Behind those icy blue eyes

Chapter 20 The death of the great Tobias Hawthorne

Grayson

                 A little over one year ago

         After a fruitless night of not sleeping, Grayson slowly arose from his bed around seven in the morning and headed toward his massive closet. Hundreds of suits hung from racks from either side. Even though color coordinated, black or gray outnumbered the rest. His two favorite colors. Wearily, he pulled a jet-black three-piece suit from off its hanger, having no idea how appropriate it would be.

        He paired the suit with a crisp white dress shirt, black loafers, and a silver four-thousand-dollar watch. Combing back his light silver-blonde hair, icy-blue eyes stared back at him in the floor length mirror. Even though dead tired, his eyes were sharp and cold, ready for whatever lay ahead. Sharp cheekbones gave him a gaunt look over his unblemished tanned skin.

     With a sigh he began walking toward the door to the outside of his wing, when he heard a knock. Assuming it was the maid, he opened it. He was slightly shocked to see Xander standing there, red eyed and sniffling. As much as he would appreciate it, his brothers hardly knocked on his door. Usually they just themselves in, like it was their own. 

     Noticing his brother's distressed state, he walked toward him. "Xander, whatever is the matter?"

     "Its grandfather." he said, crying.

     Dread fell into the pit of Grayson's stomach, when he heard the next two words.

    "He's dead." Xander began to weep louder.

     Grayson didn't do messy emotions. He couldn't. But Xander was one of the few people who Grayson would allow himself to show anything toward them. Pulling Xander into a hug, he led him into his library. 

      Sitting down on the couch, Grayson held Xander, blankly staring ahead. Could this really be happening? He had to say goodbye to Emily just a few months ago. Now he was doing it again, this time to his grandfather: the person who had raised him and his brothers like his own sons. He didn't always get along with the old man. He had been ruthless, emotionless, and mean, expecting Grayson to be the same. No, forcing him to be. Yet, as mad and frustrated he wanted to be, he couldn't. His grandfather had given him and his brothers the world. They weren't just spoiled, clueless, and unexperienced brats. They had talent that over half the world didn't possess, traveled all over the world, and knew how to do even the littlest things. The old man had all of them learn to do things they would probably never do in their life. At least not on a regular basis. Washing and drying dishes, sweeping the floors, laundry, basic cooking and baking, making your bed, simple stitching, and even how to change a tire. Just to name a few.

    Breaking down or running away was not an option. His family needed him. Family first. That line floated through his head, as it had been doing all his life. The old man made sure that he, but also his brothers, put each other first and looked after each other. Now they needed it more than ever.

    "Will you be alright?" he asked softly, looking down at Xander who was now lying on his shoulder, silent tears coursing down the side of his face. 

     He sniffled. "I'll survive." He glanced up at his older brother's face. "What about you? I know you didn't always like him." 

    What Xander said was true, but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt. "I'll survive." he repeated what Xander had said to him. "I may have not always liked what he did, but I did love him. If that means anything to you."  

    Xander squeezed him. "More then you will ever realize." he whispered.

    Seeing that Alexander was going to be alright, Grayson put his hard, stern exterior back on like armor. Alexander might be the only the person who could get Grayson to let his compressed expression slip. There was a softer side to him that very few people got to see.

     "Does Jameson know?" he asked, hoping he wouldn't have to tell him. They rarely talked now.

    "He does. He took to the walls with a bottle of whisky." 

      Grayson expected as much. "And Nash?" their nomad brother was not home. Since he turned sixteen, Nash wasn't always home. He would come home for a few weeks, and then leave for longer. Grayson would never admit it out loud, but he wished Nash didn't leave as much. It was nice when he was home to deal with their troublesome younger siblings. It would make his life slightly easier.

    "I texted him, asking him to come home. I didn't tell him why."

     "And Skye?" their mother, who didn't act like their mother.

    "No." Xander looked at Grayson with a guilty look. "I was hoping you would."

     Inwardly Grayson sighed. No, he didn't want to go tell his drama queen mother that her father had died. But he would. Family First.

      "How did he die?" he asked.

     "He was sick. He died in his sleep."

      "Sick? He seemed fine."

      Xander shook his head. "But he wasn't."

      Grayson wanted to keep asking questions, like how did Xander know, yet he didn't? 

      Right now, though, he had a duty, as the Heir Apparent, to fulfill. Standing he got ready to walk out the door. Turning back to Xander he softly said, "Stay here as long as you need."

       Feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, he slowly, yet determinedly strode out to go confront his mother. He gave a silent prayer for help. Because he sure was going to need it.

    I MIGHT COME BACK AND EDIT IT LATER. I DECIDED THAT ALEXANDER WOULD BE THE ONE TO TELL HIM. WE DON'T SEE IT,( AND I HOPE IT IS MORE EXPLORED IN THE BROTHERS HAWTHORNE) BUT I SEE GRAYSON AND XANDER HAVING A TIGHT BOND. XANDER LOVES PEOPLE AND DOESN'T JUDGE THEM, AND I CAN SEE HIM BREAKING GRAYSON'S WALLS ,SLIGHTLY, WITH THAT. 

     I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR IF YOU AGREE OF DISAGREE.