#xanderangst

Summary: *cough, cough*

Warning: 18+ explicit. first time writing smut lol so i don't even know if it's that good.

~~~~~~~~~

Grayson pulls away from our kiss to lay me down on the couch.

I wasn’t expecting the couch, but I mean, if we do this, it’s something I can take off my bucket list.

“Grayson,”

“Shh, darling.” Grayson’s hands are on my waist again and he leans down to kiss me. 

His kiss is rough. Hungry. Meant to be mine. Something that I’ll take any day. His hands slip under my shirt, leaving shivers in its wake. 

This is surreal.

Grayson is positioned between my legs and I lift my hips, trying to create some friction between our bodies. His hands around my waist tightens and he pulls away from the kiss. I’m breathless, and I’m waiting for Grayson to take this a step further. 

My hands go up to his face, and I force his eyes to mine. His eyes search mine, and I’m doing everything physically possible to let him know that I want this. That I’m ready, because I really, really want this.

But why is there still a bit of uncertainty inside of me?

Grayson suddenly sits up. I watch with big eyes as he strips down to his undershirt and pants.

How does this man not die from being too hot?

The shirt hugs his body perfectly and all I want to do is touch him.

And to be touched by him.

Grayson leans in for a kiss again, his hands dipping under my shirt. His hands are rough against my skin and I whimper into his mouth. He pulls at my shirt and I lift my arms, breaking the kiss and allowing him to pull my shirt off.

He pecks my lips before pulling back to admire my body. His fingers graze my waist and they move up and up until they reach my bra. I gulp.

Not yet.

I grab Grayson by the shirt and I pull him into a kiss. His tongue meets mine and the kiss becomes sloppy when Grayson’s hips dip down to meet mine. I pull back with a moan and I wish we can move this faster, but at the same time I want this to last as long as possible. 

Grayson’s hand plays with my bra buckle and I gulp.

Why do I feel so uncertain about this?

Grayson leans his forehead against mine before he speaks with a hoarse voice. “May I?”

My heart skips a beat when I hear his voice. That’s because of me.

Or is it? How do I know that this isn’t something he’s done plenty of times before? How do I know that he’s not just using me to satisfy his needs?

Maybe this is the only reason he invited me to come here with him.

But then again, I never heard any rumors about him sleeping around.

“Yes,” My voice is also gone. 

He loosens my bra and I slip it off. We’re still for a moment where Grayson stares at my chest. At first I’m worried that he doesn’t like what he sees, but he groans and bites his lip.

His head falls into the crook of my neck, and we stay like that for a few seconds. 

“It’s unfair that you have to hide something like this.” Grayson’s voice praises softly in my ear. I grin.

“You know it’s not my fault, right? Blame society.” This pulls a chuckle out of Grayson. 

He places a soft kiss on my shoulder, and on instinct my body tries to jerk away.

Grayson sits up suddenly. “What?” He stares at me with big eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

A blush takes over my face. “No.”

“What happened?”

“Your hair tickled my neck.”

I try to bury my face in the couch from embarrassment. Grayson gives a soft chuckle again. His hand leads my face to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, Darling. You’re adorable.” My blush deepens.

Grayson’s lips peck mine before moving down my jaw and down to the crook of my neck where his teeth come out to play. I let out a breathy moan when he softly bites my skin. 

He moves down again and when he gets to my chest, his hands move up to play with my breasts, grazing my nipples every few seconds. And everytime, it sends a jolt down my body, leaving it numb and ecstatic at the same time. I lift my hips again, asking Grayson for more.

His mouth moves down to my stomach and he brings his teeth out again. My hands find their way through his hair and I’m trying to keep in the little whimpers that escape my mouth. With every touch, I feel the goosebumps on my skin getting more and more prominent, until shivers run up and down my spine, leaving me breathless, leaving me wanting more,  needing more.

I pull slightly at Grayson’s hair when he softly bites down on my stomach. Sensational. Freeing. Enticing. 

His hands leave my breasts to pull at the belt loops of my jeans. I give a protesting whimper at the loss of pleasure. Grayson grins and looks up at me. “You’re not much of a patient person are you?” His voice is teasing and it sends a blush over my entire body. “Can I take them off?” He tugs at the loop.

I swallow, unsure, but I nod my head anyway. “Words, Sweetheart. Use your words.”

Butterflies erupt in all the right places at his words. “Y-yes. Take them off.”

“There we go.”

Grayson unbuttons my pants and he pulls them off, leaving me in my lingerie. I watch as he leans down to plant a kiss on my clit. My walls clench involuntarily. A million thoughts of Grayson flash through my head. A soft breath leaves my mouth and I push my hips up to try and gain some pleasure from his mouth.

He licks his lips when he comes back up. “Wow, Y/N.”

I feel my face flush. This is embarrassing. “I haven’t even done much.”

“You should take it as a compliment.”

“Why now?”

“Because no other man has ever been able to do that.”

Grayson hums in response. He plants another kiss on my soaked underwear before kissing his way back up to my mouth. His hands move down to unbuckle his pants and he takes them off. 

His fingers slip into my underwear and I flinch when they graze my clit. His finger slides between my folds and my hips jerk. “Grayson,” My voice is soft, breathy, almost unheard. 

His finger covers my entrance, but he doesn’t quite push it in yet. My hips jerk again, trying to get his finger to slip in, but it doesn’t work. “Grayson,” My voice is edging on a whimper and tears.

“It’s okay, darling, we’re almost there.” 

He finally pulls my underwear off, and when he does, my legs open. My breaths are deep and ragged and I wait for Grayson to take the next step. To kiss me, touch me, fuck me, just any sort of pleasurable contact. 

It’s only now that I notice that Grayson got rid of his underwear. I stare at his length and that’s when reality decided to hit. He leans down to kiss me but I push my hands gently onto his chest. “Grayson.”

I hate pushing him away.

Grayson buries his face in my shoulder. “You’re not ready.” His voice is soft, assuring, and that makes it all the more arousing.

“I just- I’ve never done this.” My voice is quick and frantic.

Grayson lifts his head and he lays his hand on my cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” His eyes are understanding.

He’s not mad.

“And if I’m being honest,” He pauses. “This is a lot for me too. It’s also my first time.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“How?”

Grayson chuckles. “What can I say? I was saving myself for somebody very special.” He plants a kiss on my nose.

I try to avoid eye contact because of the blush overtaking my body. 

“So, do you want me to stop? Because if you do, I’d understand.”

I think hard.

If I say no, I don’t know when we would get an opportunity like this again, but if I say yes…I’d be giving him something I’m never going to be able to get back.

Am I willing to take that risk?

To give something this big to somebody who could leave in two days? 

“I don’t know.” I look away. I feel guilty for leading him on and then telling him that I want to stop. That’s not right. It’s not fair to him.

“It’s okay. We still have a lot of time.” Grayson gets up. He grabs his clothes and goes for the door.

“Grayson, wait.” I get up and grab his arm. “Wait.” I take his clothes from his hands and I drop it on the ground. “Fuck it.” Before he can say anything, I smash my lips onto his. This time, I’m the one leading him to the couch. 

Grayson’s legs hit the couch and he sits down. I push him to lay down and I situate myself between his legs. I feel his dick pressing into my thigh as I lay my lips on his again. A soft moan breaks through his lips. 

I pull his shirt off. I kiss down to his v-line and from there I lick back up until I reach his lips. I feel his hips jerk against me, and I get the taste of how he felt being on top of me. Or at least some taste.

I push my thigh against his hard-on and a breathy moan falls from his wide-open mouth. “Y/N.”

I bite my lip. 

Should I?

“What is it, Grayson?”

“Don’t.”

And when did I decide that it was a good idea to try and dominate when one word from his mouth can push me over the edge?

I lift my thigh, allowing space for my hand to work. “Tell me when it feels good.”

I grab onto his length and I start giving slow, soft pumps. I still don’t have any idea what I’m doing. I don’t know how fast to go, or how hard to squeeze. “You can go a bit faster, Y/N.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’ve never done this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Grayson sits up so that he can lean against the armrest of the couch. “It’s okay.” My hand is still around his dick but I’m not on top of him anymore. “Here,” He wraps his hand around mine, and he helps me to adjust the pressure. “Let me.” He starts moving his hand and I move mine too. 

I try to concentrate on what Grayson is trying to show me, but my eyes keep running up and down his body. He’s sweating in all the right places. His face holds a look of pure ecstasy, pure pleasure. And it wakes something up inside of me.

I pull my hand away from his dick and I make my way onto his body again. “Y/N, what-” I cut him off with a kiss. This time it’s my turn to moan. The kiss is wet and sloppy and it’s nowhere near perfect, but it means so much to me in this moment.

Grayson flips us and he deepens the kiss when he’s on top of me. His hand goes down to my wetness again and he lets his finger slip between my folds. He moves his finger up and over my clit before resting it at my entrance again. “May I?”

“Yes.”

His finger enters me. “Grayson.”

He starts to slowly move his finger in and out. I don’t know how this is supposed to feel, but I’m pretty sure that it can’t get any better than this.

Not long after, Grayson adds another finger and my breath hitches. It can get better.

When I’m adjusted to his fingers, I start to move my hips in pace with his hands. With every jerk of my hips a soft moan escapes my lips. “That’s it, baby. Does that feel good?” I nod my head and Grayson fastens the movements of his hand. I can feel myself slowly crumbling with every in and out.

My hand goes down to rub my clit, but Grayson beats me to it. “No, no. You just enjoy it.” 

“Grayson.” His name falls so easily from my mouth and I’m afraid that I won’t ever be able to say his name again without thinking about this moment. His movements are perfectly paced and I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Gray-,” I moan. “Grayson, I think- I’m close.”

“That’s good, baby. Whenever you’re ready.”

After a few more thrust of my hips, complete ecstasy fills my vision, and I feel my walls clench around Grayson’s fingers. “That’s it, my darling. There you go.” 

I ride out my orgasm on his fingers, but Grayson continues to rub my clit, and with every rub, my body jerks with painful pleasure. “Grayson,” His name slips from my mouth again. He continues to rub and I want to release again, but somehow, I find the strength in me to grab his hand. “Wait.”

His movements stop almost instantly. We stare into each other’s eyes as the moment plays out again and again in my mind.

Will I ever be able to forget that look in his eyes?

I manuever us so that I’m on top of Grayson again.

“I want to,” I find it hard to say the words. Grayson grabs my hands.

“It’s okay.” How can a man of such stature be so patient with something as ridiculous as this?

He moves his hands to my waist and he lifts me slightly. I help by slightly standing on my knees. One of his hands leave my waist to line himself up with me. When his tip is lined with my entrance, he lowers me a bit so that his tip just merely entered. Again, it’s enough to send me over the edge, but I hold back. 

When both of his hands are on my waist again, he gently leads me by pushing me down slowly. For the first inch or two, I’m fine, but the further down I went, the more it started to hurt. Grayson noticed this and he stopped to give me time to adjust.

When his full length was finally in, we stayed like that for a few seconds. 

I can feel him inside of me. It’s so weird. “Are you okay?” Grayson’s voice breaks the sweet silence that fell over us. His voice cracks and I can tell that he’s holding himself back. 

“Yeah, great.”

“Good.”

Grayson slightly pulls my hips toward his face and I gasp. I thought I was going up again. He repeats the motion a few more times until he hears a moan coming from my mouth. That’s when he starts to lift me again.

His hips seem to chase mine as I’m being lifted from his dick. Grayson grunts, and I grin, knowing that he’s enjoying this.

I grab ahold of both of Graysons’ hands and I drop myself onto his full length again. We both hissed. Me in slight pain and Grayson in pleasure. “Be careful, Sweetheart. Don’t hurt yourself.” Oh boy, he’s breathless.

“I’m okay.”

I moan when I lift myself again. When I go back down, I repeat the action that Grayson did earlier. I move my hips until I get to the spot that feels just right. I roll my hips, basically screaming Grayson’s name with every roll. He tightens his grip on my waist and he forces me to go faster.

I lay my head on his chest and our bodies rock with every thrust, every moan, every encouraging word Grayson throws my way.

I’m in heaven. And I never want to leave.

But I can’t stay either.

“Uhgg, Y/N, I’m-” I interrupt Grayson with another moan. “I’m close. Should I pul-”

“No. No. Inside.”

The choice was made in the moment. And probably stupidly, but I need to feel his release inside of me.

“S-sure?”

“Yeah.”

After a few more thrusts, I feel myself squirting all over Grayson’s dick. He yells my name when that happens and he holds out as long as physically possible.

I scream his name when he ejaculates inside of me. “Grayson. Grayson,” My nails leave half moons on his shoulders as I come down from my high.

I lick my lips and I don’t pay mind to the salty taste it leaves in my mouth. We lay like that for a few more seconds before Grayson lifts my hips to pull himself out. Our bodies are sweaty against each other and neither of us say anything. We listen to each other’s breathing. Nobody told me that sex is so exhausting.

I hope I made him feel good.

God, I hope he doesn’t leave.

It will tear me apart if he does. I’ll be ruined. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep with another guy again.

“Holy shit.” I hoist myself up on my hand.

“What?” Grayson’s voice is soft, content. His hands are rubbing circles on the small of my back.

“I just had sex with you.”

Grayson smirks. “Indeed you did.”

I lie my chin on his chest. “I just had sex with Grayson Hawthorne.”

I just had sex with Grayson fucking Hawthorne.

Just wait until Blake hears about this.

Grayson places a soft kiss on my forehead and I crawl up his body so that I can lay my head on his shoulder.

We fall asleep like that, and I can’t promise waking up anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~

hello, hello lovies!!

i hope you enjoyed. like i said, it's my first time writing smut so i have no idea if it's good or not.

lmk!!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 9 part 10

part 11 part 12 part 13

Masterlist

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Summary: Xander decides to stay

Warnings: just brothers being brothers

~~~~~~~~~

I ended up cooking lunch, because it turns out that neither Grayson nor Xander could cook. “To be fair, we had people cook for us our whole lives” was their oh so righteous excuse. 

At first I thought that it was ridiculous that somebody had to cook for them their whole lives but then I remembered that they’re richer than anybody I’ve ever met.

I can’t even begin to imagine somebody else cooking for me or my family in our own home.

“Why would we cook when we can pay somebody to do so?” Xander’s voice is cheery and obnoxiously loud, but I love it. It reminds me of when I was little and I was home alone with Marley. It was around the time that mum was in the hospital with Cassie. Dad had to work and we had nobody to look after us. Marley was 7 and I was 12. We would scream and yell and karaoke to the point where I was surprised that we didn’t get a noise complaint. I really miss doing stuff like that with her.

“I’m not gonna lie, I genuinely thought that Grayson was some kind of master chef.” I shrug my shoulders, drying the last plate and putting it away.

“What gave you that idea?” Grayson looked disgusted. As if it was that bad to look like a good chef.

“I don’t know. I guess you kind of carry yourself like one?” I don’t think they understand what I mean. I don’t even completely understand what I’m saying.

“What do you mean?” Grayson seems really offended. He shrugs and straightens his back even more than it already was.

“I guess you just have the confidence of a chef. And you know how to bring heat to the kitchen.”  I give Grayson a pointed look before cleaning the stove. I swear I can see a faint blush on his face.

“So, Xander. How old are you?” The question seems to catch him off guard and he looks at Grayson as if he’s asking for permission to tell me, but Grayson doesn’t react.

He seems so distant. 

It probably has something to do with whatever happened between him and Xander before I came downstairs. 

When I got to the last couple of stairs I could see them talking, but I couldn’t hear anything. However, I did get a look at their faces. Grayson seemed kind of frustrated, and Xander, oh boy, he looked exhausted. To the point I was surprised that he could still stand upright.

Whatever happened between them made both of them cry. I don’t really know Xander, so I don’t know how often he cries, but I can tell this was something that doesn’t happen often, because of that grin that Xander had plastered onto his face. It’s not possible for anybody to just grin like that after they cried. The grin is still present, and it makes me wonder how he manages to be so happy.

And Grayson…Oh deary me, Grayson’s eyes were puffy when we walked into the kitchen. He blamed it on cutting onions, but I know how to read a room. Something happened that was emotionally heavy on both of them.

It makes me wonder what kind of secrets lurk in their perfect family.

Or at least a family that I’m assuming is perfect.

I’m gonna have to ask Blake about that.

“I’m seventeen,” Xander’s voice contradicts his body language. His arms are crossed. That could mean that he’s defensive. Or insecure. “But I’m turning eighteen in December.”

I smile. “So you’re almost legal?”

“Yupp.”

There is a slight awkwardness before Grayson speaks again.

“How long are you staying, Xan?” 

“Not long. I have a few errands to run before I go back home.” Xander grabs his car keys from the island and he shoves them into his jacket pocket. His clothes and personality don’t match. His personality screams light and bright, but his clothes display dark and gloomy. 

It makes me wonder…

“You just landed, yes?” Grayson’s voice is authoritative, but in a different way. I’ve never heard this tone coming from him.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you stay the night then?” I beat Grayson to it.

“I’d love to, but I told Nash that I’d be back home tonight.”

“I’ll call him.” Grayson reaches for his phone, but Xander grabs it before he could. 

“Nope. It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Xander.”

“Grayson.”

Grayson goes to grab his phone, but Xander simply lifts his arm. I snort when Grayson tries to reach it. “Give it to me. Now.”

Not everybody bends to the will of Grayson Hawthorne. 

“No, Grayson. I said I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t ask.”

A grin suddenly breaks out on Xander’s face. “Fine.” Mischief glints in his eyes.

“Xander. No. Don’t even think about it.” Grayson takes a step back.

“Come get it then.” And Xander starts running. 

“Alexander!”

My mouth drops open when I hear Grayson yell.

Where has his composure gone?

I give Grayson a watchful look, waiting to see what he’s going to do. He gives a deep sigh before looking at me. “I have to go find him. He needs to sleep before he drives.” Grayson’s hand moves to the back of his neck. “I apologize.”

I quickly shake my head. “No worries. I have a younger sister and this used to happen all the time.” Grayson raises a brow. “Well not exactly this, but some form of it.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll catch him if he comes to the front door.”

And then Grayson is off too. 

What did I just witness?

—-----------

It’s about three hours later and a loud crash comes from upstairs and I jump up from the couch. 

I listen intently for either one of the brothers’ footsteps to come down the stairs. When I hear nothing for a few seconds, I contemplate going upstairs, but at some point Grayson told me to stay out of it. No matter what.

I had no choice but to comply.

I release the breath I was holding when I finally hear footsteps rushing down the stairs. I stand at the entrance of the living room. When Xander reaches the bottom of the stairs, he looks at me with uncertainty. He looks back upstairs and when he looks at me again, he finally speaks. “If I were you, I’d give him a few minutes alone before talking to him.”

His voice is quiet, and so loud at the same time.

“What happened?”

“I won.” Xander gives me Grayson’s phone before walking toward the front door. I stood confused for a few seconds before rushing after Xander. I grab his arm and he tries to pull away in such a gentle way, almost like he doesn’t want to get away.

That’s when the older sister in me kicks in, and I knew, I just knew that he had to stay.

“What?” Xander tries to sound annoyed, but I don’t think it’s possible for him to experience that emotion.

“Stay.” The word is quiet. Welcoming. I don’t want him to feel forced to stay. 

Xander stays quiet. He pulls away from me, taking a step back and I do the same. “You should go check on Grayson.” Changing the subject.

Do all the Hawthornes struggle to talk about their feelings like this? Are all of them really this afraid of confrontation?

“And you should stay.”

Xander shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have stuff to do.”

“It’s just one night, Xander.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“You’re so hardheaded.”

“I prefer steadfast.” Xander’s mouth curls up slightly.

“Fine. I’ll stay. Just for tonight.”

“Good,” I fold my arms, and tilt my head up to give him a look that dares him to challenge me further. “Now, what did you do to your brother?”

Xander bites his bottom lip and he gives me a guilty look. “I might have imposed the delicately violent art of Kyusho Jitzu on him.”

“What?”

“Ever heard of Vasovagal syncope?”

“No?”

“It’s a drop in blood pressure caused by the infliction of pressure on the ST-010, which is a pressure point in the neck. It’s called a Vagus nerve,” Xander looks at me with eyes that scream ‘I’m very interested in the subject’ “Or a Heart Nerve, if you will. The sudden drop in blood pressure makes you faint.” Xander bites his top lip. “And he might have hit a lamp on the way down.”

“Is this normal for you guys?”

Xander gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Basically, yes. I don’t win often though.”

I shake my head with a sigh and I try to keep the smile off of my face. Somebody could’ve gotten seriously hurt.

“You guys are ridiculous.”

“We prefer preposterous.”

I smile and Xander grins in return. “Let’s go make sure that he’s okay.”

“We should probably do that. But before we do, I need to know something.”

“Yeah.”

Xander gives me a long, unfaltering stare before he speaks again. “Did you have sex with my brother?”

My jaw drops and I can feel the heat rushing through my veins. But just thinking about it gave me butterflies.

“The fact that you think that we did is preposterous.” I feign confusion.

“No, actually, it isn’t.”

“What makes you think that we did that?”

“Because the pole isn’t that far up his ass anymore. Grayson enjoyed this little escapade. I can’t tell you when he last did something like this.”

“Well, I had no play in this. I don’t know why he took part in this.”

Xander gives me a tight smile. “You’re a very bad liar.”

I gulp when Xander walks past me and up the stairs. I’m not even that bad a liar. I’m actually a really good liar.

“You should hurry, because Grayson will take my head off if he wakes up and I’m alone with him.”

I sigh. As amusing as that would be, I don’t think I want to be a witness to murder today, so I reluctantly make my way upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~

hello, hello lovies!!

i'm back

i hope y'all enjoyed!!!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

part 11 part 12 part 13

Masterlist

taglist:

@elysianwayy77 @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @i-too-enjoy-blog @no1bookgirl @merylovesbooks @eternallybri @nothankyou3333 @miicellaneous @thecircularlibrary @mafiasliege @imaseabear @narkissistikos @lanterns-and-daydreams @eternal--dream

Summary: Xander runs into Grayson:

Warnings: panic attack, Xan is sad.

~~~~~~~~~

XANDER:

Two and a half minutes. One-hundred-and-fifty seconds. 

That’s how long I have left.

Two minutes and fifteen seconds and I’ll finally be able to let go of the anger and anxiety I’m feeling. I can finally let go. I wouldn’t have to worry about anybody hearing me.

One hundred and seventeen seconds.

Not long now.

Only one left turn and up a driveway, that’s it.

Ninety three seconds.

When the house comes into view, it almost makes up for the four hours between me and home.

I can’t think of home right now.

I don’t feel welcome there anymore. It doesn't feel like home anymore. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper conversation with somebody. Why? Why doesn’t anybody talk to me anymore? Why don’t I talk to anybody anymore?

Why did I allow Home to drive me one thousand eight hundred miles away? Why so far?

I fear that it’s because it’s the closest to Grayson that I can get.

Maybe I am chasing home, not running from it.

What is home anyway?

No amount of numbers or science can explain it, so I don’t understand.

Is it Grayson? Is he home?

No. No. No he’s not.

He’s not, because that would mean that I have to depend on somebody and Hawthornes are supposed to be independent. 

That’s why I’m here in the first place. 

Fifteen seconds.

Change your view. 

Yes, that’s what I’m doing. Just like the Old Man taught us. I’m changing my perspective on my problem. I need to step out for a few days and observe from the outside.

But I can’t lose sight of logic. I need a valid reason for why I am struggling to go about my life. I can’t bring my feelings and emotions into this.

Think logically Alexander, logically.

I stop the car in front of the garage. I don’t have the keys. 

That’s when it hits me.

Grayson took the keys to this house before he left for Harvard. What if he’s here? I’d be bothering him. I’d be a menace again. A burden. Another problem he has to worry about. 

Why can’t I ever do anything right?

I open my car door and I jump out. The food I bought at the airport did nothing for my hunger.

At least Libby’s scones for my ‘trip to a science convention in Paris’ helped a bit.

The dizziness has subsided a bit, but now I really feel the headache and I can barely think straight.

Just twelve steps to the front door. That’s all. 

This should be easy in comparison to what I have done. I’ve done a lot worse while also feeling a lot worse. But I’m exhausted. 

There’s a break waiting for me on the other side of that door. I can finally relax. But that’s only if I can push myself to the front door. I’ll only be staying for seven days. Hundred sixty- eight hours. That’s more than enough time to clear my mind.

No.

To change my view. I need a way out, and the only way I’d be able to do that is by leaving. To change my perspective. Look at my problem from the sidelines. 

And so I push. And I push and I push and I push until I fall against the handrail of the stairs. 

Five steps to the door. Three up, two forward, one big push.

I pull myself up the stairs one-by-one until I finally reach the door. I don’t know how I managed to drive here from the airport. Maybe the hour or two of sleep I got on the plane is starting to wear off. 

Because I am only human and I can’t survive off of too little sleep. No man can. 

But I’m supposed to be a Hawthorne. I’m supposed to be above average. I should be able to break world records with little to no sleep. I’m supposed to excel at everything I’m doing.

I have to win. There is nothing more Hawthorne than winning. And if I can’t win, if I can’t be the Hawthorne my grandpa raised me to be, then what am I? I’ve asked myself this question, and the only answer that always comes up is Nothing.

I’d be nothing if I can’t be a Hawthorne. And I’m already failing at that. There’s a reason that I don’t feel loved. There’s a reason why my brothers have always treated me differently. There’s a reason I was never or will ever be as good at winning as they are. I will never be as smart, or strong, or good as any of them. I will never be able to find somebody who truly loves me.

Why would anybody love me?

Why would they if I can’t even be half a Hawthorne…?

I bend down to grab the spare key from under the flower pot next to the bench and I unlock the door, stepping inside. A sigh of relief falls from my lips.

I’ll grab my stuff from the car later.

I listen to the quiet of the house. Quiet is good. It means that Grayson’s not here. I walk into the kitchen and everything is perfectly in place. Which is good, because it’s confirmed that Grayson’s not here, because he would’ve been up by now.

Twelve twenty-three pm.

I grab a bottled water from the fridge before making my way to the living room, but I hear a noise from upstairs before I make it there. 

I wouldn’t mind dying today.

No. I can’t do that to my brothers. I can’t leave them wondering why I never came back. I can’t leave them sad about being gone forever. But who said they’d miss me? Hell, they don’t even love me. I’d bet everything I have that Jamie doesn’t even know I’m gone. Away from home.

Oh, how I wish to be okay.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and I walk back into the kitchen to grab a knife. I might just end up using it on myself. 

I leave the kitchen again, awaiting the poor soul that’s about to be downstairs. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The knife drops to the ground with a gasp and I feel the need to run, but I stand my ground. Hawthornes always stand their ground. No matter how scared or how vulnerable they feel.

No matter how badly they need a hug.

Grayson looks shocked first, then I watch confusion and concern flashing across his face. “Xander?” His voice is gentle, as if he’s afraid of sending me running. 

“Hello, Grayson.” My voice sounds off. I can blame it on the long trip here.

“You,” Grayson gives his final step down the stairs and he walks toward me. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know you were here.”

“What are you doing here?”

His question is short. It’s valid and asked with curiosity.

But why does it hurt when he asks? Why does my brain depict it as Grayson shooting me down? Why do I feel unwelcome?

Because I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be bothering him. I should go, run off to somewhere else. Somewhere where nobody would be able to find me. Some place where I wouldn’t be shot down by somebody. A place where I wouldn’t be a menace.

I swallow down a lump in my throat before I speak again. “Sorry. I’ll leave.” I turn around to walk out the front door again, but Grayson grabs my arm.

“No.” His voice screams control, but it is still gentle. I turn back to look at his face to try and discern what he is thinking, but with Grayson that has always been impossible. Another thing that I fail to do. I look down to where his hand got a hold of my arm and I pull away. “Stay.” Grayson’s hand falls to his side and he tries to grab my attention. “I was just about to cook something for lunch.” As if on cue, my stomach growls.

“If you insist, big brother.” Something in my voice is poisonous, mocking. Something sounds angry and frustrated and sad and tired and guilty because Grayson doesn’t deserve my snappiness. He’s always been there for me. Yeah, he might not have been very good at comforting, but he was always there. He was. He was. But now? I’m not so sure anymore.

But he still doesn’t deserve it.

Grayson’s brows furrow and his lips drop into a frown, a sad one. And it hits me right in the middle of my heart. Right where it hurts the most. And millions of little pieces become billions, because Grayson deserves better. “Xan, what’s going on?”

My lip gets caught between my teeth and I have to force down tears. “Nothing.” My face breaks out in a grin. “Nothing’s wrong. I just had a long trip.”

Nice save, Xander.  

“No.” Or not. His voice is stern now. Strict. It makes me feel horrible. I’m a horrible person. Why am I like this? What is wrong with me? “I need to know. I hate seeing you like this.” Grayson’s voice is gentle again and he grabs me by the shoulders.

My heart stops. All I heard was ‘I hate you’ and it laps around in my brain again and again and again like nobody’s business.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Yeah, well me too. I hate me too and there’s nothing I can do about that. Nothing. I can only tame it. And the only way is by counting. Using numbers, seeing numbers. But I can’t do that if my head is spinning and my vision is blurry and my chest is burning, and when the hands on my shoulders move up to my face.

I hear Grayson’s voice calling to me, but I can’t understand, I can’t hear, I can’t concentrate. I feel dizzy and off balance, dizzy and off balance and my legs are weak and I can’t stand and I need support, I need oxygen, I need to breathe, I need to be okay. I just need to be okay.

“Xander.” I hear my name but it’s very faint. The calling might just be in my head, but I can’t focus on where the sound is coming from because my chest burns. It’s screaming louder than anything else and it’s yelling at me to get oxygen. 

“Xander, you need to breathe.” His voice is getting louder, and it cuts through my ears, piercing my skull, sending my headache pounding more than before. “Come back to me, Xander, please.” He’s pleading. Grayson is pleading. He sounds broken and it’s my fault. It’s my fault and I can’t even say sorry. I can’t even apologize for the pain I’m causing him. “Xan, I’m right here. Please.”

Pathetic. 

Pathetic. That’s what I am. That’s what I’ll always be. A loser. A baby. Not enough. Not even half a Hawthonre.

Nothing.

Nothing.

“Come on, Xan. Breathe with me.” 

I start to come to, and Grayson’s voice quiets down. “I’m right here. I’m right here.” 

I grab at Grayson’s arms, silently begging him for help. I don’t know if my message is clear, but Grayson doesn’t stop until I’m completely grounded.

It takes me a few more seconds to realize that we’re on the floor and that my head is against Grayson’s chest. His heartbeat is frantic. 

Why do I burden everybody like this?

I’m so tired, I’m so scared.

I don’t want to let Grayson know that so much is wrong, but I allow myself to stay pressed against his chest. I allow my tears to continue to fall and I allow Grayson to wipe them, I allow him to make me feel that everything will be okay. “I got you, Xan, I’m always right here.”

Grayson’s arms tighten around me and I’m taken back to our childhood days when he would always give me his chocolates or his scones after I lost one of the Old Man’s games. The hugs would always be an added bonus, and I would never say no. 

I miss the days when Grayson allowed himself to be vulnerable. When he didn’t see loving us as a weakness that grandfather would not accept.

I miss Grayson.

I pull away from his chest after two more minutes. “I’m sorry.” My voice is groggy, and I hate it.

“Don’t apologize, Xan.” Grayson is whispering and it’s only now that I notice his puffy eyes.

I made him cry.

I get up quickly and I have to catch myself on the wall. The dizziness is back.

Grayson gets up to support me. “We need to get you something to drink.” I pull away from his grip and his hand keeps hanging in the air.

I’m making him feel worse. I am a horrible person. 

“Okay, that’s okay. You wait here, and I’ll go grab you water.”

“I don’t need any.” Grayson stops. “I had some earlier.”

“You need more, Xan.”

“No, Grayson, I’m fine.”

“No. No Xander, you’re not fine.” Grayson’s voice becomes more strained. “I’m going to go into that kitchen, I’m going to cook lunch, and you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.” I look to the ground. “Do you understand?” I nod. “Good.” Grayson disappears into the kitchen and I’m left alone again, and I suddenly don’t know what to do with myself.

That is until I see the girl standing at the bottom of the stairs. Wearing the shirt that was missing from Grayson’s back.

“Hello.”

The girl’s voice is soft, friendly, and downright beautiful, but I quickly push that thought out of my head. Grayson brought her here for a reason.

I grin. “Hi,” She walks up to me. “I’m Xander. The tallest, smartest, and most handsome Hawthorne.” The girl chuckles.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you ‘the tallest, smartest and most handsome Hawthorne’.” She extends her hand for me to shake.

“Lovely to meet you too.” I grab her hand and I pull it toward my lips, kissing it gently. 

She smiles and bends down like a princess. 

“We should probably get to the kitchen before Grayson burns the house down.” I stride into the kitchen before Y/N could say anything else.

Or before I do anything stupid.

~~~~~~~~~

hello, hello lovies!! so this took so long because i decided literally last minute that i'm going to write a valentines stand-alone instead of two part of Scale of Sense. the good thing is, is that i have the next part for this fic written, but i'm not going to post it now (sue me)

i hope y'all enjoyed.

link for valentine stand-alone:

Be mine, Valentine

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 10

part 11 part 12 part 13

Masterlist

taglist:

Summary: Grayson and reader goes to boston Warning: i did not proofread

~~~~~~~~~

READER

“He just seemed so,” Grayson looked left and right before making the turn, leaving the university another turn behind us. And leaving my chance at changing my mind another turn behind us. “Sad,” I look at Grayson with furrowed brows. I see the faint etch of worry between his brows and it makes me wonder if everybody had it wrong and that he actually really cares for people. “And that isn’t him. Xander is always happy.”

I’m not used to Grayson talking about stuff that concerns him. Just this morning his face held no emotion. He didn’t even smile when I greeted him at the door, being his apathetic self. He was acting like the Grayson I met. Acting like the Grayson I heard so many rumors about.

But now? Now he’s acting differently. He’s talking a lot more than before.

Maybe it’s because we’re away from the prying eyes of everybody back at the university.

Or maybe it’s just because he talked to his brother.

My spirits are always lifted when I talk to my little sister.

“Maybe he just misses you a lot.” My suggestion isn’t based on anything since I don’t really know this Xander he speaks of.

“Unlikely.” Grayson’s answer comes fast, stern, and in a way that suggests that he’s not done speaking. “He would’ve told me.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

“We’re leaving for home in two weeks.” Grayson is able to uphold his authoritative, matter-of-fact voice in all and every situation he finds himself in. Even if he’s talking about one of his brothers being sad. It would break my heart if my sister called me, sounding sad or upset. “He wouldn’t waste his time on being sad because he misses me. I just,” I look at Grayson when he goes silent. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs with a gulp. “I wish I was there.”

He’s suddenly very busy concentrating on the traffic ahead, as if he didn’t just have a moment of vulnerability in front of me. As if his voice didn’t go quiet. As if I couldn’t hear the care seeping through his tone. As if he couldn’t stand talking about how he feels.

I’m starting to think that we’re not that different after all.

“I’m sure he’s okay. Besides, don’t you have two other brothers who’re home with him?”

Grayson stops at a red light and he takes his time to reply. “Yes. I do, but both of them have been,” Grayson cuts himself off. He switches gears when the light turns green and he starts driving again. I never pictured Grayson as the type of guy to drive a manual car. “Preoccupied.”

“With?”

“Nash with his fiancé and Jamie with his girlfriend.”

“Okay. So technically your brother has been alone with your other brothers, both of whom have something better to worry about, and you wonder why he sounds sad?”

Wow, Y/N/N, way to be blunt.

Grayson gulps again. “I,” We drive onto the bridge running over Charles’ River and I stare awestruck at the beauty below us. “I don’t know.” Grayson sounds ashamed. He sounds like he’s at a loss for words. “I don’t think that he’s alone. I hope he doesn’t feel like he is.” He whispers. And I know that there is an unspoken reason for that.

It took me this long to realize that he’s blaming himself for whatever reason Xander has to be sad. “What did you tell him?”

I have to ask. I need to know if Grayson treats his brothers the same way he treats everybody else.

“I asked him what’s wrong and he said that everything was fine.”

“You believed him?” I give Grayson a ridiculed look. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Grayson’s answer is short and kind of rude.

“You did, Grayson.” My stare is suddenly sympathetic. He has no idea how to handle situations like these. “What happened after that?”

“We talked.”

“Okay?”

Grayson turns left onto a street with the most expensive-looking houses I’ve ever seen. Three houses down the road, he turns right onto driveway of a house that is nothing short of beautiful.

This place had to have costed at least a few million.

It is absolutely breathtaking. I’ve only ever dreamed of stepping foot into a house like this. I see five windows from this side of the house. Three white stairs lead up to a modernly decorated porch that gives you a homey welcome into the front door. Pink rose topiary sits on both sides of the stairs, and it blends perfectly with the pink and purple alliums occupying the white handrail.

I’m suddenly ecstatic to see the interior of the house.

“What did you guys talk about?”

I somehow manage to maintain my excitement. 

Grayson opens the huge garage door, and he drives his Cadillac CT5-V inside. He stops the car and I hear the garage door close behind us.

Just the garage itself is about four times the size of my bedroom at home.

Grayson clicks his seat belt loose, but he keeps sitting. He looks down at the keys in his hand, and he actually fidgets with them. I watch as a frown overtakes his face and that’s enough for me to click my own seatbelt off and turn toward him.

I grab one of his fidgeting hands, and he seems to realize what he was doing because his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth.

“Talk to me, Grayson.” My voice is soft, assuring, but he remains quiet. I’m left to wonder if he even heard me speaking.

After a few more seconds of silence, he speaks, "He told me about a project he’s been working on for a couple of months now. He’s very fond of building things. And blowing things up,” I see a fond smile playing at the edges of Grayson’s lips, but it quickly fades again. “And this time wasn’t anything different, but at the same time it was very different than the usual.”

I can tell that he’s having trouble speaking about it. He's struggling to find the right words.

I don’t think he’s used to talking about stuff that bothers him.

The way he’s talking right now is so much different than other times we’ve talked. He still has the authority, but right now, he doesn’t seem as confident in his words. Or himself. He’s also not using his usual big, overcomplicated words.

Because he's only human

“He told me that a big part of the thing he was building got damaged with the explosion and that he’s basically going to have to rebuild it from scratch.”

I wait for Grayson to continue, to elaborate what was so different about this time.

“It was something he was building for me. He wanted to surprise me with it when I got back home. So I guess it was different.”

I squeeze Grayson’s hand. “That sounds like it does make all the difference.”

“He sounded so beat up about it.” Grayson’s voice dropped down to a whisper, and I take it as an attempt to hide the emotion seeping through. “I felt horrible. I felt like it was my fault.”

“Like what was your fault, Grayson?” He wasn't there. He couldn’t have prevented what happened.

“Him being sad.”

A silence falls between us. I rub small circles on the palm of his hand.

I read that it helps to ground people.

I wait for Grayson to continue. I watch him with careful eyes. I don’t want to push, but it’s not good for him to keep this to himself.

“What did you say when he told you?”

“I tried to tell him that it was okay and that he didn’t have to worry about it, but it didn’t work, and he kept apologizing and somewhere in the mix,” Grayson pulls his hand away and he seems to panic for a second. “I let an old nickname slip.” Grayson ends with a whisper and the closing of his eyes.

I frown, putting my cold hand in my lap. 

I don’t see the issue.

“I let it slip, and it triggered…something.”

“What do you mean, Grayson?”

“He asked me to say it again, so I did, and then he ended the call.”

I still don’t understand.

Grayson’s jaw tenses, and I can’t help but stare at the sharp edge it creates. I have the urge to touch him, but I hold myself back. “What did you do then?”

“I sent him a text, telling him again that it’s fine that he wouldn’t be able to give me his gift. I told him that I hope that he’s okay.”

I bite my bottom lip, and Grayson looks up for the first time since we stopped in the garage. His worried eyes search my face, presumably looking for assurance. “Has he replied?”

“No.”

“Try calling again.”

“I have.”

“Send him another text.”

“I’ve already sent ten.”

I’m assuming that’s a lot.

“Then give him time," Grayson looks down again. "He’ll get back to you.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

His eyes travel up and down my face again, but it’s different than before.

His eyes linger on my lips before he turns around and opens his car door. He slips out of the car and I’m left alone, thinking about the answer I was looking for.

He treats his brothers a lot differently than other people.

I jump slightly when my door opens. 

Grayson holds his hand out toward me and I take it. He helps me out of the car but his hand doesn’t leave mine for another second, or two.

“We should get our stuff inside.” Grayson’s voice is thick. He turns around, trying to make his way to the back of the car, but I grab his arm. He turns back to throw me a questioning look.

I tug on his arm and he takes a step toward me. “What?

“Are you okay, Grayson.”

Grayson’s brows furrow. “Yeah.” His eyes flash down to where my hand is connected with his arm. “Yeah, I am.”

I let go of his arm to wrap my arms around his neck. He stalls for a second before his arms go to wrap around my waist. We stay like that for a few seconds.

Grayson is the first to pull away. He gives me a tight smile before turning around and making his way to the back of the car. He opens the boot, grabs his laptop and gives it to me. I throw the bag over my shoulder, and I grab the pillow Grayson hands me.

I can’t sleep without my pillow.

He grabs my duffle bag with all of my necessities in and throws it over his shoulder as if it doesn’t weigh a ton.

At first I thought it was weird that he didn’t bring any clothes and stuff, but then I remembered that this is actually his house and that he has clothes here. He also lives in suits, and you can’t really put a suit into a duffle bag.

Grayson slams the boot shut and we make our way to the door.

He unlocks it and takes a step back so that I can walk in first.

I gasp as I step foot into the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen in a house.

Not to mention how beautiful it is.

I stare in wonder at the naturally lit kitchen. There are golden chandeliers hanging high above the gray marble countertop of the island. Five white dining chairs sit tucked underneath the bar of the island.

“Holy shit. Is that Holly wood?”

I shove my pillow at Grayson before walking up to the chair to inspect it.

“Out of all of the expensive things in this kitchen, the wood the chairs are made of entices you the most?”

And he’s back. 

Some part of me hopes that he’s okay.

“Uhm, yes? It’s the most beautiful wood ever.”

“Don’t forget that it’s also the cheapest.”

Grayson puts our bags on the white-tiled floor and my pillow on the marble counter next to the stove. 

“I don’t care. It’s pretty.” I put Grayson's laptop next to my pillow before sitting on one of the chairs. “And comfortable.” I look at the countertop. My fingers graze over the cold marble, and I try to hide my fascination. “And it’s literally called Holly wood. Like Hollywood.” My voice is a whisper.

I can basically hear Grayson rolling his eyes. “You are a child.”

I turn around with a grin. “Have you ever laid down naked on this counter?”

Grayson’s mouth drops open, and he squints his eyes at me. “First of all, it’s lied down, since you lay down objects, second of all, I have not. And third of all, I know you didn’t ask that question expecting a serious answer.”

I snort at Grayson’s short English lesson. “You gave me a serious answer though.” Grayson rolls his eyes again and he sits down next to me. “And it was a serious question. Do you know how good it’ll feel in summer?”

I lay, ahem, lie my cheek down on the cold marble and I close my eyes.

“That’s why air conditioning exists.”

I almost jump out of my chair. Grayson’s voice was whispering right into my ear.

“You dickhead!” I slap at Grayson’s arm, but he is unaffected.

“You should really be more aware of your surroundings.” He gives a nonchalant shrug before getting up and walking toward the fridge. He opens it and grabs two Pepsis. He cracks them open, putting both of them in front of me. He then turns back around to close the fridge and grab a bag of chips from the pantry.

“I didn’t depict you as the type to eat chippies.”

Grayson stops halfway through opening the bag. “To eat what?” 

Grayson gives me a flabbergasted look. “Chippies?” There’s a second when his nose scrunches in confusion and dare I say, it was adorable. “Chips?” Nothing. 

He puts the open bag next to our Pepsis and I don’t wait to dig in. I’m starving. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I glare at Grayson before grabbing the bag of chips to look at what it says. “Stupid people giving things stupid names that don't even make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shh,”

“Okay.” Grayson grabs his Pepsi, and he takes a long swig. I glance at the way his Adam’s apple bobs every time he swallows. And I should really stop now, before I say or do something that I’m going to regret.

“Crisps,” I spit the words with mock disgust. “Stupid.”

Grayson grabs the bag of crisps from me to eat some. “What’s wrong with ‘crisps’?”

“It’s so stupid and gross and incredibly basic.” I watch with disgust as Grayson continues to eat the chips.

“As if ‘chips’ is any better.”

“At least it’s not boring.” 

I drink some of my Pepsi to pass the silence.

“Where are you from? It’s obviously not America, and you don’t have an accent.” Grayson looks at me with a slight frown.

“I don’t have an accent 'cause I hate when people ask questions.” For the first time in a while, I allowed my accent to roll off my tongue, and it felt so good.

Grayson almost chokes on his drink. He coughs into his elbow before looking at me with wide eyes. “You’re Australian?” His voice has a definite pitch to it.

“‘m from New Zealand, actually.” I put on my American accent again.

“Wait,” Grayson puts his cold drink down. He turns his body so that he’s facing me completely. “Do it again.”

“Do what again?” I take another sip of my Pepsi.

“The accent. Do it again.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Uhm, my dad lives next to a lake.”

Grayson smiles. “That’s awesome.” I smile back. “Can you say my name with your accent?” His voice is quiet again, and it lures me in, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“I mean, it doesn’t really change.” It’s crazy how my voice quiets whenever he speaks quietly. “Grayson.”

Grayson smirks when I say his name and he rests his hand on my left cheek. I lean into his touch, and my eyes are threatening to fall shut, but I keep them open. I can’t pull them away from Grayson’s gaze. “Astonishing.”

Grayson’s eyes flash down to my lips and he leans in without a second thought.

His lips are soft, and they completely cover mine. I kiss back.

The kiss is gentle, soft, dangerous. Butterflies break loose inside of my stomach and fireworks are being set off in my lower tummy. I push toward Grayson, snake my hands into his hair and I pull him impossibly closer to me. Our kiss deepens and I have to stand up to get a better reach. 

Grayson pulls away and he also stands. His hands snake around the back of my neck, and his thumbs caress my cheeks. He stares into my eyes with an emotion I cannot place. And it looks dangerous. One of my hands runs from his neck down, down to where his hand meets his arm. I stare back at him at a loss for words and I don’t know if I should pull away.

Before I can decide, Grayson’s lips crash onto mine. This kiss is stronger. Still soft, still gentle, but filled with passion. And dare I say want.

I kiss him back in the same manner and the butterflies become fireworks and the fireworks become fire. A fire burning with passion, not hurt, not pain, not anxiety.

I whimper when Grayson’s tongue passes my lips. For a split second, the kissing stops, but Grayson comes back stronger, not so soft anymore. His tongue travels my mouth, exploring every corner, every curve, every part until I want more. Until I need more.

Grayson’s hands travel down, stopping for a second when they reach the sides of my breasts. He then continues his movements until they reach my waist. He pulls me closer, and I whimper, because his touch ignites a desire in me that I try to push down, a hunger for him that consumes my every thought.

I pull away from the kiss. “Grayson,” The word is breathed against his lips.

“Y/N?”

I can feel him smiling. My eyes are closed and his forehead is placed firmly against mine, and my arms around his neck are keeping him so close to me. “Grayson,” My voice cracks and my body can’t keep fighting its natural reaction.

“I know, Sweetheart, I know.” He presses a kiss on my nose.

“I want you,” The words are soft, unsure, sacred. “I need you.”

Grayson growls, pushing his lips onto mine again. His hands go down, over my ass and he grabs the back of my thighs, and he lifts me up. My heart stutters at his touch and I’m breathless. I wrap my legs around his waist and I allow him to carry me wherever.

Hopefully his room.

~~~~~~~~~

hello, hello lovies!! so uhm, do I write the scene?? i hope you enjoyed this part!! have a lovely day!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8 part 9 part 10

part 11 part 12 part 13

Masterlist

taglist:

summary: Xander needs a hug. i vote we give the man what he needs. also, Grayson and the reader can’t decide who’s more confused.

warnings: Xan is sad. i guess there’s also mention of a dad not really caring about his kids. 

~~~~~~~~~

Xander:

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

My heartrate is in sync with the pace of my feet hitting the polyurethane tracks in the Hawthorne gym. The thoughts in my head are running rampant, and I’m trying to catch up to them, but it is not physically possible.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

My pace quickens, and my breathing becomes almost as rampant as my thoughts, leaving me heaving for breath, but I keep running.

One.

Two.

Three laps already behind me.

One thousand two hundred meters. Zero point seven five miles. Two minutes, twenty seconds.

The world record for one thousand five hundred meters is three minutes and twenty-six seconds. Will I make it? Or will I fail at something once again?

One, two, three, four, five, six.

I run faster, pushing myself even harder. I can feel my legs absorbing the shock from my feet hitting the ground. Quick. Hard. Not enough.

Two seconds out. Two seconds.  

Fuck.

I keep running. I need to get it right. I can’t stop now. I run as if my entire life depends on me breaking some sort of world record today. 2000 is still possible. I start counting the minutes down. One minute and ten seconds for 500 meters. I can do it. I just need to run faster.

My heart is trying to break out of my ribcage and my lungs are heaving my mouth dry, but I continue running. I continue pushing.

I have to do this. I have to be good enough.

But I never am, and I miss my mark.

Five seconds.

I finish the lap and I collapse onto my knees, not paying mind to the sting and possible blood that the track draws from them.

I lay my hands on the ground, heaving for the oxygen that doesn’t quite reach my lungs.

I fall onto my back, stretching my arms up above my head to try and catch my breath. My throat is screaming for water and my legs are begging me to stay still, but as you would have it, I get up and I walk over to where I left my water bottle on one of the benches next to the running track.

I wobble a bit as I walk but I don’t stop. I don’t ever stop. 

I need to prove that I’m good enough. That I’m worth something. That I can also win.

I down half of my water and it helps me to fully catch my breath. My head is pounding and sweat pools in my hair and it drips down my face. 

I finish the rest of the water and I take my shirt off, wiping my sweat away with it.

I make my way back to the starting line, readying myself to run again. I’m not stopping until I beat that record.

I take a deep breath, giving my lungs one more shot at air before I start running again. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Ninety meters down.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

 One hundred and ten. I might just make it this time

Why am I doing this? Why am I pushing myself so hard? Why do I torture myself so much?

Because maybe then your six reasons will accept you. Maybe then they will deem you good enough.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Jamie. 

He will probably laugh at me when he finds me doing this, torturing myself, trying to achieve something that is way out of my bounds.

Because I will never be good enough.

He won’t find me though.

He’s too preoccupied with his stupid games. Too busy trying to get into Avery’s pants, trying to pull her down the path of his rebel. Trying to corrupt her, the way the Old Man did to us. She doesn’t deserve it.

Neither did I.

But I won’t admit that to myself. Why would I? Maybe it’s because I feel like I deserved it. I'm not allowed to be happy. Somebody will find some way to take away my happiness anyway.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Avery.

After everything I’ve done for her. After all the help I gave her, she still chose Jameson. She forgot about me. 

But how can I blame her? Jamie is so much more than I am. So much more than I’ll ever be. I’m not angry, I’m not. It just hurts. Because why can’t I be anybody’s choice. Why can’t anybody choose me?

One. Two. Three. Four. 

Maxine.

My Max. The first girl that ever really showed any form of interest in me, found somebody else. 

Somebody her parents will actually approve of. A guy driven by his beliefs in God. A guy who will not corrupt her the way I would, without intention, of course. He is a guy who will treat her right. He’s somebody who’ll give her his all.

And that’s not me at all. I would hide so much from her. I would pretend to be perfect so that she doesn’t see my insecurities, so that she doesn’t see that I’m actually not good enough. But she saw that anyway. She left, and I told her that I was okay, that I was fine.

What is wrong with me?

I wish I knew, because I'm really good at solving problems, so if I can just figure out the problem, I can be better. I can be good enough. I can have people care about me.

One. Two. Three.

Grayson. 

I haven’t seen him in eight months. Haven’t talked to him in three. 

Has he been talking to Jamie and Nash? Has he only been ignoring me?

Did he forget that I exist?

Gray has always been my favorite. And that makes me feel guilty, because who am I to have a favorite when I can’t be good enough for anybody? He probably doesn’t even love me back.

But why has he always treated me differently than the other two? 

He’s always been…nicer?...to me than the others.

But maybe that’s just his way of pitying me, because he also thinks knows that I’m not good enough.

But Gray doesn’t pity people.

He doesn’t even express his own emotions properly, so how will he be able to pity someone?

I miss him. I really, really miss him.

I need him to hug me.

But obviously I’d never say that out loud. Hawthornes aren’t allowed to crave stuff like that. Especially not if it’s from another Hawthorne. But I need somebody too.

One. Two.

Nash.

Oh, Nash.

What’s gone wrong? What happened to you being my older brother, my hero, my rock, my everything?

He found Libby, and I’m happy for them. I’m happy to see how happy they are. I’m left alone, with nobody to stand next to me.

You should know you’re fucked up if your older brother chooses somebody else above you.

I need Nash. Now more than ever. Even though Grayson has always been my favorite, he has never been good at talking about feelings. That’s why I always talked to Nash.

But now?

If I knock on his door now to talk to him, I’m just “being a menace again,”. Does he really feel like that? Does he really find me that annoying?

Why am I not good enough for him anymore?

Why do all of my brothers hate me? What have I done?

One.

Libby.

“Xander!”

I snap out of my head when somebody grabs my arm, pulling me backwards, and effectively letting me fall flat on my ass.

Libby.

“What?”

Libby takes a step back and I feel my breath hitch.

I didn’t mean to snap.

I mumble an apology before I get up again, towering over Libby. 

“I just wanted to bring you some water. You’ve been running for ten minutes straight after your first break.”

Oh. 

I clench my teeth and swallow the lump in my throat.

I am a horrible person.

“Have you been watching me this whole time?”

Libby gives me a strange look, but the pounding in my head isn’t allowing me to decipher it. 

“Yeah.”

Short.

Almost concerned.

I take the water from Libby, still trying to catch my breath.

When did I lose myself? How many laps did I do?

Of course I messed up. I can’t do anything right.

Why am I like this? Why am I not good enough?

“Xander,” Libby’s voice is soft, gentle, just like the hand she’s placed on my arm. “Are you okay?” Her voice is a whisper. The lump comes back full force and it sends tears pricking my eyes, but I swallow it back with the water Libby gave me.

“Yeah,” My voice is back to its normal pitched, optimistic, annoying self. “When am I not okay?” I throw the question back as if it doesn’t absolutely shred my heart into millions of pieces.

I’m not okay.

Libby still gives me that same look. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Why? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m okay.” I grin at Libby and I’m too concentrated on not passing out to see the faint frown on her forehead.

“That’s terrific. But if you’ll excuse me, I have to catch a shower before dinner.”

Libby nods and she steps aside, albeit hesitantly, and I walk away, fighting the black dots trying to take away my vision.

I head straight to my room, hoping that nobody else will stop to talk to me. 

When I safely make it to my room, I fall onto my bed. I close my eyes and cover them with one of my arms as if that will tame the monster of a headache I have.

But closing my eyes was a mistake. 

I try to get up again, but stars flash in my eyes and I ultimately decide against it.

I guess the shower can wait.

And I guess I’m skipping dinner. Again.

—------

reader:

Loud music bursts through the headphones on my head, making my brain vibrate.

I hum along to the music and occasionally sing along to a verse I like. The headphones only come out when my lovely dorm neighbors play their music too loudly, or if they’re….at it.

I Hate inconsiderate people. And you can’t ask them to turn their music down, no, no, they’ll turn it up, just to spite you. And I don’t really see the point in complaining about them now, because I’m leaving in two weeks.

Yippee to me!

I’m only leaving my best friend and my dreams behind, but you know, it’s okay. It’s for my dad, so it’s completely and utterly fine.

I pack the last pieces of unneeded clothing into the plastic box and I turn around to grab the lid of the box, just to absolutely fucking shit my pants.

I scream before ripping my headphones off my head and throwing them at the invader standing in front of me.

“Grayson what the hell?!” Grayson catches the headphones and he looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “You scared the shit out of me, you dick.”

I hit Grayson on his chest, but I doubt it did anything to him, other than amusing him more. 

Why, you may ask, because it’s fucking solid rock.

I shake my head, and Grayson finally lets out a chuckle. And with just that, my anger dissipated. With only a short-lived chuckle.

“Hi?” His voice is laced with amusement. I cross my arms over my chest. 

“Hi? Really Grayson? Is that the best you can do? Especially after you just gave me a heart attack?!” 

“Based on the rarity of having a heart attack because somebody scared you, it is highly unlikely that I gave you one. Also based on you not laying on the ground in the fetal position because of intense pain in your chest, it’s unlikely that I did give you a heart attack. You would also be breaking out in cold sw-”

“Grayson, Grayson stop. I didn’t mean it literally. It was only a matter of expression.”

“A very illogical expression.”

I sigh. “What are you doing here, Grayson?”

“I came here to give you this.” Grayson pulls something from his pocket and hands it to me.

I still faintly hear Taylor Swift playing through my headphones when I grab the piece of paper from Grayson.

I also grab my headphones, turn them off and put them in the box along with the clothes.

I frown as I see my name scrawled in cursive on the piece of paper. “Where did you find this?’

“You left it in one of your textbooks. I also found a piece of paper with your number and dorm number on it.”

“Uhmm, what is it?” I give the piece of folded paper a questioning look before looking back up at Grayson.

“I don’t know, I didn’t read it, but I assumed that it’s a letter from your father or mother.”

I gulp at the mention of my mother. “Well here, you read it, I need to mark this box.” I hand the letter to Grayson before turning my back on him and grabbing a few more small things to throw into the box.

“Alright?”

If it’s from my dad, it’s probably him complaining again, or it’s him giving some kind of bad news, and if that’s the case, I’d rather have somebody else read it out loud to me than me reading it myself.

And if it’s from my sister, what’s the worst that can happen?

“Uhm, Y/N? I think you should read it yourself.” Grayson clears his throat and when I turn around to ask him why, he’s red as a tomato.

I never thought that I’d ever see Grayson Hawthorne blush.

I snort. “Why?”

“It’s from your sister.”

Grayson folds the letter again, reaching out his arm for me to take the letter. He looks away when I take it and he clears his throat again.

I roll my eyes. He is so dramatic, it’s not even funny.

I open the letter and I start reading.

‘Dear Sissy

I started my period. I HATE it. It makes me feel gross, and I know it shouldn’t but it does. It also makes me very uncomfortable. Dad is also very awkward about it, and he gets angry because apparently I’m “more moody than your sister”, (don’t worry, I did come up for you) and it bothers me. Me and Cassie really miss you. We hope that you’re coming back soon.

Also, Bonzo tried eating my shirt the other day. I’m not sure where he got it from. But it was one of the nice shirts you gave me. I’m really sorry. But also, it’s kinda not my fault that your dog has issues, but anyway. I hope you’ll be home for my birthday this year. I’m turning fourteen, and I want to go out with somebody, but dad doesn’t want me to, so the only way I’ll be allowed to is if you’re home, and you can go with me.

Dad doesn’t really know what Cassie and I like, but you do and we need you. Dad always buys these gross coconut chocolates from the shop down the street, and he thinks we love them more than anything else on this planet, and that’s not true, because you know I like those strawberry clouds more than anything. Dad isn’t very good with Cassie either. I always have to calm her down if she’s throwing a temper tantrum. She’s been having a lot of those lately and I don’t know why.

I really miss you, Sissy, when are you coming back?

-Marley.

31 October

Well, the good news is, it wasn’t sent too long ago. Only two weeks, and it’ll only take three days to get a letter back to her. 

I hate that my sisters are alone with dad. It kills me to know that Ley has been the one taking responsibility over Cassie. I wish I could be there right now, holding her in my arms, telling her that everything will be okay.

I hate that they miss me this much. I didn’t realize how much I will just throw onto my sister if I leave.

Because I was being selfish. Only thinking about myself, not thinking about the fact that my little sister wants to keep up with her social life.

But I just had to leave, didn’t I?

“Uhmm, can you maybe give me like ten minutes? I just have to write back.”

I walk over to my desk without waiting for Grayson’s response.

“Yes, of course.”

I grab a pen and a paper and I start writing.

Three pages, twenty minutes and seventy apologies later, I’m rummaging through all of my boxes and bags for an envelope.

All the while Grayson is watching me from where he made himself home on my bed. He’s sprawled out on my pillows with his feet crossed and his arms behind his head. I can’t stand his eyes following my every move. I could lie and say that I’m not intimidated, but where’s the fun in that, right?

“You know,” Grayson was the first to break the twenty-five-minute silence, “I could get that let-, oh, apologies, those letters to your sister by tonight.”

I roll my eyes at Grayson’s supposed joke.

“How will you do that. It’s Sunday, everything is closed.”

“Who said anything about going to a post office?”

“You said you could get it to my sister by tonight? That’s impossible.”

I stop my rummaging to give Grayson a scrutinizing look.

“It’s not impossible when you’re a Hawthorne.” Grayson sits up to grab his phone from his pocket. “I can get somebody to come pick it up and have it delivered.”

Of course you can, Grayson Hawthorne, of course you can.

I give Grayson a look of disbelief. “So?’ He asks.

I wonder how far I can push. “Would they be able to add a bouquet of alliums and orchids, and a box of Debauve and Gallais Le Livre chocolates with the letters?”

Okay, maybe I’m pushing it a bit too far.

“Of course,” Grayson’s answer takes me by surprise. “Anything else?”

My jaw is on the floor. “No, Grayson, don’t be ridiculous, I was joking.” I click my tongue and I continue with my rummaging.

“Whoops.”

I stop and my jaw is on the ground again. “I know you didn’t just say ‘whoops’.”

“I’ll ask David to also put the letters in an envelope before he delivers.”

“Who is David?”

“The guy I’m about to call. Give me ten minutes.”

My mouth hangs open as I watch Grayson getting up and leaving my room.

What just happened?

I just got myself into a fuckton of trouble, because I can’t afford the stuff I asked for. I can’t repay Grayson.

~~~~~~~~~

Hello, hello loviess.

i hope you enjoyed this part, i quite enjoyed writing it, and i'm excited to get your opinion on it!! thanks for reading!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

part 11 part 12 part 13

Masterlist

taglist:

Summary: Grayson’s late night visit turns into something more.

Warning: mention of alcohol. suggestive language, i think?

~~~~~~~~~

I'm sprawled out on the couch with my legs thrown over Grayson's lap. His head is resting on the back of the couch, and my hands are wrapped around one of his on top of my stomach.

I knew opening the bottle of Nachtmusik we found was a bad idea, but who cares, right?

I don't think I've ever heard a rumor about Grayson being drunk. Or even the slightest bit tipsy.

Maybe it's because the man is basically immune to alcohol.

But here I am, struggling not to giggle or make cheesy jokes about every little thing, and here he is, finding pure joy in my drunken embarrassment of humor.

Maybe I should've fed him the bottle of Tullamore Dew I had stashed away for special occasions. Perhaps that would've gotten him to unwind a bit.

I giggle when I grab his middle finger and he gives me an unamused side-eye.

"You are a child."

I give a slurred chuckle at his words.

"You're trying to give me the finger, but I'm hiding it."

My whispering only adds to the long list of embarrassments I’m definitely crying about tomorrow.

"Wait, isn't it already tomorrow?" I frown, letting go of Grayson's middle finger to grab his thumb and pinky.

I pull on his fingers and I giggle when he sighs for the umpteenth time tonight.

"Yes, Y/N, it is indeed already tomorrow." Grayson looks down at our hands and he intertwines his fingers with mine. My other hand goes to trace the veins in his hands.

Something about the gesture feels intimate.

But perhaps it's just the alcohol speaking.

I stare at our hands as I speak again, "You know, I never did ask you how you know my name."

"Mhh," A frown. "I know you never asked."

I allow my head to fall back onto the armrest of the couch. "This is me asking, dummy."

"Maybe I'll tell you when you are not mullered by the level of alcohol running through your bloodstream."

I frown and look up at Grayson, his eyes already on me.

"What does that even mean?"

Grayson rolls his eyes.

And I know that it wasn't just the alcohol messing with me.

"You're drunk." He looks ahead. "It's not like you're going to remember any part of this tomorrow anyway."

Grayson's tone of voice changed. I'm pretty sure it dropped an octave, almost like he didn't want me to hear. His eyes flashed toward our hands and I squeezed, not allowing my eyes to leave his face, no matter how droopy they felt.

"What makes you think I won't remember?" My voice came out softer than I intended.

"You're drunk."

Grayson has a way of stating things, things that are, by logic, true, but he makes it seem like he made it that way. Like he was the one who initiated the final result of whatever statement he made.

He has a way of making everything his own. Authority has always been his strong suit. At least as far as the rumors go.

"So?" I ask while allowing my eyes to search his face for something. I don't even know what, but I'm sure I'll know once I see it.

You see, I hate genes. For one simple reason.

I will never forget a night driven by alcohol. It doesn't matter how drunk I get, I always remember every little detail.

I still remember everything from the first time I got drunk. That morning, I thought I remembered everything because I didn't drink enough, and inexperienced little me got alcohol poisoning the next time I got drunk. I remember my best friend laughing at me because I ‘should’ve known better’.

I’m pretty sure that she also said that it’s my fault because I didn’t even invite her over to drink with me.

Anyway, I also still remember what happened that night. At one point that night I thought I had some kind of cancer because I peed three times in five minutes. I also remember crying for three hours because I thought I was blind after my cousin turned off my bedroom light.

But I also love genes though, because I don't really get hungover.

Yeah, I'm a bit lightheaded when I wake up, but other than that, I'm perfectly fine.

"Alcohol temporarily prevents the hippocampus from transferring memories from short-term to long-term storage, and as a result, you will not be able to remember this very conversation we're having."

I find it hard to understand Grayson's big words at the moment, so I just shrug it off.

Grayson pulls his hand away from mine to rest it on my thigh. I stare at his hand on my leg, trying not to let my imagination run circles around the possibility of being intimate with Grayson.

I grab his middle finger and his ring finger and I squeeze. I gulp at how big his fingers are, imagining him doing ungodly things to me with those fingers.

Or just his hands in general.

The next time I look up at Grayson, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are locked on our hands.

I squeeze his fingers again, and I watch as his eyes slowly travel up my arm, slowly ascending up to my shoulder and then down to my chest where his gaze lingered for just a second too long.

I wonder if he could see how fast my heart is beating. I wonder if he noticed how my breathing deepened and how my breath hitched when his eyes finally found my face.

I gulp when he stares into my eyes.

I slowly sat up, as if his eyes were beckoning me to come closer.

I don’t miss the way his eyes flashed down to my lips, probably chapped by the lack of lip-ice in the last couple of hours.

I gulp again, allowing my eyes to search his face for the same thing I was looking for earlier, but I find something else instead.

I wonder if this man has a special skin-care routine for his lips, because holy shit. I’ve never seen lips as full and beautiful as his. I want to feel his lips on mine.

I want to feel his kisses on my neck.

I look back into his eyes, and I’m taken to an early winter morning where the mist is thick on the lake outside of my father’s house. And in this moment, Grayson became “From A Misty Autumn Morning” by Algimantas Mackus.

Because no matter how well he tries to hide it, Grayson is still human, and he still speaks with his eyes.

He leans closer, and I don’t want him to stop. My breathing becomes shaky and I lean forward, waiting for him to reach me.

A moment of hesitation passes when I feel his breath hitting my face.

He still smells like peppermint.

Grayson releases a breath before capturing my lips with his.

And we became bliss.

Sun meeting moon.

I’ve never sobered up this quickly.

Fuck.

I’m kissing Grayson Hawthorne.

I wish I could explain why I have butterflies in my stomach right now. I wish I could explain the way my heart fluttered when I started to kiss him back. I wish I could explain the way my breath hitched at the thought that I don’t want this to be our only kiss.

A few seconds later, we pull away, giving our lungs space to breathe. He leans his forehead against mine, and I open my eyes, not recalling the moment I closed them.

I find that Grayson’s eyes are still closed and his mouth slightly agape.

I gulp again, waiting for the backlash, but it never comes.

Instead, Grayson lays his hand on the side of my face. He opens his eyes and he leans back, holding my eyes captive.

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth for a mere second before speaking, “Y/N.” I grab his hand, afraid of what he might say. “I…” I gulp and I’m worried that the backlash might actually come.

Unless I left Grayson Hawthorne at a loss for words.

Grayson’s words came quick and clear. “That felt great.”

That’s a statement I did not expect from Grayson. I thought he’d use some of his overcomplicated words, but perhaps all of that is truly a facade and that he actually does feel something beneath his authoritative being.

Perhaps everybody has been reading him wrong.

Or misjudged him.

I can’t help the grin taking over my entire body. My lips are still ablaze, my body still buzzing. I still feel his lips on mine and I hope that the feeling of it never disappears.

“That was great.” Grayson’s face remained clear until I spoke and left a smile tugging at his lips.

It feels good to make Grayson smile, even if it’s just slight or barely there, it’s the thought that I made him feel good that counts.

I wrap my arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me completely onto his lap. I snuggle my face into the crook of his neck and I bask in the scent of his aftershave. I don’t miss the way he pulls me a bit tighter toward him and him leaning his head into my shoulder.

It’s just too bad that we can’t stay like this forever.

~~~~~~~~~

hello, hello lovies!!

i was meant to post this yesterday, i just kinda forgot lol.

i hope you enjoyed this part! and we're getting a Grayson's pov in the next part!!

and Xander makes his first appearance in part 5!!

part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

part 11 part 12 part 13

Masterlist

taglist:

warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~

THIRD PERSON:

Libby rests her head on Nash’s chest. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and places a soft kiss on her head. “When was the last time you talked to Xander?” Libby throws her arm over Nash’s stomach.

“Not too long ago, darlin’.” his southern drawl leaves her breathless every day. “Why?

“Because I’m worried about him.”

“How so?” A frown dances around Nash’s eyebrows and he grabs Libby’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

“He didn’t come down for dinner last night. That’s the third time this week.”

“It’s normal for Xan to skip dinner, my love. I know that he’s been workin’ on somethin’ for Gray. I think he’s doing the last few finishing touches before Gray comes back home next week.” Libby hums. “Besides, he’s probably been eatin’ all of the scones.”

Libby looks up at Nash with a worried expression on her face. “That’s just the thing. The scones are untouched.”

“He definitely has some stashed away in his room.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s Xander.”

“Fair enough.” A comfortable silence falls around them. Libby plays with the hem of Nash’s shirt, and every time her fingers graze his skin, a new layer of goosebumps breaks out. “He was running in the gym last week.”

“Mhh?” Nash rests his head against the bed frame.

“He was pushing himself way past his limits.”

“What do you mean?”

“He ran for like fifteen minutes straight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Nash sits up. “If I didn’t stop him, he probably would’ve continued.”

“At what time?” Nash looks back at Libby with a frown.

“Just before dinner. I asked if he was going to dinner, and he said that he ate just before he went for a run.”

“Oh,” Nash frowns.

“Nash,” Libby lays a hand on his shoulder. “He didn’t eat.” She watches as Nash’s eyes widen. She feels tension taking over his body.

“Are you sure, Libbs?”

“Yeah. I know he ate that morning, but nothing after that.”

“Do you think…”

Nash gives Libby a look. Silently begging that it isn’t what he thinks it is. Hoping that he hasn’t failed as an older brother.

“I don’t know.” Libby responds with a whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Nash gets up. “I’m gonna go check on him. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Okay.”

Nash makes it through the hallways of Hawthorne House until he reaches Xander’s wing. He knocks on the door, opening it when he doesn’t get a reply. His heartbeat increases and he expects the worst, but to his surprise, the room is empty. The bed is perfectly made, pajamas folded neatly at the foot of the bed. 

His room is clean, not one little thing out of place. But there's no sign of Xander.

Nash walks into the bathroom, finding it just as clean as the room. Maybe he’s in one of the other bedrooms.

He leaves the main bedroom to go to the bedroom Max used to sleep in. Nash shivers at the thought of her. She broke Xander’s heart, but he pretended like it was no big deal.

There’s still some of Max’s things here, since she still sometimes comes to visit Avery. When Nash doesn’t see any sign of Xander, he moves on to the next room, and the next, and the next, and then he decides to go to the place where Xander spends most of his time. 

When Nash walks in, he’s almost overwhelmed by the amount of machines in the room. He walks around, inspecting some of the machines. He goes to pick up a small robot, but he accidentally presses a button and the robot spits fire at him. Nash jumps back, swatting at the small fire.

“Xan, are you in here?”

Nash gets silence in return. He walks to the back of the room where Xander keeps all of his sketching plans and the projects he is currently working on. He gasps when he sees what is assumed to be the aftermath of a failed project. 

The one window is broken, tools are scattered all over the floor, along with torn up papers. Nash walks closer to the table, and he sees burnt plastic and metal on the table.

“That’s what he was trying to build for Grayson.” Jameson’s voice comes from above, and Nash looks up quick enough to see him dropping down from one of the shelves. “I think he was trying to build a camera.” Jameson walks over and picks up a piece of melted plastic. “Or some form of it anyway.”

“Do you know where he is, Jamie?” 

Jameson picks up a piece of glass, probably part of the lens of the camera. He walks around the table putting the broken pieces with other scrapped projects. “I don’t know where he is.” Jameson’s voice lets on that he does know something.

“But?”

“But what’s it to you?” Jameson snaps. “What are you going to do when you find him, big brother?”

“I want to make sure he’s okay, Jamie. Where is he?”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Jamie, this is serious.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why you know exactly where he is.” Jameson chuckles sarcastically. “What have you been busy with?” Jameson circles the table until he’s next to Nash again. “Why didn’t you notice the changes sooner?” Jameson’s voice is mocking, almost sinister, and Nash can feel his heart dropping into his shoes. 

“You knew that something was wrong.” There’s no question about it. Jameson knew what was going on.

“Exactly.” Jameson stands in front of Nash, and Nash has to look up to look his brother in the eyes. “So why didn’t you?”

“There’s a reason I’m looking for him right now, little brother.”

“You know, he hasn’t been himself for the last couple of months.” 

“Where is he, little brother?”

“He left yesterday morning.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“Perhaps.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’.”

“I mean no. He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

The words hit Nash like a trainwreck, and his heart breaks. 

Xander doesn’t want to talk to me?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s angry that you didn’t notice that something was wrong.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jamie?”

Jameson's facade drops, and for the first time since he walked into the room, he’s showing emotion. “Because he’s angry with me too.”

“But you noticed that something was up.”

“Yes. I said I noticed, that doesn’t mean that I did anything about it.”

Jameson gulps when he sees the shocked expression on Nash’s face. “Why not, Jameson?”

“Because I’m not Grayson.” It’s Nash’s turn to gulp. “And neither are you.”

“He went to see Grayson, didn’t he?” Jameson nods and Nash sighs. “I’m gonna call him.”

“Who?”

“Gray.”

“Have fun with that. I’m leaving.” Jameson walks out the door, leaving a distressed Nash behind.

GRAYSON:

Xander’s words haunt me for the rest of the day. I can’t think of anything else. The way his voice sounded….it was gut-wrenching.

‘Somebody who at least calls me when they’re away.’

The words hit me like a trainwreck. I didn’t know what to do, and if he didn’t put the phone down, I wouldn’t have known what to say. I had no idea that he wanted me to call him. I didn’t know, and I didn’t call, and I hurt Xander. I have failed at being a good older brother, twice. And it hurts.

Jameson and Xander. They both hate me now, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix it. I messed up. 

“Grayson?” I look up at Y/N.

I’m held captive by her beauty every time I look at her. She is stunning. Her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, and her eyes have a way of brightening up anybody’s day. And when she smiles. God, I really like her. 

But I have to get away from her before it’s too late. I don’t want to break her.

“Yes?” 

“Are you okay?” Her voice is soft. And I now understand why people say that somebody’s voice sounds like honey. It’s sweet, hypnotic. 

“I’m fine, yes.” She gives me a skeptical look. “Just thinking.” I take a sip of my wine, trying to relieve the tension and enjoy my time with Y/N. 

“You always seem to be doing that.” She rests her arms on the table, pushing her empty plate away. 

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that a bad thing, darling?”

I see a blush take over her face in the soft restaurant lights. “I mean, sometimes.” I hum, gesturing for her to continue. “If you think about something bad, it could really influence your feelings and the choices you make negatively, but if you think something good, it can influence you in a positive way.” 

I grab her hand and I place a soft kiss on her wrist. “Can you tell me what I am thinking about right now, darling?” Her blush deepens and I want to reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She looks down at the table, finding interest in the folded napkin.

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?” I rub circles on her palm with my thumb. “Because I think it’s quite obvious.” She avoids eye contact and I smirk. She’s making it so easy for me to fall for her.

“Tell me.” Her whisper is just barely audible over the chatter of the rest of the customers. 

“I’m thinking about you.” I let my words hover before speaking again. “Tell me, sweetheart, is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It depends.” Her blush seems brighter when her eyes catch mine.

“On?”

“What you are thinking.”

“What do you want me to think, darling?”

When Y/N was about to give an answer, our waitress came with our bill. Y/N kicked me under the table when I refused to let her pay, and she did not appreciate it when I told her that she can just repay me later.

~~~~~~~~~

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12

Masterlist

taglist:

@elysianwayy77 @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @i-too-enjoy-blog @no1bookgirl @merylovesbooks @eternallybri @nothankyou3333 @miicellaneous @thecircularlibrary @mafiasliege @imaseabear @narkissistikos @lanterns-and-daydreams @eternal--dream

warning: mentions of sexual content, nausea. panic attack.

~~~~~~~~

READER:

“When do you think he left?” I watch Grayson from across the table. He sets down his coffee cup with a frown.

“It must’ve been this morning, because he definitely slept here last night.” I get up to start doing the dishes.

“We didn’t hear him leaving though.” When Grayson doesn’t reply, I turn around to find him giving me a pointed look. A blush covers my cheeks and I turn away from him.

“I just don’t get why he didn’t leave a letter or at least sent me a text message.” 

“Have you tried texting him?” Grayson goes quiet again, but I don’t turn to face him this time.

“I have not.” Grayson’s voice shifts.

“Any specific reason?”

“He left for a reason. Most likely something that he wouldn’t disclose over text.”

I sit back down at the table after pouring myself another glass of orange juice. “Do you think he heard us?” My voice quiets down. Guilt and embarrassment picks at me when I think about how loud I was before we came down for breakfast. “Do you think we scared him away?”

“It’s not unlikely.” Grayson shrugs before taking another sip of his coffee. 

“I think you should text him.”

“He’s not going to answer.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s my brother, and something is up with him. Xander always goes quiet when something is bothering him.”

“How does he let out his emotions then?”

“He builds stuff.”

I give Grayson a deadpan look. He can’t possibly think that Xander actually feels better after building something. Surely he’ll feel good, but whatever is bothering him wouldn’t just disappear. “Do you really think that works?”

“Yes. His brain becomes more active when he builds stuff, and when he’s finished, he’ll go about his problem with a new perspective.” I raise an eyebrow. “When he builds something, all of his focus is on what he is building, because he hates making mistakes. It gives him time to forget about his problems for a couple of hours.”

I don’t think he hates making mistakes. I think he’s scared of it. Grayson seems to be too. Because it seems that, with Hawthornes, everything has to be perfect.

***

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, I am,” I whisper back as he pushes me into the wall. “I quite like looking up at you.” Grayson smirks before marking my collarbone, leaving goosebumps when he pulls away slightly.

“I’m asking, because I don’t know if you’re still alright after yesterday.” A groan leaves my throat, and I smash my lips onto his. He steps back, leaving my lips cold. 

“You, Grayson, are not from this world.”

I open my eyes and I stare into Grayson’s smirking face. “Why do you say so, sweetheart?” His voice alone is enough to send me over the edge.

“Because if you were any other man, you would’ve been inside of me already.” Grayson suddenly steps forward, pushing me into the wall again. A giggle leaves my throat, and Grayson bites his bottom lip so hard, I’m afraid he might draw blood, so I kiss him.

“I just don’t want to mess this up.” He growls in my ear when we pull away. I lean my head against the wall to be able to look him in the eyes. 

“I don’t think you could possibly mess this up, Grayson.”

“No, no, I can. I’m a Hawthorne. We tend to break everything we touch.”

“It’s a good thing I’m hard to break then.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see, sweetheart.” I giggle at the double meaning behind his words.

***

“Maybe he just didn’t want to bother us?” Grayson frowns, and I’m afraid that I might’ve said the wrong thing. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. I should’ve just left it. “Or the errands he had to run were more urgent than we thought.”

Grayson hums, drinking the last of his coffee. “Perhaps you’re right.” He stands up to put his cup and my empty glass on the sink. “What shall we do today, sweetheart.” And just like that, the control that lurked in his voice earlier, came back ten fold, and I’m suddenly at a loss for words. 

How can this man switch up so fast? I don’t get it. How is it so easy for him to cut off every ounce of emotion? Every bit of concern and care. What did it take to get him to this point?

“I was thinking we could watch a movie and then go out for lunch later?” I look up at Grayson.

“Aren’t you worried?” My question seems to catch him off guard, because he stiffens slightly and his eyes widened just enough for me to notice.

“About?” He clears his throat and pulls on the sleeve of his dress shirt. I swear he would die if he wore anything other than a suit.

“About Xander.”

“Why would I be worried?”

“Because we don’t know why he left. Or when. Or where he is right now.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Will he?”

“Yes. We always are.”

“You mean you always are.”

A heavy silence follows my statement, and I don’t know why I kept pushing. I guess it’s because I wouldn’t have just left my sister like that. It’s strange that he wasn’t more worried the moment we realized that Xander had left.

Maybe he is worried, but he doesn’t want to show it. I think he’s afraid of looking weak for showing emotion. I think he cares more than he’s letting on. “Call him, Grayson.” My voice is soft, and I lay a hand on his arm. “Just to make sure that he is okay.” 

Grayson looks unsure of what to do, so I grab his phone from the table and hand it to him. He takes his phone and he leaves the kitchen without a word. 

I’m left standing there alone, and I’m unsure of what’s coming next. 

I don’t even know for sure that he’s going to call Xander. Maybe I made a mistake by pushing so far, but I did it with good intention. I want to go see if Grayson is alright, but I don’t think I should bother him right now.

I’ll bake something. Baked goods always make people feel better. Maybe some chocolate chip cookies. If I have the right ingredients.

_________

XANDER:

My phone’s ringtone blares through the silence for the fourth time and I contemplate throwing it out of the window. 

Can’t people just take a hint? I obviously don’t want to talk to them. 

The ringing finally stops and I reach for my phone. Before I can look at the notifications, another call comes through. 

My attention gets pulled back to the road when a honk sounds from behind me. I pull away from the green light and I find a parking lot where I can talk to the asshole who keeps calling me. I glance at the caller ID before answering the phone. Unknown caller.  “Can’t you take a fucking hint?” The question is rude, coated with venom. But I don’t care. They should’ve stopped calling after the second try.

Silence follows my question and I have to make sure I actually answered the call. When I see ‘connected’ flashing on the screen, I bring the phone back up to my ear.“Hello?” I swear to God, if this is a prank call, I will actually commit murder today. Because out of the eight billion people on this planet, he decided to call me.

“Xander?” All air leaves my lungs when I hear Gray’s voice coming through the speaker. The world around me blurs, and I suddenly can’t speak. I just messed up. I should’ve just blocked the call. “Xan, where are you?” My brain can’t process his words, so I put the phone down. I try to breathe, but my lungs won’t work with me.

I spiral into panic completely when my phone rings again. I fumble with the car’s locks, but my hands are shaking and I can’t get the door open. My heart aims to burst out of my chest and I have no more control over my body. I scratch at my neck, trying to relieve it of the invisible hand wrapped around it, but to no avail. 

Tears fall involuntarily and I fumble with my phone. I need to talk to Grayson. I need to hear his voice. I need to know that he’s not angry with me.

My chest feels compressed, and I’m afraid that I might die here. But I can’t die until I heard Gray saying that he’s not angry.

My breathing becomes more rigid, and the car seems to close in on me. I cover my face with my hands, waiting for the weight of the car to crush me down. I scream, and my ribcage decides to finally release its hold on my lungs. My lungs allow me to suck in a sob. The burn in my chest subsides and I’m left gasping for air through the sobs. 

I can’t believe that I’ve come to the point where I can’t even control myself over something as stupid as this.

How do I keep losing control?

When I have control over my lungs again, I unlock the car with shaking hands and I open my door. I step out of the car and I pull my hoodie off. The cool air hits my bare arms and shoulders, and it helps me to completely calm down.

My heart is still pounding against my chest, but I call Gray back anyway. “Xander!” His voice is panicked and I flinch.

“Grayson,” My voice is hoarse, and quiet. “Gray, I’m sorry.”

“Where are you Xander?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m okay.” I force out a quiet chuckle. “Sorry, I’m tired and frustrated so the dumbasses on the road are working me up. Some guy stopped dead right in front of me, that’s why I put the phone down.”

“Stop lying to me.” Gray’s voice drips with control.

“What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean, Xander.” Grayson wants to yell, but he holds back. Probably because that girl is with him. “Ignoring my calls? Putting the phone down in my ear, and then blaming it on the traffic?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gray?” My facade is trying to fade, but I force it to stay. I just have to sound happy, then he can stop wasting his time on me. “It really is the people on the road. At least partly. I’ve been driving the whole morning, so I’m tired.” I’m not lying, but I’m not telling him the full truth either.

“Where have you been driving to, Xander?” Gray’s voice is ridiculed. It’s aimed at me. I am ridiculous.

“Home?” I wait a few seconds. “Where else would I be going?"

“Why didn’t you take the plane?”

“I told you; I had some errands to run. And I wasn’t in the mood for flying. I wanted to drive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve gone together.” Gray’s words hang in the air. He could’ve been here with me. Him and Y/N. I don’t want to be a third-wheel.

It broke me when I saw Gray yesterday, but I was also excited. I really, really missed him and when I saw him, I thought we would be able to see each other for a couple of days, and then Y/N came down stairs, and I felt like I needed to run.

Gray’s never brought a girl home, and I felt selfish when I wished that she wasn’t there. I should be happy that he finally met somebody. It just sucks that he didn’t tell me about her. We promised each other that we’ll always tell each other everything.

So it’s hypocritical for you to feel hurt that he didn’t tell you about the girl, Xander. Because how much are you hiding from him?

Nausea hits me in the stomach and my hand actually shoots up to my mouth to prevent anything from coming up. “Are you still there, Xan?” Gray’s voice is quiet now, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from bursting out in tears again.

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“You know we wouldn’t have minded going with you, right?” 

I know, I just didn’t want to be a bother. I think about my response before I speak again. “I know, but I left when you guys were still sleeping.” When did it become so easy for me to lie? Especially to Gray?

He stays quiet and I’m afraid of what he is thinking about. My head spins. Does he know that I’m lying? It’s unlikely, because he was…enjoying his time with Y/N. “I heard you leaving, Xander.” Gray’s voice is raw with emotion. “Why are you lying to me, Xan?” My heart shatters all over again and I get back into my car.. “What’s wrong, little brother? I don’t like that you don’t talk to me.” I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I don’t talk to you because you don’t talk to me.

“I have to get back on the road, Grayson. You know I don’t like driving at night.” The pretending to be fine didn’t work, so now I’m doing the next best thing. I’m averting my attention to something outside of this godforsaken conversation. I cut off my feelings, and I let logic take over. If only it was always this easy. “I’m already four hours into the trip. I want to get to Bowen before dark.”

“Come back to me, Xan.” Grayson’s voice is still raw with emotion. “Please.” His voice cracks, and my world blurs again.

“I have to go, Grayson.”

“Xander.” Grayson’s voice is suddenly stern, and I wait, not quite ready to put the phone down. “Let me come to you?” 

“I already have somebody waiting for me in Bowen.”

“Who?”

I swallow. “Somebody who at least calls me when they’re away.” I put the phone down before Grayson could reply. My world stops spinning. What did I just do? I hit my steering wheel. Again and again and again, until the pain takes control again, and I cry. I cry like I haven’t cried in a really long time. The sobs shake my body, scattering the pieces of my heart in places where it shouldn’t be. Like in my stomach, where it causes bile to rise, and I have to open the car door to relieve myself of the contents of my stomach.

My throat burns, and my head pounds, leaving me dazed and for a second everything just stops. Everything becomes quiet. No pain. No relief. Just nothing. It’s like I’m walking on the clouds. Some part of me hopes that I’m dead. But I still feel a weight on my chest. I’m still not happy. Still not relieved of the pain. And I know that I’m still alive, because I still think of myself as nothing.

When I come back to, I’m speeding down a highway, dodging cars left and right. I now know why Jamie likes driving so fast. It gives you a rush. The adrenaline running through your veins relieves your tense muscles, and you momentarily forget what is going on around you. But unlike Jamie, I am not reckless, and I can’t get away from the cops. And I really don’t want to spend the rest of the day, or tonight in a jail cell, so I slow down. I push down all of the negativity for as long as possible, but it doesn’t last long.

And I follow the long road to spend another night on my own. Because there is nobody waiting for me in Bowen. Nobody ever cared enough to call me.

~~~~~~~~

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 13

taglist:

@elysianwayy77 @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @i-too-enjoy-blog @no1bookgirl @merylovesbooks @eternallybri @nothankyou3333 @miicellaneous @thecircularlibrary @mafiasliege @imaseabear @narkissistikos @lanterns-and-daydreams @eternal--dream