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Clay had mixed feelings about this new fella teaming up with Jack. The guy was in his opinion, both a complete ass and one of the nicest foes they’d ever faced.
Whenever they fought the guy seemed to change. He’d go from standing around looking entirely uninterested to being one of the best damn fighters they’d ever faced, at least out of those their own age range.
What was worse is he knew it. He must understand martial arts because he’d correct you halfway through a showdown and make fun of you. It was irritating and he knew he was getting a reaction by doing it.
But on the other hand, he was weirdly nice at times. He would compliment you if you’d shown growth in a technique or if you managed to get a particularly good hit in. There were times he’d give up on a showdown for no apparent reason and other times straight up just offer them the wu even after he’d won fair and square.
He’d smile a smile that didn’t look quite right but was charming in it's own way, crooked as if he were smirking and a mouth full of fangs so sharp if you held one it would cut you like a knife.
Some dumb quip in an accent that Clay wouldn’t admit left his knees shaky. Hey, it wasn’t his fault this new guy was so damn pleasing to look at! At least in his opinion.
Pretty bright hazel green eyes that turned a grey-pink in a fight, a smattering of moles on his cheeks, that tall nose… so what if Clay thought those things about him? It wasn’t like a cowboy couldn’t appreciate another man’s features.
Did it matter that maybe he liked to look at him? Not at all. Did it matter that he had lost a showdown solely because he had? Probably.
Which is why he was stood in a lonely field somewhere in Slovakia, kneeling in the damp grass mulling over his newly realised crush he had on the enemy. And he didn’t even know his name… how sad was this going to get?
Clay's head was bowed in a mix of shame and confusion until he felt a presence next to him and a warm hand on his shoulder.
He looked over at the same guy he had just been lost in thought over and felt the humiliation of his defeat on his face. What didn’t help was the look of pity crossing the still ruby-grey eyes.
“You okay there cow..man?” Asked the guy next to him, as if he hadn’t just wiped the floor with Clay barely five minutes prior. “You fought really well, so don’t feel bad.” Aw shucks well ain’t that nice.
“It ain’t that and I think ya know it.” Was he really just going to talk to this guy? “Just that it ain’t great to lose to ya… again.” Guess he was.
What he got in reply was a laugh. A FUCKING LAUGH. As sweet as it sounded it was a bit too loud for his current attitude. “Oh, rub it in why dontcha!” For the first time, he wasn’t hiding how pissed he was. “Think you’re real hot shit, huh? Well, I don’t need your pity or to be the butt of some joke.” His outburst had silenced the heylin next to him. He looked a bit embarrassed but confused as well.
“I’m sorry, I swear that’s not why I laughed.” Okay… where was this goin’ now? “It’s just that you’re the best fight I’ve had in a while. I have to really try to beat you, I appreciate that in an opponent, was just surprised you didn’t know that.” He knocked their shoulders together in a friendly gesture. “My name is Hrelja, just fyi.” He… Hrelja turned to him and winked before handing him the long forgotten Discus of Daedalus. Clay felt blood rush to his face.
The guy he had just yelled at had told him he was a good fighter and given him both the wu and his name.
He smiled to himself not realising that Hrelja was already walking away.
“Hey-hold on there partner! Wait! Hrelja!” That mispronounced version of his name seemed to get his attention as he turned around, looking in no way offended at the butchering of what his mama presumably gave him.
He stood there looking like some statue carved from marble, waiting. Took a second before Clay realised he was waiting for whatever he was going to say next.
“I just… well it’s just that… you know uh thank you. For the wu. And the compliment. And just… in… in general.” Wow, that was not some of his best work. His bruised pride was soon healed after he heard a soft chuckle out of the guy in front of him.
Hrelja (damn he liked that name) winked at him and turned to leave before he gave one last look back. “Never change zlatko, si vtipný.” And with that, he left. Through some kind of… portal?
Damned if he could tell what it was but the shimmering magenta and pink lights coming off of it framed his new friend? foe? frenemy? in a way he could only describe as lovely. Complimenting even. The way it meshed with his pitch black hair and grungy clothes. Those eyes.
Clay was in trouble now. He knew that much, from the way he shivered and his heart sped up. A crush… on someone he was pretty sure was heylin? Not what he was expecting.
Sitting in his room later on he thought about it. He didn’t much care. So long as he could see that smile again. Yeah, he definitely didn’t give a damn.