Shelter - Clay Jensen imagine
Summary: Hello can you do a platonic clay x reader were you and clay are best friends and you’ve been comforting him because of the tapes. You’re being strong for clay but inside you’re depressed because you and Hannah were best friends. One day you break down and clay is the one who comforts you. Thanks love and sorry for the long request.
Y/F/N: your father’s name
Y/M/N: your mother’s name
Warnings: I’ve decided to change things a little bit. Y/N is the one who received the copies of the tapes (instead of Tony) because she’s not in them. She ran over to Hannah’s as soon as she realized what was happening, but it was too late. Mention of suicide. Probably swearing.
“She’s not okay, (Y/F/N)! She’s barely eating and lost, give or take, 40 pounds on the last four months! Her grades dropped on every class! Even her friends stopped coming by. They used to be here all the damn time!” you heard your mom screaming the second you opened the front door. She was arguing with your father and, clearly, forgot you were coming home early in that particular day.
“That Jensen kid is always here. She’s not alone. Give her a break, (Y/M/N). Her best friend killed herself and SHE is the one who found the bloody body in a tub” your dad sounded extremely impatient.
“Yeah, but it happened four months ago. She’s not getting any better. Are we gonna let our child depress herself, slash her OWN wrists and bleed to death?”
That was it. You cleared your throat so they would notice your presence. Your mother’s eyes widened up. Your dad ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated.
“Hi, sweetie… we didn’t see you there”
“Clearly” you clenched your jaw. “Well, if you ask me, which nobody does, I’m doing just fine”
“Mom! The weight thing? It’s a diet. I’m on a damn diet. The grades? I’m sorry, I’m a slow learner. And people stopped coming over because I lost interest on most of my old friends. Is that enough explanation? Can you please stop worrying about me killing myself? I promise you I won’t”
“Can you come over to my place after school?” Clay asked. Just one quick look at his face told you he was having one of his bad days. There were dark purple bags under his eyes, his face was pale and his hair looked like a bird nest.
“Of course, young man” you smiled at him.
“Do you want a ride?” he offered. His mom insisted on driving him everywhere since… well, since Hannah’s tapes.
“Nah, thanks. I’ll bike. I can use some exercise” you joked.
Clay didn’t even realized you were faking everything. You didn’t need any exercise. You just didn’t want his mom to see the bad shape you were in. If she saw the wreck you were and decided you were a bad influence on Clay, that would be it. Without him, you had no one.
You split up as soon as the bell rang, since he had Econ and you, Chemistry.
“See ya” he said.
“See ya” you repeated.
The classes went by and, honestly, you completely ignored every word your teachers said. You doodled and sketched some pretty gloomy and twisty stuff. You ripped off that page from your notebook and threw it away. The last thing you needed was some stupid student seeing that and spreading the word you were the next… what did your mom say? The next one to slash their own wrists and bleed to death?
When it was finally over, you threw your backpack on your shoulder and biked all the way to the Jensen’s. He was already there and, thank goodness, his mom was nowhere to be seen.
“How was your morning?” you asked.
“Bad” he admitted. “I had nightmares last night. Didn’t got any sleep, so I was extra tired this morning”
“Nightmares?” you frowned while he led you upstairs. “That specific kind?”
He knew what you meant. Nightmares about her. At the dance, at Jessica Davis’, at the tub… you shook those images away. He didn’t know that, but you had that kind of nightmares too. Every god damn night.
“Yeah” Clay nodded.
“You told me they went away with your medication” you put aside your own problems to try helping him.
You both got inside his room and shut the door.
“Normally they do” he explained “but not last night”
You sat down and let him tell you everything, the same as every time he had a nightmare, a vision or even a thought about your dead best friend. It torn you apart, it was like rubbing salt on your open wounds. Every mention of her, every flash of memory you had, it hurt you like hell.
But Clay needed that. Sharing everything with you was all that kept him sane. That’s why, day after day, you let him go on and on about her smile, her hair, her laugh, her sadness, her tapes, her death.
“(Y/N)? You’re late for school honey” your mom gently pressed your shoulders. “If you get up now, shower and get dressed really fast, you can still eat breakfast and get on time for the second period”
You didn’t even open your eyes. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care less about school, breakfast, dressing up, showering, living.
Not getting a response, your mom sighed and decided to let you sleep.
A few hours later, another voice woke you up.
“Hey, school dropout” Clay called. “It’s 5 o'clock. Aren’t you hungry or even tired of sleeping?”
“Not really” you mumbled.
“Okay… I’m gonna help you catch up” he started. “You don’t have to get up or move a muscle. I can bring you food and we can talk. Actually, I can do all the talking if it serves you better. All you’ll have to do is listen. Or not. I won’t know if you’re listening or sleeping since your face is sunk on a pillow”
“I know, I know, I’m doing that thing where I say too many words in not enough time and it gets confusing and I’m doing it right now again” he took a long breath.
“Clay” you tried again.
“I’ve stopped. I promise. Now, about that food. I can get you an orange juice-”
“Okay, lemon juice. Switzerland-ish lemonade” he mispronounced everything, which would be adorable if you weren’t on the middle of a break down.
“Clay, will you please stop talking?” you screamed. He got scared and his mouth hung open. You felt the tears starting to run down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream… I just wanted you to listen”
“O-okay, I’m sorry, I’m listening now” he held your hand. “What’s the matter?”
You finally got up, just enough to sit down and level your eyes with his. You were only on your pajamas, which didn’t do a good job hiding how much weight you lost. Normally you’d wear large coats and sweaters, sweatpants and stuff like that. That was the first time in all those months Clay saw you with a simple shirt on.
Also, you’ve been wearing a lot of makeup. Covering up the dark circles around you eyes and some blush to give your pale and dead skin a healthy appearance. Not in that morning. Again, it was the first time since before Hannah’s death that Clay saw your real face, clean and makeup free.
“Oh my god (Y/N)” he whispered. “I don’t- I don’t even know what to say”
“I don’t think I can hear you talking about her anymore… I just… I’m not ready” you cried. He hugged you really tight. “I think I’m the one who needs some help”
“It’s okay. We can figure it out” he promised.
“I miss her, Clay. I miss her so fucking much. Sometimes I can’t even breath. Everything just seems so pointless since she left us”
“I miss her too. But we have to believe she’s on a better place now. It was her choice and, since we couldn’t stop it, we just have to live with it and respect her for holding on for as long as she could”
“I just don’t know how to keep living. I wish we could go back”
“One day after the other. When we’re going through hell, we just gotta keep going”
“How? You’re just telling me pretty words and metaphors, Clay, but you’re not helping me figure out what I’m really supposed to do” you sobbed.
“How would you have helped her, if you had known how sad and broken she really was?” he asked.
You backed away a few inches. That was so uncalled for. That line of thinking was painful. Still, you felt the need to answer and put yourself through that misery.
“I-I don’t know. I guess I would have helped her find out things that made her happy, people who made her glad to be alive” you took a break. Your heart was falling apart while you thought of all the things you could have done for her, but didn’t. “I’d help her change the scenario, get professional help, and find joy in the little things. I would tell her that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans”
You stopped talking, but Clay knew you weren’t done.
“She lost herself. If I had known that, I would have helped her find herself again” you rubbed your puffy eyes.
“That’s your answer. Right there” he said, simply.
“You asked me how to keep on living. That’s how. Help yourself the way you wanted to help her. She’s gone, but you’re not. You need to stay alive. And when I say alive, I don’t mean your body. It doesn’t matter if your heart’s still beating if you’ve lost yourself. You have to find you, the real you, in the middle of all that pain” Clay explained himself.
You nodded. Deep down, you knew Hannah would agree with him. She would hate seeing you like that, following her steps, and she would do anything to drag you out of that situation.
Ironically, neither of you could help the other. You were too oblivious to help her then, and she was too dead to help you now.
However, as Hannah’s best friend, you had to overcome your sadness and fight like she would have wanted you to. After all, you owed her that much.
“How did you get so wise?” you playfully pushed Clay, and let out a soft and short laugh.
“I lost myself too, and I’m currently finding me again too”