#two i picked off the shelves of the now-closed used bookstore in my hometown without even knowing they were popular enough to make a list

[crimeronan]

oh the other influencing factor in that book poll is that i've read almost 100% of the listed trashy teen paranormal romance & teen dystopian romance titles. yes even the ones that suck. yes even those ones. i was non-discriminating as a teenager and i know what i like (drama and garbage).

[shadowriel]

Every Sound Your Heart Makes

Here’s chapter 2 of my secret Santa gift for @headcanonheadcase! It’s been so fun creating this for you, and I hope you enjoy this next part.

Summary: It’s been six years since Azriel came back to his hometown, with his newborn daughter in tow. Six years since Gwyn moved away from whatever heartbreak she’d left behind in her previous life and opened up a diner in Starlight Grove.

Now, unable to resist the urge to help Gwyn, Azriel volunteers to design sets for their town’s Christmas musical. But what happens when the town grump and the woman he’s fallen for can no longer hold back from the inevitable?

Chapter 2: Follow Where You Lead

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Read a snippet below:

It’s just him. Until he feels someone step out behind him.

There’s a note of surprise, evident in the tensing of Azriel’s shoulders. Even without turning around, he knows who it is: Gwyn, who surely should still be inside, engaged in conversation with the other townspeople. That’s what she does most Thursday nights—he knows this because he often finds himself blinking at the ‘Be Back Soon’ sign settled atop the door of her diner. It seems that even with her limited time in Starlight Grove, she’d already engrained herself enough into the community that people didn't seem to remember a time without her.

Azriel does—remember, that is. Before Gwyn, there had been few things he’d looked forward to in their small town. Yet, ever since he’d met her six years ago, her very presence had reshaped the way he saw this place. The Archeron’s bakery was no longer known for the best pies, but it was where Gwyn giggled in delight as she took bite after bite of what was supposed to be Azriel’s slice. Where she had whipped cream on the tip of her nose, that he gladly wiped off with the pad of his thumb. The town’s bookstore was no longer a place to get books, but where Gwyn had dragged him between shelves, stacking romance novels into his outstretched arms. Where she blushed when he’d settled them on a nearby table, picked one, and read a scene aloud.

And, somehow, Starlight Grove was not only where he’d grown up, but where he’d grown into this new version of himself—one marked with heartbreak and pain and, despite it all, love. He feels it, stirring in his chest, when he holds his daughter, and when he laughs with his mother as the two of them cook dinner. He feels it when he teases Nesta and Emerie, and when he has his annual snowball fight with his chosen brothers. He feels it now, when he recognizes Gwyn from the sound of her footsteps and the feel of her fingers as she wraps a hand around his wrist.

“Come on,” she says simply, using her hold to pull him along. She moves easily across the sidewalk, and even as Azriel presses his heels into the ground, there’s not much force behind it.

He lets her guide him. Of course, he does.

Turning towards Gwyn, he sees that she’s wearing her blue hat again. The material covers the tips of her ears, and, from this close, he can see every stitch in the knitted pattern. Her gloves, however, are absent now, so he can feel the cold press of her fingertips against his skin.

It draws a shiver up his spine, for more reasons than one.

“Where are we going?” he asks, the words strung together in a single breath.

Her response is short—curt. “To the theatre.”

To talk more about their plans for the musical, he’s sure. That’s what Gwyn had told him the week before, but there’s an urgency to her movements that prompts him to shift more of his weight onto his heels. To push back.

“What’s the hurry?”

Gwyn huffs, using her other hand to tighten her grip on him. She puts all her strength into trying to move him, and when he doesn’t budge—not even an inch—she turns narrowed eyes at him.

“I don’t want anyone to see us leaving together,” she admits, her tone more accusatory than anything.

Azriel blinks at her. He wonders if she can see the surprise in his expression as his gaze darts over her features, searching for more of an explanation to make sense of her words. When he doesn’t find it, he can only ask “Why?”

“They’ll talk.”

He laughs. And maybe it’s the lingering effect of the wine, maybe it’s the sight of colour rushing to Gwyn’s cheeks, but the sound is deep—uncontrolled in a way that leaves him nearly breathless.

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @foundressofnothing @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @trashforazriel @sv0430 @sunshinebingo @shadowsxgwynriel @thelovelymadone @damedechance @talons-and-teeth

For the @acotargiftexchange

[softethan]

find your way back to me

oh my god. this is massive and I love it but I probably won’t write anything this big for a really long time. special thanks to @ohandrewthankyousodamnmuch​ & @louisethelesbian​ for proofreading and encouragement and @my-milkshake-bouquet​ for the amazing concept that started this: I hope I did it justice. 

{10k, grames}

also on Wattpad

warnings: smut, language, no editing(?)

four years after Grayson leaves for New York to pursue his filmmaking dreams, he meets a familiar face. they didn’t leave on good terms; can he patch things up?

They stopped YouTube, a little after Dad died.

They hadn't meant to; they'd wanted to keep going, keep the fans engaged, but the money wasn't there, the sponsorships didn't go over too well, and they couldn't keep it up.

They weren't broke, honestly far from it, but the joy wasn't there for them anymore and they'd promised each other they'd quit when they weren't happy with it.

They'd filmed a goodbye series, 4 videos that Grayson loved more than anything they'd ever done— they got to be creative, spend weeks on it. They'd hired an editor and it was cinematic, the quality. They were proud of it and Grayson put them in his portfolio when he'd applied to film school.

And he got in.

Ethan stayed in LA, to do God knows what, but Grayson wanted a change. He'd always wanted to move back home, or close to it. So he'd applied at NYU and Alfred and NYFA and he'd gotten accepted at all of them (a miracle).

But his heart was at NYU, so he packed up his things and moved the summer before they turned 20.

He loved New York. Could function without Ethan more or less, and he loved the way the city hugged him and made him feel invisible in a way LA never had. He could blend in; he wasn't a super star, he didn't have to worry about being stopped at the grocery store or followed on his way out of the parking garage (save for a few older fans, ones who were respectful, who were kind, who congratulated him on finding a path he enjoyed).

Grayson found himself fitting in, making a life and a name for himself alone in a city he would have never seen himself in two years earlier.

He knew the paths to his favorite coffee shops outside his apartment in Brooklyn, his restaurants, the one Italian place with the fucking phenomenal gnocchi that Gino made special order for him at 2 in the morning.

The bike paths and running trails were familiar, worn down with the help of Grayson's long nights when he didn't have a friend to drag him to another bar or club in the city.

But his favorite place, the one place he knew he could go, was the bookstore two blocks from his apartment that liked to keep stray cats roaming the shelves more than it liked to stock new merchandise.

Grayson didn't mind though; it was a good place to edit, quieter than the library and the WiFi was slow so he couldn't get distracted by the headlines with him that seemed to be fewer and fewer the longer Grayson was in New York.

But there were the times, when the clouds parted enough that he could pull up Hollywood Reporter, like this morning, when he stared at the headline blaring back at him and he gulped as he scrolled through.

James Charles Announces Departure from YouTube after "Incredible" 7 Years

Following his recent split from fellow YouTube Influencer Jeff Wittek, James Charles has announced his departure from the social media platform. Charles says the decision has been in the works for months, which would support the rumor that the JCD Social Marketing firm is not too far on the horizon. We're sad to see you go, sister. No news yet on if Charles and Wittek will be selling their Calabasas home.

Grayson couldn't stomach anymore and shoved the lid on his laptop down. He'd left things less than happy with James. But really, they hadn't been on good terms for months. Each of them too nervous to say something to the other, afraid that anything out of line would set the other off.

James stopped texting him 2 months before Grayson left LA and Grayson was comfortable enough with himself now to admit that he'd been heartbroken.

When Jeff and James has started dating it was a surprise to everyone, but especially to Grayson. He knew James had been flirting with Jeff but he never dreamed James' feelings could be reciprocated. Or even acted on. But Jeff had come to James' house late one night, while James and Grayson were editing, and they'd sat on James' couch for hours and talked about everything. They bonded over a shared confidence that Grayson didn't have.

He'd packed his things up and stowed his laptop in his backpack and waved goodbye to James and that was the last time he'd seen his best friend.

He knew Jeff made James happy — he wasn't crazy. But he also wasn't a masochist, so he'd unfollowed everyone who could remind him of James' laugh and the way his eyes twinkled when he smiled and how his lips curled up at the corners when he was confused and the looks he used to give Grayson that he gave Jeff.

Grayson didn't want to be reminded and he didn't want to intrude. James had someone who was out and not afraid of confrontation and didn't have fans who would rip him apart for turning their favorite gay—

Grayson shook his head. He didn't have to think about fans controlling who he dated or dictating who he could be or speculating about his sexuality or his relationships. One of the benefits of being "normal" again (or at least semi-normal) was the anonymity of his partners and his identity.

But it hadn't mattered until now. He'd dated people, a couple of girls right when he moved to New York and then he and Lip, the boy who sat beside him in his Film 290 class, had been serious for a few months, but nothing had ever panned out and he  longed for someone to share his empty bed with.

He needed that someone to be James.

Grayson opened the laptop back up and skimmed the rest of the article, smirking but nearly throwing up when he found what he was looking for.

As of March, Sister James has been spotted spending some much needed time with his family in his hometown in upstate New York.

Grayson tapped his fingers on the table his laptop rested on and his bottom lip crept between his teeth, a nervous habit he'd picked up from Lip.

He'd debated using the number Ethan had sent him months ago, always talking himself out of it because James liked his privacy and if James wanted to talk to him he would have called years ago.

But this was different, Grayson reasoned. James needed him. James was close.

James was off limits.

He cursed when his brained reminded him of the sneaky little fact that Grayson had made the decision for them. Grayson had wanted to confess, a big, grand declaration right before he left. Wanted to beg James to come with him to New York, to start over in a city that held endless opportunities for both of them, but the fear of James' rejection lingered at the back of his mind until he'd tried to call James in the airport terminal and the call failed. Grayson took it as a sign from the universe and hadn't tried again.

But this— wasn't this a sign from whoever was looking out for him? That he should reach out to James? At least to check on him. That's what a good friend would do.

A good friend would have also not abandoned everyone, Grayson countered himself.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and closed the laptop lid slowly, storing it away in his case in his backpack before he slid Margaret a $20 under the candle and left with a small wave to the girl behind the register.

Grayson's phone rang as soon as he stepped outside, and he half expected it to be Ethan calling him to bitch, but he wasn't expecting Hannah to be on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Gray. Do you want to go out with us tonight? To Therapy?"

"Isn't that the gay bar on 52nd?"

"Maybe."

"I'll meet you there at 9?"

"Sounds good!"

The line clicked and Grayson rolled his eyes at his friend's enthusiasm to get him laid. The walk back to his apartment was quiet. He waved at Gino hanging out of the bread window at his restaurant and expertly caught the breadstick chucked at his head.

His keys jingled as he unlocked the door to his apartment, the smell from last night's Indian take-out still strong in the small space. He threw his backpack down onto the couch and plopped down beside it; his phone dinged with various notifications, but he only had one place to go.

As he opened Instagram, he debated if this was really the best decision. He'd been so good— hadn't looked at James' profile in months, but he missed James so much.

He typed in the familiar user and waited for the screen to buffer.

The first picture took his breath away and Grayson gawked at how similar James looked to when Grayson left.

Liked by ethandolan and 1,492,018 others jamescharles bye sisters View all 250,913 comments _emmachamberlain fucking finally man

Grayson chuckled at Emma's comment: James had been the last one to leave YouTube. Grayson wasn't surprised, really. James loved everything about the business side. He was born for it. But there was always the potential for growth, for learning new things, and Grayson knew James had been stagnant.

He put his phone down and caught himself smiling brighter; he'd been worried that James would still have their pictures up, the ones that promised each other forever when Grayson knew they'd never work.

But he couldn't help himself and picked it back up, cursing his self control when he scrolled back a few months on James' feed and stopped at the last picture James had posted of himself and Jeff.

Liked by bryant and 3,701,625 others jamescharles 4 years you've loved me View all 736,050 comments jeff here's to a million more

They made a good couple, Grayson had never denied that. And he knew Jeff was good to James. Spoiled him. Took him to nice restaurants and posted goofy snapchats of them in bed together.

But James wasn't happy. Grayson knew what James looked like when he was happy, how his nose crooked a little when he laughed, the way his fingers fluttered over his face to hide the grin he did when Grayson looked at him.

And James didn't have that with Jeff. Sure, he wasn't miserable. Jeff was kind and generous and he had a good heart (Jeff was probably the best person for James), but James wasn't in love with him. Grayson suspected it had been a ploy, a tactic to make Grayson jealous that had just gone on too long—

Fuck, he hated when he thought like that. James was an adult. Capable of making adult decisions. He didn't need Grayson taking care of him; a direct quote from James himself.

He shook out his thoughts and scrolled a little farther to admire the way James had grown, how his face had softened with age and his posts didn't seem as forced.

He had to get up at some point and start getting ready; the sun was already setting and he need to eat something before they started barhopping. Grayson decided to call Ethan before he jumped in the shower, dialing his number and waiting as the normal three rings went through before he heard Ethan's groggy voice answer.

"Hello?"

"Did you just wake up?"

"I didn't go to bed until 4 this morning."

"Jesus, Ethan, it's 6:30."

"I miss you, dude."

"I do too. Spring break's next week, so I'll plan to come see you then."

Grayson pulled out the noodles from his pantry and started a boiler of hot water. He listened to Ethan stomp around their old house; they knew it was creepy, listening to each other breathe, but they'd never been apart for more than a couple days until Grayson left, so there was a comfort to doing their routines together, ish.

"Have you thought anymore about moving back after you graduate in a couple months?"

Ethan asked this question every time they talked, and every time Grayson gave him the same teasing answer.

"When I can find something worth coming back for I will."

"You're a dick, you know. How are classes?"

Another pan, this time for the chicken he'd chopped up. The phone slid down between his shoulder and his ear and he reached up to push it back in place.

"Hard. I've got my final short film due next month. We're finishing up the editing and then we'll just need to put in music and sound."

"I watched a few of those clips you sent me, Gray, they're really good."

Grayson preened under the praise as he seared the chicken.

"They're okay. I shot them on film first to get the framing and coloring how I wanted it and now we're replicating it with digital."

"That's fucking sick, Gray. Look I've gotta go, I've got a bitching headache. Tell mom I said hi and that I love her?"

"Always do, E. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Grayson turned his playlist on and turned up the speakers to his surround sound and finished supper, a serving of chicken Alfredo and garlic bread that he knew would help prep him for the binge drinking he was about to do.

The lights in the club were bright, too harsh for Grayson normally, but 3 gin and tonics in and he was enjoying the blue and purple flashes. He and Hannah were propped against the bar, scoping for someone, anyone to occupy them. They weren't best friends, but she was the closest thing Grayson had to a friend for a long time and they bonded over their shared proclivities for illusive men.

"See him in the corner? He's hot as fuck!" Hannah yelled into Grayson's ear. Her drink sloshed onto his shoes and he winced.

"Not my type," Grayson responded as he scanned the bar. "Him! He's my type, though," he said with a smirk. He placed his drink and a twenty on the bar and with a goodbye wave to Hannah, made his way over to the lanky boy in the corner.

The thing was, this guy wasn't normally Grayson's type. He tried to steer away from feminine bodies and do his best to get as far away from James similarities as possible, but the gin was talking and he needed to kiss this boy or he might die.

The lights were dark here, dim enough that Grayson could only make out his feet as he shuffled and the sharp features in the boy's face.

"Wanna dance?" He asked, shooting his shot into the dark corner of the club. He saw the boy shrug and held his hand out, pulling them both onto the dance floor.

Grayson held his hands on the boy's hips as they danced together, admiring the way they fit into each others' bodies.

"Wanna get a drink?" The question was spoken into the crook of the boy's neck, and Grayson mouthed at the smooth skin there. He smelled like laundry and that fancy shampoo James always bought and it reminded Grayson of home.

The boy turned around to nod, but they both froze, realizing at once why they worked so well together.

"Grayson?"

Grayson's heart stopped. There was no way. Of all the people and all of the places they could have gone, he was looking at James Charles in the middle of a gay bar in New York City.

"James."

His reply was breathy and relieved and surprised and oh, so bittersweet, because this was not how he imagined coming out to James.

"Oh my God."

"Do you wanna—"

"Yes, please."

James linked his hand with Grayson's and followed him to the bar. He watched while Grayson ordered a vodka tonic and some sort of a strawberry concoction that he handed to James before he tugged him out to the rooftop bar.

It was quieter there, the doors muffled the music from inside and Grayson could think about what he was seeing— who he was seeing.

James sipped his drink and watched Grayson take him in. The skin tight shorts, the crop top that showed the spattering of freckles on his sides, the way his legs crossed and the fishnets looked sinful against his skin: he was a vision and it felt like Grayson had never left him.

"I can't believe you're here."

"I can't believe you're blonde," James retorted.

(And, honestly, neither could Grayson. It had been done on a whim and he'd loved it enough to keep it for 2 years. Another Lip imprint.)

"How are you and Jeff?" Grayson knew better than to let James know he'd been keeping tabs. That wouldn't end well.

"We, uh. We actually broke up a couple months ago." James swirled the drink and averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry about that." He wasn't.

"Don't be. No, it was for the best. He wants kids and a hundred dogs and a life that I couldn't give him. He's so much older than me and he's ready to settle down and I've just started. We should have done it a long time ago. We're still friends. He's such a good guy, it's just— we're not right for each other."

Grayson nodded and sipped his drink and listened as James spouted out a rehearsed narrative.

"That's a lovely press release. Are you gonna tell me what really happened?"

James smiled and giggled into his hand; his eyes rolled back enough that Grayson was sure his head had to hurt.

"He was a dick. A sweetheart to the core, but a dick. I don't think I ever really loved him, but he was a great fuck and he was kind; just didn't know what he wanted. For a 35 year old man, you'd think he'd know who he was, but, hey, it's whatever."

Grayson cringed at James' admission, but he caught himself smiling when James looked up at him with that twinkle in his eye.

"Enough about me, though," James leaned forward onto the table and touched his manicured nails to Grayson's bare arm, "what are you doing at a gay bar on a Friday night dancing against a beautiful boy?"

"Trying to find a beautiful boy to take home," Grayson answered bluntly. His arm hairs stood straight up and the goosebumps that lingered told James just how much of an effect he had on Grayson.

James gawked at him, mouth open like a fish as he tried to process what Grayson had just told him.

"So you're telling me—"

"I'm bisexual, James."

The thickness of the air from the club had wafted out to them and Grayson watched as James crafted his response.

It was quiet for a while until James squeezes Grayson's wrist and moves the metal chair closer to Grayson's.

"How long?"

"I've been out to my mom and Cam and E for about 3 years."

"Anyone else?"

"No one else knew me before. And there wasn't any reason to hide anymore."

"You're happier."

"I'm not angry anymore. I was exhausted trying to keep up a front all the time. But yeah, I'm happier."

James smiled and traced circles into the back of Grayson's hand and averted his eyes to keep from Grayson seeing the blush forming on his cheeks.

"It's so bizarre to be having this conversation with you. All the ways I imagined this, and meeting you again at a dive bar in the middle of NYC was not one of them."

Grayson chuckled, a low rumbly sound that made James' heart vibrate.

"I didn't expect to see you again. Truthfully, I thought the last time I'd ever see you would be that night in your couch with Jeff. But, here you are." Grayson was in awe, couldn't get enough of James sitting in front of him, glowing, positively radiant and tangible, finally.

"I came home. I — I couldn't live in LA right now. I wanted to give everyone space." James' voice softened as he spoke.

"I'm glad you're here," Grayson admitted.

"How are you doing? Ian said you're in film school?"

"Uh, yeah. I wanted a change but I loved the production too much to leave it. I'll graduate in May."

"I'm sure you're amazing. The Cub Sport videos were phenomenal."

"I really love it," Grayson sighed, swirling the ice left in his glass.

"You're happier."

"You've said that already," Grayson pointed out with a smile.

"It needed to be repeated." James shifted forward in the chair and touched Grayson's bicep softly.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Are you trying to take me home, J?" The nickname and snarky comeback rolled off his tongue easily and James lit up in embarrassment and nostalgia. He swatted at Grayson and rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, I just want to be able to talk to you without a drunk weirdo breathing down my neck."

James giggled and his eyes glistened and Grayson couldn't get them off the patio fast enough. They trailed through the bar and Grayson made a mental note to text Hannah that he was leaving when they made it to the Uber.

His fingers clutched James' tightly, savoring the feeling because who knew when it would end. A giggly James was everything Grayson had needed to hear for years and he prayed this wasn't a dream.

He'd had them before, dreams like this, where he met James in a crowded place and they always found each other, and for a few hours, Grayson could pretend that James was his.

But this was usually the time when he'd wake up, when he was leading James to an Uber ready to take him home and spend the night with him but—

"Gray," James hissed, tugging him into the alley beside the bar.

Grayson furrowed his eyebrows and started to lean out when James jerked him back in by the collar of his leather jacket and pulled him against James' body.

"James, what—"

"Paps," he whispered, burrowing his face into Grayson's neck. Grayson, on instinct, wrapped his arms tightly around James' body and shuffled them around so that Grayson's back was blocking James completely from view.

"What do I need to do?" He asked quietly.

"Where does this go?" James questioned as he motioned blindly behind him.

"To 52nd and 2nd."

"Order the Uber there. Can I hide under your jacket?" Grayson could tell he was scared, worried that Grayson would say no and throw him to the sharks.

But Grayson never really mastered denying James anything, so he opened the right side of his jacket and shielded James from the flashes while he hid his own face behind his phone and when they slid in the Uber and slammed the door, James pecked his cheek and smiled a huge smile at Grayson and when his stomach flipped he blamed it on the speedy take-off.

"I ordered this for my house. I hope that's okay," Grayson mumbled as he clicked his seatbelt on and glanced over at a jittery James.

"That's fine. I'd love to see where the mysterious Grayson Dolan has disappeared to," came  the teasing remark. He'd kept his location pretty well under wrap after he'd left. Sure there was the occasional spotting, and he was happy to take pictures with the old fans, but he was fairly normal. He'd forgotten what it was like to go out and not be able to leave with whomever he liked.

The car stopped in front of Grayson's loft and Grayson tipped the driver before he helped James out and unlocked the gate with his ID card.

"This is really nice, Gray. It looks like--"

"Your LA apartment. I know. That was the first thing Ethan said when he saw it."

"Miss me that much?" James teased as he led the way into the door.

More than I'll admit, Grayson thought, throwing his keys in the bowl and his jacket on the hook beside the door.

"Oh, my God, Grayson this view is amazing," James raved. He perched on the side of Grayson's bed overlooking the city and watched the boats pass through New York harbor.

"It was the deciding factor for the place. $300 extra a month for this view and it's absolutely worth it." He sat down behind James on the bed and propped up on his palms, leaning back to admire the boy sitting in his bed.

Unreal.

"Are you staring at me?"

"I'm making up for lost time." The words slipped out before he realized what he was admitting and that James was not, in fact, a dream vision who would slip through his fingers any second.

James turned slowly and placed a hand on Grayson's thigh.

"I really missed you, Gray."

The lump in Grayson's throat was choking him and his hands were shaking and his heart was beating out of his chest (could James hear it?) and the place on his thigh where James rested his hand felt like it was on fire and holy fuck James was real.

Grayson gulped it down and covered James' hand with his own.

"Me too, J."

Nervous eyes jumped from Grayson's lips to Grayson's eyes and back down again; James was calculating exactly what he was going to do next and Grayson couldn't breathe with James looking at him like this. He'd been on the receiving end of this look before, so many times, but that had been years ago and he forgot just how naked he felt when James looked at him.

Grayson's tongue darted out between his lips and licked his bottom one, wetting it enough that he didn't feel like he was in a desert, but his dry mouth could not be helped.

James shifted closer, his thigh pressed against Grayson's and his leg was tucked under his ass and Grayson could feel James' breath on his face. The proximity to this beautiful boy made his heart beat erratically; after all these years, after Grayson tried too hard to forget James and everything he felt -- and here James was, making him go crazy all over again.

"Did you ever, have you--," James questioned, trailing off when his eyes landed on Grayson's lip kneaded between his bottom teeth.

"Only once, with a boy named Lip."

"Lip?"

"Yeah, he did this thing, with his lip and his name was Phillip and--" James flittered over his face and cut him off.

"I don't need to know."

"Stay the night?" Grayson breathed out; his stomach knotted and he felt like he was going to barf any minute and Jesus if James didn't lean in and kiss him he'd probably die.

Which, thank God that was an exaggeration because James leaned away and Grayson wanted to die, but his heart was still very much in tact and God he forgot how damn frustrating this was.

"Is that a good idea, Gray?"

"It's nearly 1 now. Might as well stay and we can catch up? I can order in something if you're hungry." Grayson was desperate, he knew that. Knew he sounded like he needed James more than anything, but what use was it hiding the truth?

James sighed, and checked his watch, and looked back at Grayson, and then his watch, and then the skyline, and then he smiled and conceded.

"Can I borrow a t-shirt at least? If I have to sit in these fishnets for one more minute I will absolutely never make it out alive."

Grayson rolled his eyes at James dramatics but a minute later he was back handing James an old Kid Cudi shirt and a pair of sweats that Hannah had left at his apartment.

"Thanks, babe." James had never been one for modesty, but Grayson had always been thankful for that -- things hadn't changed now, and Grayson watched, enamored, as James tugged the shirt over his head and tore the fishnets off his body and chucked them in the direction of the trash can.

"I'll get those in the morning," he promised once he realized what he'd done. Grayson only chuckled fondly and kicked off his own boots and jeans. He climbed into the bed under the duvet and leaned against the pillows to watch James do the same.

"Don't worry about them," Grayson pleaded.

There was a moment of silence between them while Grayson tried to decide what to ask James, but he was coming up blank with everything except Jeff, Jeff, Jeff.

"You can ask me about him. I won't get angry," and even after all these years, James being able to read his mind was the scariest trick they had.

"Why did you stay so long? If you weren't happy?"

James sighed and twirled the sheet around his finger. He was deflecting, Grayson knew.

"I felt like it was the right thing to do. Make everyone else happy before myself. It's what I do right?"

Grayson shifted from where he was propped on his elbow watching James. His cheek rested in his palm and he wanted so badly to reach out and pull James in.

"You always did. Did you ever take time for yourself, J?"

James shook his head. "I fell away with everyone after you left and there was no reason for me to keep hanging out with E after you guys quit."

"That's not what I asked, J."

Another sigh, but this time it seemed like James was willing to answer truthfully.

"Hardly ever. Even filming started to feel like a chore. I didn't— Gray, I hated it. Jeff was obsessed with my upload schedule and it was in such good spirits and he meant so well but I started to feel like he was my manager more than he was my boyfriend. Oh god, it got so much worse after we bought the house and we signed and to be truthful he didn't pay for much of anything and I really don't know why I stayed with him he was such a sweetheart but God such an asshole," James blurted out, his famous speed talking getting in the way of him making his point.

"J," Grayson whispered, eyes sad as he reached out to touch James hand. The space between them now felt larger than the 3000 miles had the entire time Grayson had been in New York and really the only logical thing to do was scoot closer to James to make sure their shoulders and knees touched.

"I was so obsessed with finally having someone who cared about me." James' voice cracked and he buried his face in the white pillow. Grayson would have to throw it out in the morning but it was worth being about to comfort James in this moment.

"Did you love him?"

"No."

They spent the rest of the night talking, catching up on Grayson's film school and James explained the plan for the marketing firm. He'd decided to base it out of LA, simply because his connections ran so deep there, but he confessed to Grayson that his final goal was to have a branch in all the major fashion capitals.

Grayson had never wanted anything to happen more.

When Grayson woke up the next morning (afternoon) and looked over to a peaceful James he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. He got out of bed lightly and started puttering around the kitchen to make breakfast. The pancakes were on the table and the fruit was cut up when he went to kneel by James' side and rub his hand through James' mousy hair.

"Morning. I made breakfast."

"Hmm, this is a sight I never thought I'd be lucky enough to experience," James sassed groggily, closing his eyes again before opening them and smiling even wider.

"We're in the same boat, babe." The causal banter was something he'd missed— a little flirting and a slight tease and Grayson felt like he'd never left James' side.

They watched the city operate in front of them as they enjoyed their brunch and when James bounced his foot for the fourth time, Grayson had to know what he was thinking.

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

Grayson's mouth was suddenly very dry and his eyes were doing that funny thing where they watered down his cheeks. (He wasn't tearing up.)

James pushed the last of his fruit around his plate and waited for Grayson to answer.

"Stay for another week. I go on spring break Friday and we can fly out together."

And really, that wasn't what either of them expected to hear come out of Grayson's mouth, but it wasn't unwelcome.

"What about work?"

"Fuck work. You're leaving anyway. Upload the last video here. I'll help you work on it."

James paused and contemplated it. "And why should I stay?" He questioned, eyebrow raised.

"I missed you and I don't want to have to wait another four years to see you."

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Good," Grayson replied, the conversation finished and a smile on his face.

"Grayson, pick up the damn phone," James grumbled as he paced back and forth in Grayson's living room. The article was open on Grayson's iPad and James had read it at least 14 times, and he'd absolutely saved the photo of him and Grayson leaving the club. The headline was ludicrous: "Former Beauty Blogger James Charles seen leaving bar with a blonde hunk."

He'd fallen asleep in Grayson's bed last night (this morning?), an unintentional side-effect of talking until the sun was nearly up. When James woke up there was a pile of pancakes and a note with Grayson's messy scribble laid next to his pillow that explained Grayson had gone to class but would be back before 2.

All lined out to be a fabulous morning after, except halfway through his pancakes James had checked his phone to see a sea of messages and tweets speculating who the blonde hottie was who'd shielded James from the paps.

"Grayson, please—"

"I usually can't make a boy whine like that until the third date," came Grayson's snarky reply from the other end of the phone.

"Shut up and check your messages, they published the pictures from last night."

He heard Grayson mumble something about bossy ass men, but when he cleared his throat and whispered a quiet "oh, no," James knew they were in trouble.

"It won't be long before they figure out it's me."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Are you okay with that?" Grayson countered.

"I'm not the one being outed unintentionally, Grayson!"

"J, if I felt like the world needed to know my sexuality, hell, deserved to know it, I would have done it years ago, but the only thing that matters right now is if you're okay with being seen with me. In a compromising situation— I mean, c'mon James, we look like we're about to go home and fuck."

James sat down in the big wicker patio chair on Grayson's balcony and watched as the traffic flowed under him. His legs curled under his butt and he rested his chin on his hand as he listened to Grayson breath.

"Would you have?"

It was out of his mouth before he could stop it and James felt oddly relieved when he realized what he'd asked.

"If I only wanted to fuck you I would have done it the minute I saw you, J."

"Only?"

"You must have realized at some point that—"

"You don't have to explain to me. When will you be back?"

"I'm walking through the door. Where are you?"

He could hear Grayson's voice in the kitchen, the sound of the door sliding open and he wandered back through the double glass doors.

His phone abandoned on the counter, Grayson smiled at James and plopped onto his couch.

"You're worrying about something that hasn't even happened. Okay? And even if it does, who will it affect? Not me, not you, Jeff? Screw 'im."

James chuckled and lowered himself onto the couch.

"Let's go to dinner tonight."

"Are you asking me on a date, Dolan?" James asked with a smirk.

"I might be. Depends how nice you look when I get ready to leave," Grayson replied with a wink.

"I have nothing to wear!" James called through his giggles, watching Grayson disappear into the curtained room. He appeared a moment later with a messenger bag and a jacket and motioned for James to get up.

"That's why we're going shopping."

Grayson shouldn't have been surprised, when James walked into Saks and walked out $1550 lighter and 3 bags of clothes.

"We're going for dinner one night. Couldn't you have just bought one outfit?" Grayson asked when he shoved the last of the bags into the Uber and climbed into the other side.

James scoffed as he clicked out an email on his phone.

"One outfit? Gray, baby, do you even know who you're talking to?"

Grayson rolled his eyes, a smirk forming on his face nonetheless.

"Don't give me that look; you're the one who teased me about looking nice. You're reaping the fruits of your labors."

"I hope to be laboring someway tonight," he muttered under his breath, then blushed when James gasped and swatted at his shoulder.

"You're absolutely terrible," James teased half heartedly, but couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to Grayson's words. They'd cuddled last night, curled up against each other with James' back tucked securely against Grayson's chest. It was the best sleep he'd gotten in months, better than any sleep he'd gotten with Jeff. He tried not to think about that too much.

"If you don't want to put up with it you're free to leave."

James only smiled, moved closer into Grayson's side, and linked his fingers through Grayson's.

"Where are you taking me tonight?"

"A surprise. You'll love it."

Grayson had Gino close early (cashing in a favor from when Grayson had fixed the old record player when it had crapped out) that night. He didn't reveal why, but more prodding than he'd have liked had him spilling that he was bringing an old friend to the restaurant and wanted privacy. Gino didn't prod.

When the strolled through the streets, Grayson making James laugh and James rolling his eyes, it felt natural, easy, familiar.

"I missed this," Grayson mumbled as he paused on the street. He caught James' arm in his hand and stopped him, running a thumb over the exposed skin.

"Me too. I haven't laughed like this in a really long time."

A smile eased its way on Grayson's face when he opened the door to Gino's and heard the bell. Lucy was in the corner setting the finishing touches on the table, the red checked vinyl table cloth contrasting starkly with the rose popped into the old coke bottle. Grayson chuckled at Gino's attempt at romance but appreciated the gesture of support.

"Gray, I thought you said this was fancy. I'm overdressed."

"You're fine. And this is the nicest restaurant in Brooklyn, J." He pulled out James' chair and shot a wink to Gino from the kitchen.

A moment later and a basket of breadsticks found their way to their table, the flash of a white shirt darting back into the kitchen the only indication that anyone else had ever been in the dining room.

"What is this place?" James asked softly. The lights were dimmed and a quiet jazz song was playing from the repaired record player in the corner and Grayson wanted to scream.

"Gino found me outside an Olive Garden about a month after I moved to New York and made sure I never ate fake Italian again. He was good to me."

James giggled behind his mouth but coughed over it when he saw Grayson fake glaring at him over the battery powered candle.

"So this is special to you? How many girls have you done this for, Gray?" James questioned, half-serious, nerves getting the best of him.

"Do E and my mom count?" He responded, honestly.

James' heart clenched and he reached for the glass of red one of the waiters had brought shortly after the breadsticks.

"You've only gotten prettier, I don't know how you did it," Grayson mumbled, rumbly. He was awestruck, amazed that James' face could look so soft but still have a feel of sharpness, masculinity to it. He could see how tired James was, how the bags under his eyes were covered, but not quite; James wanted people to understand that he was tired. His cry for help had been unanswered and not until Grayson had anyone realized.

"Are you trying to get in my pants, Dolan?" James retorted.

"Would you let me?"

"Probably not. Maybe after another glass of wine," James poked, but there was an air of truth to what he was saying. He didn't want to do this lightly. They'd danced around what Grayson had said in the car, but James wondered, couldn't help but, if this was really all some plan for Grayson to finally get what he'd wanted all this time. But James brushed that off and tried his best to enjoy the dinner Grayson had planned.

Grayson?" James started, spoon paused in the ice cream and brownie Gino had brought out.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you do this?"

"Because I wanted us to be able to catch up without someone sending pictures to the Hollywood Reporter or whatever," he answered quickly.

"I mean, I understand that, but the shopping, telling me to dress nicely? Inviting me back to your place last night?"

Grayson sighed and sat back in his chair, looking at James with a concerned face.

"You think I'm trying to sleep with you, don't you?"

"It's a justified concern."

"It's not, but whatever," Grayson grumbled, fishing out his wallet for the money to pay Gino and throwing it on the table.

"Gray, wait!"

Grayson had already gotten up, dessert abandoned and coat halfway on by the time he turned around to see a worried James right in front of him.

"What? I've tried all day to make you realize I'm not just trying to get in your pants or make up for lost tome or— or whatever you think I'm trying to do. James, I missed you like fucking crazy and I just wanted one night to pretend—" Grayson stopped and sighed, a hand running through his already moppy hair.

"Pretend what, Grayson? Pretend that we could ever work? Pretend that you didn't just leave me in LA without an explanation? Pretend that you didn't try your fucking hardest to make sure I thought this was a date and then you've done everything but what you promised me?" His voice lilted over the last part, unsure if this was a fight he was willing to finish if he started it.

"I wanted one fucking night to pretend you still loved me." Grayson stumbled over the words and he didn't look at James when he got done but there were there, and he said them, and he thought he would die if James didn't say something soon.

"Do you think I ever stopped?"

Grayson paused and watched James throw his back and laugh sadly.

"I can't fucking do this. God, I can't believe I even let you talk me into this. You and your fucking grand romantic gestures, Grayson. I'm leaving. I guess I'll see you in another 4? That sounds about right."

James jerked his bag off the floor and the fake rose toppled over, glue-water never budging from the plastic vase. Stumbling out of the door, he waved his hand, trying his best to hail a cab.

How did he think this would work? He was so angry at himself that he fell for the same thing. He'd been so afraid to get hurt again, and then he'd walked right into this, paranoid that at any moment it would fall apart because there had always been something about Grayson that made him feel naked. He'd bared himself open to this, had given Grayson a chance, and the same thing that had always happened was unfolding right before him. Grayson was scared and cowardly. Always had been. James wiped at his eyes furiously and sucked down a breath when the mascara coated his cheeks.

Grayson couldn't get up fast enough, the money and table left abandoned as he rushed out to the street to catch James before he left forever. He'd been so worried and so scared that this wasn't the right thing to do, that bringing James here, giving himself a chance at happiness would just end up hurting both of them and he'd been right. But maybe he could save this? Maybe, just maybe, James was still in his plan.

"James!" He cried when he caught of glimpse of the boy down the street, in tears and looking so small and helpless and God if this wasn't his chance to be the savior he needed to be he didn't know when he'd ever get it.

James turned and watched Grayson run up to him, eyes full of concern.

"What?"

"Stay, please. Let me explain."

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"Can I kiss you?"

He wanted to say no. Desperately, uncontrollably needed to say no, but James just couldn't help himself and suddenly he was grabbing Grayson's face in the middle of New York City in front of the sweetest restaurant he'd ever been to. James' heart was ready to burst out of his chest and he tried so hard to believe this was finally happening and suddenly when he felt Grayson not pushing him away but pulling him closer he could.

A taxi finally stopped, but Grayson shooed it away. James heard the crunch of gravel and the tell-tale sign of a car speeding up, and when he looked up he saw a twinkle in Grayson's eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Hi," he giggled, hand on Grayson's arm. A squeeze and he admired Grayson's strength, the way he covered him completely and towered over him and for the first time in a long time James felt small in the best way.

"Hey," Grayson returned with a grumbly laugh.

"That was—"

"It was real, J. Please, you've got to believe that." Grayson's voice cracked with his plea and James had to suppress a smile at how badly this man wanted him.

"I do, Gray, I do," he reassured, manicured fingers trailing down Grayson's chest and landing in his belt loop. He pulled Grayson closer until they were touching, James engulfed in Grayson's shadow.

"It's always been you, J. I tried so hard to find someone else but they weren't you. They were never you. I'd wake up and think about you and wish you were beside me every morning. When I saw you last night— J, fuck — I thought I was dreaming. There was no way you were here and still looked so good and you were single. I never expected you to wait on me, but fuck, am I glad the universe decided to give us this."

Grayson was breathless, from his confession and from the way James was looking at him, biting his lip, waiting for Grayson to do something with his hands on James' waist.

"I believe you."

"What?"

"I believe that was real. I believe that you've loved me all these years, fuck, I believe that you wanted me, that you've always wanted me. I tried so hard to push it back and convince myself it wouldn't ever happen, that when you were standing right in front of me I couldn't — fuck, Gray, I couldn't believe you but I do. Just, just kiss me again, please," he murmured desperately.

Lips against lips and James' back against the brick of the alley and if Grayson didn't stop James would be naked in a few seconds because of how badly Grayson needed to show James just how real this was.

"Let's go back to my place, okay?" He questioned against the soft skin of James' neck. His teeth grazed the exposed skin and James whimpered, high-pitched and needy and just nodded.

Grayson punched the buttons to order an Uber and within minutes a sleek black SUV pulled up beside them. James clamored in, scolding himself for not being more seductive, but apparently it didn't have an affect on Grayson because as soon as the door closed and the SUV took off Grayson had his hand up James' shirt and his other resting on the boy's cheek. His lips grazed over every inch of James' face, tenderly, so as not to break him. James could do nothing but just let it happen, his hands roaming in Grayson's hair, down his back, over his shoulders.

The ride was short, clipped even shorter by the neediness Grayson was exuding. He helped James our if the car and they rushed up to the apartment hand in hand; Grayson pinned James to the wall of the elevator and sucked a hickey the size of a quarter on James' neck and James wanted to scream with relief that he could finally do this, finally be himself and —

His feet flew off the ground when Grayson unlocked the apartment door and he found his legs wrapping around Grayson's waist. The booted foot kicked the door shut and James yelped in surprise when his back hit the bed. Giggles erupted from his mouth, uncontrolled, when Grayson started kissing down his neck, tugged the shirt off him to kiss up James' chest, and then they both paused when Grayson got to James' pants; who knew that a Gucci belt would be the beginning or the end of their relationship?

Grayson gulped as his hands fiddled with James' belt and the Gs knocked together, clinking and taunting Grayson.

"You're sure?"

"Fuck, yes, Gray, just—" James breathed out, fingers meeting Grayson's to help him push the offending article away and down with his jean shorts.

Their fingers tangled together, one not sure where the other's stopped before Grayson stared at James, taking him in.

"Fuck," he whispered, breathless and enamored. "J, baby, you're beautiful."

James smiled, cheeks pinking as Grayson scanned his body and touched him everywhere. His fingers fluttered over James' skin, admiring the way the calloused tips glided over James' creamy torso.

"Kiss me," he demanded, reaching up to pull Grayson closer. Grayson complied, tugging his own shirt off before he leaned into James' touch. The warmth of their bodies meshed together, Grayson's chest barely touching James'.

Grayson had always been strong, broad shouldered, but now, with the tattoos covering his shoulders and upper arms, and a few scars littering his shoulder blades, James couldn't catch his breath fast enough.

"Breathe, J, we're not even to the good part yet," Grayson whispered cockily, earning him another swat from James. Grayson peppered kisses up James' neck and cupped his hand around James' cock through the thin briefs and James nearly screamed.

A choked moan escaped James' lips and Grayson smirked when James' fingers tightened in the sheets beside him. He pulled the briefs off the rest of the way before he covered James' dick with his mouth.

James' head flew back into the pillow and he whimpered, hands white-knuckling the sheets. He couldn't help the litany of pleas that came after.

"Grayson, more, please," he begged, voice hoarse with need.

Grayson bobbed, hollowing his cheeks as he took more of James in his mouth.

"Grayson, Grayson, Grayson, please, I need you to fuck me," James whimpered. Grayson pulled off, reaching into the table beside his bed for the lube he kept for himself. He clicked the top open and squirted a generous amount into his palm and swirled his fingers around, warming it up and slicking his fingers.

He ghosted the pad of his finger across James' hole and relished in the way James moaned his name loudly. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, James just needed something, anything, from Grayson.

"Please," he croaked. Grayson pushed in a finger gently, making sure to tug on James' length as he pushed in to ease the burn of it.

"Jesus, fuck, James, you've gotta quit with the sounds or I'm gonna come before I even get to fuck you," Grayson pleaded desperately, inserting another finger in at the same time he quirked his wrist to the right.

James choked on a moan but nodded, biting into his hand to muffle the sound bubbling in his throat. Grayson inserted another finger and scissored them; he watched as they moved, in and out of James' ass and his own breath caught in his throat when he remembered that he was about to fuck James.

"Okay, Gray, fuck, enough, c'mon."

A smirk. "What do you need, J?" He questioned, mounting at James' hips as he slowly thrust his fingers.

"Fuck me," James whispered, confident, collected, and needy.

Grayson fumbled for a moment in the drawer and produced a condom, tearing the package to roll it down his cock. He hissed at the feeing, sensitive from not being touched all this time, and he leaned down to kiss James one more time.

"Ready?" He questioned, checking one last time.

"Fuck, yes just— fuck, Grayson, oh my god," he whined long and loudly. (Grayson's neighbors were going to hate him in the morning.) Grayson settled with his hips against James' ass, James' legs wrapped around his waist, and he leaned down to kiss the boy again. After a hoard of stolen kisses, he leaned back up and pulled out slowly, pushing back in at the same speed and repeated this, waiting for James to beg him to speed up.

It didn't take long for them to find a rhythm, James moaning Grayson's name in the most beautiful voice Grayson had ever heard, while he grunted into James' each, quiet words about how beautiful James was, how good he felt, how long he'd been waiting to fuck James.

"Fuck, right there, Gray, fuck me," James cried out, breathy little moans leaving his mouth. Grayson growled and nipped at James' neck. He sucked a hickey to the pale skin at the juncture of James' collarbone and neck, much to James' chagrin.

"Look so pretty like this J. Laid out and panting for me," Grayson preened, sucking another love bite onto James' chest.

Nails dug into Grayson's back and he whimpered at the feeling of Grayson deep inside him.

James pulled his hips close, making it nearly impossible for Grayson to pull out, but the short, choppy thrusts against James' prostate nearly had him coming between their bodies.

"Gray, Gray, I'm so close, please, I need more." James' voice cracked and he sounded desperate, willing to do anything for his release. Grayson merely groaned into James ear and reached between their bodies to grasp onto James' dick, tugging it quickly to get him to come.

A moment later and James was spilling between them and all over Grayson's hand and Grayson followed, coming into the condom inside James and growling out a rough expletive when he did. He pulled out and pulled the condom off and tied it off before he walked into the bathroom to get a wet rag. He came back with the warm cloth and swiped it over James' stomach, revealing in the sound of James whimpering softly. He climbed back into bed and opened his arms and he could have cried when James crawled into the easily and curled around Grayson's body.

"Best I've ever had," James murmured hoarsely as he cuddled into Grayson's side. His eyes drooped and he had to force himself to keep alert to Grayson's gentle kisses.

"We fly out tomorrow night," Grayson whispered.

"Are you ready to face LA in the spotlight again?"

"I'd do anything if it meant you kept finding your way back to me." And if James slapped Grayson's chest for being cheesy, Grayson couldn't complain.

"Now boarding Group 2, priority class!"

"That's us, Gray," James told him, shaking him from his nap in the first class lounge.

Grayson rubbed his eyes as they passed through the lounge and into the terminal to board their 6 hour flight back to LA. He itched to reach out and grab James' hand, but settled his nerves by carrying James' LV carry-on instead. He showed the attendant his ticket, already behind James slightly and he had to work to catch up as they strolled through the connector to the plane.

Grayson had already deposited their carry-ons and had settled into the pod across from James when he caught a glimpse of the cellphone flash. He made sure to tug his hood up closer to his face before he sat back down, only wanting to give James a peck on the forehead before they settled in for the flight.

"There's a girl behind you taking pictures of us," Grayson murmured, pretending to be occupied on his phone. He glanced up and caught James' scared eyes and smiled at him softly.

"I don't think she recognized me, and I don't think she's realized who are yet, but this is a long flight. I've another got a hoodie in my carry-on if you want it."

"Is this just another sneaky trick to get me in your clothes?"

"Partially," Grayson teased, but got up and grabbed the sweatshirt anyway.

The flight didn't amount to much: the girl quickly forgot about them and resumed clicking away at her phone, and James tucked his foot under Grayson's and promptly fell asleep. They landed in LA early, nearly 4, and when the lights came on in the cabin, Grayson groaned quietly, glancing over to see James still asleep. He touched his foot to James' and watched as James slowly woke up.

"What time?"

"3:47."

"Fuck," James mumbled, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"Is E still picking you up?"

"Yeah. He has no idea you're with me though."

James paused and his head jerked from where he was stashing his headphones and pillow in his backpack to up to look at Grayson.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I haven't told Ethan, yet," he answered sheepishly. It had been a whirlwind the last three days and Grayson had nearly forgotten what had happened himself.

"He's going to flip his shit and if he kills you that's justified and not on me."

"I don't have anything to leave you except my love, baby," Grayson teased as he unbuckled his seat belt.

James rolled his eyes and pushed Grayson lightly.

"You're an idiot."

Ethan met him with a running start at the baggage claim and Grayson felt good for the first time in months. He hugged Ethan tightly, trying to make up for lost time with the hug.

"Fuck, I missed you, bub," Ethan whispered, trying his best not to cry in the middle of LAX.

"Me too," Grayson replied. They pulled away and Grayson cleared his throat and shuffled around.

"Look, there's something I have to tell you—"

"Holy fuck, did you know James was here?" Ethan exclaimed, waving frantically and smiling.

"Uh, yeah. That's because he flew home with me."

Ethan sat in stunned silence for a moment, looking between James, who was now beside Grayson, and Grayson, who looked like he was trying not to look guilty.

"You— And he— and you— and wait aren't you— oh my God you finally did it didn't you!"

"Ethan!"

Ethan only chuckled and grabbed James' bags from him, clapping a big hand on Grayson's back and winking in return to Grayson's confused look.

"Welcome back, Gray."