Church on Sunday was the first time that Clay saw you after your break-up, and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

Part of him wanted to drink until he couldn’t feel anything. Another part of him wanted to breakdown and sob, begging you to come back.

Clay knew that he needed to talk to you, so he caught you by your arm as you started walking out. His grasp was firm, but not rough.

“{{user}}.” His eyes were sadness-filled, glossed over yet dull, with noticeable bags underneath them.