#grayson x button

On days when he's feeling particularly poetic, he thinks that her lips remind him of rose petals, especially so when she purses them the way she does when she's worried about something. His neck and ears always heat up at that thought as he wills himself to look away, his mind scrambling for any topic of conversation that could cheer her up. That's usually when his train of thought will move on to the fact that there are just so many things that remind him of her. There's the obvious stuff like cookies and buttons, of course, but then there's also... flowers. He knows how much she loves them and it's all he can do some days not to pick every one he sees on his way to Nick's house. He'll never forget the day and a half he spent researching flower meanings before her graduation day (good lord, flower language was way more complicated than he could've ever imagined), nor the way her face split in two with the brightest smile he'd ever seen from her when he showed up to the ceremony with a bouquet of pink, orange and yellow chrysanthemums. 

That had been the one time he'd ever let himself come close enough to her that he'd be able to read her thoughts; he wanted to give her the flowers himself. It was selfish, maybe, but he just couldn't have Nick or John to do it for him. They were in each other's space only for a second or two before he backed away, but her fingers brushed against his when she took the bouquet, and he heard her voice in his mind as clearly as if she'd been whispering her thank yous into his ear. He also felt how happy she was, a pleasant sort of buzzing against his skin that her mind was projecting only for him. After that day, the buzzing of busy bees always makes his mind drift to her, too.

On summer days, when the sunlight kisses her brown skin through the open window, he finds himself daydreaming of touch, of things he can not have. Truth be told, it's hard not to think about the sun when he looks at Sol, with her infectious laughter, her yellow sweaters, those almost comically large earrings she likes to wear, and the warmth that's ever present in her voice and her gaze. Her eyes also remind him of hot cocoa and in return, hot cocoa always reminds him of her and the way that, ever since that winter when the heater in his apartment randomly decided to stop working, he can count on there being an extra cup with little marshmallows waiting for him at Nick's house. Sol never asks if he's going to stay over for dinner, she lays the table for three and doesn't take no for an answer. Gray can't help but smile as he watches her do so, knowing that he's always included when she talks about family, when she thinks about home.

Most times, when Gray looks at Sol, he marvels at the fact that she loves him. Because despite what Nick and Sally may think, Gray isn’t blind. He sees Sol. He sees her. Gray knows. Her affection for him is intertwined in their every interaction, from when she chides him for forgetting to eat lunch or not charging his phone, to when she responds to his terrible Texan impression with her own equally awful British one, to all the times he's seen her fingers twitch when they're watching tv together as she stops herself from reaching out for him. There was a time when he'd convinced himself that she'd grow out of it but, even though she never confessed, her teenage crush didn't go away when she got older; her feelings for him are always there, hanging in the air between them. Not like an elephant in the room, but like a secret that he pretends not to be aware of. It flusters him. It humbles him. It overjoys him.