coffee stains || dreamnotfound

six - george

i rise abruptly from my sofa, and walk lazily into my kitchen, dragging my feet along the floor as if i don't have the energy to lift them. with a yawn, i grab a random mug from the cabinet, seeing as all my usual glasses are in the dishwasher, and fill it halfway with water before heading back out into the living room area. sighing, i let my body drop back down, immediately gluing my eyes to the television again. i set my water on the small table after taking a few gulps and i shuffle around trying to get comfy again.

my eyes suddenly feel heavy, and i feel them start closing when there's a knock on my door. my eyes snap open but i don't move, instead, i listen. after some more knocks, the person behind the door finally speaks.

"george?"

i've been avoiding him, i'm not sure why. but something in my chest hurts when i think about him and britt. i feel selfish, because we're just friends, and she's known him longer than i have. i've been trying to reason with myself, maybe i just don't think britt is good for him, or maybe it just reminds me of the relationship i had back in england. i had to break up with her because long distance relationships seem hard, and to be honest- i wasn't really that into her anymore. of course, i didn't tell her that.

i guess i have no real reason to be ignoring clay like this, but i just can't help it.

"i know you're in there."

unluckily for me, our doors aren't very soundproof, so i can't ignore him forever. he knocked on my door yesterday, he said he was 'just checking up' which i appreciate but i wish he wouldn't. he's been texting me a little too, he seems pretty worried. we exchanged numbers when we got coffee, "in case of emergency" he put it, with a grin.

after a little while, the knocking turned into banging, "george, please." his words were almost slurring, is he drunk? confusion washes over me at the thought so i swing my door open, only to be met with a distressed looking clay sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the wall opposite and his feet at my door.

"clay?"

he looks up, but his eyes don't quite meet mine. his head tilts as i take in his appearance. the shirt he's wearing is almost hanging off his shoulder, and his hair is  messier than usual. but what worried me was his eyes. they were all red underneath and it looks like he's either tired or he has been crying. i scratch the back of my neck before sighing. after debating in my head what to do, i help him up, slinging his arm over my shoulders and grabbing his waist to steady him. his shirt rides up when he loses his balance, and the sudden contact i have with his waist causes my cheeks to turn a slight shade of red. ignoring it, i eventually manage to get him inside my apartment, and onto my sofa. 

he lets himself drop onto it with a thud, and he fidgets between the cushions before taking a steady look around the room. he chuckles deeply, eyes closing as he throws his head back, "nice mug."

i frown as he motions toward the looney tunes mug sitting on the table, "uh, i think you should just take a nap, okay?" 

"i'm not tired yet, george." he says, beginning to giggle.

i sigh, my voice lacing with irritation, "so what do you want to do?"

"lets just talk." he sits up and shuffles a little, before patting the sofa next to him. i go to argue with him, preparing to tell him he looks like he could use some sleep but i comply, taking the empty seat beside him.

"are you drunk?" i ask, even though i'm sure of the answer.

to this, he laughs, "i'm an adult, george. relax."

i roll my eyes at him, "fine, so let's talk. how's britt?"

"good, uh, you know, britt and i have been going through some highs and lows, mostly lows at the moment."

"oh, really?" for whatever reason, this made me almost pleased to hear- but guilt quickly follows as i instantly feel like an awful friend for even thinking that. i shake my head, pursing my lips so none of my incoherent thoughts spill out. 

his words are beginning to slur more so than before, "yeah, things are just so messy right now. it's so confusing. i guess i don't like her like i did before- i don't know."

"before what?" i ask, pressing on.

"uh, you?" he pauses, "things don't make sense right now."

i don't even get the chance to ask what this means because he adjusts himself a little, and passes out.

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word count: 824
*in editing*
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