donnybrook

dayton

Before

November 25th, 2017

He felt awkward here, and prayed to whoever would listen that the girls bathroom was empty— it didn't smell like the mens, didn't even smell like pumpkins or the chemical smell of perfume. Well, he was here for Riley anyway, not the experience. Grayson couldn't hear any girls in the stalls at least, nobody but Riley, who sniveled and sobbed in short breaths in the handicapped stall. He was here for her, nothing else.

Grayson knocked softly on the stall door,
"Riley, I'm here.."
She didn't get up to answer for him, he didn't think she was capable. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he somehow doubted whether it was Eric or Brooklyn. Maybe, and he cringed at the possibility, of it somehow miraculously being David, demanding he get Riley on the phone with him.

Fuck it, he thought. Fuck it.

Grayson dropped his bag and got on his knees, crawling in the space under the stall. His nose was a quarter inch from the floor, skimmed in skid marks from sneakers and must. He didn't breath it in, he only pulled himself into the stall and got to Rileys level, which gratefully he didn't have to get up for.
Well, he did feel a bit gross, but not enough to pull himself up.

Riley was balled into fetal position against the wall, she'd braided her black hair into two sections beside her head, and they were scrunched and knotted enough he mine as well think she'd done it to give her hands something to do— to avoid texting David the paragraph they'd written together.

"Hey, I'm here," It was all he could say— repeat, actually. And it sounded stupid out loud, worse was she didn't respond to him. She shook violently against the wall, and the parts of her face he could see were red and damp with sweat or hot tears. Grayson scooted next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Grayson kept it slung around her, even when the contact implored her to sob greater, breath louder.

"Let me see the messages. Did he respond at all?"

It took a while for her to lift her head— about three minutes he spent in awkward and uncomfortable silence next to her. But when she did, her face looked worn and aged, eyes pink like his top lip. She had to heave when she opened her mouth, "I blocked his number."

"So his contact won't show up?"

She swallowed, a heavy belt of mucus sliding down the tunnel of her throat. That's how close he was to her, he realized, to hear something so vividly. Riley shook her head but she didn't look at him.

"I'm sorry. I know.. I know that relationship was a long one." He didn't really know what to say, of course it was long, and he had to be the one to talk her out of it. David was an asshole, a complete asshole. Riley had let herself be too vulnerable, love too hard for someone that would use it to kill her slow, and it wasn't her fault it had worked. For the most part, at least.

"Yeah," she nodded, wiping at one eye,
"I um.. I don't know." She sniffled, but at least she looked at him this time, "I'm glad it's over. But I can't feel my legs." Riley tried to laugh, which didn't exactly work but, he appreciated the rise and fall of the low smile.

"Oh," That.. it was all he said, could really think to say really, and, "Want me to help you up?"

"Please."

And after school, he drove her to a place to dine out. She didn't eat much, he realized, and it might as well be because of the blow and the hurt weighting over her. But Riley wasn't broken in heartbreak, not with a guy like David, broken in shock maybe. David had.. he wasn't good. Grayson had to show her that. Had to point out the manipulation and the excessive behavior. He was psychotic and undeserving of her, and Grayson knew better on how to treat someone as delicate and beautiful as Riley.