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Clay lied on his bed, glaring at the ceiling and trying to decide who he hated more, Himself or Hannah. He settled on a fifty-fifty split.
"It's not fair," Clay said, addressing the empty air. "You left, but now I have to pay for your fucking mistake. So I'm stuck, and you're still gone, and what the hell is the point?" The room was silent. The silence made him angrier. "If you hadn't been so fucking stupid and talked to me," Clay yelled. "Or if I had just bothered to listen!" The echo of his own voice sounded harsh and unfamiliar in his ears. He sat up and swung his feet onto the floor, rubbing his hands over his face.
The clock on his dresser read 9:18 p.m. School had been out for only 5 hours, and Clay was already in bed. In his defense, the day had been exhausting. The past two months had been exhausting. It seemed like every day he was faced with something new to stress about. He didn't know how much longer he could take it.
A soft knock sounded from his front door. He groaned. All he wanted to do was lay there and wallow in his misery. As the door slowly crept opened, Clay realized that wasn't going to be an option. Justin slowly poked his head into the room. His eyes looked even more swollen than usual, and his shoulders sagged like a weight was pressing down on him. Clay knew the feeling.
Clay stared, waiting for Justin to say something. When it became apparent that no words were forthcoming, Clay sighed and pulled himself into a sitting position. "What?" His words coming out harsher than intended, but he was too tired to care. Justin's head immediately slumped downward. "I'm sorry" he mumbled softly, and Clay's irritation melted away.
"Wait," Clay said, the sudden burst of guilt causing him to stand. "Justin, I'm sorry, I'm just," he paused, taking a deep breath, and gestured aimlessly at the air. "I'm just a little.. frustrated right now." Justin hesitated, but slowly lifted his head. His eyes still looking anywhere but at Clay. "I wasn't intending to eavesdrop on you and your family. I just," he shrugged his shoulders. "I know what it's like..when parents argue like that," he finished. Clay felt his body slump. He'd forgotten that Justin's Foley's life was no walk in the park.
"You don't have to apologize," Clay said softly. "And you weren't wrong." Justin finally decided against himself to pass by a quick glimpse towards Clay. His eyes hauled dark, circular bags underneath them. "What do you mean?" "About the tapes," Clay clarified. "Everything you, and Alex said was right. I'm being selfish and I'm making the situation worst for everyone else." Clay walked back to his bed, sitting down and resting his head in his hands. "I'm just trying to help her," he said softly, more to himself than anything.
"You know," Justin said. "We're not right about everything." Clay snorted. "Sure seems that way," he grumbled. "No," Justin continued. "Well, maybe the selfish thing, but not the rest." Justin shifted his body and looked at Clay directly. "Hannah wouldn't want you to blame yourself for her." "I don't think she's going to get a say in the matter," Clay replied, his tone sharp. Justin sighed. "Clay, it's not your fault. You're only human. Hannah...she had problems. No one knew how serious it was, not even her. What happened, it wasn't your fault. But it's true. No one can change what happened, no matter how guilty we might feel about this."
"I could have helped," Clay argued. "I could have done something. I didn't have to let it get this far." Justin shook his head. "Maybe, but you tried. And when she pushed you away, you listened. Not because you didn't care. Because you did. If Hannah had given you any sign that she needed help, you would have jumped at the chance to do whatever you could. But she didn't." Clay closed his eyes. He was too tired to think straight, and his head was spinning. Maybe Justin was right. Maybe none of it was his fault. Or maybe it was, and he was just deluding himself into believing otherwise. Either way, he couldn't handle a debate right now.
"You're right," he said quietly, looking up at Justin. Clay wasn't sure if Justin was aware he was doing that thing again. That thing where his eyes softened, the corners slightly downturned, and his gaze took on a pleading quality. His eyebrows may have lifted ever so slightly, and his eyes widened just a touch, creating a vulnerable quality to his features. Those baby blue puppy dog eyes. It was as if he was silently begging for understanding or forgiveness, tugging at Clay's heartstrings without a word spoken. If it was an intentional manipulation, Clay didn't mind. It was working, and it made his guilt feel a little more tolerable. "Thanks," Clay added, forcing himself to smile.
Justin blinked and returned a small grin of his own. He looked relieved. "Anytime." He had finally moved away from the doorway. Now he was leaning against the frame, one hand tucked behind his back. The other hand rubbed the back of his neck. Clay noticed that Justin had an odd expression on his face. One of hesitation and discomfort. As if he wanted to say something else, but couldn't figure out how to broach the subject. Clay rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Just spit it out," he said, half-joking. Justin's eyes widened a fraction and he bit his lip, his cheeks flushing slightly.
"Sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I, uh," he paused, swallowing. "I just- I just wanted to say that," Justin stopped again. Clay could see him shifting nervously, trying to find his words. "I overheard what your mom was saying." Justin looked at the floor and fidgeted. "I shouldn't have taken those drugs," he mumbled. "But I," Justin paused again. He looked back at Clay, a pleading expression on his face. "I just couldn't," he swallowed, and his voice sounded thick with unshed tears.
"Justin," Clay started, but Justin held up his hand. "No," he interrupted, his voice cracking again. "I need to say this." He paused and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Clay saw a few stray tears escape and trail down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away. "Thank you," Justin said softly, his voice wavering. "I never had anyone who gave a damn about me. Not even my parents," his voice broke off, and he looked away again. "But you," Justin sniffled. "You didn't have to give a shit about me. But you did." He smiled through the tears, his eyes red and wet. "Your family," he continued.
"I don't know why you did it, and I'm sorry I took advantage of your kindness. I know I've screwed up and you're sick of my shit, and that's fine. I'm a shitty person and I know it. I'm just some- fucking addict who's no good for anyone." Clay's heart broke a little at Justin's words. "But no one's ever given a fuck about me, and," Justin's voice was hoarse. He had started to cry. "I'm sorry I'm the reason you and your family's fighting." He rubbed his sleeve across his face and looked at the floor, unable to meet Clay's gaze.
"Justin," Clay said. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest. He didn't know what to say. The truth was, he was sick of Justin. His presence made him uncomfortable and angry. Justin reminded him of all the mistakes he had made, and he couldn't deal with it. He had failed Hannah and had no idea how to fix the problems in his life. He hated seeing Justin cry, but a part of him wanted him to shut up. He couldn't handle Justin's words and emotions right now. He had too much of his own to deal with.
"Look at me," Clay said, forcing his voice to sound gentle. "Please," he added, his voice cracking. Justin reluctantly looked at him, and Clay felt his resolve melt away. He sighed and stood, walking toward Justin. He gently grasped his shoulders, pulling Justin close, and wrapped his arms around him. Justin's breath hitched, and he buried his head in the crook of Clay's shoulder. He clutched at Clay's shirt, crying softly.
Clay felt his eyes burn and his throat close. He closed his eyes as Justin began tugging tighter. They stood like that for a moment. Both of them clinging to each other, desperately seeking comfort, and both of them too afraid to ask. Clay wondered why Justin's presence always made him so angry. He didn't hate Justin. He was scared, and Justin was the physical manifestation of his mistakes. He was an easy target for Clay's aggression, and he felt guilty for that. All because Hannah decided not to confide in him. Instead, she kept going to people who would inevitably hurt her. Clay was going to spend the rest of his life trying to figure out why she didn't go to him. He knew it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't stop wondering if things could have been different.
Justin pulled back and wiped his face. Clay cleared his throat and looked away. "Sorry," Justin said, sniffling. "It's okay," Clay assured. They stood in silence for a moment. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. Clay was the first to break the quiet.
"You know," Clay began. "Me and my family have had our fair share of disagreements. But it had never gotten that bad." Justin nodded, but remained silent. "My parents love each other. They always have, and they always will. But sometimes," he paused. "Sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes, even people who love each other aren't right for each other. When they fight, it's always over the same thing. They want different things. And they don't know how to compromise."
"That's bullshit," Justin snapped. His expression was angry, and his fists were clenched. "Why the fuck can't they figure it out? Why the hell can't they just try?" He was glaring at the floor, his voice trembling. "Love is supposed to come naturally from parents. Parents are supposed to protect their kids." He closed his eyes and turned away, taking a few steps and running his hands through his hair. "My parents never did shit," Justin hissed. "I honestly don't blame my dad for leaving. I mean-," he laughed bitterly. "Hell. I'd leave too."
"Justin," Clay breathed. His throat felt tight, and he suddenly had a lump in his throat. He could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He knew it wasn't fair. He hadn't seen the worst of the abuse. It wasn't his place to pity Justin, and yet he couldn't stop himself.
"They're wrong," Justin spat. "People like my parents and Bryce, they're all the same. They don't give a shit about anyone but themselves. Love is just a word, and they're too fucking selfish to know what it means." Clay swallowed and looked at Justin. His expression was unreadable. "You're wrong," Clay said. His voice was soft.
Justin's head jerked up, his eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?" His tone was low, his eyes filled with fire. Clay sighed and put a hand on Justin's shoulder, gently rubbing the skin in soothing circles. Justin flinched at the contact, but didn't push him away.
"Not all parents are perfect," Clay stated. He paused for a moment. "Parents are people too. They can be just as selfish, just as cruel, or just as broken as anyone else." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "And it's not your job to forgive them." He watched as Justin's anger melted away, his posture deflating. His eyes filled with tears and he bit his lip. Clay felt his stomach clench, but continued. "The only way people like my parents will get better is if they want to. And the only way people like you can survive is if you don't give up."
"What the hell is the point?" Justin asked. His voice sounded empty. "Everything sucks. I can't even get clean enough for Jess, man. And I'm such a piece of shit. I actually thought it would be easy as just saying sorry, and all would be well in the world again," his voice trailed off. "If the world can't get it together, then what's the point?"
"You," Clay said firmly. Justin looked at him in surprise. "What?" "The point is you," Clay repeated. "There's nothing wrong with wanting more. There's nothing wrong with fighting. You have the right to want to live."
"So," Justin said, his voice breaking. "What? I just have to keep going until what? Until everything works out and it gets better? Or until I'm old and dead? What's the fucking point if it's all just a waste of time?"
"Because you deserve a life," Clay said firmly. "Justin," he whispered. He put a hand on the side of Justin's face and lifted his chin. Justin was trembling, his eyes filled with tears. "I know what it's like to feel alone, and I can't change the past. I’m starting to realize that. But you are worth it." He let his fingers fall from Justin's cheek and stepped back. "I'm not going to give up on you, Justin. Because you've been given up on your entire life." Justin's lips quivered, his eyes red. He didn't reply. "You deserve someone who will fight for you. Someone who won't give up, no matter how much you may hurt them." Clay stepped closer and hugged him. "You deserve so much more than you think you do," he whispered softly into Justin's ear.
Chills crept down Justin's spine as he leaned into the hug that Clay offered him. The chill wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but a comforting one. This was the first time he was held in such a way. This was the first time he had been offered anything close to genuine affection. This was the first time he was being offered support and a shoulder to cry on. Justin couldn't remember the last time he had ever felt safe. He couldn't remember the last time his mom had been affectionate. He couldn't remember the last time he was cared for. He had no memories of love or security. He had never been held or protected, never had a parent stand up for him. He had been left in the dark and thrown to the wolves. And it hurt. It was lonely, and it was terrifying. And all he wanted was someone who could care for him and make him feel safe.
"You're not alone," Clay whispered. "I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you." Justin clung to him, his hands trembling, his breath hitching. He didn't say a word, but Clay knew what he was feeling.
"Clay," Justin started, his voice soft. "I'm sorry." He paused and took a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to prevent any more tears. He could feel his throat tightening, and his body beginning to shake. "I'm sorry for being such a a shitty person," he continued, his voice cracking. "For getting high and causing so much trouble." He paused again, sniffling. His nose was runny and his throat felt thick. "Sorry for having to make you put up with my bullshit," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry for making you feel like you had to take care of me."
"Justin," Clay said firmly, stepping back and holding onto his shoulders. "Look at me." Justin forced himself to look up, his eyes red and wet. Clay could see his lip trembling. "I don't feel obligated to take care of you," Clay said, his tone firm. "And I don't put up with your bullshit. I do what I want to do. Because I want to."
"Why?" Justin whispered, his eyes wide. His hands were shaking and his knees felt weak. "Why would you want to put up with me? I'm nothing but a screw up man. I'm only going to cause more trouble for you." Hearing those words fall from his own mouth sent a surge of anger through him. He hated the fact that he was such a burden, that he couldn't seem to get his life together. It wasn't fair. None of this was fucking fair.
"Because," Clay began. His eyes softened and his tone turned gentle. "You're not a screw up. I've fucked up so many things in my life, and I wish someone would have fought for me the way I'm fighting for you."
"Clay," Justin began, but was cut off when Clay hugged him again. "No," Clay said. "I know you're scared, and I know it feels like the world's against you, but you're wrong. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." He paused, his voice wavering slightly. "I've made so many mistakes, but you're not one of them. I'm not giving up on you."
Justin stood still, frozen in place, and unsure how to react. He didn't know how to react. He never expected Clay fucking Jensen of all people, to say something like that. Clay's words struck him like a bullet. A small part of him wanted to pull away. To deny it and push Clay away, and run away from his problems. He wanted to tell him that he could handle himself. But he couldn't. He had tried. He had spent the last several months on the streets, and look where that had gotten him. Unbearable fevers, an addiction he couldn't seem to shake, and anytime he tried to eat, he felt sick to his stomach. He would end up throwing it back up.
Justin had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to. And for once, someone was reaching out to him. For once, someone was offering to help. Someone was willing to take a risk and believe in him. Someone who was willing to stand up for him and fight for him. Someone who actually cared about him. So he wasn't going to run away anymore. He leaned into the hug and wrapped his arms around Clay's waist, and he clung to him as if his life depended on it. "Fucking Clay Jensen," Justin muttered. He closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks. Justin let his eyes slide shut, his hands clenching tighter. Clay had a warm body, and even though he didn't have any muscle on him, he had a frame that was sturdy and reliable. Even though He smelled like pine trees and coffee. Justin could hear his heart beating steadily, and it was oddly calming.
He let his guard down and allowed himself to relax, feeling a rush of warmth throughout his body. He felt safe. "Thank you," he murmured softly. Justin pulled back and cleared his throat. He glanced around the room, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I'm going to, uh," he paused and cleared his throat. "Go to.. sleep." Justin said as he pointed towards the sofa Clay instructed him to sleep on the day he and Tony had found him. "Yeah right, I mean- I'm already tired and, and-" he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. "Yeah," Clay replied as he rolled his lips together, while shaking his head in a slow nod. He felt a lump rise in his throat, and his voice sounded hoarse.
Justin grinned and let out a breathy laugh. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve and cleared his throat. "Goodnight, Jensen," he said, his voice sounding slightly strained. He turned away, walking towards the couch.