so american~
- Locked due to inactivity on Oct 11, '24 3:54am
Thread Topic: so american~
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“Woah, woah, what’s goin on?” George asked softly, stepping in and closing the door behind him. “Hey, breathe, Clay-“
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Clay blindly held his hand out, moving to sit on his bed. He tried to calm down, but he just continued hyperventilating, gripping his hair in his hands.
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“Clay, Clay, look at me,” George said softly, grabbing Clay’s hands so he might stop pulling at his hair. “Breathe with me, c’mon-“
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“Stop- Please-“ Clay spoke between gasping breaths, pulling his hands back. “Don’t- No-“
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“Okay, okay,” George said softly, quickly pulling his hands away. “You have to breathe, babe- deep inhale with me, c’mon-“
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“Stop- Stop,” Clay spoke, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped his hair in his hands again. “Stop, babying me-“
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“What?” George asked gently, not having fully heard him. “Clay, you gotta calm down-“
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“No, stop- stop talking,” Clay said, anger and panic rising in his voice. “Stop babying me, I- I’m not a f---ing child-“
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George was slightly taken aback, frowning deeply and moving back a little. “What?” He said again, slightly flabbergasted.
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“Stop f---ing treating me like a child, George-“ Clay spoke shakily, his hands trembling as he clutched his shirt in his hands. “It’s- It’s not f---ing helping-“
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George went to say something, nothing coming out. “Uh- okay- um- I’ll just… I’m gonna go,” he said, slightly stunned as he walked towards the door.
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Clay continued hyperventilating, his hands trembling as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. He curled into a ball on his bed, flopping onto his side as his mind swirled and raced with anxious thoughts.
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(ts to george coming home, maybe?)
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(yeah, let’s do that u^u)
Clay sat on the couch in the living room, waiting anxiously for George to come back home. He tried calling a bunch, quite literally, but he never got a response. He kept his gaze on the front door, only occasionally glancing back at the show playing on the TV. God, why did I say that, I’m suck a f---ing idiot! -
A loud slam could be heard from the door, which was literally George running into the door as he attempted to stand and knock. He laughed loudly to himself, fumbling for the door knob. He was high, smelling of weed and he was blackout drunk, could barely see five feet ahead of him.
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