That’s really disturbing.

“You didn’t think it was over, did you Clay?”

(Source: husbandbulge, via claymiller)

claymiller:

Clay stood there for a long moment, just staring at Tom’s back before he sucked in a deep breath and headed over to him. Leaning down, he snaked his hand down his arm until his fingers slipped in between Tom’s and he clasped them around his hand. “Come on. I’m not going to bed unless you do.” He said firmly, eyes locked onto Tom’s hidden face before he stepped back a bit and tugged at his hand. “I’m serious, Tom. Come with me or I’m sleeping on the floor beside your chair.” He knew it was radical but he wasn’t going to leave Tom alone right now. That would only be disastrous later on when Tom got an urge in the middle of the night and Clay wasn’t there to calm him down. It might not be what Clay wanted, but it was what Tom needed. And for some reason unbeknownst to him, that mattered more.

Now he was calmer, not full on shaking with rage and God know’s what else, the touch made him sigh quietly. He opened his eyes again and sat up, turning his head slowly to face Clay. “You’re bossy,” he muttered, fighting the urge to smile at the other man. 

Tom followed Clay’s order though, and he stood up, pushing the chair back behind him. He gave Clay’s hand a squeeze, his hold tight on his as they walked into the bedroom, his head thumping from what he’d done that night. “Thank you, Clay,” he mumbled, voice soft and quiet.

(Source: bemy-valentine)

claymiller:

Clay didn’t believe him, but it wasn’t like he’d really forget anyway. The problem wasn’t going to be his memory, it was going to be whether or not Tom wanted to take him into town with him to refill the meds or not. He knew that if he didn’t go, Tom wouldn’t do it and he couldn’t go without Tom taking him, so it was all up to the broken man behind him.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He replied in an awkward tone, hand shooting up to rub at the back of his neck before he turned his body back around to face Tom. He had only done it once, when he first figured out that touching Tom seemed to calm him down. When a simple grasp of the hand or a touch to his face wouldn’t suffice. It was the only thing, aside from the drugs, that Clay knew could keep the beast inside of Tom at bay, at least for a little while… and no matter how much he didn’t want to do it, he knew it was either that or spend yet another day waiting for Tom to come back soaked in other people’s blood.

Tom sighed, knowing Clay didn’t want to do it. Who would? He wouldn’t if he run into himself. He shook his head, looking away from Clay finally. “It’s fine. I probably won’t sleep anyway,” he muttered after a few minutes, now, wanting nothing more then for Clay to leave him alone, let him get his thoughts in order as much as he could.

“You should go to bed,” he murmured, not making a move to get up from his position at the table, head resting on his arms, his eyes closed. 

(Source: bemy-valentine)

claymiller:

Slipping Tom’s outfit off over his shoulders, Clay made quick work of undressing the man before he took a step back and allowed his eyes to fall to the floor. Tom’s admission shouldn’t have unnerved him as much as it did. He knew how much Tom liked carving people up, it wasn’t news to him at all. But knowing something to be true and actually hearing it stated outright were two different things altogether. 

Clearing his throat softly, he nodded his head before leaning down to pick up the discarded miner outfit and heading toward the back door. He opened it quickly and shoved the bloody clothing out it before locking it back, not wanting to have to see the grimy remains of what Tom had just done. “We need to get your medication refilled tomorrow. D-don’t let me forget.” He said as calmly as he could, eyes staring out the windowed glass of the back door as he shook almost violently. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do all of this. He couldn’t just sit around and let Tom go off and kill people and still act like everything was fine. 

“I won’t…” he whispered brokenly, finally slumping into one of the four chairs and placing his head on his arms. He closed his eyes, his breathing still heavy and uneven. “Will you sleep with me tonight?” He murmured, face pale and tear streaked. “Like you did before. Cuddle me?” He mumbled the words, not sure if he could feel anymore embarrassment then he already was feeling.

(Source: bemy-valentine)

claymiller:

It didn’t take long for Clay to clean off most of Tom’s face but by the time he was nearly finished, the previously white towel was covered in so much blood and dirt that there was no way it would ever be truly clean again. Dropping it into the skin, he rinsed it would as best as he could before turning back to Tom when he spoke. It was true. Clay was terrified. He didn’t know what to make of the situation and it took all he had not to curl up in a corner in fear. He had let himself believe so wholeheartedly that Tom had changed and now he was being hit in the face with the fact that he could change back at any moment.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Clay’s eyes widened considerably when he heard the man’s next statement. It wasn’t exactly shocking since Tom had never been quiet about his desire to have Clay on his side, but hearing it put that way in such a broken tone made Clay’s chest tighten slightly. “We need to get you out of those clothes.” He said quickly, trying to ignore what Tom was saying as he pulled his hand free and began to work on the zipper at the top of the mining uniform. 

Tom knew Clay was trying to avoid the subject, and honestly, he was kind of grateful. Tom’s mood could change so rapidly, go from a crying mess to a murdering lunatic. He didn’t want to hurt Clay, not at all — the man meant far to much to him, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back now if that urge hit.

“I killed a lot of people,” he stated, his eyes wet and distant. He just let Clay strip him of his mining gear, helpfully stepping out of  it. He was dressed in just his boxers and a plain white t-shirt underneath, his normal clothes still in the car. Blood was smeared along the collar of his shirt, but that was it, he was clean-ish underneath the uniform. “And I liked it…”

(Source: bemy-valentine)

claymiller:

He turned from Tom slowly, eyes moving to the floor as he led the man towards the kitchen. It was the closest room with running water and Clay wanted to get the blood off of Tom as soon as he possibly could. He could barely stand to look at him right now and he knew the other male had to be noticing. There was no way he could miss the full bodied shivers that coursed through him or the way his breath was coming out in panicked little pants. 

Once they reached the kitchen, he moved to grab a hand towel from the counter before turning on the tap one-handed, ever mindful of the tight grip Tom had on him. Holding the cloth under the warm water - Tom had finally gotten around to fixing the water heater just a few days prior - Clay stiffened when he heard his name in that wrecked voice again. Sighing, he turned his body to face the man attached to his hand and glanced up at his face before taking the cloth and running it over his blood spattered and tear stained cheek. “It’s alright.” He lied in what he hoped was a soothing voice, eyes following the path the cloth made over his skin. “I’m here.”

Tom leaned against the kitchen table with a soft sound and closed his eyes, letting Clay clean the blood off his face. He continued to cry, his body shaking, his free hand gripping Clay’s so tight. The other gripped the edge of the table, scared if he let go, he might fall.

“You’re scared,” he whispered after a few minutes, sniffing back thickly and turning his face to the side. “I don’t want you to be scared, Clay. I just want you to love me,” he breathed, the words falling from his lips before he could hold them back, barely thinking straight as it is.

(Source: bemy-valentine)