expensive, or that another might look upon the assorted items and laugh.

Or scoff.

I would let loose my own cackle of disappointment at whatever humor they found in the gifts I'd collected for my boyfriend.

No one's reaction could dampen or be worth more than the meaning behind these items.

I began walking towards my apartment, ready to give Clay his gifts when I arrived.

I didnt care that I was early for his birthday celebration.

It was better in life, I supposed, to be early to celebrate a loved one than late because you didn't know when they were going to die.

Thoughts?

Ideas?

Conclusions?

Theories?

I want to hear what u guys think.

We're nearing the spiral of an ending I have planned for you all, and I'm really, really excited.

I love you all.

Get rest (whatever that is, I wouldn't know).

Take a break from whatever stressful task you've been working on (idfk how to do this)

You deserve ut.

Much luv 🫶

1092 words