Clay started coughing, starting from deep within his chest, until blood clots made their way through his throat and onto the hospital gown he doesn't remember being put in.
His head was spinning in circles, faster than he'd ever ran in his life.
In this moment, allowing himself to disconnect from reality and drift into sleep was less strain on his body than using all of his muscles to keep himself awake. So, he allowed himself to a soft slumber.
~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, George stood behind the hospital door, contemplating entering the waiting room.
He consciously yearned to be there for Clay in these moments, but his body and mind were still in a physical state of bewilderment, as he blankly stared at the doorknob.
"Thank you." A deep voice sounded from behind him. George turned to face Clay's father.
He was drenched from the sudden downfall of rain and was clearly out of breath, due to the fact that as soon as he heard the news he rushed to the hospital to aid his son.
He was holding his large rain jacket out, as if something was cradled to his chest, being protected from the rain beneath the fabric. George's eyes lingered a bit too long.
"Oh." He said, realizing George's daze. He brought his arm to light from under the jacket, which was holding Patches. A soft meow escaped her. "I brought Clay's cat. I figured he'd want to see her. You reckon they'd let me bring her in? I mean, it's not too much of a request."
A sad smile appeared on George's face as he slowly nodded. He was still in shock, clearly, and Clay's father picked up on that as a wave of empathy engulfed his face.
He couldn't imagine how shocked and hurt George must be to have discovered the news that Clay's passing as it's happening.
He sighed, and politely said, "Excuse me," as he made his way past George to the door. He reached his hand out for the doorknob before George finally croaked a word.
"You said...thank you," Clay's father stopped in his motion and turned to face George. George redirected his confused gaze from the ground to Clay's father's eyes. "For what?"
"Well," He readjusted himself. "for rushing my boy to the hospital."
George felt like a fraud to accept these thanks, with the knowledge that George had potentially made an error at Clay's fatal expense.
I don't deserve his thanks. I'm an idiot.
As he softly smiled at George, his eyes twinkled, resembling the twinkle in Clay's eyes under the moonlight on the mountain that first night.
George noticed how Clay had inherited his father's eyes, along with most of his dewy features. George couldn't help but softly smile back.
Clay's father turned back toward the door, then swiftly turned back to George, as if he'd remembered something.
"Also," he cleared his throat. "thank you for making Clay happy. In his 17 years of life, I have never seen him as happy as he's been in the past week. So, thank you."
Tears started to form in George's eye lids, alongside a slight smile.
"Don't thank me, sir. Clay deserves to be happy. You raised a good kid."
Clay's father stared down at the floor, smiling. "I did, didn't I?" He let out a chuckle. "You coming?" He asked George as he started opening the door.
George followed after him, walking into the waiting room with Clay's father.
Clay's father immediately went up to the receptionist desk, asked for Clay's room number, and headed on in.
George staggered behind, as he stood before a collection of chairs and magazines. Karl and Nick were sitting up against a wall.
Nick looked up to George, following him with his eyes, as George took a seat across from the two, away from them a bit.
George was staring at the ground, ashamedly, but he felt Nick's eyes were still on him. He avoided them, not knowing if he should be expecting another run down.
"He's alive."
George's eyes quickly darted up as his face loosened and began to glow at Nick's words.
"They were able to kickstart his heart."
Relief and praise settled over George's entire body. He would not have been able to live with himself if Clay hadn't woken up.
This news was good enough to momentarily distract George from the fact that Clay was inevitably going to die either way.
He didn't show it, but George was cheering on the inside. Now, he only desperately ached to see Clay again.
"That's great news." George said, his smile, aching to be stretched from ear to ear, was suppressed to a polite grin.
"Yeah, it is." Nick agreed. His eyes wandered, awkwardly, as he searched for the words. He sighed as he stood and took a seat next to George.
George, confusedly, greeted Nick with openness.
"Listen, George." Nick started, as he turned toward him. "If it didn't play out like this, it wouldn't have been your fault. I know you were having a panic attack, It was wrong of me to say that." He looked toward Karl, who was silently encouraging him, before returning his attention to George. "I'm sorry, George, really."
George's face relaxed into a slight smile. Nick looked away and scratched his neck.
"I'm just- I mean, we all are- having a hard time dealing with what's happening. I just get mad at the world sometimes and try to find anyone to take it out on. It's nothing personal, you're not that special."
George let out a calmed laugh at this, matching Nick's energy.
Really, though, George was very impressed with Nick's display of maturity and willingness to open up to him. It was refreshing.
George and Nick's eyes met again.
"It's okay. I get it."
Several, comfortable, moments of silence settled over them. Until Nick broke the silence.
"What was, uh, happening," he started to ask. "right before? When you and clay were outside."
"Oh, um-"
George's mind flooded to sweet memories of the passion Clay and George had shared less than an hour ago. His cheeks began to blush at the thought.
"Why are you red?"
George grasped at his cheeks. The mention of the apparent redness only added to flushness.
"I'm not red."
Nick laughed. "Yes you are. Did something...."
George slowly turned his head to Nick, giving him the look.
Nick gasped. "No fucking way." George nodded in confirmation.
Nick sat back, satisfied.
"It's about damn time." He laughed to himself. "Well, now you know, I guess. You don't understand how many times I had to sit through Clay babbling on and on about you. I don't know what you did to that man but he was BIG whipped."
This caused George to smile ecstatically.
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. Clay was constantly wanting to confess to you and then backing out. The obliviousness was killing me. From both of you. But, I've been rooting for this. I'm so glad that both of you can finally-" Nick stopped himself to prevent further bleakness, which, in turn, the absent acknowledgment only added to it.
This caused George's face to grow solemn at the apparent reality he was forced to face. In no way could he possibly prepare himself for what's to follow.
"Sorry." Nick said, sinking into his chair.
"It's okay." George responded.
Silence.
"It doesn't feel real, yet." Nick opened up.
"I don't think it ever will."
~~~~~~~~
When he woke up, Clay could already feel his brain deteriorating. He was trying to bring his mind back, when a nurse entered.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
"Weird." Clay answered, honestly.
"That's to be expected. Are you in any excruciating pain?" Clay shook his head. "Good, are you up for visitors?"
"Yes, please."
Clay was hoping socializing would help him feel more like himself. Moments later, Clay heard a meow from behind the door, as Patches' head appeared in the door frame. Clay lit up at the sight of his cat.
"Patches!" his smile was gleaming. His dad followed after the cat and placed Patches on his son's chest. Clay immediately reached for her, embracing her for what could be his last time.
"I brought you a friend. I thought you'd want to say goodbye." Clay glanced at his father. His eyes swollen and red. He gave him a soft smile.
"Thanks, Dad." A sniffle escaped Clay's father as he quickly wiped his nose.
"I'm sorry." he apologized, trying to contain his tears. "I told myself I wouldn't cry." Tears stated to form in Clay's eyes at the sight of the strongest man he knew breaking down.
He was about to be utterly and completely alone.
Clay didn't want to think about this.
"It's okay, Dad." he reached for his hand as both of them let out a few tears. They exchanged soft, heartfelt words. Clay's father told him how proud he was of him and how his legacy would live on forever.
Clay reminded his father of the impact he's had on his life and thanked him for being the best role model he could've asked for.
"Your friends are in the waiting room, I think more of them have came by now."
"Really?" Clay asked. He couldn't help but wonder if George was amongst them.
Clay was having a hard time differentiating over whether or not the last moments he remembers with George were a fever dream or not.
His memory was fogged, but he faintly remembered the moment they had shared. He hoped it was real, and not a cancer-induced hallucination or a dream.
"Yeah, I'll go get them so they can say their goodbyes." Clay's dad stooped in the doorway before he turned to Clay. He let out a deep breath and pushed his knuckles against the wooden door frame. "One more thing. When it's time, tell your mother I still love her." Clay smiled at this. "And tell her I think about her, everyday."
"I will." Clay responded, before his father left the room. When his father was completely gone, Clay struggled to hold back his tears.
~~~~~~~~~
The waiting room had grown packed with Valley Hill High students in the duration of Clay and his father's time together.
He made his way out to the room, seeing it filled with Clay's friends put a slight smile on his face.
"Okay." he took a deep breath. "You guys can go in and visit him, but not all at once. Split yourselves up."
The boys all looked at one another and immediately Darryl and Zak ran into the room where Clay waited.
George sat there, as it all was starting to feel too real for his liking. He was letting reality settle in, and he did not like it.
He felt Clay's father's eyes on him, so he briefly glanced up as Clay's father filled the empty seat next to him.
They sat there in silence for a bit.
"How are you doing, sir? I can't imagine how you must be feeling." George broke into the atmosphere.
He was breaking inside, but he was genuinely curious of ways to help Clay's father cope.
Clay's dad sighed.
"Well, I'm not doing the best. I've been here before, yet I still feel unprepared." George looked down, solemnly. "But you can probably understand my pain to some degree, being in the situation you're in right now." George looked up at him. "You know? Waiting for someone you love as they leave this world. It's hard."
George stayed quiet, as the words broke him furthermore.
A part of him grew curious of how he knew. He was curious of if Clay talked about him to his father and what he would say.
"He doesn't have much time. You plan on visiting him, before he passes, right?"
"I want to." George responded. George didn't want to come off disrespectful, but he felt like he owed his honesty. "But it's going to be hard for me. I think if I visit him again, it'll only make things harder, you know? I don't know if I can handle anything else to hold onto, when I know our time is fleeting."
Clay's father sat, taking in the heaviness of the words George preached.
George began to question himself.
Why would I tell him that? That probably came off so ignorant.
"I don't know if that came off bad," George began to reiterate. "I don't know how to explain it, but I do want to see him, so, so bad. It's jus-"
"I know." Clay's father placed his hand on the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Listen, I don't know exactly the story between you two, but I do know there's no one else Clay'd rather spend his last few moments with than you."
"Really?" George questioned. Clay's father nodded.
"Listen George," Clay's father readjusted his optioning to face George. "As much as I'd like to be there, supporting him until the very end, I've had six months to do so. You've only just found out."
Where is he going with this?
"What I'm trying to ask of you, George. Will you be there for my son in his final moments? Please."
George swallowed with nervousness. Tears started to form in his eyes.
He felt the pressure throughout his entire body. He knew how hard it would be. But he also knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't do this. He ached to be the one to help Clay pass. He'd be a fool to decline.
"Of course I will, but there's something I need to do first. For Clay." Clay's father nodded, before George got up and left the hospital.
George found a bicycle locked up outside the hospital and asked God to forgive him for what he was about to do next.
He picked the lock and hopped on the bicycle, pedaling with every last ounce in his body.
He made his way to a run down old house.
~~~~~~~~~~
Darryl and Zak's immediate presence was a pleasant surprise for Clay. It sparked a gleaming smile to make its way on Clay's face.
Immediately Darryl started crying, and it was obvious to Clay that Zak was desperately attempting to prevent himself from doing the same.
"Oh," Clay said, somberly. "Darryl, Zak." He extended his arms and embraced both of them, all three of them sat in a group hug on Clay's hospital bed as Darryl was hysterical in Clay's shoulder. Zak started to release tears as well and Clay couldn't refrain from tearing up.
"You're such a muffinhead." Darryl said to Clay as he backed away. "You could've told us."
"I know." Clay exhaled. "I just.....I didn't want people to know I was dying and let that change how they acted toward me. I love the dynamic of our friend group, I just wanted it to stay that way as long as possible."
"I'm gonna miss you, so much Clay." Zak said softly.
"Stop." Clay said, wiping his eyes. "You both don't know the impact you've had on my life. I've never met such pure souls. Your guys's presence was such a light in my life."
Darryl and Zak proceeded to remind Clay the importance he held in their lives, and how different everything will be without him.
They exchanged a few more soft spoken goodbyes before Tommy and Toby traded places with Zak and Darryl.
"Big C!" Tommy's charisma filled the room.
"My favorite sophomores." Clay greeted them.
"I made you something, Clay." Toby set a yellow rose he painted with black polka dots down. "I would have made you, like, a huge bee sculpture, or something, if I had the time."
"This is perfect Toby, thank you." Clay and Toby exchanged a soft smile before Toby disappeared into a puddle of tears.
"Why do you have to leave, Clay?" he jumped into Clay's arms as Clay comforted him.
"Oh, stop it Tubbo, I didn't want to cry." Tommy said, following his lead.
They sat like that, crying to eachother and telling one another the appreciation they had for him.
Before they left through the doorway, Tommy stopped and said to Clay as he turned back,
"Thanks for being my role model, big man."
The next group of people to enter brought a more positive and less mushy presence, which was refreshing to Clay.
Goodbyes were so hard.
Alex, Karl, Corpse, Jimmy, and Will exchanged jokes and playful banter with Clay during their time to say goodbye.
They reassured him that they didn't take George's side, and Clay reassured them that he would've done the same in their positions.
They, of course, each thanked him for the presence he had on their lives, but less emotions were spilled until Alex and Karl started crying, inevitably.
After the conversation lightened up again, and Clay went back to his wheezing laughter, he busted into a series of coughs and blood clots, which he apologized to them for.
They assured him he had to no need to apologize, and then came to the unanimous decision it was time for them to leave.
The next person to enter was Dave, who was by himself.
"Hey," he said, interrupting Clay's coughs. Finally Clay came to and repeated the mans words back to him.
"Hope i'm not intruding."
"Not at all, Dave."
"Alex gave me a call and informed me you were in here." Dave slowly sat on the chair across from the bed. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Clay, I know we haven't always been tight, but you have something that very few people in this world have. You have my respect. I've always respected you, I've always envied you to an extent."
Clay was a bit surprised to hear hear these words from Dave, to hear vulnerability from Dave.
"I've always known you're stronger than me, and I hated it. But come to think of it, I actually admire you for it." Dave stood up and placed his MVP medal on Clay's legs. "You're the MVP, in my eyes and in everybody else's." Dave tapped Clay on the shoulder and turned to leave the room.
"Dave," Clay called for. "Take the medal back. It's yours. You deserve it more than I do. You deserve a lot that's coming to you in life. And Dave, you deserve to be free. That emotionless act, I can see right through it. You have a big heart. Embrace that."
Dave stared at Clay, as a visible tear trickled down his face.
I don't think anyone's ever seen Dave cry.
Dave wiped his eye.
"No, it's okay Dave." Clay reassured as he allowed a tear to fall from his own eye.
"Thank you, Clay." Dave said, as he embraced Clay in a big hug before exiting.
Clay knew who the next visitor was going to be and he knew it was going to be a hard one.
Nick appeared in the doorway with swollen eyes and bruised knuckles.
"What happened?" Clay asked, glancing down at Nicks hands.
Nick quickly threw his hands behind his back.
"Ah, it was nothing. I just-" Clay threw him a glare. "I was upset, I had to cool off."
"Nick, don't do that man."
"I know, I know." Nick took a seat and snuggled. He stared up at Clay intently. This look broke Clay into a million pieces. "I'm really gonna miss you man." Nick's voice cracked, and Clay let out another tear.
"I'm gonna miss you too."
"I've had six months." Nick continued. "Six months to come to terms with the fact you're leaving. Six months to say my goodbyes to you, Clay. But sitting here right now, I can't believe that my best friend is dying." At this point he broke. He collapsed into his palms.
Clay didn't know what to do.
"I'm sorr-"
"No." Nick put his hand up. "It's not even your fault. Not at all Clay." Nick wiped his eyes and looked back at Clay. "I love you, bro. You're my brother. This hurts, it really does. But I don't want to spend my last moments with you thinking about how shitty life is going to be without you."
Clay smiled at this. He wouldn't wish for anything else.
"I agree." he said. "But first, I need you to promise me something."
"What is it?"
"I need you to promise me that you'll live out your days without me like normal, and not let my death hold you back in any way. Go get plastered at parties, be a beast at football, do whatever your heart desires. Just don't try to run into fire."
Nick laughed.
"Look out for the little guys. Toby and Tommy still need some guidance. Try to be the mediator with Darryl and Zak. And, maybe, tell Karl how you feel. If you're ready."
Nick let out a laugh.
"Whaaaaat?" He asked. "That's ridiculous, I don't-"
Clay gave him the look.
"I'm your best friend, of course I know."
Nick almost tried to fight, but he gave up.
"Of course you do." He said, defeated.
A bit of silence settled over them.
"Also, my last request." Clay said.
"Of course, what is it?"
"I want you to be as good of a friend you were to me, to George."
Nick softly smiled at this, before he nodded.
"Of course I will, Clay."
For the remainder of their time together, they behaved as if they were just hanging out. Like a normal day after school. They took a slight trip down memory lane and Clay found himself not remembering a lot of the stories Nick brought up, but he said nothing.
He didn't want to worry Nick.
But soon, Clay grew tired.
Nick decided it was his time to go.
He stood up and grabbed Clay, tighter than he ever had before. He left him with that hug, and with the memories they'd created since childhood.
Clay laid alone in the hospital bed, his vision clearing in. He knew it was coming. He knew it was a matter of minutes.
George isn't coming.
Clay sat on this. He wanted nothing more than to see those soft brown eyes and brunette locks.
But it's okay.
~~~~~~~
George made his way up to the door, which had dents in all different directions and scratched paint amongst the entire frame.
He banged on the door, calling out to the person inside.
"Jesus Christ, what?" An unpleasant tone rang at the opening of the door. "What the hell are you doing at my door?" an annoyed Schlatt asked George.
George glared up at a half naked, probably hungover, taller boy.
"You're the last person I want to see right now, prick." George's harsh tone caused Schlatt's eyes to widen.
This was a new side of George.
"Excuse me?" Schlatt laughed.
"Shut up. Clay is dying. You need to make things right with him."
"Clay's......dying?" Schlatt asked. He almost sounded remorseful.
"The point is, I don't want Clay to leave this world knowing that you're going to continue being you and fucking with his friends. I also know that you have this weird thing with Clay. He makes you weak. If anyone can change you, it's him."
"First of all, no one makes me wea-"
"I don't wanna hear it. Are you going to be a decent human, for once in your Godforsaken sad excuse of a life?"
Schlatt didn't know how to respond to this. This side of George was awfully intimidating.
Schlatt thought on George's words for a moment.
"Let me get clothes on." Schlatt turned back into his home, and George felt slightly accomplished.
~~~~~~~~~~
Clay started to develop a headache and his body prepared for sleep, until he heard a soft, remorseful knock on the doorframe. His eyes opened harshly.
Is it George?
His head jumped up, and in the doorway the vessel of surprise took form.
It wasn't George. It was Schlatt.
Honestly, Schlatt was not the last person Clay wanted to see before he died. But he was utterly surprised.
"Schlatt?" he asked.
"Hey Clay." Schlatt's voice was different. His tone was soft. It was unrecognizable. "You probably don't want to see me right now."
"At least you showed up." Clay mumbled to himself, a bit passive aggressively.
"I just want you to know before you go that I'm sorry. For everything. And not just because you're dying. I genuinely am." Clay stayed silent. "My self esteem is cripplingly low. You know this. I bully boys who I think are inferior because it makes me feel strong. You always stood up to me, when no one else did. I respect you for it." Schlatt swallowed and then turned to leave Clay with those words. "That's it." He said.
"Schlatt, it'll be okay. Please, just don't take your anger out on them anymore. It's not worth it." Toward the end of his sentence Clay's voice grew coarse. He tried to clear his throat.
Schlatt understood what was happening. With a nod, he left him to die in peace.
The small interaction with Schlatt left Clay feeling better. He hoped Schlatt would change his behavior, but in reality he had no way of knowing.
I'm so tired. Clay thought to himself, as flashbacks rolled through his mind.
He pictured the pale face in the library. His flushed cheeks in the cold snow. He pictured the boy he saw in his dreams. He pictured George with flowers in his hair.
He pictured George. Happy, and content.
Until his imagination became a reality.
Something inside Clay told him to open his eyes. It told him to hold on a little bit longer.
The sight of George in the hospital doorway was enough for him to fight to stay alive.