Clay couldn't stand there any longer, couldn't stand in his own disgrace for much longer before he truly wept away and fell into a mode of dejection.

He picked up his jacket, threw it on his shoulders and left the apartment behind him, forgetting about it entirely. He pulled his hood over his head and wandered away, down the main road and away from the eyes of strangers who would sell him out if they knew who he was.

The london street lights and offices glowed in the dusk, outlining everything more majestically than Clay had though it could. The world moved on without him, he remembered. His emotions didn't affect anyone but him.

The cloudy sky suddenly thundered and a drop of rain fell on his coat. The lights of the streets didn't waver, they became more extravagant as the rain pelted down, leaving him beind. He didn't have an umbrella on him. He began to run.

He pushed his way through society, through the many folks rushing to get out of the rain themselves. He forgot about everything as he ran and remembered a lot too, wanted the world to come down and bury him while others prospered in the light of darkness.

When he had reached his hotel room, a sorrowful sigh left his lips and his phone began ringing. Drops of water fell from his hood and jeans, making a mess of the reception's fine interior. He picked it up; Sapnap.

Clay didn't say a word as Nick picked up his phone and began talking to him, asking how he was and where he was. Tommy had called him, apparently. "He said you left in a hurry, where are you? Why aren't you talking?"

He wandered to the elevator and waited until the doors opened before he stepped in. Only did he speak, when the doors shut. "I fucked up, Nick. I fucked up really bad."

Nick grew quiet. "I'm waiting for you at the elevator."

Clay didn't respond. Tears emerged at the corners of his eyes, and he couldn't even bother to look up when the doors opened and he stepped out. A hand pat his shoulder and they walked over to the room only he and Nick shared.

Clay almost collapsed on his bed as Nick opened the door and allowed entrance into a dark room. Nick hummed, slightly displeased, longing to know what was going on. He sat down next to the dirty blond. "So, what happened?"

That's when it all fell apart. "I told him. I fucking told him, and he said he didn't like me. Or he did. And he said that he didn't want to be used and that he knew I was straight but that wasn't true and I wanted to tell him but-" He spoke to fast, sobbing in-between words. "-but then I remembered Harry and the contract and everything and I felt so fucking bad. I fucked up, I fucked up so badly, Nick, I don't even know what to do."

Nick strung an arm around his shoulder and helped him take his soggy coat off before opening his arms in a hug. "Let it all out, dude."

Clay strangled him. He held onto him so tight that Nick was chuckling, telling him to stop strangling him, before caressing his hair and offered advice once he calmed down from sobbing into his chest. "You should have told him. Fuck the contract. They would have accepted you in a heartbeat."

He knew how much it affected Clay, affected him. It always had, even when they were little. "I-I told Tubbo about- about y'know."

"There's no shame in saying your trans, it's okay. That shithead's not going to say anything about it anymore." Nick told him. "Hey, if you told him, you've already broken Harry's word."

"But Tubbo needed it, he's like that too."

"Yo, allies." Nick chuckled as Clay started sniffling.

"What if George hates me now?"

"He just didn't know about your sexuality, that's all. I'd be pretty pissed if someone I knew was straight experimented their sexuality on me. Nobody want's to be used and left behind." Nick reasoned, before a sudden thought jolted him. "Didn't you say that he was gay?"

"Yeah-"

"So why would he hate you?"

"Because I kissed him!"

"And what's so bad about that?"

"Harry."

"You told Tubbo."

"He promised he wouldn't tell."

"And George would?"

"He said it wouldn't work out."

"'Lots of people could long distance."

"I couldn't."

"You'd find a way." Nick hummed. "You'll make so many impulsive trips to London for him, even when we're busy. That's just you. You're loving, caring- You just feel the need to show it." Clay groaned in frustration. "Give it a day. Tell him that your pan, and go from there."

"What if he hates me?"

"How could he?"

"A lot of people do."

"But they don't know you." Nick reasoned. "I've seen the way you look at each-other. He likes you."

"Tubbo said that too."

"See? So I'm right and you just need to grow some balls and talk to him."

Clay lifted his face away from the fabric of Nick's shirt. "What if he hates me now?"

"How could he hate you?"

"Because I fucking kissed him!" Clay's words suddenly burst into fear and flames. "And then he said he liked me too but he couldn't 'cause he thought I was straight. What the hell, why did I sign that stupid contract and why do people have to be so damn stupid?"

Clay ranted and Nick rolled his eyes; Ranting and winging never got anyone anywhere in this life, and then he paused and felt his heart pound, felt his heart cry out in pain at the sound of his friend's distress.

His soul asked him many questions. Why couldn't they be together?

It isn't so simple.

Why not? It should be.

But it isn't. Sapnap let out a sigh and tangled his hand in Clay's hair, his eyes finding themselves back to an old friend. Funny how everything had once crashed at their feet with a fatal whisper carrying a phrase that tore his heart in two.

Yet Nick had carried the shattered pieces of his soul and gave his lost ghoul a hug and words of support to strengthen his recovery. The boy hadn't become what he once was and yet he chose what he wanted to be- Nor was he boy, but a man. A true man, one that nobody could underestimate for being nothing of what he once was.

Nick admired him. Sapnap admired him. Maybe once upon a time, Pandas did too.

They had been friends for a long while. Both their names had changed. And maybe one day, they would change once again.

Boys grow to be men, do they not?

The hands of industry gripped chokeholds around their necks and strung them into line, but somehow, Sapnap found himself tangled, a swing in his step, arms over his lovers shoulders. Why did Nick sign the contract?

Why did he seal whatever pocket of oxygen he used to fucking breath, let pursuers of talent and humility choke him until he could breath?

Why did he have to feel, to love, to want?

Why didn't anyone listen to him?

Don't act like that, A voice within his head screamed. It's Clay's down period. Not yours.

"Lets grab something to eat," He spoke, patting his puffy hair. It always makes you feel better.

"M'kay," Clay mumbled and stood up, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Pandas."

"Pandas?"

"Fuck."

"Ugh, you've made my shirt all wet."

"Shut up."

-

"Clay?"

Wilbur stepped into the living room, turning his head to gaze at the empty room, a chill crawling down his spine when nobody answered to the familiar name.

His brows furrowed and he looked back to Tommy's room, hearing his brother's voice escalate into the hallway.

He went into the room and found George standing next to the doorframe. His eyes were focussed on the hem of Niki's shirt, leaning on Tommy's chair with Tubbo at Tommy's other side, fumbling on his keyboard while they talked about bees of all things.

Wilbur placed a hand on George's shoulder and the boy in question shook out of his dazed state, looking up at Wilbur uncertainly. "Where's Clay?" He whispered.

"Did he leave?" George's question struck Wilbur as strange. "What? How do you not know? You were with him."

Wilbur was suddenly aware of something grander conducting a chorus of troublesome truths, and almost like second nature, his hand gripped George's shoulder tighter.

"What happened?"

George let out a sigh and closed his eyes. "Will, it doesn't matter."

"If it caused Dream to run out of here, then it must be something." He tested his waters. George kept a lot to himself.

And it seemed this time he would keep this a secret too. He batted Wilbur's hand away and stared up at him, eyes filled with sudden hatred. He grew impulsive. Wilbur retracted his hand. "You're not my brother, Will, you don't need to check up on me like I'm a fucking child all the time! We're not kids anymore, you don't have to protect me!"

George stormed out of the room. The three looked up at Will and watched as George went away, and once he was out of sight, Tommy had stood up and retracted his headset from his ears. "Entertain the stream." He told Tubbo and Niki.

Wilbur sucked in a short breath as Tommy passed him, as if he was a ghost, his spirit lingering. Why did the words punch a soul through his chest? They were true, they were real, they were valid- And yet they stung.

"Are you alright, Will?" Niki let Tubbo sit on Tommy's stream chair and nervously wave at the camera, trying to introduce him as Toby then Tubbo.

Will shook his head and stepped out of his dazed state. "Yeah- Yeah, I'm alright. He's- He's right, I shouldn't have-"

Niki endorsed Will in a tight embrace. They had such a vast height difference that Wilbur had to crouch to fit into her arms.

Meanwhile, Tommy knocked on George's door, his eyes shaking at the impact of the words thrown around. "Gogs?"

His door creaked open and Tommy pushed through the small crack and into his room. "Get out, Toms."

Tommy's hand gripped onto the door handle and his brows furrowed, a proud decision fitting perfectly on his tongue. "No."

No. No, what a powerful word.

No, something one could say a million times and everybody will always do the opposite. Just like Tommy. Tommy was consistent, Tommy was stubborn. If he knew something was wrong with his friends, he would do everything in his power to stop it.

He was exactly like his brother, except Tommy was more carefree. His words were more true.

George was slumped on the doorframe, his eyes searching through Tommy's at his words. The boy in question slid down the length of the doorframe and pushed his knees to his chest, starring at George with intent and worry.

"You're never gonna leave, are you?" He sighed, placing a hand on his head.

"Nope." Tommy grinned, knowing he'd won the short argument. "You can't win one with me, Gogs." His smile fell once he realised the tears on his old friend's face. "Why'd you yell at Will?"

"'Cause he's annoying."

"Yeah, he's an arse, but like- It's so unlike you. C'mon mate, what's going on? I'll keep my lips sealed, I won't tell Tubbo." Tommy pestered and tested his ground with his gradient smile and his annoying personality.

"Fuck off, Tommy."

George was almost as stubborn as Tommy.

"Where's Clay?" The fatal blow. The fatal blow that stung his heart and tore it in two. George wouldn't let Tommy know that, he wouldn't let Tommy know how much it hurt him.

He didn't want to be protected. He didn't need people to stand up for him anymore.

"He's out. Guess what I found out, Toms?" Tommy nodded, staring back at him with intent. "He's straight."

"Yeah, I know- Oh. Oh." George hummed as Tommy finally understood his predicament, and yet he didn't capture it all fully, couldn't understand the weight of it all.

Tommy was never good at those things. George would never even think to blame him.

"I thought the others said he liked you, what-? Why'd he-?" Tommy couldn't wrap his head around it. "D'you want me to kick his arse?"

George chuckled at his statement, "Yeah. Why don't you." Tommy cackled at the words, and gave George another one of his wild grins. "I can't wait to kick some American arse!"

George chuckled at his fascinating words. "You would be good at that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, of-course. No one messes with us."

"But they did." George turned to look at Tommy. "And they'll always be Brian's and Lucas's out there. You can't punch them all, can you?"

Tommy paused for a moment or two, gazing at George, trying to hide his worry in the way he knew best. "Is this about them?"

George sighed and found himself fidgeting with Clay's tag necklace. "I don't need you or Will or Niki to protect me anymore. I don't need you or Tubbo to check up on me everyday, see if I'm doing alright or some shit, I'm not gonna-" George cut himself short. "The bullying was bad, but it happened, and now we're adults. Well- some of us."

"Yeah, some of us." Tommy repeated and looked away for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I get that. But you don't have to shut us out or anything. Sometimes you need people around, or else you become lonely."

"Isn't that better?"

"Never." Tommy confirmed. "Being alone sucks. Always has and always will."

"Sometimes it's better."

"Is it?" Tommy looked up at him before his eyes widened. "You're doing that thing again."

"Oh for gods sakes." George rolled his eyes and placed a hand to his face. "Tom, I'm not going to try isolating myself again, alright? You can stop worrying about it."

Tommy gulped and looked away. "I remember when Will found you, you- You had to go to hospital." George shut his eyes at the bloody memory and turned away from the younger.

"That was the past."

"I know you're all fine now, and you don't really need help- But that memory still scares me." George looked back at Tommy, suddenly realising the weight past conflicts had on his shoulder- That night, oh that night, tied up and beat to the ground as if he was a piñata, blindfolded, screaming, bruised and hurt beyond repair.

That night, battled and messed up, blood falling from his nose and mouth as laughter cackled and sparked like a blazing fire, raging through a forest with anger and lust to push every inch of beauty in its wake.

They poured gasoline on him. He could smell fire. But it never came.

And Tommy had to see it all when he was 10.

"Toms, I'm sorry." George reached out a helping hand but before he could do anything, Tommy wrapped him in a tight embrace.

"Will's your brother too, mate." He told George, patting his back once, twice- "I don't care if you aren't related. I'd consider you my brother too. Being related changes nothing."

George let out a sigh and suppressed a sob, placing a hand on Tommy's hair, attempting to say something but the blond had cut him off. "Please don't see Will as Dad."

George's grip tightened for a second before he stared down at the younger, who sort of drifted away from his arms, but still sat close to him. "What?"

Tommy glanced at George and then his arm. He lifted his pinkie infront of him. "If I tell you what's been going on with me, then you gotta do the same. Promise?"

George gulped and closed his eyes, intertwining his pinkie with Tommy's. They didn't say anything about how childish it was. "Promise."

Tommy sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, staring at George's bed on the far corner of the room. "Well- um- He contacted me the other day."

"What?!" George stared at Tommy, placed his hand right next to his. "Why?"

"'Cause, um- He wants us to go see him. Me and Will. I- I don't really know if I wanna, 'cause like- yeah.." Tommy needn't had to say more. He had a shit dad, simple as that.

George wanted to tell him that he shouldn't go, wanted to make sure that he would be safe and- oh lord. That's what Will always felt when he was around him, wasn't it?

He was worried. Will was worried for him. He didn't want Tommy to go back to that hellhole. Will didn't want to find him in the shack again.

George scrunched his fists in thought. Tommy doesn't need protecting anymore, he's grown up now. "I don't know." You have to let a child prosper and grow, make his own decisions. "Do you want to go?"

Tommy thought for a second and a second later he shook his head 'no.' "I don't want to go back there ever again."

"Then you don't have to."

"But I feel guilty!"

"Why's that?"

"'Cause he's my dad."

"So?"

Tommy looked at George, glared at him with worry sparking in the depths of his eyes. George knew him well enough to know the difference between being sad and scared.

He sighed. "Just because you share the same last name, doesn't mean you're family. Families are supposed to care about eachother, and- And your dad? He isn't the nicest."

"He referred to Tubbo as a girl."

"Oh." George's eyes fell and he stared at his hands. "What D'you think about him, Toms?"

"I fucking hate him."

There. There were the words that George knew Tommy wanted to say but couldn't. He needed Tommy to know that family didn't mean hitting each other when they did something wrong or leaving people outside when they didn't do what you asked.

"I hate him. He hates me and Will. He hates you and Tubbo and Niki. And I don't want anything to do with him."

"Then tell him that you don't want to see him."

"I feel bad!"

"Why?"

"What if he's changed?"

"Do you think he's changed?"

Tommy reluctantly shook his head. "Tom, you're in control of your own future. You don't have to do anything he says anymore, you're living with us, far away from them. If you don't want to go, don't go, and if you do- That's fine too. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see him again."

George still remembered those nights when Will would knock on his door with Tommy sobbing at his side, a bruised eye and drops of blood littered throughout his body. He would give George one of his charismatic grins and George would pull them inside, demand to know what had happened and they would never say.

It was only when he went to a sleepover at there's, did he know the wrath of his father.

Tommy sighed, and looked up at George. "Thanks Gogs. Now, what's bothering you?"

George struck himself as odd and then suddenly remembered their deal. "Ah." He began and took ahold of his tag necklace. "Clay kissed me when you went live-"

"Yo, that's so cool!"

"-But he's straight, Tommy. A cis white superstar with a bunch of others who would rather be with him-"

"He picked you, didn't he? Out of all those millions. It's like a romance film."

"No, Toms, he's famous. I don't want to hold him back and even if it worked out, what would happen when he had to go back to the states, on tour, everything? I don't think I could ever do long distance."

"So? Clay doesn't really seem like the type of guy who would be famous, if you didn't take Dream into account. I dunno. What's this about him being straight, Tubbo said he was- Said he liked you or some shit."

George's face grew red. "What?"

"Yeah. He went on and on about you-"

"He's straight."

"Does a straight guy talk about how beautiful a boy is or how he makes him feel, talkin' off everyone's arses about how amazing you are? He did it mostly to Tubbo, 'cause he's the only one that can stand. You know what?"

Before George could say anything, Tommy stood up and cracked the door a bit open. "TUBBO," He yelled and a small 'yeah?' came from his room. "COME IN GOG'S ROOM!"

Tubbo appeared a bit later, poking his head through the crack. "I ended Stream."