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Streets (dreamnotfound)

3| Get gone

Clay had been boozing for hours at that bar. He faltered towards the door opening it, he walked out. He stumbled back towards the beach. He wandered gently along the street, he felt unwell to his stomach, yet that feeling wasn't the booze.

He thinks about how things would've ended up if today had never happened. Would he still be with her? He sighed and plopped on the sand with his phone clutched in hand. Multiple missed messages and calls sat on his screen.

He checked his phone it was 3 am. He opened his contacts, pressing on the right one. The phone rang but the call was never answered, he called again nothing. He groaned in annoyance calling the number again and again. He understood that it was no use.

He opened up messages. His vision is blurry. His fingers glided over the keyboard typing out a message.

"Heyyyy gogyyyy :)"

he sent the message and waited.
Not being patient enough he typed another one out.

"Are you asleep?"

He sat in the sand breathing in the cool air, goosebumps forming on his body, he shivered pulling his coat closer to him. He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his head, groaning. Where did I go wrong? Why? Fuck!

He hadn't gotten any replies to his messages still. He opened the messaging app once more typing out one message after the other.

"George" delivered.

"Georgieeee" delivered.

"Are you ignoring me? :(" sent.

"I love you..." sent.

"I messed up..." read.

Three dots popped up, George was awake.

"Dream, why are you blowing up my phone this early in the morning?"

Clay read the message, not typing a response back. His phone dinged one more.

"Why'd you call me so many times? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm completely fine"

His phone buzzed in his hand. George was calling him. Clay sighed, he pressed the screen to answer. He stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

"Dream?" George's voice was raspy and hushed.

Clay only hummed in acknowledgment, wishing he didn't have to converse much.

"What's going on with you?" George asked the younger boy.

"Nothings going on, I just wanted to talk to you.." he twisted his words, running from the truth.

He heard stirring on the other side. He assumed George had sat up.

"Are you drunk? Where are you right now?" he appeared a tad bit annoyed, yet the uneasiness laced in his words more.

Clay didn't blame George for being annoyed. It is after all early for him.

"Yeah... just a little..." he confessed to him. He didn't want to lie to George.

"You never drink. What happened after you went to your parent's house?" George's voice filled with interest and concern.

Clay couldn't speak it felt like there was a lump in his throat, he managed to choke a few words.

"It's what happened after I left. She told me we needed to meet up and talk, I of course agreed. We met and she began to apologize and then she told me she cheated," his breath hitching in his throat. "she broke us off and left. She left me at the beach like I was nothing like I was only a stranger. I got angry and went drinking.." his words were slurred, hiccups interrupting him every few words.

Tears proceeded to scatter from his eyes, his heart ached. It felt as if thorny vines were spreading through his heart, the vines that were wrapped around it squeezed his heart tight. A pitiful sob left his lips, all he wanted was to be comforted by someone. He had hoped the boy on the other side of the phone hadn't caught it. He hastily dried his tears away.

George let out a huff, not saying anything, allowing the call to fall silent. The silence felt uncomfortable. George had never been good at dealing with emotions. He never spoke much about how he felt, he didn't blame him. Emotions aren't easy to deal with.

''Where are you right now?" he finally spoke. The wind had picked up and it felt as if it would storm soon. The chilling breeze grazing against him. A shiver going down his spine, goosebumps rising on his skin. He sucked in a breath.

"Sitting in the sand at the beach," he spoke gently. "I'm sorry I woke you up by bombarding you with messages, I should've just gone home." His voice is linked with melancholy and guilt. Clay remained on the seaside, his thoughts shutting everything out, his eyes focused on the reflection of the moon in the cold water in front of him.

His eyes trailed down to the now visible bruises on his knuckles. God, you couldn't have been more stupid, could you?

He considered like he's a burden to George. He had woken him up, being an intoxicated mess seeking sympathy, crying about the breakup. It's crazy how quickly your day can disintegrate furthermore burn to nothing. How fast euphoria fades to sorrow. How making good settlements one moment can lead to making stupid ones the next.

He snapped back into reality once the wind grew more powerful, a few droplets of rain hit him. He hadn't heard a single word George had said to him. He heard a muffled voice speak.

"Clay?" the voice reappeared.

"Huh? Yeah?" he acknowledged him a bit surprised.

"I had asked what are you doing at the beach in the middle of the night?" his voice melodious and soothing.

Clay stood up and started to pace around as if it would ease the tension. "This is where she chose to meet up. There is a bar nearby so I spent my time there. I came back to the beach to think about things." his words slow and half understandable.

"Please whatever you do not drink and drive, uber home or spend the night in your car." George rambled, "God please stay safe."

"I'll stay in the car, when I wake up I'll go home," Clay had started to stumble back to his car, "I promise." he slurred.

He could hear George sigh in relief. "I'll stay on the phone while you go back. I wanna be sure you're safe."

Even if George wasn't able to see it, Clay's lips tugged into a smile. He decided to check his pockets to make sure he hadn't dropped anything, he reached his hands into his pockets, distracted by everything, he had put pressure on his bruised and bloody hand.

He winced and quickly pulled his arm out of his pocket, he waved his hand around in pain.

"Ow! Fuck." he groaned, he'd had forgotten that he had smashed his hand against the tiled wall that night.

"Clay, what happened? Are you okay?" George asked the intoxicated boy.

"I'm fine George, don't worry. I just did something utterly stupid that resulted in me having bruises." His words a bit slurred.

He hadn't gotten blackout drunk due to the nice bartender who stopped him from drinking. But that didn't mean he wouldn't have a rough time sobering up and fighting the hangover.

"Bruises? Please tell me you didn't fight anyone..." George rambled on, "I'm gonna go lose my mind, Clay, please-"

"George. George... George!" He called his name to gain attention, he didn't think he was going to worry the boy so much.

He waited for him to stop rambling, "George.. I'm fine, I didn't fight anyone." Clay comforted the boy on the other end of the call.

He heard George let out a sigh of relief knowing Clay was fine. Clay had walked back to his car smoothly, the rain was barely falling but he knew that it would start to storm soon enough. The raindrops fell more and more lightly hitting his skin.

"I'm glad that you're okay..." his words calming, "I just worry about you cause I care."

A small smile rose to Clay's cheeks even if it wasn't that visible in the dark and cloudy night, he still knew it was there. He managed to unlock his car, he got in closing the door, he yawned, his eyes growing tired from the lack of sleep he had.

"Thank you, George," another yawn escaped his lips "for being here and dealing with me this early."

"No problem, I'm glad I could be there for you even if it is early for me." George's words linger.

Did he mean it? Was it just to comfort him? Was it just out of pity? So many questions remained unanswered but he pushed them aside and slowly started to drift to sleep but he was pulled back by George's voice.

"You should rest, it's already past 4 in the morning for you. Call me after you get home okay?" Warms words escaped his lips.

"I will, bye." Clay promised, "I love you, George." his words sincere

He didn't mean for those words to slip out of his mouth. He loved George, a lot, but he'd never told him those words so truthfully, he'd only ever say them on stream to annoy George. This time there was no stream, it was all honest.

"I know. Goodnight Clay." George answered ending the call soon after.

Clay pulled the phone away from his ear letting his hand fall in his lap. He rubbed his face in distress, he didn't bother himself with the questions, let alone beat himself up for it. He moved the seat back so he could rest somewhat comfortably. He shifted in his seat slowly letting the darkness consume him.

Clay woke up to the sound of loud pattering on his windshield. Startled he sat up rubbing his eyes, looking around trying to understand where he was. A pounding headache hit him. He checked his phone, the time read 7:00 am.

His notifications empty, the battery close to dying, he sighed. He turned the car on, fixing his seat, turning his radio on to distract him from the headache. He drove home in the rain, a slow song played on the radio, it was impossible to see the road due to the fog, the rain wasn't helping, it made the road slippery.

He drove slowly to avoid crashing, his hands gripped the steering wheel harder, knuckles going white. He looked at his bruised hand, regret-filled. He felt stupid for what he did. His mind wandered to George, he reminded himself to call him later. He arrived home safely. Getting out of his car he locked it running up to the door of his house unlocking it he stepped inside. He was a bit soaked due to the heavy rain.

Patches greeted him instantly. Taking off his shoes he walks into the kitchen giving patches her food. Walking to the bathroom he opens the medicine cabinet finding the pill bottle, he pops one on his tongue washing it down with the tap water.

Walking upstairs he enters his room. It's cold and dark. Turning the heat up he grabs new clothes and heads for the shower, he needed it, he reeked of alcohol. Getting in the shower and allowing the hot water to refresh him. His hand was stinging but he didn't care, he got out a short while after.

Wrapping the towel around him he stepped over to the medicine cabinet looking for gauze and a balm to soothe his arm. Once finding those he stood over the sink he poured a little bit of saline solution on his hand to clean the wounds, taking the balm that would heal his wounds he squeezed it on his knuckles taking his gauze wrapping up his hand. He tied a knot on the gauze so it doesn't slip off.

Turning the light off in the bathroom he walked to his bed drying off and getting dressed. His room was warm thanks to the heater. Clay tossed the clothes in a hamper. Stepping over to his desk he grabbed his phone messaging George and telling him that he's home safe. He plugged in his phone to charge. Opening a drawer Clay took his notebook and pen, sitting down on the daybed. The rain was falling more harshly and the wind didn't seem to calm down either.

Running a hand through his wet hair Clay opened the notebook on a clean page and wrote down whatever came to mind, mostly them being poems. He took his pen clicking it, placing it on the yellowish black page letting it spill the ink on whatever words he had to say.

You hated your eye color,
Called it a dull and dirty brown,
Wished for the deep blue of an ocean, Where admirers hearts would drown,
And it pained me when I realized,
You'd never see it like I do,
The way your eyes hint at a story,
That I want to read right through,
They hold specks of stolen sunlight,
That you'd miss with just one glance,
And a depth of raw emotion,
That can freeze you in a trance,
They're a fix of melted chocolate,
When I'm craving something sweet,
But hold a gaze that's so unwavering,
That I find it hard to meet I fall right down the rabbit hole,
When I look into your eyes,
The brown of earth's unfettered beauty.
That I yearn to memorize,
When I was tired of not belonging,
They made me feel like I'd been found,
And I hope you never say again,
That your eyes are simply brown.

Clay re-read the poem carefully, checking for every little mistake. His messy handwriting made it beautiful. He has never liked poetry as a kid, but in recent years he has fallen in love with it. Going to the library looking at the hundred different books filled with flavorful poetry. Choosing a book, and starting to read it on the couch in the silent room. Only recently he started to write what came to mind.

He was snapped out of his trance by his phone ringing, putting the notebook and pen to the side, he rushed to his phone, looking at the caller ID he saw that it was George. He picked the phone up immediately.

"Hey." He greeted.

''Hi, how are you doing?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine George, thank you." a smile on his lips, "And you?"

"I'm fine yeah." He murmured, a sigh was audible.

"Are you okay George? You seem... off?" His tone questioning.

"No... it's just.." a frustrated huff rang through," It's nothing, I shouldn't have called, bye."

Clay took a deep breath before speaking up, "Don't, don't go." the words came out fragile and broken."Tell me what's bothering you."

Silence fell between them, Clay had thought he had hung up. He checked and saw that the call was still going.

"Clay?" Georges soft voice spoke, "Do you remember how you called me last night?"

"Yeah, of course, I do, not all of it but most of it." Honesty in his words, "What about it?"

"After we ended the call, I laid in bed... thinking," he spoke calmly

"Okay. What did you think about?" Curiosity got the best of him.

"You.." dead silence.

"Me?" Clay was confused, "Why me?"

"I was worried about you."

"Oh... I know and I'm sorry I kept you up and worried you." he apologized.

"Don't apologize for something that's not your fault, you got your heart shattered and you needed comfort."

"Yeah, sorry." he winced out an apology. A comfortable silence appeared between the two, soon broken by George's voice.

"Remember how you said you loved me before you went to sleep?" George's question struck.

Clay's heart skipped a beat, he felt his cheeks get warm, "Yeah, I do. " he rested his hand on his neck rubbing it nervously.

"Did you... mean it?" His words fumbled.


"Did you mean it when you told me you loved me?" His words seeped into his heart like blood on a dry cloth.

"Of course I mean it, why wouldn't I mean it?" He really did mean it. He means it every time he says it.

"I don't know, sorry I shouldn't have asked you that."

"No no no, it's okay, I love you, a lot." As he spoke a pause in between each word.

"Oh, that's nice to know." A small laugh broke the tension Clay felt.

Clay hummed in response. A sudden crash of thunder caught him off guard.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine, it's just storming badly, might wipe out the electricity in the neighborhood if it doesn't seem to die down."

A small "oh" escaped Goerges lips. Clay took his gaze off the windowpane, seeing Patches running in his room.

"Did it just now start storming?" he asked.

"No, yesterday afternoon it started to get cold and gloomy, it started raining a little bit when we were on call. When I woke up this morning it was showering down bad."

Before George could respond there was a knock on his front door. Clay wasn't expecting anyone, his parents didn't call and say they'd be over either.

"Hey I'm gonna have to call you back, there's someone at the door." Clay promised.

"Oh okay. Bye."


Clay took patches off his lap and went downstairs to see who at the door. He peeped through the peephole, immediately unlocking the door.

"What are you doing here? It's storming out, it's not safe to be out."

"I came to go get my stuff." she spoke.

"Go." Clay stepped aside letting her inside shutting the door behind her.

"I don't want your stuff around anyway." He said a bitter tone in his voice.

"Clay please don't." Her voice was broken.

"I never did you wrong," His heart ached again. "but you did me wrong."

"I know, I'm sorry, I never meant it." She pleaded on the verge of tears.

"All this time I wasted on you, I was so naive" he knew this was gonna happen yet he let it continue.

She stood there, tears spilling, a look of hurt on her face, "You are so cold."

"To believe that I wouldn't find out the truth?" He let out a forced chuckle "I knew already, I sat on the evidence all along."

"What?" Her voice cracked sobs escaped her.

"You didn't think I saw those messages? I was so stupid to say nothing about them and just fucking forgive you!" Anger flowed in his veins.

She stayed quiet, not saying anything tears ruined her make-up, but Clay didn't care.

"Oh and, all these lies I've taken from you.." He pinched the bridge on his nose, "You'd think I'd feel something"

"I thought wrong, you feel nothing." She barked back anger taking over her.

"You used my back as a door!" He tried not to shout at her, "You left me for dead on the floor."

Those words hurt for him to say, cause she always found ways to hurt him with words. She'd get angry and leave him that night and he cried.

"You didn't try, you never did! Not one bit!"

"Not one bit? I gave you everything! Always did everything for you so you would be pleased! But no you say I didn't try at all!" He was never the aggressive one yet there he stood slamming his hand on the console desk that was in his house.

"You're a liar, you're nothing without me!"

"Maybe to you I came off as weak and maybe you thought you'd never lose me!" Clay emphasized the words he spilled.

"You thought I was someone...Someone that shouldn't have won this argument?"
He laughed "We both know I'm right."

"That's not true! You're wrong, you're a fucking liar!"

"You thought you'd win cause in the end 'you're strong'..." He trailed off "pathetic honestly." Tears threatened to spill, her excuses had sent him over the edge.

"Stop, please." She cried out, he had completely broken her. Or that's what at least he thought. "I still love you..."

"Pack your bags and get going." He walked away to the kitchen leaving her standing there crying.

He had completely disregarded the last words she said. He heard faint footsteps rushing upstairs. He let out a sigh. Taking a glass and pouring water into it. He sipped on the water leaning his body against the wall. He wanted well for her but this was just too far. He was done with her wicked games.

He swirled his fingers on the glass to distract himself from the whole argument that happened. Huffing he pushed himself off the wall walking to the sink emptying the water. Setting his glass to the side he walked upstairs, Clay hoped she has finished packing and was ready to leave.

He walked upstairs entering his room, stepping inside he saw her packing her bag, loud sobs suppressed by the sleeve of her sweater. Patches laid next to her legs as she packed her stuff. She looked up at Clay quickly shifting her gaze back to the bag she had almost finished packing.

"I really did lose everything, didn't I? Including you..." she asked looking up. A sorry look on her face.

Clay stayed silent not wanting to argue anymore. He fidgeted with the ring on his finger.

"Don't look at me like you're sorry. You're not sorry." he finally spoke his voice dead.

She packed the last of her stuff, with tear-stained cheeks. Clay walked over to his desk tidying it up, there was no need for it but he did it anyway.

"I'm done." she sighed, clearing her throat.


he didn't turn to look at her, he heard shuffling.

"Goodbye Clay..."


He heard her grab her bags and walk out of his room. Clay turned around and watched her go. He hard the front door slam shut. She had finally left. He locked the door and walked to the kitchen thinking of a meal to make, his stomach grumbled. The clock on his wall read 12:20 pm.

He rummaged the fridge once for something to eat, once he decided he took it out and prepped it. he sat eating his meal watching some movie on the tv. Clay went for a nap after his lunch, he was beyond tired, he had barely slept these past 2 days. He laid in his bed, thinking about things until he fell asleep.

He had awoken a few hours later from a loud crash outside, his room was very dark due to the gray skies. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. He stood up walking over to his desk grabbing his phone. His phone had been charged to full capacity. He unplugged his phone seeing that it was 5:00 pm he slept for a long time but god he had needed it.

He tried to turn on his light in his room but he couldn't turn it on. The storm had wiped out the whole neighborhood's electricity. Sighing he turned on the flashlight on his phone, he will have to live in the candlelight till the electricity gets fixed.

He walked downstairs trying to find the candles. once he had found them he set them down lighting them and setting them into the candle holders that were shaped like lanterns, at least Patches wouldn't be able to knock them over and set something on fire.

He took the lantern walking back to his room, he set it down on the nightstand near his bed. Getting his phone he got back into bed, not wanting to go anywhere else. Unlocking his phone he dialed George's number. It took a few rings for him to answer.



"Please don't say anything stupid." he laughed.

"Why not?" he laughed,

"Cause I'm with family." He replied another shy laugh left his lips.

"I thought we'd be alone..." he smirked knowing he'd pull a reaction out of George.

"Dream, stop, no! " he whisper-yelled scolding him.

He just laughed, Georges reaction was amazing.

"So what are you doing?" George added.

"Well the power went out, I'm sitting in my candlelit room." he laughed "What about you? What are you currently doing?"

"Talking to you, I went up to my room to talk to you."

"Sorry I didn't call sooner..." He let out a heavy breath. "A lot happened after we ended our call."

"Oh, was everything alright?"

"Yes, everything was fine."

"Well.." He trailed off "I received your package today."

"The hoodie right?"

"Yeah. It's big on me."

"It's not that big."

He heard rustling, "Look." George added.

Clay took the phone off his ear, seeing that George switched to face time. Clay turned his camera off.

"What am I looking at exactly?" Clay was currently looking at George's bed.

"Hold on."

There was more shuffling and rustling before he saw George pop into the view. George was wearing his green hoodie, he ran over to the bed standing on it.

"Look. It's so big on me." He giggled.

"It looks good on you."

The hoodie was to George's mid-thigh and the sleeves of the hoodie were making him have 'sweater paws'.
Clay took the chance to screenshot it.

"Thank you." He hopped off the bed walking over to his phone.

He hummed in response before speaking, "Your smile.."

"What about it?"

"It's addictive.."


"Yeah. I like it."

"Shut up." he sees George trying to bite back a smile as a blush creeps up his face.

Clay bit his lip and smiled. The things you do to me... Just thinking about you hurts.

"God my hands are small." George said rolling the sleeves up.

"I think they'd look like nice holding mine..." Clay hadn't realized he had said it out loud.

"I think so too..." He buried his face in his hoodie.

Clay's heart leaped. He swore he saw George turn pink. He couldn't judge, he felt his cheeks heating up as well.

"Come down to Florida for a while." He said.

"I have to think about it."

"You've been saying that for the past month. George, come on."

"I'm scared, dream."

"What are you afraid of?"

"That I'll screw something up between us."

"You won't, I promise." Clay sighed before speaking again, "I'm not going to force you to come out to Florida, I'm just throwing you an idea of coming to see me.."

"I know. I'll think about it."

He smiled, he and George always spoke about him coming to Florida.

"What's there even to do in Florida?" George retorted

Me. "We'd figure something out." He pondered for a moment "There are a lot of places we can visit, theme parks."

The call stayed silent for a bit before George spoke.

"Do you ever think about me?"

"What?" He was taken back by it. "I mean yeah, I do.."

"Do you think about me?" Clay added.

George stayed silent for a bit.

"Yes." He mumbled shily. "How often do you think about me?"

"How often do you want me to think about you?" He chewed at his lip.

"Don't turn the question around."

"I'm not"

"Yes, you are."



"I think about you often."

"I think about you often too."

"I think you should head to sleep. It's late for you."

"I know," he yawned, "talk you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Goodnight George."

"Goodnight, Dream."

George yawned again and ended the call. Clay sat on his so many thoughts were going through his head. He checked the screenshots he took of George, he looked so happy. He wished that he was his. He wished that George was here, next to him, instead of thousands of miles away.

He blew out his candle and browsed on social media until he fell asleep.

Authors note: sorry I hadn't posted sooner, I was really sick and I couldn't work on anything. I'm back now. And I'll try to maintain the posting schedule.
Here are some social medias you can find me on.
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Twitter: xenization404
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