9. What's Going On?

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[a/n: that image ^ is what George is gonna be like from now on]

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George sat at the kitchen table in absolute darkness. The time was both too early and too late, but he failed to catch any desire of sleep. He was unusually restless despite not knowing why; after all, nothing was wrong whatsoever.

He chalked the tension up to the slight sadness of having his flight home cancelled. After all, today was the day he was supposed to be on his way back to London after his two-week work trip. Unfortunately, the lockdown was set to be in place for at least another month, right up until the end of May. George thought about what this meant, letting his mind wander over how his friends and family were doing, if the airline would give him any discounts or credits, if the virus was even slowing down... most notably he was thinking about where he was, and how long he had left to stay. Clay's apartment had become truly homely and inviting, and George felt his stomach lurch a little as he scanned his eyes over the pitch black kitchen.

Hmm, Clay. The reminder that the man was only a room away yanked at George's gut. He swallowed, glancing past the kitchen doorway into the living room.

Maybe it was the craziness of the situation outside, but George had come to realize that he was feeling quite weird around his best friend. At different times during the day, he would find his eyes traveling over to him on multiple occasions, not to mention the involuntary blush that hit his ears whenever Clay looked up and caught him. It was never a problem- never even a thing- but now it was, and George was completely and utterly lost.

He bowed his head and rested his elbows on the table, ruffling his dark hair. He closed his eyes, but it barely made a difference in the dark. He allowed himself to get lost in theories about what the hell this new thing between him and Clay was, and all his other senses fell away.

He didn't notice that Clay had come out of his room and approached the washroom. Clay kept his eyes lidded as to not lose any sleep, but as he quietly passed the couch, he realized it was unoccupied. He came in through the threshold of the kitchen and gasped slightly at the dark silhouette slumped over the table.

Startled, George jumped as well, and the two remained motionless for a beat, catching their breath.

"Jesus," Clay breathed, "what the hell are you doing?"

"I grabbed a snack," George lied.

"And you're just sitting here like a vampire?"

George huffed, thankful for the darkness as it hid the flustered look on his face.

"I almost didn't even need to use the bathroom anymore," Clay joked.

"Pissbaby..." George countered to relieve the tension.

George relaxed and sank down further in his seat as Clay turned into the bathroom with a short laugh. He exhaled a long breath and decided to return to the sofa.

He avoided looking at Clay as the man emerged and headed back to his room.

"Goodnight, Nosferatu," Clay called.

"Goodnight," George replied quietly.

Sleep still wasn't coming. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity, but George knew he simply couldn't get peace of mind until he found out what the hell was making him so wired up. He backtracked to the family members, the flight, the pandemic, the apartment, and then... his friend. His friend, who managed to revert George to his young, love-struck self; the George that blushed when a cute girl made eye contact with him; the George that ceased to function when he caught feelings.

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