Trouvaille [Dreamnotfound/Gream]

11. The bitter belief

It was a Monday. George went to work with a smile. He met up with Lukas and his newly reconciled friend, Charlie, talking to them contently. He was in an awfully good mood. That is, until lunch rolled around and Clay was nowhere to be seen. George decided not to think of it that much, joining his two friends and eating with them. George finished his work in the afternoon, heading home and calling Clay, a smile growing on his lips.

The phone called for a few seconds before being picked up. "Hi, Clay," George murmured, holding the phone up to his ear. There was a short pause before he replied. "Hey."

"I was wondering if I could come over later today. Since I didn't really see you at lunch and wanted to hang out with you," he turned to Cat and stroked his head fondly. George waited patiently for Clay's response.

"I'm actually busy today," George's smile twitched as he sat down next to Cat, listening intently, "Don't bother coming over today."

George's smile faded. He sounded different. "Alright," said George slowly, turning to his pet, who was staring at him curiously, "Are you okay?"

There was an inaudible noise before Clay replied. "Yeah," he sighed. George bit his lip doubtfully, but said nothing.

"Okay, well I'll talk to you later then," George shrugged, looking at his phone and watching Clay hang up. George felt weird. He decided not to overthink it. Clay was a person who had his own life. He didn't need to hang out with him every day. 

George's week was very uneventful. He hasn't seen Clay all week. He has called him a few times on Wednesday, but was met with the same apathetic answer he received on Monday. George was growing more and more concerned.

When he told Lukas and Charlie about it, she told him that he was only overthinking the whole matter. Lukas didn't answer immediately, his eyes darting back and forth. "I don't know, George. You should probably go talk to him face to face," he responded finally, bearing an uncertain expression.

Thursday and Friday went by with completely no contact. George kept rewatching the video he filmed on Sunday over and over, yearning to be as happy and giddy as he was when he recorded that video. He wanted to go back in time and relive all of the memories just to be with Clay. He missed his voice, his stupid wheeze and his gorgeously stupid face.

He didn't know where he went wrong. Was it something he did? Was it something he said? This was eating him alive.

When Saturday rolled around, George tried to call Clay a few more times. No answer. He kept calling him, determined to get it out of him. He was downright miserable and needed to understand what was wrong.

George was afraid. He didn't want to go to talk to him in person because he was afraid. Afraid of him breaking down in front of him, afraid of angering Clay and damaging their friendship even more, afraid of ultimately losing Clay. Clay clearly stated that he shouldn't bother coming over. And he respected that. 

After a few more times of trying to call him, he left him a voicemail. "Hey! This is Clay! Well actually, not really, I'm busy at the moment but do leave a message," Clay's voice rang in George's ear when it went to voicemail. George could listen to that voicemail for the next five hours.

"Clay," George began, a wave of overwhelming washing over him. His lip quivered slightly, "I miss you. And no, it's not because I'm clingy, it's because you just stopped talking to me without a reason. Please, I don't know what I did wrong."

George exhaled slowly, holding the phone to his ear, "Please call me back." he squeaked quietly, ending the voicemail and hugging Cat weakly. He spent this time thinking. He ran through every little thing he might have done which could have led to this decision. His eyes widened in panic.

What if Clay's ignoring him because Clay thought he was gay?  George was having a gay panic attack right then and there. George wasn't gay. He never really felt attracted to anyone, how would he know if he was attracted to Clay? 

Well for starters, you literally slept in the same bed with him and most likely cuddled with him, the voice in George's head said, making George groan. And you even said yourself - he was different.

George was about to argue with the voice, when his phone rang. He quickly scrambled for it, his eyes widening when he saw the caller ID. It was Clay. He accepted the call hesitantly, startled when the first thing he heard was a sob. 

It sounded tired. It sounded weak. It sounded like he wanted to just let it all out but didn't.

"Clay-" said George weakly, but was immediately cut off by Clay. "No, listen to me!" he yelled, making George flinch. His voice was laced with melancholy and anger. George's heart sank. "I don't know what you're playing at! How can you dare say you miss me after that!?" 

There was a silence. George was processing what he just said. In a tiny, broken voice, George squeaked out, "What?" He was genuinely so confused and hurt. His eyes started brimming with tears. "Clay, what are you talking about?" his voice broke at the end, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeves. 

Clay exploded. "What do you mean?! The text you sent Charlie!! I saw it!" Clay shouted, distressed. George stopped crying, his sadness replaced with confusion. 

"What text?" George stood up, heading towards his door. He could hear Clay take a shaky breath before continuing, "George, stop playing these games, you know exactly what you sent!" There was a silence. George racked his brains, trying to figure out when he sent Charlie a text. 

Then it hit him.

"Clay, dear, I'll call you later," said George quickly, hanging up and going to his messages. And just as he suspected.

Two deleted messages sent from his phone to Charlie's. 

On a Friday.