Broken Hands

105. Something just for me

Some days, life felt like it was clicking into place like everything was easy, manageable-even within reach. And then there were days like this, where the weight of it all crushed Grayson like a boulder. Days where he wanted to scream into the void, disappear off the face of the earth, just to escape the chaos that constantly form inside him. Why did everything have to feel so damn hard? Why did happiness always come with an expiration date?

He leaned against the edge of his desk, his fingers gripping its surface like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. The questions swirled in his head, relentless and loud. Had he ever really been happy? Sure, maybe a few times, but those moments felt like rare gems buried in a mountain of coal.

No matter how much he tried to shake it off, the encounter with Alex and Damien kept playing on a loop in his mind. Damien's sharp words carved through him like a hot blade.

You do what you want, get burned, and brush it off! You don't give a damn! It's like... it's like you enjoy the pain.

Grayson pressed his jaw together, his teeth grinding together as the words echoed again. He squeezed his eyes shut. "That's not true," he muttered under his breath, though the room was silent. None of it was true!

Every step he'd taken, every decision, every stupid risk-it was all an attempt to find himself. To find some version of himself that was perfect. To find understanding, support, a family. And yet, here he was, left with another denial.

The sharp memory of Damien's refusal felt like a slap all over again. Grayson hissed under his breath, gripping the edge of the desk harder. They didn't understand. They didn't see the bigger picture. It wasn't about recklessness; it was about living his life, for one freaking day! Racing made him feel alive. It gave him purpose in a way nothing else could. Wasn't that worth the risk? Wasn't everything else just noise compared to that?

The sound of the door creaking broke through his cloudy thoughts. Julian walked in, his usual energetic presence filling the space as he moved with that casual confidence only he could pull off. "Done packing yet?"

Grayson shifted, keeping his back to Julian as he reached for his backpack. "Not quite," he muttered, his tone void.

Julian plopped on the bed like he didn't have a care in the world. Bluey hopped off his shoulder and sprawled across the blankets, purring contentedly. He eyes the half-packed bag on the floor. "You look like you could use some help."

Grayson didn't answer. He pushed himself up and ducked into the bathroom instead, yanking open the cabinet. His eyes locked on the new bottle of pills tucked in the corner. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he grabbed it, shoving it deep into his pocket.

He knew he shouldn't have bought them. He'd made a promise. But last night... last night had been unbearable. His thoughts wouldn't quiet, his body wouldn't rest. The world felt like it was spinning off its axis, and he needed something to pull it back. So he hopped on a pharmacy and bought them. The pills weren't a choice-they were like life support.

Back in the bedroom, Julian was rifling through the closet. "Damn, your closet's like a dungeon. Do you ever use a light in here?"

Grayson grabbed a stack of socks, ignoring the comment.

Julian emerged from the closet, hoodies and sweaters piled in his arms. "You need some color in your life, Gray. All this black is depressing. You're not going to a funeral."

Grayson's patience snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. "Julian," he said, his tone stiff. "Just pack the black ones. Please."

Julian hesitated, the cheerful glow on his face dimming at Grayson's restrained words. "Okay..." he mumbled, though Grayson could hear him muttering something under his breath, and he knew Julian would just go ahead and sneak some colors in there.

Grayson let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. Julian didn't get it. He wouldn't get it. No one did. But Grayson didn't have the energy to explain himself anymore.

The door creaked open, and Russell leaned casually against the frame, his sleeveless white shirt showing off his arms, and his black jeans sporting those odd designs he loved so much. He turned his baseball cap backward, a trademark grin spreading across his face. "Grayson isn't packed yet?" he asked a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Grayson glanced at Julian, who shot a dramatic eye roll. "He's doing his drag-ass routine again," Julian grumbled.

"Come on, dude," Russell urged, stepping into the room. "It's gonna be fun. Like, super fun." Julian nodded enthusiastically, his earlier annoyance melting into excitement.

Before Grayson could respond, Raymond burst in like a tornado of energy. "Let's move! The car is ready! You guys are riding with me-let's go!" He clapped his hands loudly, startling even Bluey, who meowed in protest. "Russell, get those bags into the truck! Julian, pack that bag like The Flash!" Raymond ordered, pointing like a drill sergeant.

Russell nodded, already moving, and Julian scrambled to zip up Grayson's suitcase with a victorious, "That's it!" He scooped up Bluey and darted toward the door, grinning over his shoulder. "Gotta grab something to eat!" he called as he disappeared.

Grayson could feel Raymond's eyes on him and he soon heard him retreat.

Grayson moved slowly to the suitcase, unzipping it with deliberate precision. His eyes fell on the colorful clothes Julian had snuck in-red, white, navy, gray. It was almost laughable, but he wasn't in the mood. He pulled them out one after another folded them neatly, and slid them back into the closet where they belonged. Only his grays and blacks remained. He shut the closet door with a quiet finality, then moved to close the window, letting the room fall into a dim stillness. He'd miss this space, but it was just for the summer.

"Are you ready yet?" A voice cut through the silence, startling Grayson. He didn't turn around. His shoulders stiffened, and a frown tugged at his face. Alex.

"Yeah," he muttered, still not meeting the man's gaze.

"Grayson... about yesterday," Alex began cautiously.

Grayson's jaw clenched. He could feel the anger bubbling under his skin again, like an old wound reopening. Not again. He focused on slipping a notebook and some pens into his backpack, refusing to look at Alex.

"We're just trying to look out for you," Alex continued, his tone steady but edged with guilt. "We'll look into it. If it's safe, then you can g-"

"Okay." Grayson cut him off sharply, his voice cold, flat and full of dismissal. He didn't want to hear any more excuses, any more half-hearted promises. He wasn't a child they could pacify with empty reassurances.

Alex hesitated, clearly unconvinced. "Okay?" he repeated, his eyes searching Grayson's face for something-anything-that wasn't anger.

Grayson drew in a slow, deliberate breath and finally looked at him, his eyes hard, maybe disappointed. "Yeah," he said, forcing the words out through suppressed rage. "I get it. There's no need to go back over it. You guys should look into it. Take your time. Do however you please," The bitterness in his tone was barely masked, and he could feel the frustration clawing at his throat, begging to be unleashed. He really wanted to scream and fight Alex off, but there was no point, no point getting hit over spilled milk.

He zipped his bag aggressively, the sound cutting through the tense air like a warning. Then, without another word, he wheeled it out of the room, leaving Alex standing there, looking concerned.

As Grayson reached the stairs, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, and his heart skipped when he saw the text.

"Champion, the offer still stands. Don't let anything hold you back. Just give me a YES and get ready to blow!"

Grayson stared at the screen for a moment, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, but the urge to prove himself burned brighter. Without thinking, he typed a single word: Yes.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, letting out a shaky breath. This was it. His choice. His life. And if Damien wanted to call it reckless, so be it. Someday, Grayson hoped, Damien would realize that all this was his fault.

A/N

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A lot will unravel in the next chapter!