7 Minutes in Heaven | Grayson Dolan

11:49

reese

(third minute)

i feel my breath hitch. did he actually just say what i heard him say, or did i just interpret that wrongly? i give him a look of pure disgust. i'm not a cheap slut that he could just fuck.

he stares back, clearly confused, but i still raise my shoulders and cross my arms in front of my chest protectively. he shakes his hands in front of his face, finally understanding why i reacted this way.

"oh, my god, i'm so sorry!", he gasps and i bite down on my tongue to keep my giggle in. he looked quite adorable when he was in shock, like a little lost puppy.

i eventually smile and giggle behind my hand as my hair falls into my face and curtains my eyes from viewing him. "sorry i did that.", i joke.

i leer back up at him and see him running his hand through his hair stressfully and embarrassed. "no, that was totally rational, i shouldn't have said that.", he takes the blame.

i feel a weird anxiety rise within him and watch him tremble, his hands shaking like he was a freezing popsicle. i take his hands and hold them to my face.

"grayson?", i ask, getting no sign of reply but a rapid fire of unstable breaths he takes in like shots. i shake his hands lightly, trying to make him regain his consciousness.

"grayson?", i beg. his breaths become more like painful whimpers as he lays down on the bed and curls up into a little ball, letting my hands go. his eyes are wide open, bloodshot.

i rush to the door and bang on it. i kick it. anything to get someone's attention. i cannot hear grayson's breaths anymore and i was slowly panicking. i kick the door again and scream.

"help! help!", i shout and bash my closed fists against the door, feeling my knuckles burst open and blood rush out of my fresh wounds. i screech in agony and pain.

nothing happens. the door doesn't get unlocked, nothing. i walk back over to grayson and take his face into my hands. his eyelids have fallen shut, hiding his eyes from me.

i wanted him to open them again. i needed to see the light within them as he told me about how wrong it was that my foster family treated me the way that they did and will do.

i cannot wait to leave this place. not this dusty room with the disgusting odor and the mucky bed. this place, as in my foster home. tomorrow is my birthday.

grayson is still breathing, which is a bonus, so i lay down next to him and look at his tousled hair. is he dead? is he asleep? is he okay?

so many questions i wish i could ask him in this moment, none to be ever answered. i dare myself and play with a loose strand of his hair, smiling softly as his eyelids flutter back open.

he doesn't say anything, just watches me play with his soft hair, trying to calm himself down from the situation. "i had a panic attack.", he says.

i look at him and blink. he shivers as i let go of his hair and fold my hands over my heart. his tongue drags itself over his bottom lip; obliviously sexy.

"are you okay now?", i ask him. he shakes his head. i sigh in sympathy, knowing that what traumatic things could do to a person. i take in a breath of what smelled like rotten egg and weed.

"i get them too. they fucking suck.", i add, just to show him that he isn't alone through what he has to go through. he nods. then he looks down at my chest.

"like what you see, grayson?", i joke. he remains silent as he takes my hands. "gray.", he mutters and sits up, letting my hands fall back onto the bed.

i lean my upper body on my elbows and watch him walk over to the curtains and tear off a bunch of the bottom part. he skims back over and makes me sit up straight.

"reese, i want you to do something.", he orders me and i blink twice. gray. that was his nickname. of course. i nod attentively, watching him take my hands.

he picks a bottle of unopened beer from the bedside table and opens it with his keys. i watch him toss the cap gracefully into the trash can and put my hands onto his knees.

"look away and stay quiet.", he says. i do as i am told, looking up at the ceiling. i tried to guess what animals the weird splotches up there could be.

there was red wine rosie the rabbit, beer betty the bear and scotch sam the snake, although it looked more like a footlong penis than that.

then i felt it. a stinging pain on all of my eight knuckles that were open. it burst through me like a fucking wildfire, burning me from my bones to my skin.

it felt like hell. i wince and clench my fists, which ripped the wounds open even further, the pain not receding. grayson holds my hip, trying to keep me stable.

"it's okay, reese.", he whispers and i tilt my head back down to look at him. the bottle of beer is on the table again and he wraps the two pieces of torn and frayed fabric around my knuckles.

he ties them tightly and i reopen my fists, looking at what help he just gave me. "thanks, gray.", i thankfully say, using his nickname for the first time in our conversation.

he licks his lips, eyes somewhat bouncing from my eyes to my mouth. he seems to be deep in thought as his hands race back to his own knees.

the loud thumping music outside switches to something really cheesy, a slow and romantic motive. i recognize the song as '1973' by james blunt. it was an old song, must be a couple years on it.

grayson stands up and holds his hands out for me to take. i feel myself sucking air between my teeth as he gives me a genuine smile and bends forward.

"dance with me, reese."

☁︎

a/n;

i am aware that almost all of my chapters end with someone saying something.

it's cliché, i get it, but cliché is my specialty, other than smut;)

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xx,cece