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lyrakanefanaticwriting · 1 month ago

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i’ve had these two asks in my other accounts inbox for AGES bc i’ve had no motivation to write, but now that i have an idea of what i wanna do, ive FINALLY decided that i wanna make another fic!!

i love this ask that my beautiful moot @beautifulmusicengineer sent me, and wanted to do something similar to the whole “her-getting-angry-and-burning-something-of-tobias’-down” that wouldn’t hurt graysons family, because i feel like she wouldn’t do that to him, but is still very petty. anyway here’s the ficcc thank u again rose for the ask and also for the anon who asked that i write a fic of grayson and lyras situationship during the game !! 💗💗

Burning Portraits - lyra x grayson

synopsis: after alisa freaks about some NASTY rumours going on with the contestants online that are starting to affect the game masters, she wants to try to set things straight quickly by temporarily moving the contestants to hawthorne house. in the one day they’re at hawthorne house, she expects them to go to a short paparazzi filled gala, just to make sure that the public dies down on their horrible speculations, before resting up and going back to hawthorne island for stage two of the game. all goes wrong when tobias and alice are being appraised left and right, and lyra seems to find a certain portrait the most frustrating thing of the whole event…

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“Do I make myself clear?”

The sound of Alisa’s voice nearing the end of her pre-gala lecture was the only thing that floated away Lyra’s thoughts. This wasn’t like the masquerade ball with only the contestants. This was a black-tie event filled with people who wouldn’t even spare Lyra a glance if they so happened to walk by her on the street. And Alisa had made it very clear: no arguments, excessive drinking, and general “dilly-dallying” was allowed.

This had all started because somehow, photos of the contestants on the beach the night before got leaked. Those, of course, weren’t the problem. The pictures that were the problem, however, were the photos of Gigi’s head bleeding out. They didn’t happen to capture her fall. They did, however, happen to capture the look on Graysons face when he saw Gigi bleeding out in Knox’s arms. A lot of the photos had good quality, and it wasn’t a surprise when Gossip websites and even big brand articles were coming out with speculations of the feuds that seemed to be between the contestants. There was even some speculation about arguments and physical fights between the Hawthornes and the contestants, and how they had a connection to Gigi’s injury, which, if Lyra was being completely honest, she was honestly surprised that they weren’t connected to this. Hawthornes did have a good way of involving themselves in subjects in which they shouldn’t.

Lyra hated that she had to fight herself from looking at Grayson at that thought.

Alisa gave each contestant one last look over, and when she came to herself, Lyra wondered what she thought of her. With her backless black maxi dress, styled curls, and red lipstick, she looked every part the woman that would fit in these types of places. But Alisa’s eyes were unreadable as she continued to skim over the contestants.

“Remember the few things I told you all of you,” Alisa stated, giving each remaining contestant the once-over. “Rohan, no flirting. There were also photos of you talking and very clearly flirting with Savannah leaked in the bunch that some crazy paparazzi somehow managed to take, so how do you think it’s going to look when people see you hopping from one girl to another?” Lyra had to physically fight back a snort when she saw a flash of cold rage spark into Graysons eyes at the mention of Rohan flirting with Savannah. His brothers seemed to be doing the same, and Lyra watched out of the corner of her eye as Jameson whispered a retort into Avery’s ear, and Xander, who had overheard what he said, snorted.

“Brady, you can behave yourself well. Same goes for you, Savannah. And Lyra..” Alisa trailed off as her eyes met Lyra’s. “You seem to be good at it so far, but continue to work on keeping your attitude in check.” Lyra reared back and had to hold back a million little comments that she wanted to make in that moment.

“During those… situations that you made us act out back at Hawthorne House, I followed the ways you told me to react to comments, and only replied when you told me there was an opening. I stayed silent.” Lyra gritted out. Alisa raised a brow at her, before swiping on her phone, and pulling up a photo of Lyra from the leaked paparazzi photos.

“Is it really staying silent if this is the face you choose to stay silent with?” Alisa asked. Lyra couldn’t hold the sneer back this time. Her tongue, yes, she could control, but her facial expressions? Lyra had given up on controlling those long ago. Alisa hadn’t made any breaking evidence that Lyra hadn’t known already. Xander Hawthorne accidentally let out the slightest laugh when he saw that the look on Lyra’s face exactly matched the photo, but he quickly stifled the laugh once he saw that her angry glare was directed at him.

“You only just gave the contestants media training. And any accidental glare that Lyra might let slip would be reasonable anyway. You know the types of people who go to these events, Alisa. Everyone knows that her “look” would be directed to the right person.” Grayson reasoned, fixing Alisa with a look that Lyra was all too familiar with. It did feel good to have somebody who could actually make an impact on Alisa’s decisions defending her. Alisa pressed her lips together, staring Lyra dead on before expelling a breath.

“I’ll just have to take your word for it. Oren and his team will be driving you guys to the event. Let me know if you have any further questions.” Alisa stated. She then proceeded to walk away before anybody could actually ask any questions they might have. Lyra snorted.

“Lee-Lee’s harmless, no matter how intimidating she might seem to be.” Nash Hawthorne interjected, mainly keeping his eyes on Lyra as he issued the statement. Lyra didn’t respond.

“The event is supposed to start in 15 minutes. I can drive all of you there.” Oren, the Hawthorne’s bodyguard, interjected. “The contestants take one car, the Game Masters another.” Lyra mulled on that, and cast Grayson a sideways glance, wondering if he would be considered a contestant or a Game Master at this point.

“You’re going with them.” Jameson said to Grayson, as if reading my thoughts. “You are a contestant now, Gray.” Grayson gave his sideways smirk a hard look before walking over to Lyra, Brady, Savannah, and Rohan.

He stood directly in between Savannah and Rohan.

Lyra did not even bother covering up her snort. Rohan cast Grayson a sideways glance.

“Not standing next to Lyra?” he prodded, his dancing eyes going from Lyra’s to Grayson’s. In a flash, Lyra’s smile dropped, and she and Grayson both fixed him with a wordless stare. Seeing as Rohan wasn’t going to get much of a reaction from either of them, he just cocked his head to the side with a smirk, muttering the words “mean and meaner everybody”.

Lyra rolled her eyes and surveyed the other contestants again. It felt weird to not have Odette with her and Grayson. Catching Lyra’s stare, Avery spoke up.

“You’ll be able to see the eliminated contestants one last time after the gala.” she told Lyra. Lyra knew that she was talking about Odette.

“Did you talk to Gigi before leaving?” Grayson asked Avery, his mind apparently elsewhere. She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I knocked on her door, but there was no response.” she offered gently. Lyra saw both Savannah and Grayson’s expressions shift. “But don’t worry, she should be feeling a bit better by the end of the night.” Turning her gaze back to us, she started to walk towards Oren, Alisa, and the Game master’s car.

“In the meantime, however,” she added, waiting for Jameson Hawthorne to open the car door for her before slipping inside the limousine, “we should be going.”

The car ride was completely silent, apart from the few comments from Rohan towards Savannah, and honestly, Lyra was thankful for it. At first it was a bit awkward, but slowly it settled into a comfortable silence, one where she could gather her thoughts.

Stepping out of the car with more confidence than she had earlier, Lyra waited for Grayson to close the door behind her before walking beside him to the other contestants.

“Quite a gentleman.” she commented, her eyes finding his as she teased him for holding the car door open for her. He gave her a subtle half shrug in return, but Lyra noticed that even when her eyes glided to the Game masters, Grayson’s were still stuck on her.

“I know Alisa made this event seem the tiniest bit overwhelming, but believe me, they’re not so bad!” Xander offered helpfully. Lyra gave him a pitying look. He seemed to be trying so hard not to make the contestants nervous, and Lyra found his empathy to be awfully endearing. He eventually sighed, breaking the silence.

“Is there anything we can do to take the edge off this event?” he tried, gesturing to himself and the other Game master’s. Rohan held his hand up to voice his thought.

“Whiskey might help.” he offered. Lyra side-eyed him. Xander snorted and was about to respond, when Alisa sidled up to them.

“Be polite. Don’t talk about politics or any menacing opinions. Don’t drink too much, and if you want to voice your opinion, do so thoughtfully. Now we can go in.” she ordered, walking away. Lyra gave Grayson an exasperated look, and he responded with an eyebrow raise of his own, as if saying “this isn’t even the worst of it”.

Lyra had to admit that the place was beautifully decorated. The music was serene and lovely, and the decorations were crystal and gold, giving a lovely touch to the whole ordeal. Lyra couldn’t stop her gaze from going to the huge chandelier on the ceiling, one with glittering crystals and jewels that couldn’t stop her mind from going to the escape room. To Grayson.

Tearing her eyes away from it, Lyra pretended not to feel the warmth coming off of Grayson’s body beside her, and turned her attention to the Hawthorne currently talking and walking towards the contestants.

“Everybody,” Xander announced quite loudly, earning a look from Alisa. “meet Nan!” Nan in question was the Hawthorne brothers’ great grandmother, and, from what Lyra could tell from how she spoke, had an attitude that Lyra honestly liked. But still….

She was Alice’s mother. Pearl O’Day.

Eventually, Nan’s eyes went to Lyra, and Lyra was immediately distraught. Suddenly, she felt about 3 feet tall and 4 years old, and Lyra had to blink to bring Nan’s face to focus.

“You, girl,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “where do I know you from?” Where do I know you from? She might have seen Lyra’s face on some magazine somewhere, but something deep in her gut told Lyra that that wasn’t what the old woman meant. Don’t trust your gut, Lyra begged herself. Whenever she did, it always landed her in trouble. But just when Lyra was going to smile at the woman, the look in her eyes that was neutral before, and awfully pleased as she watched her grandson, subsided. Looking at Lyra, her eyes were different. Colder. Like she was calculating something in her head, and when the fogginess in her eyes cleared—the look in them was knowing.

A coldness settled over her spine, nestling deep in her bones, and Lyra couldn’t bite back the frigid tone in her voice as she spoke.

“You don’t.” she stated, the reply so unnervingly detached that Lyra was surprised it came out of her own mouth. Rohan’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Lyra watch Nan, and Lyra could tell that the other contestants were starting to watch her too. But still, Graysons eyes were the only ones she went to, and seeing where her mind was, he switched the topic.

“Nan,” he started, prying the old woman’s searching eyes away from Lyra’s and holding his arm out for her to take, “have I introduced you to the event organizers of this whole ordeal? They’re a wonderful couple, and even better people.” Nan hesitated for only a moment, before putting her hand on his arm and harrumphing.

“I don’t believe you have, forgetful boy.” she told him, shaking her head at him. Graysons eyes caught hers as they walked away, a million questions in them, but at the same time, Nan’s eyes were still watching Lyra, calculating and cold compared to how she looked at her great grandson. Lyra swallowed.

“Thanksgiving with the in-laws won’t be so fun, huh?” Rohan pried, his eyes calculating as he watched Lyra. Lyra stared him down right back.

“You’re hilarious.” she said with a smile, before rolling her eyes once he turned his back. But she saw past his jokes. The contestants were starting to suspect Lyra’s coldness when it came to the Hawthornes, and she couldn’t have that. Her secret was hers, and if people found out—

It would take away the one piece of security she had left.

But then again… Lyra’s mind trailed off. Grayson knows. So does Odette. So just how secure are you then?

A fork hitting a glass pried Lyra away from her thoughts, and she watched as a woman with diamonds the size of Lyra’s thumb that graced her ears stood at the top of the curving staircase. She made an announcement, thanking the contestants and game masters of the second annual Grandest Game for coming and everybody else too, before announcing that soon there would be an auction.

But Lyra wasn’t listening.

She was watching Grayson from across the room speak to the woman currently announcing anything and everything’s husband, with Nan by his side. His eyes met hers, and for once, Lyra didn’t look away. She tried to read the message in his eyes, but he looked away, his hand tightening on Nan’s arm. My father and getting him justice may be dear to me, but his family is dear to him as well, Lyra thought. For once, all she wanted was her feelings to not be confusing. She hated that the hurt in her heart lingered more nowadays, and hated even more that she believed in the depths of her soul that Grayson’s hands could carry some of that hurt for her. If she’d only let him.

Unfortunately, giving permission for something as trivial as that, to a person with a last name as his, wasn’t as simple as one would think.

“Let the auction begin!” The woman finally finished, raising her glass and getting cheers from the crowd. A tap on her shoulder made Lyra turn around.

“C’mon kid, your seat is over there.” Nash Hawthorne told her, his eyes searching hers with a calmness that seemingly was Nash Hawthorne. But there was something underneath that, something that told Lyra that he had noticed the entire situation that went on between her and Nan— and was curious as to why it happened. Too bad curiosity killed the cat, Lyra thought, not willing to give the Hawthorne more than he already knew.

“Thank you.” she told him, with a polite—and absolutely fake—smile. Nash held her gaze for only a few seconds more, his eyes searching, before his expression shifted and he gave her a small nod. Nash turned around on his heels and started walking, and Lyra followed him, her pace quickening to match the cowboys long strides.

With her luck, Lyra’s seat was right in between Jameson and Xander Hawthorne’s. They were already sitting down, and, once he saw her approach, Xander’s eyes lit up. She sat down in her chair, and he immediately turned to face her.

“Pst, Lyra.” Xander stage-whispered, something lingering under the enthusiastic look in his eyes. Lyra turned to face him and dipped her head as his signal to keep talking. He took the opportunity immediately. “I remembered you saying you liked chocolate at the ball, so I snagged you some from the dessert table!” Lyra’s eyebrows shot up. Xander took a napkin out of his suit pocket and unwrapped it, revealing 4 squares of chocolate. Milk chocolate. Lyra quirked a brow at him.

“I’m more of a dark chocolate person.” she told him. He immediately groaned.

“Your taste in desserts are heinous and you deserve to be sent to jail.” he stated dramatically, taking a square of chocolate and popping it into his mouth. Lyra snorted at his reaction, and was about to reply when a man walked up onto the stage.

“I hope you are all ready, because the auction is about to commence. Stay seated and raise the paddle located under your seat to place a bid. Our first item of the night is a state of the art violin, crafted by….” The man’s words were repetitive and boring as he continued to drone on, revealing different objects and emotionlessly watching people bid ridiculous amounts of money on them. Lyra’s facial expressions were downright heinous when a measly metal watch went for over $35,000. Beside her, Jameson Hawthorne smiled.

“Auctions truly are something to behold,” Jameson told her. “A fool and his money during one are soon parted.” Lyra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. God save her from proverbs talking and over dramatic Hawthornes.

The auction seemed to be going smoothly, and all was well, till the lights dimmed suddenly and a spotlight was overcast onto the next item. It seemed to be a portrait, but there was a cloth of some sort thrown over it. Lyra furrowed her brows, and was just going to ask Xander what that was about when a waiter walked by and, without asking her, handed her a cup of champagne. When Lyra looked around, she realized that everybody was now holding a glass. She craned her head to look at Grayson seated behind Xander, but he didn’t seem to know what was happening either.

“Our next item is by far the most important of the night, and I would like to say the most special, as it was painted for two very special people.” Again confused, Lyra turned around again to meet Graysons eyes. He raised a brow at her, and his lips lifted by the slightest bit. Lyra huffed a breath at him. He looked like his expression was going to shift, but then he looked up.

His slight smile dropped.

Hearing a few ooh’s and ah’s from the people around her, Lyra turned around, and then immediately froze.

“Here is a portrait of Tobias and Alice Hawthorne, painted in the lovely couples honour.” The man stated, his voice proud. Lyra’s breath hitched. Tobias and Alice Hawthorne. Lovely couple. Honour. What honour did those two have? And why did seeming them, up on a mantle like that, make her want to crumble into a million pieces so badly? Everybody stood up, and Lyra sucked in a sharp breath before standing too.

“Before we bid this piece off, I would like to give a toast to the unfortunately deceased couple.” He raised his glass, and, one by one, everybody’s glasses raised. Except for Lyra’s. Jameson’s intruding eyes were watching her, and she could tell that everybody else was too. She could especially tell that Grayson’s were too. Raise your glass, she told herself. Yet still, she stood there. Frozen.

“Tobias and Alice Hawthorne were, without a doubt, the most generous and caring people this world could find.” The auctioneer stated, compassion in his tone. Lyra’s legs started to feel wobbly. “No matter what, they have been there for the big and the small, the rich and the poor, in every way possible. Whether that is fundraising, charities, or any other act of kindness that the two have shown this world, their undying support and kindness has always been evident.” Yes, Lyra thought, a numbing anxiety coursing through her veins, their support.

“So I dedicate this piece to the two, and hope that everybody can feel the love that I do just from looking at them. To Tobias and Alice Hawthorne,” he said. “The absolute best of us.” Those last few words rung in Lyra’s mind, sticking onto her like damp clothing sticks to your body. Everybody in the room started repeating those words. Everybody but Lyra, of course. She couldn’t stop staring at the two, staring and wondering if nobody in here knew just how horrible they could be when their kindness ran out.

And, once she could call to name the familiarity of Tobias Hawthornes eyes, she could no longer stand it.

“I have to use the washroom.” she breathed mid-toast, her glass the only one lowered and her breathing sped up as she rushed past Xander to the hall. Passing Grayson, she met his eyes and her heart squeezed from the familiarity. Tobias Hawthornes eyes. Grayson’s. One and the same. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked away, not allowing herself to turn back to see his face no matter how much she wanted to as she burst through the gala doors and out into the hall.

Her breathing only quickened once she reached the hall. How, just how could they be praised like that? How could they be considered kind and generous, and how could a whole room of people agree?

Because they didn’t have to find out how cruel a man and woman like Tobias and Alice Hawthorne can be, Lyra answered herself. It was so simple. They were rich, so they didn’t know how Tobias and Alice really treated the poor. Lyra felt sick. And then, once she reached the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and saw her father staring back at her? She felt angry.

She wasn’t going to cry in the bathroom the rest of the night. And even when her brain was yelling at her not to do anything rash, Lyra ignored it anyway, walking gracefully back towards the gala doors. She ripped them open and walked inside, going to her seat and trying her best not to meet Grayson’s eyes as she did. He’s really not going to like what she’s planning to do.

“Everything okay?” Came a southern voice from behind her. Lyra turned around to see Nash staring at her, his eyes not kind, but piercing as he looked at her. She realized then that Brady, Rohan, and Savannah were doing the same. But Grayson’s eyes? They were the only ones who Lyra had to fight back the urge to look to. He was the only one who she had to fight back the urge to look to. She smiled at Nash, and she could tell that Grayson knew it was fake.

“Everything’s fine.” she told Nash Hawthorne, turning around before he could poke around her brain anymore.

The rest of the night was fine. There were no more mentions of Tobias and Alice Hawthorne, except for a few compassionate murmurs here and there from people who just found their portrait oh so lovely, and Lyra could tell that Alisa was going to get them to leave very soon. The auction had ended a while ago, and the rest of the gala was reserved to talking and a bit of dancing, with waiters carrying handheld food and drinks everywhere. But still, Lyra couldn’t pry her eyes away from the portrait. That was, until, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, she saw that it was Grayson.

“Care to dance?” he asked her, holding out a hand. Those three words brought her back to the masquerade ball, and Lyra barely nodded before Grayson pulled her away to the other 10 or so dancers, taking her hand to do so. Lyra felt the heat from his hands spread to her neck, and she reminded herself that they were just holding hands.

But later, her mind would force herself to reminiscence on the feel of his hand gripping hers.

“The portrait,” he said, once they were dancing softly, much more different from how they danced at the masquerade ball.

“The portrait.” she confirmed. He set his lips in a straight line. There was silence between them, until Grayson spun her closer. Lyra was distraught for a moment, until she realized that this dance was meant to be slower.

That, like all the other dancers, Lyra’s head was supposed to be barely touching from his chest. She turned her head in chorus with the other dancers, and Grayson brought her body closer to his chest, before the dance continued. Lyra sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry about your great grandmother.” she finally said. He raised a brow.

“Sorry about the way you talked to her?” he asked. Lyra set her jaw. He wasn’t going to get more from her than that. He smiled then, this one less discreet and small as all his others.

“Well, as simple as that apology may have been, I do acknowledge it.” he stated. Lyra rolled her eyes.

“Thank you for doing me that dire favour. How can I repay you for your acknowledgement.” she deadpanned. His eyes lingered on hers, and Lyra wondered for a moment if he said things like that on purpose, just to get a reaction from her. Behind him, she could see the portrait. Again.

Grayson knew what she was thinking of once her facial expression’s hardened.

“They don’t know the real him,” he started. Lyra was surprised. She’d never heard those kind of words come out of Grayson’s mouth. Not about his grandfather. “They don’t know that he’s not as generous and caring as they think he is. And they definitely don’t know Alice.” Lyra paused. Here he was, admitting his grandfather, the one who he looked up to all his life, was a complete fraud. And yet, Lyra couldn’t agree with him, because she couldn’t further hurt him.

“You didn’t exactly know your grandmother, either.” Lyra said, moving away from the topic of Tobias Hawthorne. Grayson’s eyes hardened.

“No. I don’t.” Grayson’s eyes were distant. Then, he spoke.

“Maybe she had just as hard of a life as the old man did.” Grayson said, his eyes soft as the dance slowed to a crawl. Lyra looked back at the painting, and made a face. If her father’s death had told her anything, it’s not to feel sympathy for Alice Hawthorne.

“Maybe she was an ass.” Lyra bluntly stated. He gave her a look.

“I am still here, you know.” he told her. She shrugged at him, and pulled him off the dance floor. Still, his eyes went back to the picture. “And looking at it gives me an…. odd feeling. I know he was the only parental figure I had, but I don’t think I want to look up to a man like him anymore.” Lyra looked to him with soft eyes. Softer than they were before, that’s for sure.

“Well, who knows. Maybe you won’t even have to see the thing anymore.” she said with a haughty look at the portrait. And with those words, she knew what that portrait needed.

One last finishing touch.

Finally, the gala had been emptied, and everybody had left. Even the event organizers had went outside to catch up with some friends.

But the contestants? They were all in a separate room, still in the building that the gala had taken place in. We were all getting talked to by Alisa, Lyra especially, about our behaviours at the gala. And, once she couldn’t take it anymore, Lyra got up, asked to use the restroom, and left.

Now that she was gone, she could go back to the gala.

To the portrait.

Slipping inside, Lyra made a mental note of where each and every single one of the cameras were. There were only 4 in the entire room, and, luckily enough, none of them were where the portrait was. That meant that as long as she was out of the cameras sight, nobody would see her. Still, Lyra had to remind herself that she had to be smart about this, and even though she felt angry and like she wanted to destroy something, she couldn’t let her emotions take ahold of her like they always do.

From her safe spot, she eyed the portrait still hanging on the stage. They must be waiting to mail it to the person with the highest bid, Lyra realized, her jaw taut. Then she eyed the small closet in the back of the room, close to where she was.

Walking carefully so that no cameras saw her, Lyra opened the door to the closet and stepped inside. She looked through every shelf, seeing only cleaning solutions, and was about to step out when she saw a bottle of something.

Something flammable.

Lyra looked at the bottle of acetone with a deep anger lingering in her. Then, she spotted a jacket. Shoving her hands through the pockets, she pulled out a box of cigarettes from one…

And a lighter from the other.

Lyra’s mind began to race as she grabbed both the acetone and the lighter, shoving the door open and, in quick yet careful movements, made her way to the stage.

There weren’t any cameras pointed to the stage.

Walking up the stairs, it was impossible for Lyra to tear her eyes away from the portrait. For years they had occupied her nightmares, watching Lyra watch her father kill himself over and over and over again. And apparently, her father’s life was never of value to anybody, because despite it, Alice and Tobias Hawthorne are still here.

Still here getting praised for their kind efforts that were all a lie.

Ripping open the bottle of acetone, she threw the liquid onto the painting, her anger building up as her movements became more and more aggressive. Then, she ripped open the cap of the lighter. She was about to flick the flame on and bring it towards the painting, when something stopped her.

When those icy blue eyes in her memory stopped her.

It became harder and harder to believe that she hated a man like Grayson when he was good, far too good to be a Hawthorne. Just burn the damn portrait down, Lyra told herself. But a part of her felt that to burn it down was to betray him.

And Lyra knew that every part of herself rebelled at even the thought of that.

His eyes. Lyra remembered how they looked when she ran out of the gala a mere hour earlier. They were cold, and, even though she could hardly tell from his icy exterior, grieving. She couldn’t continue to fight the line between doing what her father probably would have wanted her to do, and what she wanted to do. Grayson’s eyes were a telltale sign of that struggle.

And then, suddenly, those eyes weren’t only in his memory.

Grayson Hawthorne was standing in front of her, his eyes unreadable as he clutched his hand around one of Lyra’s, the one that was holding the lighter. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his jaw tight. The fight in Lyra was struggling to not go out when his eyes suddenly softened.

“You know.” Lyra told him, her voice just as intense, when in reality, her heart couldn’t keep up with this hurt. She dropped the lighter suddenly, and when the numb feeling in her chest gave way to grief, she couldn’t stop a lone tear from trailing down her cheek. The lines of his face that were previously so taut, suddenly softened. His facial expression fell, and, holding the back of Lyra’s head, he brought her close to his body in a loose hug. Lyra couldn’t stop the tears from falling then.

She wouldn’t say a word, an apology, anything, but she allowed herself the privilege of listening to the beating of Grayson’s heart. After a minute or two had passed, Lyra finally turned her head up to look at Grayson. His head was turned down too, and his eyes, unlike hers now so full of grief, were determined. He swallowed, before kneeling and picking up the lighter she had dropped, pressing it into her hands. She looked at him, and at the hands clutching hers in an attempt to push the lighter into them, and her heart squeezed.

“I can’t.” she whispered. Not in front of you, her mind whispered, the words left unsaid. Not when it’s the man who raised you. Still, the look in Grayson’s eyes told her he heard it all. What she said, and what she didn’t. He let his head hang till their foreheads were touching, the movement so achingly familiar to what he had done in the escape rooms.

“You have to.” he softly replied. She too heard what he didn’t say. She had to so she could reclaim the part of her that Tobias and Alice Hawthorne had taken away. Finally clutching the lighter in her hands, Lyra opened the cap, the spark that had went out inside her only a few moments earlier reigniting. With the flame of the lighter flickering to light, Lyra brought it to the portrait with a deep sense of determination and watched as the painting immediately burst into flames. As soon as the flame touched the painting, Grayson pulled Lyra behind her, and Lyra watched from behind his arm clutched around her body as the two melted away.

Suddenly, breathing didn’t seem so difficult.

Lyra watched with an oddly calm feeling as the portrait melted away, and although she knew in her heart that this would never take away the pain of her fathers death, it healed the part of her that was previously so scared of the couple.

Now, they were nothing but a phantom in Lyra’s mind.

Lyra was going to continue to watch the flames flicker to a stop with Grayson, when suddenly the doors of the gala opened.

Lyra heard talking, one of the voices being the same one as the woman that had led the speech in the beginning of the gala, and met Grayson’s distraught eyes with ones of her own.

Grayson beckoned her to walk towards the back stage silently, and the two of them slipped away behind the curtains.

“Where do we go?” Lyra asked Grayson in a whisper. Suddenly, she heard screaming and shouting. Lyra met Grayson’s eyes again. Clearly, they found the portrait.

Or, what was left of it, anyway.

Grayson quickly took Lyra’s hand. “Follow me,” he told her. Lyra’s breathing quickened the second their hands made contact, and she had to remind herself that they needed to go.

He pulled her away to stand behind the curtains. Lyra watched him plan out their next movements, and immediately knew what he was thinking. The only exit they could take was the back door…. which meant that Lyra and Grayson had to somehow find a way to go behind the group of aggravated people and sneak out. She met his eyes.

“You better not stomp.” she whispered to him. Lyra could tell that he was going to pull her away, when she did it for him, seeing the group walk closer to the stage and taking Grayson’s hand herself, darting behind them as quickly and quietly as possible to get to the door.

Once the two made it outside, outside the gala, outside the building, outside of Alisa’s endless lectures, Lyra looked at her partner in crime with a curious expression on her face. He returned it with a look of his own.

“What?” he asked her.

“Why’d you do it?” she inquired. He was his grandfather. The sole parental figure in his life.

And yet he watched as a portrait of that same man and his wife burnt to a crisp beside Lyra.

He gave a slight half shrug, but his eyes were distant. “You had to.” I had to. The words rang true. But did he have to watch?

“But..” she trailed off. “you were never meant to see that. He raised you, Grayson. I was angry. And a part of me will never stop being angry.” She took a step closer to him, her opening up to him being strange and out of the ordinary. But it was Grayson. How many times had he opened up to her for her benefit? “But if I knew you would follow me, I never would’ve gotten the acetone. I never would’ve gotten the lighter. Not because I’m a coward, but because I know you.” Those words bring his eyes to mine, a flash of surprise sparking them, and the sudden softness overtook Lyra.

There was something about the look of the yellow street lamp shining over his eyes combined with the moonlight that made Lyra unable to draw her own away from them. They were…. beautiful. And she could deny it all she wanted, but she knew that he was too. Still, she swallowed and kept speaking.

“I know that family means so much to you.” she stopped speaking to swallow again. “I was hurting. But I wouldn’t hurt you.” Those words were a mere whisper, her head ducked away with something like embarrassment, or shock at her sudden admittance. She wasn’t at all meant to be this kind of person, the one who opens up without a second thought. But what about Grayson’s presence made her forget about that?

Once she brought her head up to look at him, Grayson just stared at her. He stared at her with disbelief, as well as softness. It was something akin to adoration, as he flicked his gaze over her face, but once his eyes met hers again, the look mellowed. He squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head on the street lamp beside him.

“You know me.” he repeated, his voice hoarse like he’d churned the words over again and again in his head and couldn’t pry his mind off of them.

“Don’t I?” Lyra replied softly, not wanting to ruin the moment, but letting her brow raise at him nonetheless. He looked at her like how he did back at the Grandest Game Escape Room, his gaze like a physical thing as it burned onto her skin. More specifically, her eyes, her body, her.

And then, settling on her lips.

He’s just about to say something else when somebody bursts through the door.

“Gray, Lyra, where were you guys?” Nash Hawthorne is in the door way, and once he sees us standing together, far closer than Lyra had realized, he smiled lazily. “Am I interrupting something?” Frustration pulled in Lyra’s chest.

“No.” Her and Grayson spoke at once, stubbornly. Nash’s cowboy smile only widened. But there was something beneath that, the look similar to the way he’d looked at her back at the gala.

“Well alrighty then.” He turned around, and, just as Lyra and Grayson were about to follow him, he spoke again, this time more quietly.

“The portrait ain’t to your guys’ liking?” Lyra froze. Stopped moving, stopped walking, stopped breathing. Grayson did too, but only for a moment before he regained his composure.

“What do you mean?” Grayson asked his brother sharply, the question distantly threatening. Nash stopped walking to turn around and look at the two.

“I know you burned that portrait, Gray. Lee-Lee’s trying to get ahold of the security footage right now, as everybody could hear those people’s screams. I’m assuming that you’re not dumb enough to get caught on the cameras, just as much as I know that this wasn’t for you.” Nash spoke, letting his gaze slip to Lyra as soon as he said you. Lyra held his gaze, her stubbornness unwavering. She wasn’t going to say a word. Nash took a step closer to her. “You know what you’re doin’, Lyra?” He wasn’t going to intimidate her. Not when he had no clue what those beloved grandparents of his did to her father.

“Of course.” she said, her eyes hard. Grayson looked between them with a look on his face that Lyra couldn’t quite place. Then, he looked towards his brother.

“Sinite eam.” Grayson told him, his tone serious. Lyra looked towards him with a question on her face. She didn’t speak Latin. Still, Nash just stared Grayson down, before giving a hard nod. Then he turned on his heels, opened the door, and held it open for Lyra and Grayson. Lyra went in first, but couldn’t shake the look that Nash was giving her as she did.

As Grayson and her were walking back towards the room where they had previously been, the one that Alisa had been lecturing them in, she glanced at Grayson. His eyes were distant. That was, until, he looked at her. They cleared suddenly, focusing on her face. Lyra knew that Nash was behind her, and so she barely spoke under her breath.

“How screwed do you think we are?” she muttered to Grayson. Grayson pondered on the question for only a moment.

“Well, I want to say that it all depends on what lies within that tape, but you and I both know she’s going to find a way to blame us whether we’re seen on it or not.” he replied. Lyra sighed, before she was walking towards the door of the room they had been in a mere 20 minutes ago. A room where the other contestants are now. Lyra was about to reach for the handle, when Nash, suddenly by her side, beat her to it.

“Allow me,” Nash said, with a tight-lipped smile. Lyra’s eyes lingered on his for a moment before she huffed, ready to step in. But Nash wasn’t opening the door. There was a beat of silence, where nobody spoke or moved, before Nash spoke.

“Was it worth it?” he said. Lyra rolled her eyes, wanting to hear the end of his lecture, when she noticed that Nash’s eyes were only on her when he turned around. Not her and Grayson. Only her.

And his words weren’t accusing either. They were gentle. Lyra thought about it. Was it worth it? She looked to Grayson, and saw a truth lying behind his eyes. Today, she saw that Grayson burned to dust the idea that his grandfather and grandmother were saints, and differentiated the idea he had of them in his head to how they truly were.

But today was just as important for Lyra.

Burning that portrait showed her that Tobias and Alice Hawthorne weren’t so untouchable, that she didn’t have to feel like she couldn’t be defiant to any idea of empathy towards them.

And, when she searched her mind for that cool fear that always came when she thought about Alice, about Tobias, about the escape room and all she’d learnt, she couldn’t find it.

She was the daughter of a man who had been forced to death by Alice Hawthorne. Alice Hawthorne ran through Grayson’s veins. They shared the same blood. But she didn’t have to be afraid of that anymore.

Burning that portrait took away her fear and replaced it with something so much more dire. It replaced it with the drive to live a life by her own terms, not one laid out for her by the past.

“Yes,” Lyra finally said, her voice softer than it’d been in a while.

“It was.”

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idek what that ending was i just needed an ending cuz wtf this was so long. anyways im sorry that i had to submit u guys to this trash and i hate it but i was literally getting held at gun point by moots (cough cough @7975348473 cough cough) to post this sooo 😍😍

#bruh im done i hate this #lyra x grayson fic #lyra x grayson #grayson hawthorne #lyra catalina kane #lyra kane #the grandest game #fanfic #nash hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne

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