After watching the third and final high school musical film, everyone but Clay and Wilbur were drenched. Tommy's head had rolled up at George's toes and he slept, Tubbo was asleep at his shoulder, Niki made herself comfortable on the ground and George- Oh George.

He was turned away from Clay, laying in a blanket where only his head poked out. When the credits rolled and Wilbur stood to take out the DVD, it was eery dark. He heard footsteps coming closer to him and Will sat down once more, right next to him.

"Everyone's asleep but you and me, eh?" He whispered. "Everytime we end a movie night, I'm the only one awake. What time is it anyways?" He opened up his phone and the light that flashed in Clay's eyes was too much for him to take.

"3AM. Thought so."

"No wonder." Clay laughed, turning to Will. "It's not even that late."

"Alright, night owl, no need to flex." Will laughed and made Clay chuckle too. He liked how he got on with the taller. "Grab Gogy, will you? His room's the second one on the left. I'll take Tommy and Tubbo to their room."

Clay blushed at the tone and eyed George, seeing Wilbur pick up a tall body. "Wouldn't it be better to just wake them up?"

"Don't have it in me. Plus, Tommy's whiny whenever you wake him up, I'd rather not have a migraine." He said and walked around the sofa in the dark, opening up a door only to disappear in a hallway.

Clay eyed George for a moment before slowly contemplating his job. Right. Shouldn't be too hard, yeah? Shouldn't be.

Carefully, Clay pulled George's body towards him until he was resting next to his chest, his chest rising and falling as small breaths entered and left his lungs.

When he had a good grip on him, he got up, holding the man's back in one hand and his legs in the other. He carried him towards his room, and he saw Will leave Tommy's presumable room to go and grab the others.

Clay opened up the door of George's room and strided inside, taking short steps until he found the bed in the darkness. He placed George on top of it and placed the blanket on top of him.

Clay was inches away from his face, his lips almost grazing the other's forehead until he pulled himself away and out of the room, muttering a quiet 'goodnight.'

He met Will once more on the sofa, holding a pillow and a blanket. Clay closed the door and walked over, tipping his head at the sight. "Here's a pillow and a blanket, it's comfier that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Just thought you'd like to stay over, that's all." Wilbur shrugged, sitting down on the sofa.

"Oh, I shouldn't-"

"It's okay, mate. You mean a whole lot to George, he'd be okay with it too. Tubbo and Niki're chill about it, and Tommy'll use you for clout, but don't worry about him. He's a nice kid, he won't do anything boundary breaking." Will listed off.

Clay let out a sigh. "You sure?"

"Yeah, definitely." Clay smiled at him and sat down, situating his pillow on the sofa.

"I've got a question or two to ask, if you don't mind." Wilbur coughed into his hand, watching as Clay turned to look at him.

"Oh yeah, what for?"

"Kinda hard to not notice but like," Wilbur stared forward and bit his tongue, much like George always did when he was nervous. He suddenly turned towards him to speak. "You're famous. Everyone knows your name. How do you get to that fame?"

Clay was taken aback by the question but tried to answer it the best he could. "Well, it's a lot of talent and a lot of luck. Getting your first gigs and your name out there is tricky, but you just gotta persist and grab at any opportunities you can get, big or small." He smiled wistfully. "Why, have you got something going on?"

"Yes, actually." Wilbur smiled to himself. "I got my first gig a month ago at a bar where an old friend of mine worked, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. But the rest of the gang left because some arsehole was calling Niki some awful things." He placed a hand on his chin.

Clay let out a silent 'o' and pressed his lips together. "Is she doing alright?"

"Better, since she's met you and your lot. So has George. Everyone's been pretty bright lately." He shook his head. "I don't want to bother you with our sob stories."

"No no, go on, I'm interested now." Clay spoke, looking towards Will. Wilbur let out a sigh and smacked his palms on his knee caps, flattening them before putting them together.

"Rents been a pain in the arse, but Tommy's streaming thing's getting better and better. None of us've ever lived in a life full of riches and whatever, Tubbo's family's getting unstable at the moment. He's asked if he can move in here with us and I agreed. He's moving in tomorrow, and we haven't told Toms 'cause we've wanted to surprise him." Wilbur laughed.

"He's only 17. He's turning 18 in a couple of months. We moved in here when we were 18 and we've just kind of existed next to each-other. Morning's are terrible, we've only got one bathroom, and sometimes the door won't open unless you give it a really hard shove but, it's home.

"That sounds too cheesy. We all moved here when Toms was 14 and I was 18 because- y'know, shit dad and whatever. George came too, he wouldn't let us go through hell if he could put himself first. I love him, mate, I really do." Wilbur grimaced.

"How long have you known George?" Clay asked, slowly. Wilbur eyed him.

"Since I was in primary, so about- 8. Toms was only four at the time. Later on we met people down the road, Tubbo came along for the ride at around middle school and Niki joined soon after. It was bad out there, I'll tell you. You don't know anything until you've been cornered." Wilbur told, his face going grave.

"What happened?" Clay dared to ask.

Wilbur hummed. "Gogs used to get bullied a lot for having an interesting parentage. He had two mothers, and when the school found out everyone went mental. You couldn't go through the corridor without hearing slurs or his name being called out. They used to call him terrible things, but mostly a fag. Short and simple. A boring word.

"We got to know about it quick. I used to walk down the corridor with him everyday 'cause they'd throw stuff at him. They knew better than to mess with me when I was one head taller than everyone there. Niki came soon in after, she did the exact same thing and they used to make fun of her too. Who knows what they said about me.

"They cornered us outside of Tom's school once. I had gone to pick him and Toby up with Gogy and those brutes followed us. Once they caught sight of us, they were ruthless; One of them threw- you know how pencil sharpener's have blades right- It landed on Tommy's cheek, and then it started bleeding badly.

"I was absolutely furious, if you see him he still has that scar today! It dug deep into his skin and we had to go to the doctors to get it out, it was terrible. I think that's part of the reason we left so early. They wouldn't stop tormenting us. George and I planned to leave early and do A-levels and university here, and I just couldn't leave Toms alone so I brought him here with us.

"Tubbo's family couldn't live there anymore and they moved an hour away from here. And nickel just kind of came with us. So yeah," He clicked his tongue and grinned. "Life story, woo! I can't imagine yours is much better, Gogs has told me so much about you, Jesus Christ."

Clay couldn't imagine what George went through. Remorse began to lace the fractured bits of his heart at the thought and it only made him sadder. George was one of the coolest people he knew, how could anyone think something so cruel of him?

And for what, his parentage?

He coughed into his hand, confused at the last statement. "What did George say?"

"He said you had a happy upbringing or whatever but I don't trust that shit- No celebrity goes smooth sailing for there life, they always gotta have something in there that they obviously don't tell the internet." Wilbur explained, turning to look at Clay.

"So what's your story, mate?"

Clay glanced at him. "I don't wanna force you though, if you don't want to say anything then don't, it's alright-"

"It's fine. I grew up in Orlando where I still live. I had a little sister that I never got to meet because when I was ten my mom and dad divorced. I stayed with my dad and my mom had my sister, but she kinda has a diastase for me and 'cause I stayed with him so-"

"That's rough." Will put in and Clay hummed.

"He had lots of girlfriends, none of which I ever tried to get to know 'cause I started teaching myself how to play guitar, and that sort of distracted me from everything. Then I recorded cringy covers of songs in my room, that people have somehow found and continuously mock me for."

Wilbur laughed at that. "I saw one of those on Twitter." He tried to keep it all in but when Clay scoffed he let out a chuckle, holding everything else back the best he could.

"And then I met Sapnap in middle school and he knew how to play the electric guitar so he sometimes did covers with me. I didn't really get bullied because nobody really knew who I was. Then we graduated high-school, I had to deal with Sapnap getting thousands of girlfriends in the span of three months before he decided to stop.

"I never dated prior. I moved out, and went to New York to try to make a name for myself which didn't work out well. I sang in bars and got enough to go by but nothing extraordinary. Then I just so happened to meet Bad, who was in a band at that time, and that's where I met Karl, Quackity, and Skeppy for the first time.

"Sapnap tagged along after a few years because life wasn't going well for him and he needed to escape reality. I invited him to join, asked Bad, and they all said yes. We kept making music until we got our name out there, and then we sort of got famous in a blink of an eye and everyone suddenly knew my stage name."

He laughed, thinking about it. Funny how things work out. Will nodded at him. "I told you that the headlines lie."

"Of course they do, they're all full of BS nowadays anyway." Clay grinned at him, raising an eyebrow.

Wilbur breath in a small laugh. "You've helped George a lot and I'm glad you two have met informally. He cares about you too much and from what I've seen, you do too." He pat his shoulders. "Ask him out before anything goes down, will you? Thanks."

"What?" Clay laughed, his face blaring red. Wilbur hummed. "Night." He switched off the light and disappeared into the dark.

Clay shook his head and hit his head on his pillow, splaying the blanket all over his legs. How the fuck does Wilbur know?

Is it that obvious?

-