─ 𝒩.

y/n

you walk in the dimly lit ballroom of the hawthorne house, representing your family name tonight, which in reality, was stained already. your gaze catches one with cold, blue eyes. his face looked like a sculpted statue. you knew him as grayson hawthorne, the heir apparent of the hawthorne fortune.

little did you know, you’d spend the entire night dancing, conversing and perhaps even flirting with him. it took him long enough to open up his non-brooding personality, but it turns out that the both of you have more than a lot in common. from high society expectations, to hobbies, to academics.

when the night came to an end, you had at least 1 person that still adored you despite the scathing looks you were given the whole night, that person was grayson. it was likely because he didn't know what was happening with your family, but the others surely did.

grayson

the old man called me into his office right after the gala ended. i do not know what he has in store for me, but right now, i don’t wish to know. my knuckles hit the dark wood twice before entering. he gives me a look. the one that had the word ‘disappointed’ etched into his irises. “sit, grayson.” he instructs. i do as i'm told. “are you aware that the girl you spent all night with, instead of socializing like i told you to, is going bankrupt? precisely, her family. but it is not a good look for you grayson. did you not catch the glares of disapproval from almost everyone? or were you too busy being an ignorant flirt?” he scolds me. “i do not want to see you with her anymore. that is all, rest well, grayson.”

months later…

i’ve been lying to the old man. i’ve been seeing y/n for weeks. always having my hood up and eyes down when i meet up with her. paparazzi has failed to ever snap a picture of me with her, thankfully. grandfather would maybe even cross out my name as the heir apparent if he finds out.

y/n

you are in love with grayson hawthorne. it’s wrong. it doesn’t feel right. your affair seems to be illicit. if it were revealed to the public eye, it would: one, ruin your family name further, and two, mess his up as well. but hes like a drug that succeeds to numb you of your family problems, and perhaps you are his, able to numb him of his family expectations, yet, simply meeting up for a chat could possibly be more scandalous than hollywood's affairs.

grayson kisses you, and well of course, you kiss him back, it feels like a slice of heaven. you’re so terribly lost in the moment that when a camera shutters, you, nor grayson even noticed it.

grayson

grandfather calls me into his office. i’ve just come back from sneaking out to see y/n. “grayson. sit. now.” he seems frustrated, or irritated, but it is far too late for me to care. “explain.” he spits as he hands me a picture. it’s one of me and y/n, tucked away at a parking lot, where i– we, thought was empty. no. it’s so terribly obvious that it’s me and her. how could i have not noticed? why wasn’t i more attentive?

“grandfather- i can explain.” i try to stall. “then explain why this was emailed to me, just now. tell me it isn't you in the picture, grayson, i dare you.” he scolds further, but he is calm. he’s not yelling, nor screaming. “i do not know what you both have going on, but i want it to be over by tomorrow night. how? i do not know, nor care. i trust you to do so, grayson.” the old man sighs, rubbing his temples like it’s the most stressful dilemma of his life.

the next day

it’s late enough at night when i put on the same hoodie again, and arrange a meeting with y/n at the same spot as always, an abandoned parking lot. “y/n,” i greet her, she has a lovely smile on her face, one i would sacrifice any amount of money to see.

y/n

grayson texted you to be at your usual spot before midnight. you didn’t know what he had in store. he greets you with a face of weariness and regret

“this has to end, y/n.” he finally announces. his face contorts to an icy, cold gaze, much like the one you first saw him with.

“why?” tears automatically well in your eyes. “you’ve shown me what it is like to be loved- why end it now?” you question, your tone is desperate.

“i just can’t do this, baby.” the nickname returns, and you despise it. you can’t stand the fact that he’s calling you that despite the fact that things have to end.

“don’t call me baby.” you shook your head “i look like a fucking idiotic fool, grayson!” you snap, careful not to draw attention, but you didn’t care anymore. being with grayson felt like the realest thing you had in months with all the scandals and cases going on in your own home.

“dammit grayson- you know damn well that i’d ruin myself over and over again for you.” you chuckle bitterly as the first tear fell, rolling down your cheek. his face remains stoic, but you can spot the sorrow in his eyes.

the bastard doesn’t say anything, but what he does is turn around, and walk away, leaving you like some godforsaken mess.

the hawthorne house was decorated in grand, festive decor for the upcoming gala, held by the one and only; avery kylie grambs.

as the sun began to set, the hawthorne house was slowly being flooded with guests, each one enamoured by the extravagant decor. a long list of attendees would be coming tonight, such as the participants of the grandest game, business partners, and big sponsors. everything had to go accordingly.

lyra made her way into the house, mouth agape, impressed by the decor. it was unsurprisingly hawthorne-like. soon enough, she entered the incredibly posh ballroom, and somehow, she had this reflex to scan the room for a particular person: grayson hawthorne.

and of course she found him, a smile plastered on his face with a flute of champagne in between his fingers, conversing with someone. that someone just happened to be a woman, and hell– lyra was jealous. she was jealous over someone that’s not even hers, pathetic, isn’t it?

as the night went on, lyra made sure to sneak a glance or two at him. speak- no, think of the devil, and he shall appear. grayson suddenly made his way to her, catching lyra by surprise.

“hello there, sweetheart.” he so kindly murmured, offering her one of his polite smiles.

“don’t call me sweetheart.” she replied, but some twisted part of her wanted him to call her just that.

“alright then. save a dance for me?” he smirked before disappearing into the large crowd.

lyra smiled, genuinely this time.

once the crowd began to fade, grayson made his way to find find lyra, who was nowhere to be found. he’d accepted the fact that she’d left.

meanwhile lyra was looking out at the garden of hawthorne house from one of the large windows in the ballroom. only once she turned around, her gaze met grayson’s over the fading attendees.

once the ballroom was empty enough with only faint music playing over the bluetooth speakers, gray finally picked up the courage to walk over to lyra.

“so, did you, sweetheart?” grayson smirked, standing close enough to her.

“did i what, asshole?” lyra scoffed while raising her eyebrows.

“save a dance for me, of course.” grayson responded, amusement in his tone.

“hm. what if i didn’t?” lyra questioned, a slight hint of tease in her voice.

“then i’d say you were lying.” grayson stepped closer towards lyra.

“dance with me?” grayson invited, reaching his hand out.

lyra took his hand, while grayson’s other hand found her waist, and slowly but surely, they were dancing to the faint music in the ballroom.

“you look stunning.” grayson smiled, but what he meant to say was ‘do you still hate me?’

“thank you.” a light blush coated lyra’s face. i’m slowly falling in love with you

grayson hawthorne had just landed in lyra’s hometown. he had promised her during the game. that he’d help her once this was all over, help her truly uncover what had happened to her father. the note she found at the game was still tucked into her journal. thomas, thomas, tommaso, tomas. her phone buzzed. grayson. 

where do you want to meet? - gray, 4.38 pm.

my house, my journal is still inside, im also on the way there.

[location attached] - lyra, 4.40 pm.

👍🏻 - gray, 4.41 pm

grayson was there earlier than the house-owner herself. grayson was about to ring lyra right when her motorcycle came to a stop in front of him. his pose made it look like he’d been waiting for long enough. “sorry, traffic.” lyra shortly apologized while taking off her helmet. “i don't think my parents are home, you should wait inside while i get my journal.” lyra explained quickly before unlocking the door, gesturing gray to enter. to both their surprises, her brother and mom sat at the dining table. “shit.” lyra muttered quietly enough. grayson smirked at her panic. “lee lee! whos that?” her brother jumped out of his seat, quickly running towards her. “uh, well he’s my–” lyra’s excuse was cut short.

you sat on the office couch, eyes directed at your too focused boyfriend rather than the book in your hands. you loved aaron, you really did, but he’s been awfully busy for the last few days, too busy to give you any attention. only short good mornings, or good nights. he’d be gone when you woke up, and absent when you went to bed. you were sure he’s absolutely exhausted. the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent day by day. only did he look up from his laptop screen, or his papers to say “oh, hello love,” or something like that.

you understood him. you knew he wanted to rave about how much he loved you, you knew how he wanted to lay in your lap and watched as you went on about your day. yet, he couldn’t. he has a full time job as the supreme commander. oh how you missed your aaron.

every time you’ve called him over to take a break, he’d simply say “5 more minutes love, i promise.” but did he fulfill those promises? no. just sweet nothings. 

“love?” he called.

“yes aaron?” you smiled down at him, staring at you from your lap.

“how was your day?” he inquired, causing you to put your book down.

“so-.....”

“aaron?” you tried, looking up from your book, some form of despair in your eyes, and your tone. “yes, love?” he looked up from his screen. you’re sure that was the first time he made full eye contact with you in the last 7 hours. you've been on this couch for 3. it’s 10.36 pm. “c’mere?” you patted your lap. his eyes looked dead, his eye bags only slightly covered by the frame of his working glasses. he unexpectedly got up and walked closer towards you. soon enough, he found peace on your lap, laying down sideways, staring at god knows what. you gently ran your hands into his hair, playing with a few strands. “oh my sweet boy.” you hummed.

orange rays of light seeped through your shared bedroom curtains.

you carefully shifted your body to achieve a more comfortable position to avoid waking cyrus up. A soft groan came from the king. you gently ran your fingers through his bronze hair to quiet him down and send him back to his previous slumber.

the sun was slowly rising by now, delicate rays of sunlight fell on cyrus’ peaceful face. you brushed a strand of hair out of his face with something of a touch. it was considerately too soft for anyone to call it a touch. you smiled at his sleeping figure. thanking god that you woke up to this view every morning.

he slept awfully late last night, so late that you could’ve barely kept your eyelids waiting for him. you were aware of the fact that he was a busy man with the job of a king. 

Grayson stared at his phone, his entire body stuck, frozen. A black text message was the only thing in focus of his eyes. A black text message from his private investigator. A black message that wrote “The identity of your caller is Lyra Kane.”

Lyra Kane. Phone girl. Lyra Kane. Phone Girl. Lyra Kane. Phone girl.

They were the same person. That’s why the calls stopped since the games began.

Shockingly, asshole, my father’s last word were not “How did you get this number?"

Who this girl was mattered very much, Grayson once said.

How did he not know? How did he not dig deeper into her, like he did with the other players? What was it about her that he’d let his guard down so easily, just for her to lie.

Lie. Lie. Lie. Lies. Everyone is a liar.

He should’ve known. He knew. He knew no one could love him, why believe her? Of all people, why did it have to be Lyra Kane that made him feel loved? 

Grayson avoided Lyra for the next few days. What could he possibly even say to her? He’d confront her─ later on. She tried talking to him, only for Grayson to desperately end the conversation and restrain eye contact. He couldn’t even look at her.

He finally knocked on Lyra’s door. It’s been 4 exact days since he found out. 4 days since he figured that Lyra had been lying to him for almost a month. He heard a harsh slam, probably her laptop, or whatever, it couldn’t matter less. Lyra opened the door with a glare on her face. “I need to talk to you.” Grayson further open. Lyra was in a black tank top and red flannel pants, while Grayson was still in a dress shirt and suit pants. “Were you going to tell me?” Grayon shut the door behind him, his voice cracking, sounding hoarse. “Tell you what?” Lyra raised an eyebrow. Grayson couldn’t tell if she was playing dumb or incredibly good at lying. “Lyra, please. I know who you are.” Grayson eyes softened. The pleading in his tone was evident. Grayson stepped closer, his hand in an attempt to reach for her waist before Lyra snatched it first. “Don’t.” She warned, some twisted form of hurt in her voice. “This? This can’t happen Gray, whatever it is, whatever those walks at the beach or nights at the library meant. It simply cannot happen.” Lyra gestured at the empty space between the pair with her free hand, the other never letting go of Gray’s. 

“I could’ve helped, with figuring out what the old man did to your dad, with everything else you’re trying to figure out. So, why lie?” Grayson’s voice was so quiet of a whisper, that Lyra barely heard it before taking a singular step back and a strangled breath. “Your family has done enough in my life. I don’t need you, Grayson Hawthorne, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Grayson stood painfully still. Frozen. Stuck in place. 

I don’t need you, Grayson Hawthorne, and I don’t think I ever will.

Those words came out of the same girl that had smiled at him, helped him, and excruciatingly, somehow, brought his guard down.

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” Grayson muttered, eyes staring straight at Lyra’s. Oh how she wished she could see those eyes in a happier manner.

“What?” She scoffed, not even arrogantly, or mockingly.

“You said that we simply cannot happen, but is it that simple, Lyra?” Grayson’s voice cracked somewhere through the sentence. How could he not crack? The one singular person on this planet who made him feel loved had been lying to him, for weeks.

“Get out, Grayson. Please.” Lyra’s voice sounded desperate, yet full of hate, or anger, Grayson couldn’t tell, especially not now.

Every friday night was Nazeera and Kenji’s movie date. They’ve never skipped a single one before, it was one of the little things they did to keep their relationship– alive, you could say.

Though unfortunately, tonight’s movie was Kenji’s pick. That means he’ll pick one particular movie: Tangled. The movie was his favorite, it was superior above others, yet Nazeera still didn't get why even after all his explanations.

“Tangled is not a cartoon, Nazeera. It’s a movie about love and independence and charm and–”

“Mhm. Got it.” 

Nazeera placed the popcorn bag into the microwave, then pressed a button before waiting, arms crossed. Kenji snuck up behind her and immediately found refuge in the crook of her neck while his hands wrapped around her waist. Nazeera gave a small, knowing chuckle before the microwave beeped and Kenji removed himself from her. 

Nazeera poured the popcorn into a bowl before finding her way to the couch and plopped down comfortably. Kenji held the TV remote with a grin she knew too well. “Soooo…..what should we watch?” Kenji questioned sarcastically, as if he’d opt for any of Nazeera’s movie recommendations. She was convinced this man had never liked nor watched any other movies besides Tangled before dating her.

“Ah yes, here we go!” Kenji smirked playfully while he clicked the play button on the remote. “Wait–” He ran back to the room, before grabbing a pascal plush he had gotten for Nazeera because he said “it suited her personality” He threw the plushie towards Nazeera’s direction, thinking it’d surprise her. She caught it with the smirk he used when he hit the play button.

“Tangled, again? Seriously Kenji–” Nazeera made an attempt to complain but Kenji cut her off, “Nazeera, it’s the best thing the cinematic universe has made. I’m gonna stick with my choice.” He grinned while an annoyed Nazeera rolled her eyes.

At this point, she’d nearly have every dialogue memorized, but it was worth it to see her boyfriend laughing and smiling.