Arson Detective // Various x Reader

Hotels are Mainly for Tourists

Chapter 32

I'll find out what you're really hiding from me soon.

On the papers were very poorly drawn people — or what I assume to be people — the doodle that kept showing up constantly was a stickman with a disturbingly large head and smile. It made me extremely uncomfortable, and the red strings connecting the papers didn't help shake the feeling away.

Maybe I'll figure out your mystery later.

I pulled the cloth back to where it belonged, covering Clay's not-so-secret bulletin board once again.

The thought of my best friend hiding something sinister behind my back didn't sit right with me. So, I pulled the curtain aside and took a photo of the disturbing drawings.

"George?" Someone's voice boomed through the lobby. "I need some assistance!"

Shit. I pulled the cloth back over the board messily and ran out of the room as fast as my legs could carry me.

Once I made it to the front desk I was a panting mess. "Sorry, I had to find my name tag.."

The boy in front of me smiles innocently, reminding me of Clay. "It's no problem! I just need another spray bottle. This one's jammed." He was wearing a purple suit that was stained from the first time he drank coffee with me.

"A- Again?" I bend down and open a cabinet, revealing a brand new spray cleaner. "You need to be more careful with those, y'know?" I say as I place the new bottle onto the counter top. "Give me that, I bet it's not even broken."

"Oh trust me," The boy grabs the new bottle from my hands and gives me the old one. "This one is actually broken this time."

I roll my eyes, not believing him. "Sure sure, Gray-Gray," I take the old bottle and spin the tip with a gentle force, making a clicking noise.

"I told you to stop calling me that!" He crosses his arms. "You're just like my mom, you know that George?"

"Boom, fixed." I spray the mist like soap into the air. "Can you read the instructions on the bottle next time?"

Grayson doesn't answer. He was already on the outside cleaning the windows peering into the lobby. I sigh and place the soap bottle down.

Should this picture even be in my camera roll? I looked up at the boy who was petting a small dog passing by. Come on George! I rub my eyes. You're just guilt tripping yourself! Clay threatened to give away your life's work in just a mili-second! He deserves to be punished in some way. I hesitantly looked back at the photo I had taken not that long ago and began to study every pixel of it.

Nothing is making sense. I groan and zoom out of the picture. I have to face it. I'm not built for these kinds of things. I'm not built for action. And I obviously can't ask Purple Boy for help. I frown as my phone turns off on its own. This is why I'm an outcast. I always sit out whenever anyone wants to do anything fun.