Stay Inside (by my Side) : Gream/DreamNotFound

14. Fully Gone

George felt that he was doing quite a good job keeping his feelings towards Clay at bay. He had slipped up a little here and there with a too-honest flirt or a blush of the cheek, but those tiny mistakes seemed to have flown over his friend's head. Thankfully, the shift from platonic to romantic love swooped in delicately, allowing George to really process his feelings. It's not even that he wanted to date Clay; it was just that he desired to make him happy.

He noticed that Clay had been acting off as well- more timid than he usually was. It creeped in silently over several days, and it made George nervous. What if he hadn't been hiding his feelings as well as he thought he was? What if Clay knew and was uncomfortable?

George often debated whether or not he should talk to him about it, but he feared that the conversation would veer into territory he didn't know how to answer for. For example, what could he say if Clay started questioning their friendship? What if he asked George what he truly thought about him? What if George couldn't lie?

George shuddered at all the 'what ifs' he thought of. No, if Clay found out, their relationship would get strained and then neither of them would be the same. Therefore, George knew he had to deal with himself not only for his sake but Clay's as well.

Today was the day Clay was supposed to clean the house, and he had already started tidying up here and there. He wandered from room to room, seemingly getting his bearings and making a to-do list in his head.

George was lounging around on the couch when Clay came up and tossed some snacks on the cushions.

"I'm gonna start mopping," the American said, "so you can't leave the couch for a while."

George grabbed the snacks and nestled in, more than satisfied with staying in place for an hour or so. He watched as Clay begrudgingly brought out various cleaning supplies. Victory never felt better.

Clay threw on some headphones and shuffled his playlist, beginning to scrub the apartment. For as long as he lived there, it had always been classily trashy, with mostly clean surfaces but the occasional loose clothing item strewn about. When George moved in, though, the place sparkled. Clay got to work, wandering how George managed to clean so well. He looked up every once in a while to sneak peeks at his friend, who was happily munching on oreos and watching some stupid teen drama on TV.

Clay carefully ran through every room in his apartment, taking extra care to polish and shine. Usually, he half-assed his cleaning efforts, but George had won their bet fair and square, and Clay had more motivation now than ever before.

His mind wandered casually from the work he was doing to what would inevitably come after; the small trip he and George would take. He didn't really care where they went, he just needed time to drive around and clear his mind.

The heat in the apartment blasted through the vents and combined with the warmth emitting from Clay's physical exertion. Before long, sweat stuck his hair to his forehead and his torso burned under his sweatshirt. He had just finished straightening out his bedroom, the last room, so he walked into the kitchen for a drink. The living room floor was still glassy with water, so he edged near the wall to avoid leaving footprints.

He grabbed a washcloth after his drink, opting to polish some surfaces as a final run-through. Before he could begin, though, he decided the heat was just too much to bear.

Walking over to the thermostat beside the TV, Clay rolled up his sleeves and fanned his shirt. He reached out to adjust the temperature before George spoke up.

"Wait, don't turn it down."

Clay took out his earbuds. "I'm getting boiled alive, G."

"But I'm cold!"