Chapter Text
his hands gripped the bathroom sink, his eyes avoiding the mirror in his eye line. a small voice from outside the room lightly called out to him.
"clay? cmon man it’s about to start," it was nick. of course it was, he wouldn’t leave clay alone. maybe it was out of the brotherly bond or maybe it was because nick was scared of what he would do to himself.
he sighed, opening his eyes. starring back was not a man he was familiar with. a rare man that he hated. he hated the guilt and anger in his eyes. he hated how bloodshot they were from the endless nights of crying.
"clay? i’m coming in," nick spoke softly. the doornob turned, it was unlocked. another thing he made clay promise to do, leave all of the doors unlocked. he came in looking worried, adorned in a suit.
nick sighed looking at his friends hands. they seemed to have clenched onto the sink rim harder, desperately trying to stop the shakiness.
clay, at this point, didn’t care about his face. it’s not like he was going to wear a fucking mask to your funeral.
"we’re going to be late if we don’t leave," he knew better than to reach out and try to touch him, physical touch was not something he had a positive attitude on.
he nodded, sniffing quickly before moving around nick to leave the bathroom. nick stared after him, his eyes watering up.
clay sat in the seat near the back row. nick chose to sit in the front so he could hear better. maybe that’s why clay sat back there. he wanted to be as far away from your body as possible.
he swore to himself that he didn’t see the car, and he was only a second to late when your side was hit by a drunk driver.
your body was deemed unfit to be an open casket, so the casket laid in front of the speaker closed. he had to give a speech but the thought of walking up in front of everyone and past your casket nauseated him.
"clay? you said earlier that you’d like to speak?"
after the funeral he drove himself home, nick had to catch the next flight to texas. he pulled into his driveway, and almost like a robot, he pulled the keys out of the ignition and walked inside. he stripped off his suit down to his boxers.
he stumbled to his couch, his phone’s constant buzzing was ignored. he looked around, his throat heavy. it was his fault. his fault.