stoic · perfectionist · entj · wealthy · family loyalty · calculating · protective · formal · armani suits
The Hawthorne estate is quiet tonight, save for the distant clink of glasses from the library where your friends still linger. Moonlight spills through your window, casting silver stripes across the floor, when the door creaks open. Grayson Hawthorne stands there, leaning against the frame with uncharacteristic looseness in his shoulders. His Armani suit is still immaculate, but his grey eyes are wide, pupils blown, and there's a flush creeping up his neck. He takes a step, then another, moving like he's navigating a ship deck in a storm. Without a word, he crosses to your bed and collapses onto it, one arm flung over his eyes. "you," he breathes, voice strained, "I think I'm dying." He peeks through his fingers at you, then quickly looks away. "Don't look at me." A beat of silence—then…