#the brothers hawthorne

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

@inmyheaddd

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY JUDEEE 💖💖 WORDS CANNOT AND WILL NOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I LOVEE YOUU AND I REALLY HOPE THAT THIS DAY IS ONE OF THE BEST FOR YOUUU BECAUSE YOUR DESERVE IT SO MCUHHH!!🎂🥳🎉😘 YOURE ONE OF THE SWEETEST, KINDEST, MOST AMAZING PEOPLE, I KNOW AND IM SO GLAD TO HAVE MET YOUUUU

(AND ALSOOO I MANAGED TO WRITE SOMETHING SO LONG THAT TUMBLR WONT LET ME POST IT ALL OM THE SAME POST SOOOOO THERE’S TWO PARTSSS 😭�� SORRY GIRLLL )

THIS IS SET BEFORE AVERYYYY (TOBIAS IS STILL ALIVE JUST NOT A FEATURE)

HERE IS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO YOUUU, I HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY…

title: jude’s birthday (part 1)

pairing: jude x jameson hawthorne

“I hate how long it takes popcorn to pop,” Xander groaned putting his head in his hands as he stared dismally brown bag of popcorn doing pirouettes in the microwave.

Jude laughed, shaking her head, “it’s like two minutes.”

“Two whole minutes,” he replied, eyes widened with hyperbole, “outrageous isn’t it!”

“You are funny Xand,” she sighed.

It was one of Jude and Xander’s classic movie nights, they were hosted at least once a month and were quite the occasion. But, as usual, Xander was being extremely impatient for his popcorn. If Jude had a pound for every time they had this conversation, she’d probably be richer than him.

“It wasn’t a joke I really think that-“ the ding of the microwave cut him off.

“You were saying?” she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in challenge.

“In theory,” Xander began, “two minutes always feels a lot longer than it seems.”

“Mmm sure,” she grinned playfully.

Xander had been Jude’s best friend forever now. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. He’d been there for so long he was automatically part of every thought she had, connected to her heart. They knew each other like the back of their hands, an interlocking history of stories shared between them.

“Let’s change the conversation topic,” he said quickly, averting his eyes.

Jude shrugged, leaning against the countertop behind her, “I don’t mind this one.”

“Well I do,” he countered, “let’s talk about you and Jameson.”

Jude’s stomach somersaulted at the sound of his name.

“Xander! Lower your voice!” she hissed, looking over her shoulders.

The kitchen didn’t exactly have thick walls. She’d never actually meant to tell Xander about her feelings for Jameson, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t tell anyone. But Xander was her best friend and there were only so many things she could keep from him. It turned out that birthday presents were significantly easier than crushes. Every second she tried to keep it, she felt like a liar, so eventually the truth was just revealed.

“Relax,” he shrugged, “he’s not even home.”

“Doesn’t matter, you promised me you wouldn’t speak about it,” Jude said, giving him a pointed look.

“So as your best friend you really expected me to say nothing about him to you?” he raised the one eyebrow that wasn’t burnt off.

“Well no but-“

“So you’ve spoken to him?” Xander asked, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

“I talk to him every day,” she sighed, “we’re friends, remember?”

“Ouch,” he winced, “the friendzone.”

Jude laughed, “you sound like a documentary voiceover.”

Somehow Xander always managed to make her laugh. He had the rare quality to pretty much turn any situation into a positive light. Jude loved that about him.

“Maybe I should make a documentary about you guys,” he pondered, putting the voice back on, “the Jujubear backs away once again, retreading from the rare Jameson raccoon dog-“

“Raccoon dog!” she yelped, unable to stop herself.

“He gives those vibes,” he shrugged in reply.

“He does not!”

“I think you have an unconscious bias,” Xander grinned, wiggling his eyebrow.

“Nope I’m very conscious of my bias actually,” she stuck her tongue out, laughing.

Jude had liked Jameson for a while now. Maybe a bit more than a while. Initially, Xander and Jude had been the two to click, best friends since the day Xander had found her lost doll, the one with her name engraved on the front. She remembered the moment distinctly, a little boy with intelligent eyes and a shy smile walking towards her. She’d been crying and was still a little bleary eyes, yet her expression totally flipped when he revealed the doll and asked her if it was hers. From then on they’d just been stuck with each other.

Jude had always been close to all of the brothers in her own way, growing up around them just naturally made them gravitate together. But with Jameson it had always felt that bit different, that bit more special. He made her feel free, like she could breathe, like the stress of life didn’t matter, like no weight was heavy on her chest anymore. She loved how she felt with him, how he made her feel inside.

“So have you made a move yet,” Xander asked her, a mischievous smile lacing his lips.

She stared at him, her face saying it all, “what do you think?”

“Jude!” he exclaimed, melodramatically throwing his head into his hands.

“It’s really hard,” she defended, arms up like a convicted criminal.

“You’re just scared,” he told her.

Xander was always honest, annoyingly honest. He didn’t even embellish the truth to soften the blow. Jude knew he had a point, she was scared of ruining over a decade of friendship with Jameson. It wasn’t exactly something she wanted to lose over her feelings. She’d rather be friends than nothing.

Still, she was slightly stubborn and didn’t want to fully admit that quite yet, “am not,” she countered.

“Are too!” Xander quipped, “and you can’t even admit it so you’re also in denial.”

“Eat your popcorn,” she grumbled, not looking directly into his eyes.

“Ahhhh so I am right but you can’t accept it,” he grinned, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “I see you Judesicle.”

“I swear to you Xander, I will steal all your blueberry scones if this conversation doesn’t end here,” she glared at him.

His face paled slightly and his jaw hung slack, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” she said, with a dark smile.

Xander knew better than to mess with that face. He’d only seen it a couple of times but he recognised it always as a direct warning sign.

“Fine I’ll end the conversation,” he replied with a sigh.

Jude grinned, satisfied, before he flicked her forehead. She was more in shock than in pain but complained just as well. Xander teased her further but she could only smile. He was everything. A ray of sunshine. If she was drowning, he was her lifeline. He was always there, no matter what.

“You know I’ve decided something,” Xander said, popping another piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Are you finally going to properly grow your eyebrows out?” Jude guessed, “seriously I miss them.”

“What? No! Ouch!”

“Sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for her water glass.

“I’m going to get you two together,” Xander announced.

Jude almost choked, “what?”

“You and Jamie,” he shrugged.

“What happened to ending the conversation,” she exclaimed with wide eyes.

Xander only smiled, “you never said for how long!”

“Hawthornes and their loopholes,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Of course, the one time she hadn’t been meticulously specific with her words Xander had taken advantage.

“Sorry I can’t help it,” he replied, “anyways I am committed now, to make this relationship happen.”

Jude knew that look in his eyes that stubbornly determined look that he often had when one of his experiments was constantly failing. ‘Failure is just success waiting to happen’, he’d once told her. It was safe for anyone to say that Xander was an optimist.

“No you’re not,” she shook her head, “you’re going to stay out of it.”

“You wish,” he pokes his tongue out, “think of me as your wingman.”

“Well can my ‘wingman’ stop meddling with my love life,” Jude deadpanned, folding her arms.

“That’s all a wingman is meant to do!” he yelled, exasperated, “you want to take away my destiny Jude? My one life goal, the desire and aspiration of my soul, the thing that makes my heart-“

“Fine.” she said dryly, “you can help-“

A wide grin spread across his lips, “I knew I’d make you crack.”

“But-“

“Why is there a but!” he pouted.

“On my terms,” she finished.

“Okay…” Xander said slowly, “but your terms can’t be ‘don’t help’.”

Jude made a face.

“You’re so predictable,” he teased, ruffling her hair, “you have to remember I’m the loophole master, you’re not getting anything past me.”

She rolled her eyes, smoothing down the hair on top of her head, “fine, but here are the terms so pay attention. Term one, don’t make it obvious because I swear Xand, if he finds out I’m going to kill you.”

“You know for you to get together he has to know you like him right?” Xander said.

“Yes but knowing you, he’ll find out way to early and if he doesn’t like me back-“

“Which I think he does,” he interrupted.

Jude groaned, she’d been in this cycle with him too many times, “stop feeding into my delusions!”

“But I’m your wingman!”

“Just!” she sighed running her fingers through her hair, “anyway, if he doesn’t like me back the it’ll get awkward so try and retain yourself.”

Xander saluted, “roger that!”

“Second term-“

“How long is this list?” he asked impatiently, somehow he had the attention span of three year old for conventional instructions but not for complex maths.

“You agreed to my terms remember so there’s as many as I like,” she beamed, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

He groaned. He’d missed a loophole.

“Second term: no grand schemes to noticeably leave us together,” she announced, “please try and be subtle.”

“Subtle is my middle name!”

“Xander,” Jude said flatly, “you’re about a subtle as an elephant doing a ballet routine on a pogo stick wearing multicoloured polka dots.”

“I thought you liked that about me,” he said, large brown eyes wide.

“I do,” she reassured him, “just not when it comes to me and Jameson.”

“Rewind,” he cut in, “isn’t term two the same as term one?”

“No, term one is essentially don’t reveal I like Jameson with your mouth,” she explained, “term two is don’t reveal I like Jameson with your actions.”

“What’s term three; avoid obvious body language?” he scoffed.

“Wow you’re picking this up faster than usual!” Jude teased.

“Hey!”

“No sneaky looks,” she instructed, “obvious eye contact, smirks or that wiggly eyebrow thing you do.”

“This?” Xander asked, pointing to his eyebrow and a half, wiggling them up and down.

“Exactly,” she said, “please don’t do that.”

His expression dropped, “but I love making my eyebrow wiggle!”

“Restrain yourself wingman,” she replied, patting his shoulder.

He gave a long and exaggerated sigh, “for the good of your relationship, I will.”

“There is no relationship,” Jude muttered, “don’t get my hopes up.”

“Yet… there is no relationship yet,” he corrected, “I’m not getting your hopes up, I just have a whole lot of faith that this is going to work out.”

She sighed, with a small smile silently questioning what she’d ever done to deserve a best friend with such a beautiful soul in her life.

“Okay,” she confided, “fourth term Grayson and Nash do not find out.”

Xander hesitated for a long second before replying. Jude’s chest seized in panic. No one else was supposed to know.

“Hate to break it to you,” he winced, “but I think they already know.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry but-“

“Why would you tell them!” she exclaimed, with wide eyes, her heart racing.

Part of her almost felt betrayed. It wasn’t like Xander to spill anything she’d told him, in fact he knew nearly all of her secrets. One side of her brain was telling her he’d never do that and the other was saying the proof is in the pudding. All Jude knew was that she was starting to get a headache.

“I didn’t say anything I swear,” he defended.

“I trusted you Xand!”

“I swear on my last blueberry scone I said nothing!” he said quickly, holding his hands in the air so she could see none of his fingers were crossed.

Jude knew then he was telling the truth. Not just from the uncrossed fingers or the fact he swore on his last blueberry scone, but from the earnest look shining through his eyes, that bled into his face. Guilt began to gnaw at her internal organs for assuming so quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to jump to con-“

“It’s fine,” he shrugged with no hint of offence, “don’t worry about it.”

“How do they know then?” Jude wondered aloud, confused.

Maybe they’d overheard one of her and Xander’s many conversation on this topic? Maybe she’d spoken in her sleep subconsciously? Maybe Grayson was a secret mindreader? She’d always suspected to last one anyway.

“Jude,” Xander sighed, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, “has it ever occurred to you that you make it a teensy bit obvious?”

She giggled and shook her head, “I don’t make it obvious.”

He looked at her.

“Do I?” she murmured, anxiously.

“Let’s just say I think the only person who doesn’t know you like Jameson is Jameson,” Xander said slowly.

She stood still, paralysed, “please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could but as your best friend and newly appointed wingman-“ he paused to wink, “- I have to be honest with you.”

“This is so bad,” she groaned.

“Did you miss the part where I mentioned Jameson not knowing?”

“Of course he knows Xander!” she cried, “do you even know how perceptive he is!?”

“Not when it comes to girls, trust me.”

“I’ve messed everything up all over some stupid feelings for a stupid boy with really cute, get-lost-in-for-hours green eyes!” Jude said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You haven’t messed anything up, you’re overthinking entirely,” Xander soothed, putting an arm around her, “but can we keep fangirling over my brother to a minimum please, I do not need to hear that.”

“But you’re my wingman,” she teased, looking up at him.

“Touché Jude, touché,” he sighed.

“But fine I’ll keep it a minimum around you,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, “and I promise you Jameson has no idea you like him, trust me.”

She glanced over him sceptically, questioning his logic silently, as much as she did trust him, the signs pointed the other way.

“When have I ever let you down Jude? Have some faith in me,” he said.

He had a point. Xander had never let her down. Not in all the time she’d known him. No matter how big or small it was, he was by her side immediately. All his promises were kept, all the shared secrets, hidden.

“Okay then,” she told him, “I believe you.”

“Great,” he flashed her a grin, “now you go to bed whilst I go and work out phase one of mission:” he took a deep breath, “get-my-best-friend-and-brother-to-go-out-because-they’re-both-too-scared-to-make-the-first-move-which-is-totally-dumb- because-they’re-clearly-made-for-each-other.”

“Well that’s a bit of a mouthful,” Jude replied dryly.

“I shortened it to mission JJ,” Xander said, moving his hand across the air as if revealing a title.

Jude looked at him, head tilted to the side.

“Mission Jude and Jameson,” he clarified, “obviously,”

“Right…”

“Anyway I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” he said, “you need to get your beauty sleep.”

“Hey!” she yelled, whacking his arm, “and what happened to our movie night? There’s cold popped popcorn in that bowl for about six people.”

His eyes widened suddenly remembering their plans, “oh yeah.”

“And I made homemade brownies this afternoon per your request!” she said, “did I do that for nothing?”

“How could I forget!” he replied, “change of plans, movie night first, plotting mission JJ tomorrow.”

“I call first dibs on the movie,” Jude said before he could get there.

“No fair!” he whined.

“You snooze you lose Hawthorne,” she grinned, “besides I made the tray of brownies that were about to enjoy so surely I should get first pick.”

“But I’m your wingman,” Xander pouted, trying to win her over with the puppy dog eyes.

Luckily for Jude, she’d gotten good at resisting. It was certainly not an easy task, something about the pleading expression and longing face from his eyes reeled you in like a sirens song.

“Wingman shwingman,” she stuck her tongue out, “we’re watching ‘bones and all’.”

“No not this torture!” Xander protested, “not again! It’s like the fifth time this week!”

“Second actually,” she corrected him, grabbing the box of brownies, “and don’t lie, you secretly love it. “

“No I don’t,” he replied, “it’s disturbing Jude, utterly disturbing that you enjoy it.”

“It isn’t!”

“And you always cry at the end even when you know what coming,” he rolled his eyes, carrying the popcorn and drinks.

Jude gasped, “don’t judge me, you bawled it on Tuesday night!”

Xander didn’t look her in the eye and made his way to their movie room. Despite Hawthorne house making multiple movie theatres Jude and Xander had created their own. It had all begun when they were ten, making pillow forts and now it had become this. A large white screen sat towards the back of the room, a projector ready to play the movie. The room was adorned with fairy lights and was cozy and warm. The sofa was a mess of fluff and blankets, dozens of mismatched pillows and soft plushies sat there, waiting to be cuddled.

“Do you really want to cry again tonight?” Xander sighed, slumping down.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting beside him with a grin.

“Do you really want me to cry again tonight?” he asked, trying to play on her heartstrings.

“Brownies,” she sang, waving the box towards him, a little incentive went a long way with Xander.

He glared at her for all of two seconds before taking the box, grumbling, “fine.”

“See I knew you secretly loved this movie,” Jude beamed, pressing play.

“I do not but I love you and I love brownies so I’ll brace it,” Xander said, taking a bite.

“Good idea.”

***

The credits rolled across the screen, not that Jude could even read them, her eyes were too blurred with tears. How did it get her every time?

“It’s so beautiful,” she choked out.

No matter how many times she watched it, the feeling never got old.

“Don’t cry you’ll set me off too,” Xander said, clearly trying to keep it together, wide brown eyes glossy.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t shed a tear at the halfway mark,” she exclaimed.

“I’m actually hardcore Judsicle,” he responded, “made soully of masculinity and weightlifting and football and…”

“And scones?” she raised a brow.

“Well of course I’m 98% scone,” he smiled.

“Naturally,” she grinned.

“Speaking of which you know what would be amazing,” Xander said.

The way he said amazing, made Jude question the next thing that might come out of his mouth, partly because she knew Xander so well it would be something utterly bizarre but equally wonderful that wouldn’t fail to surprise her.

“What?”

“If we cut a blueberry scone in half and put icecream in the middle,” he proposed.

“Like a scone icecream sandwich,” she asked.

“Exactly!” he clicked fingers, “that would be revolutionary.”

“I’ll stick to my brownies,” she laughed.

“Oooo ooo ooo,” he bounced excitedly, shaking her arm, “what if i sandwiched one of your brownies in a scone, now that would be-“

“Completely ruining a culinary masterpiece.”

Jude’s heart skipped a beat. It was only his voice that could do that to her. She shot a look at Xander that said ‘I thought he was out’ which Xander only shrugged in response to. Jude dared to look in Jameson’s direction and there he stood, loose tie, slightly messy hair, his top two buttons undone and blazer jacket slung over one shoulder. She noted the scratches on his patent shoes as well as the watch on his wrist which looked to be two minutes behind.

“Isn’t that right, Judy?” he grinned.

Butterflies attacked her stomach like an angry mob, hurling themselves at the walls. They fluttered around carelessly and bashfully. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from smiling right back like an idiot.

She glared at him instead, “don’t call me that.”

“Okay…” he paused, “…Judy.”

“You’re back early,” she commented, regretting saying the words as soon as they left her mouth.

Why was she being so obvious when she’d literally just lectured Xander in not being obvious? She knew she was going to replay this moment over and over tonight and drive herself mad over it.

“Got tired,” he shrugged.

Jude’s eyes fell over his attire again, scanning it for any clues. Jameson wasn’t one to leave places early, he liked a good party and a couple of drinks. But judging by his state he hadn’t had many, if any. Her eyes caught when they met his collar. A perfect red stain was printed on the white, a pair of round lips leaving their mark.

It felt like a punch in the gut, her heart just plummeted to her stomach. She didn’t think he liked her so why did it hurt so much to come to the realisation he actually didn’t. Why feel sad over something she hadn’t even lost?

Jameson caught her looking, his eyes growing wide with some sort of panic, “this isn’t what it looks like,” he rushed.

“I know you well enough now Jameson,” Jude laughed it off, burying the pain, “I’m not your mother, you won’t be in trouble for kissing a girl.”

“Like our mother would care,” Xander murmured.

She’d almost forgotten he was sat there, watching the whole thing play out. Tonight, Jude knew she’d definitely be asking him to analyse every detail of this conversation with her.

“Oh I didn’t kiss anyone tonight,” Jameson replied.

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head towards his shirt, “lipstick says otherwise.”

He sighed, “I spilt whiskey down my shirt after getting a little tipsy and it stained, shame really I liked that shirt, anyway some guy offered me a spare shirt, one catch was he’d worn it the previous night, I didn’t even notice the lipstick stains until I was on my way back.”

She stared at him blankly, betraying no emotion with her face.

“You don’t believe me,” Jameson said.

“It’s a bit elaborate,” she replied, tilting her head to the side.

“That’s why it’s true,” he pressed on, an inch of desperation in his voice.

“Okay,” Jude said.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

Jude smiled coyly.

Looking at his shirt now, it didn’t fit as well as his other ones. Usually Jameson’s clothes were expertly tailored to his body, this shirt hung too loose around his torso yet his arms made the fabric taut. All of the buttons were there, also uncommon for Jameson as he nearly always had one that was loose or had fallen off.

Still, leaving Jameson Hawthorne the mystery as to why she wouldn’t believe him was one thing that would surely play on his mind. And Jude wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of playing on his mind.

“Right I’m picking the next movie,” Xander announced, rushing to the movie box.

She groaned, “fine.”

“Don‘t give me that look I just sat through ‘bones and all’ for you,” he scowled.

“I love that movie,” Jameson grinned.

Jude look up at him, “you do?”

“I don’t,” Xander yelled from the corner.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I had no idea you liked it too.”

“Yeah I do,” she said.

“Maybe you two should watch it together sometime,” Xander said, plainly and simply, no weird signals or hidden messages, “it would save me from a few hours of torment.”

Jude smiled to herself. Maybe this wingman thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah maybe we should,” Jameson nodded.

Her heart leapt and began to race uncontrollably. He wanted to watch her favourite movie with her. She pinched herself just to make sure this moment was real.

“I’d be up for it,” she agreed.

“Soon then,” he said, “but now I have to go and shower, I don’t know what happened in this shirt and I don’t think I want to.”

She wrinkled her nose, “you should probably burn it after.”

He leant down, “you read my mind.”

Jude felt her cheeks burn.

“Enjoy your movie night,” he winked, “goodnight Judy.”

“Jude,” she snapped.

“Judy,” he sang, sauntering away.

She shook her head with a laugh and watched him until he was out of the door. Still, Xander and Jude were quiet until they were sure he was completely out of earshot.

“Well hello Mr and Mrs Flirty McFlirtison,” Xander exploded, bringing back the eyebrow wiggle.

“Xand!” she yelled, slapping his arm before burying her face into his shoulder to hide her blush.

“I mean I thought rom coms were bad but you two top that entirely,” he said.

“Oh shut it!” Jude tusked, “he wasn‘t even flirting.”

“Please,” he scoffed, “were we in the same room?”

“You’re totally making it out more than it is,” she rolled her eyes, “besides you saw the lipstick.”

“He explained it,” Xander defended.

“Likely story,” she sighed, sinking under a pile of blankets.

“You know it’s true, I saw you analysing,” he replied narrowing his eyes at her, “and usually I can always see through my brothers lying and my lie detector senses were not tingling.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not going to happen,” she said.

She needed to be real, honest with herself. The chances were slim, slimmer than slim. Maybe she could settle for just friends.

“Nu-uh I’ve started mission JJ now, it will be completed,” he replied a strong hard determination in his voice.

“Forget it Xand,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I have a talent for being annoyingly determined and persistent,” he sighed, “so sorry but no can do.”

She rolled her eyes, “what movie are we watching?”

He sensed the changed in subject and didn’t press her anymore. Another thing about Xander was his incredible ability to sense emotions and let things go when they needed to be let go.

“Finding Nemo,” he replied, “obviously.”

Jude looked at him for a moment. Time stood still and memories of their friendship played like a mini movie in her mind. Every movie night they’d had, every laugh they’d shared, every time he’d held her when she cried and every time she’d held him after his grandfather was horrible. Every moment, every second of her everything.

“Hey Xand,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I love you,” she beamed.

A large smile spread across his lips before he swiftly tackled her with a classic Xander hug.

“Love you too Jujubear,” he said, “now where are those brownies, I need to make my brownie-scone sandwich concoction: the scrownie as I like to call it.”

“Did you just make that name up now?” she asked him.

“That obvious, huh?”

“You,” she said, “are one of a kind.”

“Best way to be,” he poked his tongue out pressing play on the movie.

***

Jude woke up with her head on Xander’s stomach. His long limbs were sprawled out every which way. She almost laughed at the sight. Light streamed through the curtains, giving her a perfect view of the chaos. Pillow there, sweatshirt here, half eaten bowl of popcorn there, Xander’s sock here. She noticed someone had covered them both over with a blanket.

Slowly sitting up, she stretched out her stiff body before she covered Xander back over with another blanket. Jude sighed, wiping the sleep from her eyes before untangling a piece of popcorn from her hair. That must’ve been from the midnight popcorn war. She smiled to herself and glanced at the screen, the jungle book was playing quietly the background, though the last thing she remembered watching was little women.

Groggily, she stood up and despite stretching, her legs and hips still clicked. She made her way to the kitchen, craving a warm drink. As she walked in she hit something hard and stumbled back. Jude felt her stomach drop as she fell backwards, panic seizing her throat, keeping her from yelling out. Inches from the floor, a strong hand grasped the small of her back, saving Jude from what seemed to be an inevitable crash into the tiles beneath her. Reeling her upwards and setting her straight, she met the emerald eyes of her saviour.

“Good morning,” he smiled softly.

She just stared, unable to form a coherent sentence or even a simple thank you. Jameson Hawthorne was stood there, shirtless, his arm still around her waist. An electric feeling tingled deep within her chest, a spark of sorts. Their eyes clung to one another’s and for a moment everything stood still. The clock’s hands didn’t tick, the birdsong was silenced and their mouths didn’t breathe.

And then it passed. Then it was nothing again and she jerked away suddenly, realising where she was and who she was with. Her brain could only process one word as she stared. Abs. Abs. Abs.

“Holy cow!”

“Ouch,” he laughed, “I know it’s early but I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

The regret sunk in, she’d pulled away from his touch, his hands on her waist. She shook the feeling away.

“No you don’t look bad,” she rambled, “you look the opposite of bad, actually, which is good, which is an understatement, not that I think you look good good but I don’t think you don’t look good, but you just surprised me because-“

“Hey I was kidding,” Jameson chuckled, “do you want a coffee?”

Jude knew her cheeks were bright red before she felt the heat in them. She’d never felt so mortified in her life.

“Rather a green tea please,” she replied meekly.

He raised an eyebrow fetching two mugs, “I thought you were a coffee person?”

Jude’s heart palpitated as her stomach tied into yet another love knot. He remembered. Why did he remember? How did he remember? Had he noticed her always drinking coffee?

“I am…” she hesitated, “…well was, I’ve recently found a new love for green tea.”

“Nash got you into them didn’t he,” Jameson sighed.

She winced, “possibly.”

He wrinkled his nose, “that means I’ve lost another bet.”

“Bet?”

“I wagered,” he explained, “that Nash couldn’t convince another person green tea was actually good because it tastes like grass-“

“It doesn’t not!” she interrupted him, passionate for her cause.

He laughed, a sound melodic to her ears, “I seriously thought I had this one in the bag.”

“I can’t believe my love for green tea is now all part of a bet,” she sighed, resting her elbows of the counter to cup her face in her hands.

“Awww are you really surprised?” Jameson asked.

“Oddly enough,” she replied, “no.”

“Good,” he winked, sending a swarm of baby butterflies into her stomach, “now let me make you a nice cup of grass stew.”

She rolled her eyes, “it doesn’t tatse like grass.”

“Are you trying to convince me or you, Judy?”

“Shut up,” she groaned.

“How about, no?” he proposed with a smirk.

“You’re annoying,” she commented, jabbing him in the ribs.

He squirmed, ticklish there.

“No, I’m Jameson,” he poked his tongue out.

She laughed, tilting her head back a little as she did. From the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn his eyes were more fixated on her than the drinks he was supposed to be making,

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, turning on the coffee machine.

“Ish,” she shrugged, “Xander as a pillow did not work any wonders on my neck though. Did you sleep okay?”

“As well as I could,” he replied smoothly, “there was the occasional midnight wander.”

She grinned in reply, then swiftly changed the subject, “thanks for not letting me crack my head open on the floor.”

“No problem,” Jameson said, “it would’ve been a real hassle to clean up.”

“Glad you saved yourself the trouble,” she joked back.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, “just watch where you’re going next time.”

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” she criticised.

He shook his head with a smile as he handed her a mug, “drink up your grass water.”

“It’s not grass water,” she snapped, her expression deadly serious.

“Keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it,” he responded, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Like how you keep telling yourself you’re actually funny,” she countered.

His eyebrows shot up, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing up and then back down. He cleared his throat, leaning down closer towards her, “you, Judy, are ruthless.”

“Don’t lie, you know you love it,” Jude teased, feeling a little bold.

“I do,” he said, not even denying it.

A golden hope blossomed in the left side of Jude’s chest. It burned with a fiery passion and glowed brighter with every little thing that happened between them. A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the two of them just sipped their drinks and enjoyed the presence of one another.

“I like those,” Jameson said suddenly, breaking the silence.

So deep in her own thought Jude registered the comment later than she normally would’ve, “what?”

“Your pyjamas,” he cocked his head towards her pink pyjama set.

She almost choked on her green tea, looking down at her attire, “my pyjamas?”

He nodded, “they’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Is this a repetition game?” he deadpanned.

“No, sorry,” she laughed, “thanks.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It was horrendous Xander!” Jude exclaimed, on their walk, the air crisp and cold.

All the trees had shed their leaves, looking naked and icy on the pale winters day. Bleached of colour, a small layer of ice slush that you could just about call snow, lay on the ground. It was so bitter that you could feel the cold biting through your coat, tinting the tops of your ears and cheeks and nose with a warm red. Winter walks were a necessity to Jude, but on this one she needed to rant as well.

She’d finally managed to drag Xander from his slumber after many different tactics. Blasting alarm bell sound effects through speakers, pillow attacks and the good old temptation of food. Eventually she’d coaxed him out of the house to go on a walk to discuss the events of the morning. She explain everything to him in the exact detail she remembered it in, each part sounding worse and worse as she said it out loud.

“It doesn’t sound that bad,” Xander replied, pulling on his gloves after his hands had gotten too bored of sitting in his pockets.

“Ughhh and it was so embarrassing,” she groaned, “no, scratch that, it was mortifying!”

“You’re overthinking it,” he sighed putting an arm around her, “you have a tendency to do that.”

“Overthinking!” she exclaimed, “how is this overthinking?”

“Maybe he didn’t think anything of it,” Xander suggested.

“I can’t work out whether that’s better or worse,” Jude sighed.

If he didn’t think anything of it then it meant the moment he seen her and then caught her had meant nothing he if he did it meant she’d made an idiot of herself.

“Look I’m sure it’s fine,” he soothed.

“Easy for you to say,” she scoffed, “you didn’t humiliate yourself.”

“You didn’t humiliate yourself,” he sighed.

“I basically told him he looked good shirtless!” Jude said, with a dismal look.

“Hey you finally made a move,” Xander chuckled, attempting to get her to lighten up.

“Not funny Xand,” Jude deadpanned, “I hate the world.”

“No you don’t,” he laughed, pulling her closer into him.

“This is my second caffeine hit today!” she pointed out, waving her coffee cup in his face.

“Yeesh,” he coughed, “you’re really going through it.”

“It isn’t a joke Xand!” she said, “I just want the ground to just swallow me whole.”

“I know and it sucks,” he sighed, “but I have an idea.”

“Is this a Xander idea?”

“Of course,” he grinned, “we’re going to do something to take your mind off of things?”

Jude furrowed her eyebrows, “like what?”

“How do you feel about a game of laser tag?”

***

“This looks questionable,” Jude murmured as Xander handed her a light up laser tag vest.

“Don’t you trust me Judesicle,” he tilted his head to the side.

She sighed, pulling the vest on, “to an extent.”

“Good enough,” he shrugged, moving to her side to tighten the straps.

Their roles reversed as Xander slipped his vest on and Jude helped him do his straps tight enough. He went through the basic rules of the game and how to work everything as well as showing her around the area so he didn’t have such an advantage. Of course, he’d played many times with his brothers so he had an advantage there but Jude was ready. She had too much feeling to not be.

“There’s me and you and of course the simulations of extra people that you can shoot or get shot by,” Xander finished his explanation, “there are three, one blue, one green and one red.”

“Perfect,” she nodded, having had absorbed nearly every word.

“See you on the other side old friend,” he nodded, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, with a solemn look in his eyes.

“Does this game entail death,” she asked.

“No but it sounded like a cool line to drop right about now,” Xander’s face broke out into a grin.

“Okay, let’s get this started,” she said.

Jude shook his hand with a grin before they walked in opposite directions. The question was where to start. She wanted to be hidden and even though she was familiar with the place, Xander knew it back to front was an obvious hiding place was pretty much out of the question.

She eventually chose a flat, unassuming wall and pressed her back up against it, holding her laser gun waiting for the sound to tell her the game had begun. A sharp, crisp whistle like sound screamed through the empty air and the game had begun.

***

Jude’s face was red and her face sleeked with sweat, she was also a little breathless. She’d managed to hit the other players quite successfully gaining her some points but she’d also lost some from being shot herself. Breathing heavily she’d found a corner to hide in, waiting for someone to pass to shoot them.

As soon as she heard footsteps she knew it was Xander. He was also heaving, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible as he continued to run. Jude readied her gun and with one swift, well-timed pull of the trigger, Xander’s white light dulled to nothing. Xander looked up confused, until he saw Jude and screamed.

“Way to give a man a heart attack!” he yelled.

“It’s called tactics,” she winked, running off before his vest came back on and he could shoot again.

She ran across an opening, always a dangerous thing, but lucky for her, her lights still remained on. She made her way down a narrow pathway and twisted through walls and bends when she realised something. She looked down as her pink lights faded. Confused she looked around, getting a start when she saw Xander not three feet behind her, blowing the end of his gun as if it were a pistol.

“Did you follow me?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t prefer to say I tracked you,” he shrugged.

“How? I ran across the opening and no one followed,” she said.

“It was a combination of an epic floor roll,” he explained, “and very silent feet.”

The minute was up, her lights came back on, so she took the opportunity to shot first.

“Hey!” Xander yelled as she sprinted off, “you can’t distract me with conversation to beat me!”

“You snooze, you lose Xand,” she yelled back, running off.

She didn’t hear his reply if he did respond, she was too far away. Suddenly her lights faded again and in the corner of her eye she saw the blue simulation. She sighed, the whole game that blue one had been catching her out. She ran towards another set of jagged pathways with walls parallel to each other and slipped between them carefully, eyes on her target. The red simulation. Once her lights were back on she aimed.

Suddenly she saw a flicker of green approaching and knew she had to make a run for it. Mid-movement, she shot off the red, then turned to the green and managed to get it too. She noticed Xander trying to hide behind a wall so expertly aimed her laser gun around the corner to hit him too. The only one left was the blue simulation, but she wanted to hit it before the other’s lights came back on.

Her eyes darted from left to right until she caught it. The simulation seemingly sprinted down a different corridor, so Jude followed. Fearlessly running, she didn’t take long to catch up to the blue programmed player, and took even less time to shoot him. With a satisfactory smile, she watched as the lights dimmed and turned back to the other way to continue playing. She found Xander mid laser war with the green simulation. Dodging and shooting, dodging and-

A sound roared over all the chaos signalling the game was over. Breathless, Jude and Xander made their way to the exit and the simulations disappeared into thin air.

“Who knew laser tag could take it out of you huh?” Jude panted, taking her light up vest off.

“Daily workout checked off of my to do list,” Xander agreed.

Her eyebrows shot up, “you have a to do list.”

“Nope I have a scrambled mind full of things I’ve had to do in the past that occasionally come back to bite me,” he responded.

“I need to buy you a notebook,” she told him.

“Too conventional for my liking,” he wrinkled his nose.

“What if it played music whenever you opened it?” She proposed.

“I’m more intrigued now I must say,” he mused, making Jude laugh.

“So who won?” she asked him, shrugging off her gear.

“You,” he said.

“What?”

He pointed up to the point board, “you’re a natural.”

“I’m not sure about that one,” she laughed.

“Beat me and it’s your first go ever,” Xander shrugged, then his eyes sparkled, “I want to see you against Gray!”

“And risk my life?” she scoffed, “yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on Jude,” he sighed, “where’s your Hawthorne spirit?”

“I ran it over when you mentioned the possibility of competing against Grayson the Destroyer,” she replied smoothly.

“I forgot we nicknamed him that,” Xander contemplated wistfully.

“I’m still not over the scrabble incident,” she said, the game they had given him the nickname in.

“I���ll rope you into it one day,” he decided.

“Have fun trying,” she said with a stubborn smile.

“Race you back to the house!” Xander suddenly exclaimed.

“What?”

“Go!”

He took off before she even

“Hey!” Jude yelled, “get back here you cheat!”

And then she started sprinting.

***

She still beat Xander in the race, catching up to him easily. He was right, laser tag had been a good distraction, but what now? Now showered and in a fresh set of clothes Jude retreated to her favourite of the libraries in the house for a bit of quiet.

She needed some peace with her own mind and thoughts. Halfway through the second paragraph of the page, Nash sauntered in hands in his pockets and cowboy hat tilted forwards. Jude looked up to meet him, something about his eyes looked sad and hollow. That made her feel a little sad and hollow.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

He sat down across from her, “you look tired.”

“Xander managed to get me to play three round of laser tag,” she replied, with a small yawn, “that might have something do with it.”

He chuckled softly, “only our Xand.”

Pain flickered across his face for the fraction of a second, if Jude had blinked, she would’ve missed it. She hummed in reply to his comment, eyes flicking between him and the page of her book.

She paused and shut the book, “are you okay Nash?”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, hoarsely, like something had caught in his throat.

“Are you sure?” Jude pressed on.

Nash nodded, “of course I am.”

He wasn’t. Everyone knew it. Ever since his break up with Alisa he’d been a mess. Obviously no one saw what a mess he was but they could feel it. It didn’t feel like Nash was walking into a room, rather a mass of mixed up emotions.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “were you looking for someone?”

“Not in particular,” he shrugged, “I like this library.”

“Me too,” she replied quietly.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Nash surveyed the book shelves, his fingers running down spines of well loved books until the right one caught his eye.

“Try this,” he said, handing Jude a book.

She looked down, Amerika by Franz Kafka. Slowly she took the book from his hands and traced her hands across the cover.

“I believe it’s one of his first books,” Nash said, “you’ll like it trust me.”

“How do you know?” she wondered aloud.

“Because I have a tendency to observe people and based on previous reads,” he responded, “you’ll like this one.”

“Why’ve you been keeping such a close eye on me?” she raised her eyebrows looking at his quizzically.

“You’re my little sister at heart,” Nash told her softly, “how could I not?”

Jude’s heart squeezed. She’d always seen Nash as a role model, an older brother, but she’d never expected him to think the same of her.

“Thanks Nash,” she smiled.

“Don’t thank me kid,” he said, grabbing a book with an emerald cover and sitting in a leather armchair.

After a while she felt Nash’s eyes on her and looked up.

“What’s the question that you’re burning to ask me?” she shut her book, “just ask it.”

He sighed and paused for a long thoughtful while, “I’ll cut to the chase. Are you and Jamie a thing?”

“What? No!” Jude exclaimed quickly, too quickly, too defensively “I mean no, we’re just friends, just friends.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly.

“Just friends,” she clarified.

He raised an eyebrow, “you mentioned.”

“You and Alisa broke up,” she blurted out, every compassionate, apologetic sentence she’d wanted to start with slipping through her finger faster than water.

“I know,” Nash said quietly, “I was sort of there.”

“Sorry,” she corrected herself, “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Thanks kid,” he nodded sharply, inhaling unevenly.

Jude groaned and put her head in her hands, “that came out all wrong.”

“I figured,” Nash responded, cracking a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She sighed. She knew she had to ask. She had a feeling she also knew the answer. As she looked him in the eye, he predicted what she was going to say, yet still let her ask.

“Are you leaving again?”

“For a bit,” he murmured, looking at his cowboy boots, “yeah, need space, air, these place suffocates me too much, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Jude mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” he said sadly before he paused for a moment, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she nodded.

“Take care of him for me, okay?” Jude knew in an instant, he was talking about Jameson, “all of them.”

“Of course,” she said softly.

He took her small hands and clasped them between his calloused ones. Nash looked her in the eye as he told her, “you’re the strongest one of us, kid.”

“Nash,” she murmured, tears welling up, “will you ever come back?”

“I always come back,” he promised silently.

“So did you really come here to say goodbye?” Jude said, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Yes and no,” he replied, as confusing as ever, as Hawthorne as ever.

“Bye Nash,” she whispered, her voice barely a sound.

“Goodbye J,” Nash said, pulling her into his arms, “I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” she murmured into his chest, inhaling his scent for the last time, she realised, in a while probably.

Nash was a constant, in a sea of madness, he was the rock that refused to erode. And now he was leaving because if he stayed he would break. He’d rather be broken far away and come back fixed than break here. Jude knew that. She wished she didn’t understand. Then she could be mad and this whole goodbye would be easier. But Jude had never been at goodbyes.

“Not possible, kid,” he said tenderly, kissing the top of her head.

He let her go, before squeezing her shoulders. With one final very cowboy nod, he began to walk away and she watched him with glossy eyes and a full heart.

“Oh and Jude,” he said spinning around.

“Yeah?”

“By the time I’m back you two better be going out,” Nash winked.

“Nash we’re just-“

“Friends,” he murmured, “I know.”

Then he left.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

She’d watched as the motorbike had pulled out of Hawthorne House and driven down the rode. She’d watched as he’d paused at the gate to take on final look behind. She’d watched as Nash, with a single bag and his cowboy hat had left. This was gong to be hard on all of the brothers, Jude knew that as well as anyone.

But still, the next day, a sadness weighed on her own chest. Nash was gone and might be for a while. The reality only just seemed to be sinking in. She slowly focused her attention to her book, not the one Nash recommended her but another. She wanted to save that one for when she needed Nash, so it would remind her of him.

“What you reading?”

It made her jump but she suppressed any reaction. She didn’t expect anyone to be there but she knew to voice all too well. It sent a tingle down her spine.

“A book,” she replied, not tearing her eyes from its contents.

“What book?” Jameson said from behind her.

“The metamorphosis,” she told him, closing it to reveal the cover.

“Franz Kafka?” He asked, walking around to sit next to her.

Her eyes lit up suddenly, “you’ve read it?”

“You sound surprised,” he laughed.

“Not surprised,” she said, “just shocked.”

“That’s a synonym of surprised,” he teased, ruffling the hair on the top of her head.

“Excited then,” she corrected, pushing his hand away, “now I have someone to talk about it to.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, an overcast of seriousness shadowing his expression, “Nash recommended him to me too.”

“How did you…” she trailed off, “why are you back so late anyway?”

“Detention,” Jameson replied.

Jude wasn’t exactly surprised that Jameson had gotten a detention, it wasn’t uncommon. She was more surprised that he actually went, something was up.

“You never go to your detentions,” she murmured, slowly pressing him to reveal what he was hiding.

He shrugged his shoulders, his face betraying nothing of his feelings, “I felt like it.”

“What’s wrong?” Jude asked softly, touching the top of his arm.

He looked down to her fingers, “what do you mean?”

He tried to play it off as if it meant nothing but she’d known him too long to fall for it.

“There’s something on your mind,” she said quietly, looking into his hurt green eyes.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, some note in his voice a little strained, almost hoarse.

“A few things,” she replied.

“What things?”

Jude raised an eyebrow, “you want the list?”

“Desperately,” he replied, the ghost of a smile tingling on his lips .

“Well, if you must know, your stance is different your weight was more forwards it’s usually slightly more upright, but when something bothers you, you hunch over in the slightest way. You keep fiddling with things, your own hands, the cushion, my hair, the hem of your shirt. Your focus is shifting from anything but your problem and you keep making mindless conversation with me to distract yourself, but it’s not working. You never go to your detentions and suddenly you turn up to one and…” she paused wondering if she should say it aloud, then channelled her inner Xander and recalled his life motto: yolo, “…and your eyes looked sad, hollow almost, it’s hard to explain, they just looked like you were in pain.”

“Very observant of you Judy,” he said, eyes pinned to hers, almost captivated by something. He was trying to keep up his usual banter but it wasn’t getting past her. She knew him too well.

She didn’t tell him not to call her Judy, like he wanted her to. Instead she got straight to the point. No more distractions, no more detours, it was time to face the truth.

“It’s about Nash isn’t it,” she sighed.

“That obvious,” he mumbled, forcing a small chuckle to push down the wave of pain.

“It was an educated guess,” she murmured, trying to make him feel a little better. That was a lie. She could see it on his face but he didn’t have to know that.

“It feels like I’ve lost a piece of myself without him you know,” he admitted, finding the material of the sofa far more interesting than looking directly at Jude for the moment.

“Yeah,” she replied, letting him continue.

“You can’t build a house without a foundation, it’ll collapse,” he sniffed, “and Nash is our foundation.”

“And he still is,” she reassured him, slowly interlocking her fingers into his, “just from a distance now.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, gripping her tightly in need of the comfort.

“You think if you needed him he wouldn’t be back in a heartbeat?” Jude asked.

“I know he would but I don’t know…” he trailed off, lost in a world of his own thoughts, “…I just hate it when he leaves.”

“He’s going through something,” she said, “he needs time.”

“I know,” Jameson muttered.

“And he doesn’t handle it like you or Gray or Xand,” she continued, “he handles it like this.”

“I wish he didn’t,” he sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Do you?” Jude said softly, “wouldn’t it be more chaotic if he got reckless like you or shut down like Gray, hid it with a smile like Xand,” she sighed, “Nash knows how to manage his feelings, he needs to feel freer, this house hasn’t exactly always been a home to him.”

“You’re right,” he said quietly.

Jameson wasn’t one to admit that easily. Jude knew that. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes speaking volumes to him in the silence. She tried to read his face.

“But you’re still doubting something,” she picked up, almost immediately.

“How can you tell?” he asked, worming his way around the question first before answering it.

“I can just see,” she shrugged.

“I’m…” he trailed off, the words lodged in his throat. He didn’t want to say them out loud, it made them more real.

Jude waited silently until he was ready, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m scared he won’t come back,” Jameson finally said.

“He will come back,” Jude replied, her voice strong and sure, “he always comes back.”

“What if he doesn’t this time?” he asked, worry lines rippling across his face.

It almost scared Jude. She wasn’t used to seeing him so vulnerable, so emotional. It had shocked her he hadn’t done something utterly reckless yet, like sky diving or bungee jumping. Usually it would’ve happened by now, but instead he was here, with her, actually talking out his problems. What did that mean?

“You know Nash better than I do,” Jude said slowly, “you know in your heart he’s coming back, just like I do.”

“There’s always that bit of fear in me though, the dreaded ‘what if’ he decides not to,” Jameson replied.

“He wouldn’t abandon you Jamie,” she soothed, the nickname rolling off of her tongue naturally, “he loves you.”

Just like I do, she thought, but the words didn’t dare near her lips.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After talking to Jameson, Jude had checked on Xander who was also down about Nash leaving. He wasn’t in the mood for much. Seeing Xander so sad made Jude sad too. He wouldn’t even eat a scone which got to Jude the most. Eventually after a lot of coaxing and scone concoctions, she managed to get him to have one but usually it was a given he would.

It was strange. The whole thing. Hawthorne house was deadened without Nash, all the brothers had retreated to themselves and gone quiet. Grayson had disappeared to the music room playing emotional pieces on his violin, Jude felt it was best not to interrupt him in that state. He hadn’t come out in hours and the violin hadn’t stopped once. She wondered if his fingers were bleeding, so left him some food and water and a packet of bandaids outside the door, just in case.

The next morning she set her alarm to wake up early. She had a netball match, first thing. Part of her didn’t want to leave the brothers on their own but she realised she could only do so much when she was at the house anyway.

She figured they might want time to themselves or time to talk with one another about the situation. So she decided to play in her match. After a soothing, long shower, she did her morning skin care before slipping on her netball dress. She walked back into her bedroom standing infront of the mirror to begin on her hair.

***

Jude groaned in frustration, starting the braid again for the fifth time. Why wasn’t it working this morning? Of course it just had to go wrong the day she actually needed it braided out of the way.

“Let me braid it.”

She gasped softly upon seeing Jameson leaning in her doorway, silently watching her.

“What?”

“Let me braid it,” he repeated. She couldn’t detect any hints that he was joking about the prospect.

“How long have you been standing there?” she countered.

“Not long,” Jameson shrugged.

“That’s a little creepy,” she told him, looking back to the mirror as she ran her finger through her wavy hair.

“Well how else am I going to keep you on your toes,” he winked, “now are you going to let me braid your hair?”

“You know how to braid hair?” she folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows.

“I have a lot of free time,” he shrugged.

“You’re surprising me more and more every day Jameson Hawthorne,” she smiled gently.

With a smirk he stepped in towards her back, “well what else am I here for?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his reflection in the mirror stood in front of them both even when his breath tickled her neck.

“French or Dutch?”

She spun around to face him suddenly, “are you serious?”

He gave her a confused look.

“You know how to French and Dutch braid hair,” she exclaimed.

He grinned, “it’s like a pattern, a puzzle, something to solve.”

“Okay then,” she thought for a minute, “french.”

“Turn around then Judy,” he said, raising her arm above her head and spinning her around as if she were a ballerina.

“Jude,” she hissed, glaring at the mirror so he could see the reflection.

“Hairbrush,” he said.

“Is that a new nickname?” she batted her eyelashes, “very cute.”

“No, I need the hairbrush,” he rolled his eyes, holding his hand out.

She passed it to him before he gently picked up a piece of hair and began to brush it from bottom up. He took each and every section and handled it with the upmost care, like each stand of hair was made of glass.

“Your hair is really soft,” he commented, after he’d finished brushing it through.

She felt the heat rise in her cheek, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, “you might want to sit down for the actual braiding part.”

She nodded and took a seat on the floor, just below her bed. He sat behind her and slowly began to pick up the first bits of hair needed. Carefully and neatly he twisted the pieces into place. Jude could feel that he was doing it exactly right, adding the right sections at the right times. She’d never thought of a braid a puzzle before, but now she supposed it was. The twists and turns of intricacy, one wrong move and the whole thing would lose its effect.

It was so relaxing for Jude, for someone else to do her hair. It was a nice change from her arms burning and her head aching every morning. Best thing was, Jameson knew exactly what he was doing and he was someone making it comfortable for her head. Usually she’d pull one strand too hard and it’d give her a headache but that hadn’t happened so far.

“Do you have a hair tie?” he asked, once he’d gotten to the bottom.

She passed him the one from around her wrist, before grabbing the ribbons on her team colours.

“Could you tie these in the bottom too?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, taking them and putting them into the bottom of the braid, “okay go and see if you like it, I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

She grinned walking into her mirror to admire the plait. It was near on perfect and it looked so much better than her five previous attempts put together. She walked back towards him.

“It’s amazing thank you so much!” she smiled, instinctively wrapping her arms around him to give a grateful hug without actually realising what she was doing.

Though when she did, she didn’t pull away.

“Careful,” he rushed, “we haven’t hair-sprayed it.”

“Is Grayson rubbing off on you?” Jude teased, with a giggle.

“Don’t insult me,” he deadpanned, “I just did your hair.”

“My humblest apologies,” she bowed, mockingly.

“Gratefully accepted,” he nodded at her, grabbing the hairspray bottle, “right, close your eyes.”

She did as he said before he sprayed her hair so it stayed in, setting his masterpiece in stone before she washed it out later.

“Perfect,” he smiled, as she opened her eye again, “you look perfect.”

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

“What?”

“Your hair,” he coughed, “I meant your hair.”

Something sunk, it just plummeted right into her stomach. She felt heavy with disappointment and mentally scolded herself for it.

“Are you only saying that because you can credit yourself?” she played it off as a joke to mask her true feelings.

“Possibly,” Jameson replied, his face slowly breaking out into a grin.

She laughed sideglancing at the clock, “I need to make sure I’ve got everything before I leave, I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come to your game?” he asked suddenly.

She stopped mid step and spun around.

“You want to?” she said.

“Of course I do,” Jameson replied, as if it were an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly, “sure.”

He’d seen her play before, just not recently. Something about that made Jude nervous but more driven to win, not just for herself and her team but to make Jameson proud too.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

She laughed melodically, “you are such a gentleman.”

“What can I say Judy,” he replied with a wink, stepping closer to her.

“Jude,” she corrected him, stepping in as well.

“Judy,” he smirked back.

“Jude.”

“Judy.”

“You won’t win,” she whispered, fierceness in her eyes.

“Try me,” he murmurs back, mischief in his.

Their faces were so close, that their noses almost touched. His eyes looked down at her lips and flicked back up again. Before she knew it they were both leaning in. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, screaming to be heard. Was this moment really what she thought it was?

“We should go,” Jude cleared her throat, pulling away, “don’t want to be late,”

“Yeah,” Jameson nodded slowly, picking up her bags for her.

And Jude could’ve sworn his cheeks were suddenly a little rosy.

***

Jude cursed herself for pulling away and for the whole journey thought about what could’ve been. However when she got to the venue she had to put all those thoughts aside to play.

The match went well, better than well actually, her team won and her play was excellent. After she’d said goodbye to her teammates she met Jameson who enveloped her into a hug, picking her up and spinning her around, telling her how amazingly she’d played. Jude can’t remember a time where she’d felt more special. He always made her feel like she was the brightest star in an ebony sky.

On the car ride home, the two of them just discussed her game and he let her rant about all the things she felt she could’ve done better before he pointed out some of things she’d done excellently. By the time they got back to Hawthorne House, they’d pretty much dissected the whole game about a thousand times over. But Jude didn’t mind and from the smile of his face, neither did Jameson.

As soon as they got in the two of them went straight to the freezer to grab a well-deserved ice pop.

“Icepop berry for mon chérie,” he winked, with the most awful French accent Jude had ever heard.

She physically cringed, taking it from his hand, “that one was horrible, please never say that again.”

“It sounded better in my head,” he sighed, grabbing a blue raspberry one for himself.

“You butchered that accent,” she snorted.

“Leave me alone,” he complained.

“Hey you’re back! How was your game,” Xander asked walking in.

“Good,” Jude nodded with a smile.

“Good is an understatement,” Jameson scoffed, “Judy played amazingly.”

“It wasn’t that good,” she rolled her eyes, he made her sound like some kind of netball prodigy.

“Xand she was lightning fast,” he explained.

“I bet,” Xander grinned, helping himself to a cola ice pop.

“And her interceptions were killer!” he added.

“Not really,” Jude interjected.

“Passes were legendary,” Jameson just continued.

“He’s over exaggerating,” she rolled her eyes, “surprise, surprise.”

“The best wing attack to ever exist,” he said.

“Okay, that is a stretch now,” she laughed.

“You’re too modest,” he replied, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Her face glowed as she felt an electrical jolt when he touched her, a spark of sorts. She wondered if he’s felt it too, but if he had, he didn’t show it.

“We should celebrate,” Xander announced.

“I agree,” he nodded.

“Oh but would you look at the time!” His brother continued, eyeballing his watch as if he’d never seen it before, “I haven’t blown anything up yet today, off I go.”

Xander practically skipped out of the kitchen door, though just before he turned he snuck Jude a wink to which she almost face palmed right there and then.

“Just us then, I guess,” Jameson said.

“Yeah,” she murmured, eating some more of her ice pop that was slowly melting in her hands. It made her feel like a little girl again.

He looked down at her, staring for a little bit as his lips parted slightly, “want to go somewhere?”

“That depends,” she smiled playfully, “where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned, “get changed and meet me down here in half an hour.”

“That smirk is saying all the wrong things to me,” she replied, “what are you planning Jameson Hawthorne?”

He shrugged and with a wink, left.

WELLL THATS A WRAP FOR PART ONE… HERE’S THE LINK GO PART 2 💘💖💕😍💖🥰💗 https://www.tumblr.com/littlemissmentallyunstable/770127988151992320/inmyheaddd-hellooo-again-judeee-welcome-to

[f4iry-bell]

you guys wish you were me

we email 💕

[downrightbooks]

✨My biggest flex in life right now✨

Ahhh okay so I kinda forgot to post this when my book came, but I was in complete shock when I found out that I had received character cards.

I ordered a signed personalized copy from Best of Books but they didn’t say that it was going to come with character cards!!!!!!!

P.s. (I’m planning on ordering Glorious Rivals from Best of Books I’m hoping I get more character cards 🤞)

[herondalesbooklover]

Some of you all expected my boy gray to move slowly like he hasn't done that for years. Dude he has been bitchless for like 5 years straight, how much slowly you want him to move??

[awordlybeing]

THE BROTHERS HAWTHORNE | Ch 29

NAW BC THIS WAS TOO FUNNY I HAD TO PHYSICALLY STOP MYSELF FROM BUSTING A LUNG ☠️

THEY JS KEPT ON GOING ON TOO ?? 😭

[lovethornes]

the hawthorne brothers wouldnt last an hour in the asylum where they raised avery

[reyreadersblog]

No cus i'll never forgive JLB not giving us the Hawthorne house map.

[imsaraht]

not my pic, saw it on Pinterest

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ SMUDGED LIPSTICK — GRAYSON HAWTHORNE + READER ‧₊˚

a/n: hi lovelies guess whos backkk (and with a new fic style because she's lazy at finding pics 😭) anyway no warnings with this one just gray being a cutie and jealous WHICH WE NEED MORE OF OML

"he's still staring at you." the words spoken for what seems like the hundredth time tonight leave your boyfriend - more like bodyguard at this point - as he stares down the unfortunate creature over in the corner.

otherwise known as your ex. aka the human equivalent of a dog shit. literally he's wearing the ugliest brown suit you've ever seen. why did he think dark brown on dark brown on black would suit him again?

"you would only know that if you've been staring at him too, gray," you say as you focus on collecting the small little appetiser that a nearby server is offering you. "we're literally at a function with hundreds of people, its concerning how you keep managing to find him in the crowd."

"he keeps staring at you, and its kind of hard to miss the drool coming out of his mouth." grayson's eyes are sharp when they turn to you. "i don't like it."

"you don't like a lot of things."

"this is in the top two. that and wearing leather pants." you snort and cover your hand over your mouth to try and stop the smile spreading across your face like wildfire. in the two years you and grayson have been dating the leather pants story has come up only four times - and never by grayson.

you were still in the dark about the whole situation until you cornered jameson and xander and demanded they tell you the whole story. you do not regret any of the questionable tactics you used to get it out of them one bit.

grayson eyes you suspiciously and you sober quickly deciding to drag him along the room and look for a place to sit. thats a better idea than explaining you know about the story and fight the urge to take a photo every time you see leather pants and send it to gray.

the night proceeds on and just as you think you're in the clear for not hearing another word about your trash bag ex, he shows his face. fun.

"what do you want?" grayson's voice is cold and sharp before your ex can get a word in.

"to say hi."

"you said it now leave."

"nonsense, i want to get to know the stunning lady on your arm."

ok gross. no. ew.

"what do you want grey?" you roll your eyes at the disturbingly brown suit and the horrendously styled hair on top of it.

ironic that your ex's name is grey. and your currently boyfriend who - you're pretty sure is the love of your life - is named grayson. what are the odds? pretty fucking low.

"to talk to you," the sleaze bag smiles at you, clearly avoiding grayson's deadly gaze.

"no. not happening."

grey reaches out and places a hand on your arm. "oh come on baby, you're not really still upset over-"

"she clearly said no. so leave. if not i can break the hand your touching her with. your choice." the low and threatening voice breaks into the conversation. and if you're one hundred percent completely and unapologetically honest: that's hot.

"i was her first grey," the asshole sneers

"and i'll be her last. i'm the one who takes her on dates, and treats her like the queen she is. i'm the one who remembers her favorite foods and makes sure to always have an extra hair tie around. i'm the one smudging her lipstick while she tells me she loves me. i'm her grayson and you are not."

silence ensues between the two and you stand there dumbfounded at gray's words. how could you not love this man?? the other one on the other hand...? yeah you could go a long long time without seeing that ugly asshat.

"whatever you prick," grey sneers and storms off - probably to go sulk to his mother.

when he's fully out of sight you twist back to grayson who has a tight expression on his face. he unexpectedly pulls you along and out of the bright function room and into a more secluded private spot.

"i'm sorry about that," he stresses slightly. "i didn't mean to just spit all of that out. please don't be-"

"grayson," you cut him off. "that was probably the sweetest and hottest thing i've ever seen you do. i am definitely not mad." he visible relaxes at that.

"but, i think you're going to have keep good on your promise of smudged lipstick..."

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @reminiscentreader, @ecliphttlunar, @tornqdowarnings,

@catapparently, @zenikswaffleshop, @off-to-th-r4aces, @emila07

[inmyheaddd]

i hate it here so i will go to secret gardens in my mind (reading)

[hathorneheiress]

Um, yes please.

We NEED this so bad.

It would be so entertaining.

[reminiscentreader]

when i remember grayson and jameson were practically attached at the hip and best friends before emily

[downrightbooks]

“I always feel lucky. Reality just doesn’t always get the memo.”

- Libby Grambs

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2 part 4

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[lanterns-and-daydreams]

Reporter, to Libby: So, how does it feel to be marrying someone so out of your league?

Libby: Well-

Nash, cutting her off: Feels amazin', darlin', thanks