Stay Inside (by my Side) : Gream/DreamNotFound

23. Did You Get Everything?

[a/n: hhrk I'm running out of inspiration juice so let's wrap this up, yeah? 1-3 chapters left]

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Not many words were spoken. It was hard to find the proper ones, anyway. George stuck to Clay like superglue for the whole day, at which the American didn't bat an eye. The dark, overcast night matched their moods as they lay sideways across the cold bed. George picked up his phone every couple minutes, impulsively checking the time. Clay lay beside him, shoulder to shoulder, drowning under the weight of their predicament.

"I'm going to miss you," Clay whispered. Soft pattering came from outside as delicate rain hit the window.

George gave no verbal response, instead dropping his phone and slipping his hand into Clay's.

They lay still for what felt like centuries, when in reality, barely five minutes passed. Clay wondered if there was something they could have been doing that would have made better use of their time, but realized that his nerves would have made it impossible for him to focus on anything anyway. All he had was an hour or so before he and George would begrudgingly start making their way to the car. Everything felt so surreal.

And Clay meant everything. From catching feelings for his best friend to having those feelings returned, to kissing George on a random Sunday morning, to having him ripped out of his arms so soon, to feeling painfully alone in his own apartment before George even left-

"Take my phone away," George said, passing his cell over his and Clay's chest, "I can't stop checking it."

Clay silently took it and placed it on the other side of the mattress, but not before checking the time for himself. It was 1:17AM; two hours before George's plane was scheduled to board. Clay's throat burned suddenly, and he tightened his grip on George's hand.

"Hey," George turned to face him, "it's okay. I won't be gone forever."

"But you'll still be gone."

Patches hopped up on the bed, pressing her soft paws into the boys' chests as she passed over their bodies. Clay chuckled as his view of the ceiling got suddenly replaced by that of round eyes and tingly whiskers. He used his free hand to scratch Patches' ears, watching as she yawned and shook.

"I'll miss you the most," George said, joining in on the petting.

"I'll miss you, too," Clay repeated.

"I meant Patches."

"Ouch," Clay wheezed.

As the cat sank down on her owner's chest, Clay dropped his hand and returned his gaze to the ceiling. George's hand was still intertwined with his, stroking his knuckles with a butterfly's touch.

There were so many things to love about that boy, it would take years for Clay to list them all. What a waste it felt like, to only realize them now.

No, Clay thought, it isn't a waste.

"I didn't say what I wanted to when you were talking about your mom," he brought up.

"Hmm?"

"You were saying how you were thankful that you had me as a friend. I just wanted to say that I'm thankful for you, too. You were my best friend, George. You still are. I'm really glad we had that connection before I fell head over heels for you."

"Aww, that's what you were going to say?"

"Yeah," Clay giggled.

"But instead you decided to be a dick and give me a heart attack," George huffed, "'i'M sOrRy If I gAvE yOu ThE wRoNg IdEa!'"