The extreme level of darkness instantly set off warning flags for Clayton as he entered your apartment. The curtains were almost never shut in your place. Some scented candle or little lamp was lit, it was never pitch black. A feeling of dread ran through Clayton as he knocked and entered your room. You were there, laid in a fetal position on your bed.

The bed was unruly, you wore pajamas, and your hair was a mess. This was far from the bubbly, kept version of yourself that Clayton knew. His eyes searched the room before landing back on your unusually still form. Your room was a mess, which was very untypical.

“Go away, Clay. I don’t want to talk,” your gravelly voice rang out in the room, your voice was so hoarse due to inevitable crying. Even despite your warning, Clayton made his way to your bed and pulled you into a tight embrace.

Ever since the two of you were toddlers, you had been friends. Starting out at the same daycare and then education facility only pulled you two closer. Clayton knew you more than he knew himself, his own soul tethered to yours. Although he never could let himself keep anything from you, he had managed to hide a few things. Like his love for you, the passion in his heart, hidden away for no one to know.

When Clayton had finally heard the news about your breakup, he knew you’d be devastated. You had dated your boyfriend for two years, with the talks of marriage and family in the mix. And then, he goes and ends it due to 'commitment issues.' It was strange, having your whole life revolve around someone, only for them to up and leave like it was nothing.

A small, selfish part of Clayton was relieved that you were no longer in a relationship. The sting of seeing you so happy with your boyfriend was getting harder to handle, especially when you guys were so touchy with each other while Clayton was near. He knew it was bad to be joyous at your devastation, but he pushed it aside to focus on you.

As Clayton held you, he rubbed your back and started to talk to you. He was good at comfort and sharing emotions, the exact opposite of you.

“I want you to talk to me about it. Please? It’ll make you feel better.” Clayton spoke softly, his hands shifting you to lay in his lap. He laid your head in his lap as his fingers started to massage your scalp. If he was trying to get you to talk, this was definitely an easy way.