Clay collapsed, exhausted.

Or he would have, if he had been next to the bed.

As it was, he still had to toil up some stairs and push the door, then slump to the bed.

It was his birthday. Directly after a grueling soccer practice he had to suffer the tiny party, in which his friends all pretended nothing was wrong. The three of them just wanted him to stop brooding over George for a while, and they meant the best, but to Clay it just didn't feel right without George.

Now they had left, and he was finally by himself.

To "brood," I guess.

He was slightly bitter even in his exhaustion, but he was ready to pass out and stop feeling.

He was about halfway in his room when he stopped.

There was a little bundle on the floor.

He must not have noticed it rushing through his room earlier for a quick shower and back out to humor his friends.

Clay's heart went to his throat.

It was sloppily wrapped, trademark George.

There was a note on it.

He slowly crouched down to read it, afraid to touch it.

After a millisecond, disappointment set in when he recognized his mom's handwriting, very different than his friend's.

George's mom dropped this off yesterday. Said he fixed it like a week ago.

Leftovers in the fridge. Reheat when you're hungry.

Scrawled at the bottom like an afterthought:

Happy Birthday Sweetie ♡

Clay impatiently crumpled the note and stared at the package.

Old.

But from George.

From before.

A birthday present from George.

He almost didn't want to open it. Just preserve it as a reminder of what he did.

But quickly the temptation- the need- to know what it was became overwhelming and he gently unpackaged it-

The wrapping paper fell open to reveal a comforter. A really fluffy and soft comforter.

Clay hugged it to his chest.

A few tears blotted the surface; he brushed them off and set it down on his bed.

George.

George knew exactly what he needed.

What he sometimes forgot to give himself.

His eyes snagged on a piece of white in the discarded wrapping.

He quickly grasped it and almost frantically brought it over to his desk light to read.

Dear Clay,

Can you believe this took me forever to find because I was searching quits?! And here you call them comforters! I was so confused.

Anyway HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I wrote this the week before, a week ago for you I guess. I know you'll win the game Friday. Not really looking forward to the Halloween party but whatever.

I'm getting off track though. I hope you enjoy your birthday and you take the day off or something so you do something for yourself. You don't really do that enough.

Happy Birthday! I'm actually happy you were born because I'm glad we're such good friends and it's fun when we hang out. I know you sometimes get low and don't think much of yourself but you're the best person

My words are getting messed up and I'll probably have to rewrite this again but anyway-

Hope you like the "comforter" and shiver less.

Sweet dreams :)

-George

It took Clay several tries to read the letter because he couldn't stop the tears blurring his vision.

Eventually he read it and reread it. Some sections or words were blacked out with the pen and unreadable, but he could feel the deep care behind the words.

He put it down and looked back at the gift.

It was an amazing present but-

I'd rather have him.

He sighed and almost started crying again.

What's wrong with me? I never used to be this ...weak...dumb... stupid- crying this much. It's not right. Tough it up. Be a man... grin and bear it.

He unfolded the comforter and spread it out on his bed. Then he climbed into it and settled down.

This is really soft.

And very warm.

Yeah warm too.

Much better than his old one.

Clay tried to sleep, but his mind kept bothering him about George.

He said he loves you.

Do you love him back?

Would you even deserve him?

Stop-

You're the reason he left.

He hates you now, or he would come back.

No-

Shut up

You don't even love him back. You never said you did.

I didn't say anything

I didn't say anything...

Do I love him

Love him as more than a friend

?

I never thought of it that way.

I didn't say anything.

I should have.

I should have told him.

I didn't know then.

I do now.

Dream slowly started to doze off, tired beyond belief of everything and everyone except that one person he wanted to

be with again, see, or hear or talk to-

I'm a mess.

>>>

Sapnap's ankle was still hurting every once in a while. But he got permission to play in the game tomorrow, as long as he was careful and didn't stress it afterwards.

So when he visited the soccer pitch late at night to not practice since he was always resting and obediently followed rules, he definitely was not at all surprised to see someone there and not even a little disappointed he couldn't practice for the big game tomorrow since he was rusty from not practicing in a week.

No not really.

Totally coincidence.

Fuck coincidence and playing it safe, who cares if he was visiting the field late at night to practice some goals. He could leave and no one would know he was there, but why do that when he was curious.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Something George told him one time.

I'm not even a cat. Doesn't make sense.

Whoever came up with that saying was an idiot.

So Sapnap charged valiantly into the unknown and decided to investigate the mysterious person.

Detective.

He hummed the Mission Impossible Theme to himself.

He got to the edge of the field and recognized Techno lining up a row of the soccer balls and scoring them one by one.

Sapnap walked over to him from the back, kinda wanting to prank jump scare him but Techno noticed he was there.

"Hello..."

Yeah I probably should've guessed I can't sneak up on Techno.

"Hi Technoblade."

"What are you doing here so late after practice?" Techno sounded bored, scoring another goal.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sapnap said. He pretended to speak in an invisible walkie-talkie. "Ch-ch hello this is Detective Pandas, I seem to have found the suspect we were looking for, over."

Techno almost laughed.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

He kept up his routine as Sapnap talked to him. Move over, line up, run and score.

"Can't be slacking," Techno said. "The biggest game of the year is tomorrow."

"I know. You don't have to tell me."

There was a pause that consisted of Sapnap watching Techno score the balls one by one. There were actual crickets and just the sound of Techno's light panting and the swish of his kick.

"Wilbur told me you guys had a fight."

Techno missed his score.

Then he stopped and gazed off at the goal.

"He's mad at me."

"Kinda."

"Dammit. I was on a roll- euhnhhhhhhhhhh."

Techno did the weird little whine thing he does when he's playing a game and something goes wrong.

"F"

Techno started walking to the goal to pick up the balls. Sapnap followed.

"Pulling an all-nighter?"

"Of course not, you have to get sleep so you can play efficiently-"

He stopped and looked at Sapnap.

"Oh ha-ha, I see what you did there.

I was leaving soon anyway. After ten misses."

"And how many have you had already?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhmmm..."

"You weren't counting?"

"Well I was at the beginning."

"Ok, come on."

"Fine."

They finished putting everything back and turned off the big field lights.

Both of them were tired and yawning.

"Goodnight, Mr. Boar."

"Night Sapnap, see you tomorrow."

(1.3k words)