I quickly wipe my tears away and double-check to see if they're really tears. Turns out they are, and it feels kind of nice.

"Listen to me," Clay grabs both my hands, "I can't think of many things that are worth your tears, but he's surely not one of them."

That doesn't stop the tears. That makes me sob. And Clay's just there drawing circles on my hands with his thumbs. Too bad I can't feel anything through those hand wraps.

Those fucking hand wraps-

"Can you?" I try to speak but my breath hitches and I sniffle, "Can you take them off?" I pout at the hand wraps, remembering that they were the things triggering a breakdown.

Clay doesn't understand what I mean at first, but when he realizes that I'm looking at my hands, he smiles, "Of course."

I quietly sniffle watching him undo them effortlessly as if it's very easy and I was losing my shit in vain. He's still supporting himself on one knee infront of me, which makes me feel bad about having something to sit on while he doesn't. And it makes me cry even harder.

I push the gym bag that was supporting my weight, sitting on the hard floor, which makes me feel better. We're even now. And he's too focused on my hands to notice, which is a relief cause not only I would sound like an idiot, but I'd also sob trying to explain my actions to him.

"I like your nails," he caresses my fingertips gently. His words make a smile emerge through the tears. It's such a nice feeling when there's at least someone who notices things you're passionate about.

"Yeah?" I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat is getting in the way.

"They're my favorite color," we both look at my forest green nails. It compliments his eyes, "And I like the shape too."

Crying is such a nice thing. Expresses every feeling perfectly, especially the unexplainable ones. I hope this becomes a habit.

"Thank you," I finally smile properly through the tears and he catches the moment instantly.

"There it is!" He cheers, poking one of my dimples with his index finger, which makes me giggle, "I also like your skin, it's very soft."

I know he's fishing for a smile at this point from the way he's repeatedly poking my cheek, but he succeeds. I sniffle and laugh softly avoiding the eye contact and focusing on my hands instead that are still in his bigger one.

Even without having to look up, I can tell that he's looking at me when his hand brushes against my undereyes to get rid of the tears. And he looks at me for way too long with a frozen smile on his face. Makes me wonder.

"Am I an ugly crier?" My head snaps to look at his face and Clay looks like he's snapping out of something.

"What?" He either didn't hear or didn't understand the question.

"Am I ugly when-"

"You're the prettiest."

I hope he really means that and is not just being nice to me because I'm crying. But something about his voice and the way he's looking at me makes me think that his words are genuine. I'm having a hard time adapting to his newfound respect and softness for me.

Maybe he can be my friend after all.

"Can I get a hug?" I see an opportunity, and I take it.

Clay stands up and pulls me with him. And his hugs are the best. He wraps his arms around my head, neck, and upper back, using one of his hands to secure my head on his chest. His head dips into the spot my neck and shoulders meet.

I hope he doesn't mind if I sob on his shirt for a bit. And if he does, too late.

"You could water Penelope with that much tears," he mumbles, once again making me laugh and cry at the same time.

The only thing that calms me down is the footage the security cameras must be getting right now. I'm sure they've caught worse things, but this has to be one of the more bizarre ones.

Clay doesn't pull away until I do. And when he sees that I'm no longer sobbing, he comes up with an offer that surprises me.

"Do you wanna go home and make coffee together?"

I furrow my brows, wondering if I remember something incorrectly, "But you hate coffee."

"You said it's because I haven't tried the coffee you make," he smiles, but I can't help but get even more confused.

"When have I said that?"

"When you were drunk," he chuckles, "oh yeah, forgot that you have amnesia of that night."

I roll my eyes playfully, "I do remember some things, okay? Like that disgusting coffee you made and forced me to drink- I even remember the taste."

"How dare you?" He gasps dramatically, "what if I hold a grudge now and call the coffee you make disgusting."

I gasp as well, but it's a genuine one, "No, you're gonna act as if you love it no matter what cause it's gonna hurt my feelings if you don't."

Why did I get deja vu?

"Okay, you actually do remember a good chunk of that conversation," he laughs.

I'm confused.

Are drunk words really sober thoughts? Am I an idiot? Of course I am, what type of a question is that...

Anyways.

As I grab my bag and we can finally leave, Clay's maternal instincts awaken.

"Aren't you gonna change into something warm?" He knows that I usually put on a hoodie before going home.

"Forgot to bring a hoodie," I press my lips together. I hate being unprepared, but I was too frustrated to focus on anything.

Clay digs in his bag and takes out a pink hoodie. I swear he's gonna pull a piece of furniture out of there one day.

"There you go," he hands it to me, smiling as I put it on. Why are his clothes the perfect oversize for me?

Long story short, we get home. Nick is playing something on his PC and doesn't even notice us when we open the door. Patches does a better job protecting the house than Nick; at least she starts meowing.

And after I take a quick shower, it's finally time to make coffee. I love how we're treating this as if it's a big event.

We're currently in the kitchen. This is my attempt at making iced coffee for someone who hates the taste of coffee using my highly saturated cold brew.

"That's too much-" Clay cringes as I pour the cold brew into his cup.

"Don't be a pussy, I made it really sweet, you're not gonna taste anything," I added 5 times more sugar to it than I usually add to mine.

"I'm not being a pussy, look at the color of it!" He laughs, "It's so dark, it's terrifying!"

And then Nick appears suddenly. He's been summoned.

"Did anyone say pussy?"

"Yeah, I'm taking Clay's coffee virginity. Do you want to watch?" I put a straw in the cup, and it's done.

"It's not virginity, I just don't like it," Clay laughs, rolling his eyes.

"That's what a virgin would say," Nick's being an idiot again, and I love it.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a sip," Clay's being so dramatic mixing the coffee with a disgusted face.

"Take a big gulp," I lean back on the counter and watch him wrap his lips around the straw.

The level of the liquid in the cup drops dramatically and we hear a good gulping sound. Clay smacks his mouth a few times and curls his lip. His whole face deforms.

"Don't you dare," I point my finger at him and laugh, knowing that he's about to call my coffee disgusting. And Nick knows what's about to happen.

"One time I called her coffee too watery and that's the last time she made me coffee," Nick confesses, "pretend like you love it."

Clay's face is still curled.

"Well- I don't hate it," he lies, "but it's not for me."

"Me when I saw your dick-" Nick chuckles, and the room goes silent. We both look at him, "it's a joke," he laughs nervously as Clay and I exchange looks, "okay you guys made it weird-"

And the silence gets too much at some point, which makes me talk.

"You're still thinking about it?"