found (clay jensen)

tv static

I lay wrapped up in blankets up to my neck, feeling my breathing collecting in my throat and expelling itself out in my lungs. My breath catches in my chest but I push past it, sucking oxygen in and forcing it out of my body.

The TV flickers several feet ahead of me, endless channels of incoherent nonsense. My dog Blue, with his grey fur running past my fingers, sleeps soundly beside me. His tiny warm body jerks slightly as he dreams, and his fuzzy head rests on my knee.

I reach down to stretch his ears softly as he rises out of his dream, stretching out his paws and yawning contently. "Good morning," I whisper even though I know he can not respond. He buries himself deeper into the fluffy blankets.

My mind is numb, like a heavy blanket was somehow smothering it into a quiet, blank feeling. I can feel the familiar tugging of sleep at my brain until I hear the trademark noise of a text message.

I blindly reach for my phone and raise it up to my sleepy eyes, wincing at the brightness of my screen. It's Clay, and I feel another painful twist in the bottom of my stomach when I see his contact.

From "Pretty Boy"

11:32 a.m.
Pretty Boy: Is something wrong? You looked really upset last night.
Pretty Boy: Is everything alright?

My heart aches to tell him everything, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, I can't.

Ellie ❤️: i'm sorry

Pretty Boy: Sorry for what?

Ellie ❤️ is typing...

I press a singular letter and tense my fingers to text out another message, but the situation overwhelms me and I find myself unable to.

11:33 a.m.
Pretty Boy: Ellie, what's wrong?
Pretty Boy: Please answer me. Are you okay?

11:34 a.m.
Pretty Boy: I'm coming over. Be there in 10

Though I never asked him to, nor do I necessarily want him to, I find myself incredibly at ease that he would be coming over soon.

I stand up to hurriedly change into a better pair of sweatpants before shrinking further into my warm blankets. Grabbing the remote off the table beside me, I pull Blue into my lap and sigh loudly.

I switch over to Amazon Prime to find my favorite movie of all time, obviously Harry Potter, and feel instantly comforted as it starts up. The familiar orchestral music of the opening scene touches my heart and my brain is relaxed.

The nostalgia washes over me and I feel myself unfold; all the tension, built up tears, and anger in my stomach unknotting and allowing a heavy, warm presence of relaxation in my chest.

The scene is about to change when the door to my house is forcefully thrown open. Fear overwhelms me and I involuntarily shriek. Blue immediately dissolves into angry, frenzied barking as I almost fall off the couch in shock.

When I look up to the door, I see Clay standing there, staring down at me with pure panic in his blue eyes. He clutches his phone in his hands, breathing just as heavy as an Olympic runner. His hair is wet, but the rest of him dry as he takes a tentative, slightly awkward step into my house. I think for a moment that he might have clamored out of the shower, hair wet and a t-shirt thrown haphazardly over him, as if he had taken only seconds to properly change. He probably had, and a twinge of guilt presents itself in my chest at the alarm in his eyes.