brutal | grayson hawthorne

again

***
Perfect Storm by Inhaler
***

Liz hasn't seen Grayson in 43 days - not that she's counting - since he left for Harvard at the end of the summer.

She hasn't seen him since that night in the wine cellar.

Since the night he told her he couldn't be with her - that he didn't think he could be with anyone.

Since that night she cried in front of him for the first time in 21 months and all he did was walk away from her.

From them.

Liz has always been the type to get more angry than sad when others do her wrong, so she picked herself up on her own, dusted herself off, and spent the first two months of her gap year hooking up with cute European boys, pretending Grayson Hawthorne didn't exist.

It was easy enough, considering he never made an effort to reach out first, and Xander took up most of Liz's call log anyway with the way he was constantly checking in on her, because everyone was on edge when Liz and Grayson were fighting, even from opposite sides of the world.

But Liz was fine. And she was going back to Hawthorne House to celebrate Avery's 18th birthday, and she was going to have the best time ever, and she wasn't even going to think about Grayson Hawthorne.

"Have you talked to Grayson?" Jameson always knows the worst thing to say.

The party is smaller than Liz suspected for a Hawthorne party, but knowing Avery, she understood why it only consisted of her, Jameson, Xander, Nash, Max, Libby, Oren, Zara, Nan, the Laughlins, and. . . Grayson.

Liz and Jameson have kept in touch, making plans to meet each other whenever they happened to be in the same country, bonding over how annoying Grayson is, but not even he knows about the wine cellar.

No one does. No one can.

"No," Liz replies, looking at the table of desserts as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Well, then, brace yourself," and Jameson slips away before Liz can ask him what he means by that.

She looks up to see him go, but her confusion is quickly replaced with annoyance as she feels a presence behind her. A presence she could recognize anywhere.

"Xan said you wanted to talk," is how Grayson greets Liz as if it hasn't been 43 days since they even acknowledged the other's existence after spending the whole year saying 'I love you' and taking late night drives to watch the sunrise.

As if he didn't say what he did that night before he left for Harvard 3 days early.

His voice is clear, never weighed down from the emotions of his past, and Liz wants to punch him in the face for it.

And Xander.

"I don't," she can be dismissive too. What wine cellar? Who even is Grayson Hawthorne?

"Maybe that's for the best," his voice is suspiciously soft, but before Liz can feel anything about it, Grayson's gone.

***

"Good morning," of course Grayson's is the first face she sees when she steps in to the kitchen the next day.

Liz gets a sudden flashback to when the old man's will was first read, almost a year ago, and her and Grayson found themselves in the kitchen like this.

The Pretending Contest.

"Morning," she says easily, moving to pour herself a bowl of cereal.

"You spent the night?" He takes a sip of his coffee, not looking up from his newspaper.

A newspaper for Christ's sake.

"Yeah," Liz's 'room' in Hawthorne House was right next to Grayson's, but the walls are thick enough that he couldn't have heard her ambling around all night, unable to sleep. "When are you going back to school?" Liz normally hates small talk, but her and Grayson both know that's not really what this is.

"Probably later today," even though the private jets weren't technically his, Avery wouldn't say no if he asked for one for an hour to be taken to Boston.

"Oh," Avery walks in. "Morning," she greets both Liz and Grayson.

Avery knows there's tension - everyone does - but since Liz and Grayson aren't actively trying to strangle each other, she just grabs a bagel and some cream cheese.

"There's someone at the gates," Oren walks in before the silence gets a little too awkward.

"Who is it?" Grayson is sharp as Liz sees the gears turning in Avery's head.

Oren stays staring at Avery as he answers. "She says her name is Eve."

There's a pause, Liz doesn't recognize the name, she can tell Grayson can't either - not that she's looking at him, duh, - but Avery's face masks itself with something that Liz can't seem to look through.

"I need to take care of this," she states.

"I'll come," Liz is seeing what all this is about if it kills her.

"You shouldn't," Avery is quick to spin around and look at Liz with wide eyes.

"It'll be fine," Liz pushes out the door, Avery right behind, Oren easily striding to the front, and Liz is silently grateful she doesn't hear Grayson's footsteps behind them.

He's all she thought about last night, she didn't need his presence shrouding her all day too.

They make their way outside, the girl is turned away from them, but something about her amber hair blowing in the wind, her stance in her threadbare white dress smudged with stains, the way the sunlight makes her look like she's glowing.

Liz feels like she's looking at a ghost.

The girl - Eve - turns. She moves like a dancer, gracefully and carelessly, her eyes meet Avery's first, but just seeing her face makes Liz stop breathing.

She had Emily's strawberry-blonde hair, Emily's emerald eyes, the same heart-shaped face, the same lips, the same light freckles.

Liz feels like she's drowning. Like she's caught in a tsunami. Like the world is going dark around her, and she's being thrown around, her feet are unsteady, her heart feels like someone's stepping on it.

"Let her in," Liz didn't even notice she almost fell into Avery at her shakiness, and the girl's sudden grip on her hand brings her back to the surface.

Oren opens the gates, Liz feels her throat open along with them.

"Emily," she breathes, not even being able to hear herself with how light her voice is and loud her ears are rushing.

"Eve," Avery says louder, firmer. Liz doesn't know if it's because she heard her or if it's because she's greeting the girl, but either way, she's grateful for the stability in her voice because every step that this Eve girl takes towards Liz makes her want to crawl into a corner.

Eve. Eve. Eve. Her name is Eve, Liz has to tell herself.

Words are exchanged, something about Toby, Liz feels Avery's grip tighten on her hand, not really sure who's helping who at this point, still lost in her slight haze.

The only thing that pulls her out is the inhuman noise that comes from behind her.

She doesn't even have to turn her head.

"Emily," she hears him breathe, not unlike she did moments ago.

Grayson.

a/n:
ahhhhhhhhhhhhh and haunted by taylor swift