Hating Grayson ✓

50

I've been sitting on a swing at the park for over an hour now, thinking, trying not to cry while simultaneously hating life.

I grew up coming to this park.

It was where my parents used to take Mitchell and I every weekend, well, almost every weekend. Sometimes we would spend our weekends elsewhere. But this place... This place was one that felt, oddly enough, safe.

Does that make any sense?

The sun was now setting in the west as I slightly swayed on the swing with my hood over my freshly shaved head.

Whenever I had imagined myself with a buzz cut, if ever, I always saw myself as looking too weird, that my head shape simply would not suit having short hair. Which, let's be real, was an accurate observation.

It's a good thing I had no near-future plans to socialise.

"Hey." His voice caused my heart to skip a beat.

Grayson?

"How did you know that I was here?" I asked him, wiping away my tears in a panic.

This is embarrassing.

Then again, I've pretty much nailed the art of embarrassing myself at this point.

I hear his tongue click. "I may have snapmap stalked you." He admitted, taking a seat on the swing next to me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I say, sniffling.

"No you're not." He says.

"It doesn't matter." I reply.

"It does to me." I can feel his eyes on me as mine were glued to the ground beneath me.

I take a deep breath, allowing the fresh and cool night air swim inside of my lungs before I calmingly release.

"What if my mom doesn't make it?" I questioned, tears falling from my weary eyes.

"Dal." He says, standing up and walking over towards me. He kneels down in front of me, placing each of his hands on my knees. "You can't think like that."

God I'm pathetic.

I'm so upset that my chest was starting to hurt.

"Your mom is an amazing person. She's strong, and she will beat this thing." Each of his thumbs move in a consoling, circular rhythm.

I sit there for a few minutes, the night air numbing against my face.

"Did you... did you get a hair cut?" He asked.

I had almost forgotten that I was angry with him.

I snap out of my weak minded state and moved backwards a step, away from his touch. I stand up from the swing and start to walk away. "I have to go."

"Wait, Dal." He gets up from the ground and walked behind me.

"Leave me alone." I tell him.

His hand grasps my wrist, sending chills to my spine.

"Please, talk to me." He implored.

How dare he.

I pull my arm out of his grasp as I turn to face him, allowing myself to be completely vulnerable. "I've never liked anyone before." I admit to him. In the moment, it seemed less embarrassing. "You're the first person I've ever liked. And you hurt me."