George pov
Clay.

I didn't know what to think about him.

I felt compelled to study him, to make note of his smiles, to remember his words, to acknowledge his presence.

He'd fallen asleep beside me last night, and when. my eyes fell on him as I woke up, I found that I didn't mind.

No, I didn't mind, but I did care, and that was something that was strange.

It wasn't anything special, the blonde sleeping beside me.

We were stuck in the school, and we'd be there for an amount of time we were not knowing of, and we had no beds. We had to sleep on the floor, so was it such a big deal that he slept beside me?

It wouldn't have been, but it was. It shouldn't have meant that much to me, but it did. It was not purposeful, but it held so much meaning to me.

It should have been something easy to brush off as I stood up, but instead I lay here, basking in the fact that it did happen.

I stared at the blonde across from me before noticing the fondness my mind held for him.

My eyes gazed at him with too much gentility, my body relaxing too much at the sight of his peace.

I pushed myself to my feet, standing up before flinching at the distant crackling of lightning.

The storm didn't seem to be letting up.

When I told Clay I didn't know what to expect, I wasn't lying.

At least I knew I coukd tell the truth sometimes.

Hurricanes were something I knew would be present when I moved across the sea to the coast of Florida, something I knew I would experience if I chose to live there with my adoptive mother.

It was actually a miracle, in some ways, that I hadn't been met with one yet.

It was strange that one hadn't occurred in the near half decade I'd been here, but I wasn't too upset that it happened to trap me in a large building with Clay.

Wait, what?

I didn't mind being trapped with the boy who slept at my feet now, but I knew that my thoughts held more than just mutual aquaintence at the thought of the blonde, and I couldn't allow that.

I wasn't looking for friends, and I didn't want companions.

I would allow my curiosity to wander and invade the conversations I held with him, but that didn't mean that my interest would grow into something that would last longer than this storm.

At least, that was my plan.

Letting a sigh escape my lips, I tear my gaze away from its prolonged settlement on the sleeping boy, making my way to the door of the teachers lounge.

I didn't want to leave the room alone, but my nervousness at waking up Clay outweighed my anxiety for the storm.

The hallways were cold, colder than they usually were with the air conditioning that usually flowed easily through the now broken vents of the campus.

Now, with the weak sound of strong rain pattering against windows elsewhere in the school, the corridors only seemed wet.

Or, I decided, more so damp.

In the absence of more than one other life form, the whole school felt dampened, the rain making everything seem dreary, the never ceasing lighting promising that it was still too soon and too dangerous for us to escape.

Escape.

Was leaving really an escape?

If so, what was I escaping to? Cameron and his dissatisfaction and attempted sport sessions with me? My mum and her obliviousness to my loneliness.

Lonely.

A word I knew described me perfectly but I never particularity felt.

Or maybe, being stuck here with Clay made me forget what it felt to be by my lonesome.

Stuck.

If I had to escape, how was I being held captive?

If Clay made me forget something that was more depressing than the void of halls that were carved into the school, then was I really being held hostage by something worth escaping.

No, I didn't need to escape. This was my escape.

However, with escape always came the prospect of being pulled back into the clutches of something you so desperately wanted to evade.

And I knew that when this was all said and done, that was exactly what would happen.

I would return to my mum and Cameron. I would continue to hate my stepfather and his stupidity. I would continue to defy the school and their dumb dress code. I would continue to hold my silence. I would continue to watch Clay from afar, not speaking to him, but at least knowing a bit more about him than I did before the hurricane struck.

The hurricane wasn't scary, more so disconcerting, and it made it impossible for the two of us to keep discerning the possible end for our time here even though we both know we enjoyed each other's company.

Enjoyment was such a fickle word, being used to cover a large variety of things but often only there to make someone else feel better.

Enjoyment didn't make me feel anything.

It was, for me, a way to not care without simultaneously being annoyed by something.

Clay could never annoy me, and I wasn't sure why.

The lightning was brighter the closer I got to the outskirts of the school where windows lined the walls, shaking with the deep rumbles of thunder and hailing projectiles that attacked it relentlessly.

The wind was fierce, quick and ferocious as it ripped leaves off of their branches in their already weakened autumn state, discarding them on the ground after their fun had been had.

It was sickening, almost: the way everything was uprooted just to be flown through the air and tossed to the side once their usage had run out, their fall depending on whether they were large and small.

I liked the rain, sure, but storms were a terror.

It made me almost regret not staying with Clay as he lay peacefully on the ground, safe in the belief that I remained at his side.

Gogy in denial

1029 words