TW: angst, gun

Clay woke up, lightheaded and somewhere he didn't recognise. He sat up frantically and wiped the sweat off of his forehead. He tried to move, but it was impossible. Wherever he was- it was dark, and unfamiliar. It was cold and lonely. Tears started to stream down his face and panic rose in his throat. It soon hit him that he was in some sort of basement- and this was when he remembered George's step dad. Clay squinted his left eye and winced in pain.

"Shit!" He cursed to himself. He had a black eye- purply-blue coloured and puffy.

Clay continued to cry to himself, wishing he would have never sent the message or told George's step dad anything. He wondered what George was doing- he hoped that he was safe, and hadn't come looking for him.

He stared at the wooden ceiling, and could hear footsteps from above on the creaking wooden floorboards. He could hear voices; a man and a woman. He instantly recognised the man's voice to be George's step dad, and it only made him cry harder.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I do this?

Clay's body filled with frustration as he tried to pull his wrists and neck away from the tight rope that was suffocating them, leaving deep marks. It was no use, he was completely stuck. He was tied to the corner of the basement, on the stone-cold floor. He dropped his head and shut his eyes tightly, sobbing to himself. He just wished him and George could be together, and be happy.

Clay's head jerked up as he heard the basement door open, and footsteps travelling down the wooden steps towards him. A familiar figure approached him, clenching his fists and holding a gun.

Clay froze.

George's step dad crouched down beside him, and held the intimidating gun to his weak head.

"Tell me where he is, or you're dead." He said, simply. The tone in his voice was strict and evil- he was a complete psychopath.

Clay flinched, and it felt as though the rope around his neck and wrists tightened. "I'm not fucking telling you where George is." He managed, though the rope was making it hard to talk.

George's step dad pressed the barrel of the gun harder against Clay's temple. He didn't say another word, only raised his eyebrows at the helpless dirty blond.

"Okay, okay," Clay sobbed. He had never been this terrified in his life.

The shaggy older man smirked.

-----------------------------------------------

"Nick we have to do something. I'm sorry but I can't just sit here and let the love of my life go and put himself in danger," George broke down all over again, "for fucks sake this is all my fault."

Nick tightened his grip around the smaller brunette, "George listen to me, okay? This is not your fault, it's your fucking psychopathic step dad's fault. Please don't think it's you, Clay shouldn't have gone. He was trying to protect you," he reassured George, but it hardly helped. He continued crying in Nick's arms, he didn't know whether to go looking for Clay. He knew that if he was no longer at the beach, his step dad would have taken him to his house. And God George didn't want Clay in that house.

George repeated himself, this time almost in a whisper, "Nick we have to do something, what do we do?"

Nick shook his head and tried to hold back his tears; they were stinging his eyes but he didn't want George to see him cry because he knew it would make him feel worse.

"I know we do, George. But I am not letting you go looking for him- I don't want you seeing your step dad ever again. We'll call the cops," Nick said firmly. He knew for a fact that if George went looking for Clay, things would only get much worse. Calling the cops was the only possible thing they could do. Nick took his phone out of his pocket and passed it to George, who shakily and nervously dialled 911 and put the phone on speaker.

Nick listened to their short conversation carefully. George's voice was just a tiny bit louder than a whisper, and is throat sounded dry and sore from all of the crying. He felt so terrible for him.

"Hello, my b-boyfriend Clay is missing. We think he might have went to Miami beach, b-but we're not sure. We have text messages-" George was interrupted.

The cop spoke from the other end of the line, "you're not giving us enough information. We can't help you, sorry." He was rude, and arrogant.

George hesitated, quite shocked by the cop's response. "Oh," was his croaky reply.

Nick's blood started to boil. He snatched the phone from George's hand and held it close to his mouth. "Listen buddy, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but our best friend is currently missing and his life is in danger. How fucking dare you say that we haven't given you enough information? You will help us and you will fucking find him." Nick tried not to raise his voice too loud, for George's sake, but his tone was firm and strong. George's eyes widened as he listened to Nick, although, he wasn't surprised.

The cop hesitated, "I don't appreciate that use of language."

Both George and Nick were angry now.

"Excuse me?" Nick responded, utterly flabbergasted by the cop's stupidity and ridiculous behaviour.

"I'll repeat myself, we can't help you. I'm sorry, goodbye."

The call ended.

"I CAN NOT FUCKING BELIEVE HIM. I MEAN, WHAT KIND OF A COP IS HE? WHAT AN ABSOLUTE DICK, OUR BEST FRIEND IS FUCKING MISSING AND HE WON'T HELP US? WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT!" Nick shouted, but quickly stopped when he saw George sobbing into his lap.

"George," he moved his arm back around George's shoulders, "sorry." He whispered.

"I need to go to bed." George looked terrible. Huge, dark circles had formed underneath his puffy, red eyes and his skin was paler than ever. He looked ill. "We'll figure it out in the morning, God I hope he's safe Nick. I really do." George couldn't stop the tears from falling.

"So do I, George. Go and get some sleep, I'll stay up in case, you know, anything happens." Nick replied, kindly.

George nodded his head and stood from the couch. He walked down the dark hallway and into the bedroom. His cries only became heavier when he saw the empty bed in front of him. He crawled in, and curled up into a ball with the duvet almost covering his head. It felt so lonely and so cold. All he wished for was Clay laying next to him, safe; it's all he wanted. George kept replaying the moments he had shared with Clay, and kept reminding himself of his touch. The feeling of his cold hands against George's skin was agonising to think about. He thought about the night of their first kiss, on the mountain above the city. The feeling of their lips connecting for the first time- it was something that George was never going to forget.

He didn't sleep until around four that morning, because most of his sleep was prevented by cries, overwhelming thoughts and painful but amazing memories.

hi hi hi! i hope you liked this chapter, it's currently 3am and ur girl needs to SLEEEEP.
but i hope you're excited for the next one, just....be prepared to cry even more HGAHAGAH.
don't worry, i'll give them a happy ending just for you guys ;)

remember to eat something, drink water and take care of yourself, love you! <3

1296 words.