#tgb

Lyra could tell, in the way that he had been swimming for nearly two hours, hadn't yet registered her presence and his stiff movements. As if there was some sharp tension he couldn't rid himself of.

Finally, tired of being unintentionally ignored, Lyra stood up and strode over to the other side of the pool, where Grayson's lap would eventually finish.

She couldn't help but be amazed by the way Grayson's body kept up with his merciless routine— working at the firm, cooking at home and then swimming an unholy number of laps.

It took everything in her not to think about the way Grayson's muscles moved as he swam.

Don't think about his abs, good god Lyra, not now.

Lyra plopped her feet into the pool, ignoring the goosebumps she got from the cold water.

Grayson finished his lap and surfaced, breathing hard and pushing his wet blonde hair off of his face, momentarily taking Lyra's breathe away.

Grayson opened his eyes and, for a moment, the couple just stared at one another. Lyra took in Grayson's tired features, he obviously needed rest, so why was he exerting himself?

"Gray." She said, breaking the comfortable silence. The worry was obvious in her voice.

You see, Grayson didn't usually swim just for the sake of it. As much as he enjoyed it, swimming happened to be his coping mechanism—more like over exerting himself happened to be his coping mechanism.

Grayson gave her a small, strained smile, "Hi, sweetheart."

Lyra raised a skeptical brow, "What's wrong?"

"And why would anything be wrong?"

"You don't say hi."

Grayson paused for a moment, looking positively taken aback as if he wasn't in the pool but reliving a memory, "I am perfectly capable of saying hi, Lyra."

"I never said you aren't capable, asshole, it's just that you don't." Lyra snapped back.

This made Grayson chuckle, the tension in his body easing a little. Lyra couldn't help but smile, his honey coated laughs always melted her.

"I swear you and Xander are doing this on purpose." Grayson muttered, shaking his head, causing water droplets to fly around.

If he were to say this under normal circumstances, Lyra would probably have pried as to what he meant exactly, but this was definitely not normal circumstances.

Despite Grayson's light jokes, Lyra could tell something was off. His body was still tense and his smile seemed slightly forced.

Lyra frowned, "Gray. What's wrong?" She asked softly this time. Grayson looked back at her, his gaze flying over her face in that way that made Lyra feel giddy and far too self-important.

In the end, he simply asked, "I'm going to swim a few more laps and come up, okay?"

Grayson was stalling for time, he didn't want to tell her what was bothering him. Lyra simply nodded and watched as he took off again, swimming as if he was meant for it.

She didn't leave, though, instead walking to sit near the exit of the pool-room and waiting. She watched as Grayson swam laps, over and over again, once, twice.

It was at his ninth lap that Lyra finally gave in, she practically stomped her way to Grayson— who was catching his breath at the end of the pool.

She saw his eyes widen slightly, Grayson hadn't expected her to wait.

"You said a few more laps?" Lyra deadpanned, raising her brows pointedly. Grayson let out a huff without meeting her eyes as silence enveloped the room.

Lyra noticed that he was still in the pool, he wants to swim.

She let out an exasperated sigh, "Gray, darling, please, tell me what's going on." Her voice sounded near desperate. It was her tone that got him to finally look up at her.

Lyra squatted down so she could be closer to Grayson, suddenly feeling the need to close the distance between them.

"Let me in, talk to me— don't just try and numb the pain." She gives him a pleading look which is surprisingly firm for how desperate she feels. Grayson keeps staring at her, as if he can't take his eyes away.

Its times like this exactly that confuse Lyra, she wants to be mad at Grayson for letting himself suffer alone, she wants to punch some sense into him— but then he looks at her like that, as if she is the entire world personified. Obviously, she proceeds to melt.

"Y'know what, I'll join you." Lyra says, standing slowly and making to strip off her shirt. She'd leave her shorts on.

Lyra could feel Grayson’s gaze on her, looking her up and down.

His voice came out a bit hoarse and Lyra bit back a smirk, "You don't have to Lyra, I'll come out— "

"Hush, Gray." And Lyra dived in. Grayson was there within seconds, arms wrapping around her waist and hoisting her up, out of the water.

Lyra flushed, "Grayson! I can swim! Put me down—" She punched his chest lightly and almost pouted. She was supposed to be comforting him, not whatever this was.

Seeing her expression, Grayson barked a laugh— a free laugh and Lyra's traitorous heart pounded so hard she thought she was having a heart attack.

"Grayson! You god damn tease, let me go." She insists, though she was smiling now. Grayson smiled right back at her and for a second everything seemed normal again.

Grayson looked genuinely happy. Then his expression clouded so quickly Lyra thought she'd been seeing things.

He didn't let her go, instead moving to the shallow part of the pool, Lyra simply observed him the entire time.

Just what is going on?

At long last, Grayson set her down on the edge of the pool and met her eyes before dropping them, his hands lingering on her waist.

"I visited her today." He said finally. Grayson looked pained, as if recollecting the memory hurt him.

Lyra waited for him to continue.

Grayson gulped, "She— she found out. About our relationship," he looks up at her, "Skye."

Lyra takes in a sharp breath, the puzzle pieces falling together.

It was no secret that Lyra and Grayson were now engaged. Grayson's proposal had been quite the eye catcher and their relationship was still a hot topic.

The Heir and The Queen of Hearts, to be wed!!

Grayson Hawthorne meets his match!

The Biggest Proposal of the Decade!!

Grayson Hawthorne Moves Past Avery Grambs!

So it wasn't a surprise that Skye had found out. Really, it was expected. What came as a surprise though was that Grayson had went to meet her.

Lyra takes a deep breath, not sure if she should be prying, "Gray, are you alright?"

It was a stupid question. Evidently, he wasn't but Lyra didn't know what else to say.

Grayson took a shaky breath and moved closer to Lyra. He wrapped his hands around her and rested his head against her stomach.

"No." Grayson replies, barely a whisper. Lyra nods slowly, her hands making their way to his wet hair. She tangles her finger in it, smiling when Grayson relaxes against her.

They sit in silence for a second.

"She called me, a few days ago. Said she wanted to talk about..." Grayson pauses.

"About me."

Grayson nods, "About us."

"I told her to leave us be. Less respectfully." This gets a snort out of Lyra, leave it to Grayson to point out his exact use of words.

"And?" She says, gently.

"She went with it for a few days, but then—" Grayson gulped, this was obviously hard for him and Lyra hated herself for making him recollect it and hated Skye even more for being the absolute piece of shit that she is.

"She called again, spouted some nonsense about…" he paused, "about family." He finished.

"And what the fuck does she know about family?" Lyra’s tone made Grayson’s head snap up in surprise, she sounded absolutely livid.

“She doesn’t get to pull that card with you, Gray. She does not. That’s just sick.”

Grayson gives Lyra a small smile, which does nothing to lessen her anger and only makes her want to strangle Skye more.

How dare she hurt him? Yet again?

"I know, Lyra. But old habits die hard, I suppose." Grayson said, sounding a bit ashamed. Lyra let out a sigh.

She massages Grayson’s head to calm him, it’s alright Gray, it’s okay.

"I went. We met briefly. She… had things to say about this." Grayson leaves the last bit unspoken.

About this relationship. About us.

This time it’s Lyra’s turn to take a shaky breath, she isn’t sure why she suddenly cares about what Skye has to say. It didn’t matter before. It shouldn’t matter now.

But seeing Grayson be like…like this, so hurt and vulnerable because of a few words from Skye. Lyra can’t help but feel a bit worried as well.

"She started with the usual attempts at guilt tripping," Grayson gives an awkward shrug, "sad, really."

Lyra saw through this act, too. Because of course Grayson cares. Of course he cares and thinks and hurts for his pathetic excuse of a mother. Because that’s just who he is, cold exterior and a heart made of fucking gold.

Lyra suddenly feels a rush of fondness for the man thats draped himself on her lap, the other half of his body still in the pool.

"It’s not your fault." Lyra reminded Grayson firmly. Grayson didn’t move for a second, then replied with a simple nod.

"She went on and on for a while, complaining about anything she could think of. For a solid five minutes." Grayson said, he sounded almost amused. Lyra’s heart squeezed.

Oh you stupid idiot.

"I cut her off then," he paused, letting that settle in, "I told her to get to the point."

You did the right thing. Lyra thinks, but it isn’t what Grayson wants to hear and she knows it. Because as unfortunate as it is, Grayson still cares about Skye.

Oh you stupid stupid idiot.

"She did." Grayson said, separating himself from Lyra’s stomach to look at her, really look at her.

His eyes had a strange glint in them, he looked nervous almost. Guilty. Scared.

Lyra hated it. Her heart unable to handle that look. She reached out to him, her hand gently brushing his cheek.

Grayson leaned into the touch slightly, finding his courage.

"She talked about the family…" he took a deep breath, his hands finding Lyra’s and squeezing hard.

"Hawthornes are incapable of loving without hurting." Grayson’s tone goes cold as he speaks without hitching. He was quoting Skye.

"No matter how much you may wish to love her, no matter how much she may actually love you, it won’t last."

Lyra feels her blood begin to boil.

"That happiness you’re currently relishing in, that love you feel for her, Gray? It’s an illusion. Because Hawthornes, they just can’t love."

Grayson takes a pause, the cold look on his face slightly deterring. Lyra wants to kiss that expression off his face. She doesn’t.

"No, they have to hurt. They have to hurt themselves and everyone around them because that’s just who they are, who we are."

This time, Grayson seems to hesitate. Lyra gives his hand a squeeze, you can do it, love.

Grayson looks at her like she’s the only thing keeping him from slipping completely.

"She…," Grayson starts, having switched back to third person, "she said that I am the most broken Hawthorne."

The world seemed to hold its breathe, Lyra sees red.

I’m going to kill this woman.

"And then she looked at me with so much fucking pity." Grayson says, so intensely that Lyra’s eyes stray back to his tense features and over to his clenched fists.

"She looked at me as if— as if I, this, we are already a lost cause." Grayson looks down and Lyra’s heart drops.

No. Why does he look ashamed? What is there to be ashamed about?

"Gray." Lyra says, an odd emotion in her voice. She was pleading for him to say that Skye was spewing nonsense. She was praying that he didn’t believe a word Skye said.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

"I was raised to be a Hawthorne, Lyra. Through and through." Grayson finishes after a long moment, sounding defeated. Lyra sees red.

She practically vibrates with this new found anger. Because how dare he. How dare he.

After everything they had been through together, after all those suffocating confessions, silent comforts and little secrets— how could he let himself waver.

How could Grayson let himself doubt his own love? How could he hesitate about them, about this, for even a second?

Lyra stands up abruptly, pushing Grayson out of her embrace. He looks up at her with pained eyes. He was hurting. He has been hurting for hours. Alone.

But now Lyra was hurting too, because how could he?

"Lyra." Grayson said her name like a prayer, he said it like an apology.

Why are you guilty? Why are you agreeing with that woman? Lyra’s thoughts threatened to suffocate her.

"I’m sorry."

Lyra glares at Grayson, that does it.

"For what?" Lyra snaps, her tone was ice cold. Grayson flinched before looking up at her. His face was still wet with droplets from the pool, his hair a mess because of Lyra’s massage. Grayson’s eyes were wide and focused on her completely.

He looked beautiful, Lyra’s heart throbbed.

"For what, you asshole?" She repeats, this time, some of the hurt slips into the words. Grayson reaches for her.

"Lyra—"

"No." She says, moving away. Grayson freezes immediately before his hands move back into the pool, limp beside him. He looks stricken, Lyra’s heart squeezes again.

"Absolutely not, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne."

The man in question waits in silence, looking oddly small as he looks up at her from the pool. Lyra hates it, hates this.

"I will not have you do this," she gestures to him, up and down, "the bloody self loathing."

A silence follows that declaration, acting as a period. Making the statement a fact.

"It’s not self-loathing, Lyra."

Lyra scoffs then, all sharp and pointy edges, "Oh really, Gray? Then what were you apologising for? Fucking loving me?"

Grayson flinched before the surprise gave way to anger, "I never said that."

See this is what Grayson does.

Whenever he gets too angry or too upset, he doesn’t scream. No, he goes quite instead, his tone doing all the damage he needs, locking his expressions away all together.

Lyra’s heart aches to see him this way again, so distant, after they’d been nothing but close for so long.

"No. No you didn’t, so why were you apologising to me?!" Lyra says, her voice going up an octave. Grayson stills for a bit, thinking but letting his face remain impassive.

"It felt like the right thing to say, is all." Is what he says eventually. Lyra nearly rolls her eyes.

"Wow, genius. Didn’t that go over well for you?" She said sarcastically, seeing her jab land. It should have felt satisfying, it didn’t.

Grayson’s gaze hardened, "Well, I didn’t expect you to go off for no reason."

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...ignoring the random tense changes, i lowk cooked with this one.