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Lyra wasn’t the angsty type, nor was she the kind of person to cry over someone else’s trauma.
Yet, somehow, none of that seemed to hold true when it came to her boyfriend.
Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. Her Hawthorne.
Lyra took a deep breath as she stared up at the full moon from her spot on the roof of the Hawthorne house. It was all she could do at that moment, to try and seize the tears from spilling out.
Her thoughts began to drift back to the conversation she’d had with Grayson.
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Lyra ran her hand through Grayson’s hair while her other hand was occupied with holding the book she was invested in.
After a few minutes of silence, Lyra looked up from her book towards Grayson, expecting him to be asleep since he hadn’t made so much as a peep in a while.
So she was surprised when she saw Grayson staring at… nothing in particular, seemingly deep in thought, but that wasn’t the surprising part.
The surprising part was that Grayson looked vulnerable, troubled, almost…hurt.
Lyra stared at him as her attention focused solely on her boyfriend. This was, in fact, not the first time this had happened.
Grayson, just like Lyra herself, had his fair share of trauma. The only difference was that, while she had shared all her worries and troubles with him, Grayson didn’t say much about his own.
Lyra stared on at him as she fought an internal battle of her own, a part of her believed that when Grayson wanted to open up, he would. Lyra should give him some space. But another part of Lyra, the more prominent one, begged for her to ask. To just give him a little push. To let him know that she was here and waiting to listen. To understand.
She hesitated for a moment before deciding that she wouldn’t pry, just ask. If he wanted to tell her, he would.
“Gray?” She asked softly. Grayson visibly flinched, being snapped away from his thoughts all of a sudden.
Grayson looked up at her, “Yeah?” He asked.
If anyone else were to look at him now, they wouldn’t see a single thing out of place. He looked normal. Untouchable. Like Grayson Hawthorne.
Yet Lyra didn’t know just Grayson Hawthorne, she knew Grayson. Gray. Her asshole. She saw the way his eyebrows looked slightly furrowed, the few droplets of sweat that were threatening to make their way down his forehead, the way his eyes looked glassier than usual.
Lyra took a moment to assess his state as they sat their in silence.
“You can tell me.” She said, finally, praying the words didn’t sound too pushy.
Grayson continued staring up at her as she saw his eyes visibly soften. “Alright.” He answered after a beat of silence.
“Alright.” Lyra had replied.
And so he started. From the beginning.
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Lyra’s breath caught in her throat as she thought about Grayson’s past.
About the boy who was never shown motherly affection. The boy who was raised to be the heir apparent and never given a true opportunity to enjoy his childhood. The boy who fell in love with a manipulative bitch and lost his brother as a result. The boy who had his, supposed, life purpose snatched away from him within a day and given to a random girl.
The boy who fell in love again but let go for his brother. The boy who found out about his father after years only to realise that he never truly cared. The boy who became a puppet for a seemingly innocent girl. The boy who suffered alone for so long that he forgot what it was like to open up.
The boy who had is childhood snatched away from him, had his heart crushed and handed to him, had to play the puppet for years, had to suffer alone.
Who never truly got to be a boy.
Lyra felt a tear trail down her cheek as her heart ached impossibly more for the boy she was never able to meet. For the boy she could no longer help no matter how much she wanted to. For the boy who had blossomed into a man despite the suffering he went through.
She let out a sob as a word drifted to her, undeserving.
How could she even be deemed deserving of him?
Lyra had been traumatised by the memory of her father. She had wanted to find out the truth, she had wanted to be at peace.
Grayson gave her all of that and so much more.
Grayson had found her, reached out again, helped her, laughed with her, helped her rekindle her love for dance, made her happy again, made her whole again.
Yet, what had she done for him? What could she do for him? Nothing. She was undeserving.
She let out a cold chuckle knowing fully well how upset Grayson would be to hear that mental declaration, no matter how true it seemed.
Lyra was planning to get up when she heard footsteps from behind her. She whipped her head around to see Jameson Winchester Hawthorne standing behind her, wearing an intrigued expression.
She turned her head back to the moon and held back the urge to roll her eyes.
In the few months Lyra had gotten to know the Hawthornes, she had formed a… unique dynamic with Jameson.
He was a wicked-dumbass and egoist in the making while she was sassy, quick-witted and… petty sensible. So, obviously, they exchanged blows every chance they got.
“Weird seeing you here?” Jameson made that statement a question.
Lyra let out a, very pointed, huff, “I could ask you the same thing, dumbass.” She said and nearly winced at how broken her voice sounded to her own ears.
Lyra felt Jameson go still behind her before he walked on over and plopped himself down right next to her.
“Well, I’m sorry to inform you that the rooftop of this household has been my go to place since like— the beginning of time.” He said, adding a big show of his hands to support his statement.
This time, Lyra did roll her eyes, “This household hasn’t existed since the beginning of time.”
“Well, it has since the beginning of my time.” He said and Lyra suddenly felt the urge to smack him square in the face. Then again, that wasn’t particularly rare around Jameson.
“Jameson, it’s seriously not the time.” She said, putting her hands to her face as she fought her tears back. Crying in front of people would never not be embarrassing.
Lyra could feel Jameson’s assessing gaze on her, though it felt like he was staring directly into her soul. Hawthornes had a way of doing that.
“Alright then, why don’t you run it by me?” He said, finally, breaking the silence.
Lyra looked back up at him and blinked, “Run what by you?”
This time it was Jameson’s turn to roll his eyes, “What’s bothering you, moron. Obviously.”
Lyra blinked again. And then another time.
Jameson was asking her what was bothering her. Jameson. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne.
The same Jameson Winchester Hawthorne who couldn’t be bothered with ‘emotions’ or ‘sentiments’ for the life of him. That much, she had figured out by now,
Lyra stared on at the maniac and her expression must have given away something because Jameson looked at her and let out a scoff.
“Cmon. I’m not that bad. Why does everyone do this when ever I ask what’s wrong???” He asked, and the worst part was, he looked genuinely confused.
“I don’t know? Maybe because you are exactly that bad??” She replied, the disbelief still evident in her tone.
Jameson sent her a glare with no real heat behind it before looking back to the moon, “I guess Heiress makes me want to try.” He said and, for a moment, Jameson looked loveable. (A/N: ITS SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE. PLS. ITS IN LYRA’S POV KINDA— BEAR WITH ME.)
Lyra gave him a small smile, she knew that feeling. It was something that came with falling in love. You know you aren’t the best person, but they make you want to try to be better. For them.
For him. She thought.
They sat their in silence with nothing but the moon to keep them company.
“He suffered.” She managed. Lyra felt the change in Jameson’s demeanour.
“I mean— it’s no surprise,” she let out a small laugh with no heart to it, “to make a man like him. It’s obvious he had suffered but—”
She took a deep breath, calming her feelings, “I just didn’t expect that. He didn’t deserve it.” She stopped, knowing fully well that the unspoken words would be heard by Jameson.
He was Grayson’s brother, after all.
Lyra glanced over at Jameson when he didn’t say anything for a few beats. His eyes looked distant, regretful-almost.
“He didn’t,” He said, finally, “deserve it, I mean.” Jameson lowered his gaze to the ground underneath them, seemingly deep in thought.
“He’s been through a lot. I don’t know just how much he told you—” he took a breath, “but— he’s lived through a lot.”
It was obvious at this point that both of them didn’t hold an expertise at speaking their mind or feelings.
“Before her.” Jameson started again. Lyra took in a sharp breath. Her. Emily.
“Grayson and I were— close,” he made a few incomprehensible noises, “I mean— we were closer than we are now.” He explained.
Lyra’s gaze locked onto his face, his eyes had taken on a more distant look, like he wasn’t sitting here but somewhere else. Somewhere further away, somewhere out of reach.
“We still bickered a lot. Hell, I think we fought more back then but,” He took a moment to think about it and Lyra’s gaze softened, thinking about the two brothers together. Happy. Content.
“There was some unspoken trust. I could talk to him, he could talk to me. Anytime, anywhere. Brothers first and everything else second.” He finished and a small smile enraptured his expression.
“We always had trusted each other. We still do. It’s just— somewhere along the way, we lost the talking factor.” Jameson said and Lyra saw his eyes darken.
A moment of silence passed between them, “After Emily?” Lyra asked finally, already knowing the answer at some level.
Jameson closed his eyes, “After Emily.” He confirmed.
Lyra felt her blood boil thinking about the 15 year old girl. Who would have thought that such a young girl with a heart disorder could disassemble such a strong relationship. Knowingly, at that.
Lyra hadn’t felt this level of anger in a while.
She didn’t realise how silent she had been until she felt Jameson’s gaze on her. He was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you mad?” He asked, and she swore she could hear a tinge of amusement in his voice.
Lyra rolled her eyes, “Absolutely not, Sherlock. I’m so fucking satisfied that some little bitch with a weak heart and, obviously a mental issue, managed to cause you both so much trauma.” She finished with a huff.
Jameson let out a laugh, “You really suit Grayson.”
A small smile creeped its way onto Lyra’s face as she rolled her eyes again.
A pregnant pause followed.
“He deserves the world.” Lyra said, unable to help herself. Because he did. He deserved that and so much more, and she could never possibly be that, no matter how much she wanted to.
Jameson looked her up and down with a peculiar gaze.
“He does,” he, surprisingly, agreed. A pause followed, when suddenly he shuffled back up to his feet.
“And you are just that.” He finished.
Lyra’s eyes widened to amounts that shouldn’t even be considered humanly possible as she whipped her head up to look at him, the shock obvious on her face.
Jameson looked down at her and let out a huff of his own, “Dude— I can practically feel the ‘I don’t deserve him’ thoughts radiating off of you.” He said and Lyra was, once again, floored.
Did Hawthornes just have an innate ability to read people’s mind?
Jameson continued to stare down at her as she contemplated the odds of people being born with super powers.
He chuckled, breaking her train of thoughts, “What?” She asked, sending him a glare that was purely habitual.
“I think you’re picking up on his expressions too.” Jameson said and she could tell he was holding back his laughter.
“Says the moron who was willing to be sappy for his girlfriend.” She bit right back.
Jameson let out a dramatic gasp, “I was not sappy. I personally think that was quite inspirational.” He said, placing a hand on his chest to showcase his pride.
They both stared at eachother, “So, you were incredibly sappy.” She concluded.
“Was not.” Jameson replied.
“Were to.”
“Was not.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dimwit.” She said.
Jameson chuckled again, “Glad to know you’re worried about my sleep schedule.”
“No. I’m worried about you ruining Avery’s. The poor girl.” She said, adding her own, overly-dramatic, pitiful sigh at the end.
“That you needn’t worry about.” He said as he turned around and craned his neck to look at her. “I’ve already ruined that in more ways than one.” He finished adding a wink.
Lyra visibly cringed knowing fully well what he was implying, “If you don’t shut the fuck up, Hawthorne, I’ll make you.” She said threateningly.
Jameson laughed, “Is it bad that I don’t doubt you would?” He asked.
She smiled a wicked thing, “Absolutely.”
Jameson let out a defeated sigh as he walked towards the door, “Cmon, soon-to-be-sister-in-law, you’ll catch a cold if you stay up here and I don’t wish to be deemed responsible.” He said.
Lyra rolled her eyes and got up to exit the rooftop, she looked up at the moon one last time before turning around to follow her soon-to-be-brother-in-law down stairs.
They bickered all the way to Lyra’s room, since Jameson insisted he escort his brother’s soon-to-be wife to her room.
“Goodnight then, Jameson.” She said.
Jameson shot her a crooked grin in return before turning around to head towards his heiress.
“Oh and,” Lyra started and Jameson paused to turn around and face her.
“You’re not a bad brother, Jameson.” She said and she saw the surprise flash through Jameson’s eyes before he quickly neutralised it and gave her another smirk.
“I must be truly commendable if you noticed too.” He said, covering up his feelings. Classic Hawthorne Move.
Lyra smiled as she turned the knob to her and Grayson’s shared room, “You are.”
The last thing she saw was Jameson’s frozen figure before she shut the door. She let out a small laugh thinking back to the dazed little brother that Jameson was.
When she turned around prepared to lay down in bed and stare at her boyfriend for a while she was shocked to see Grayson, sitting up on his bed with a glass of water in his hand, and staring at her with a small smile on his face.
“You were with Jamie.” He said. Not a question.
Lyra smiled, thinking back to the conversation she had just had with her soon-to-be-brother-in-law, “I guess you could say we bonded over a certain bastard.” She replied.
Grayson let out a chuckle, his voice low from sleep. Lyra hated to admit that his sleepy tone still did things to her, even after all these months.
She walked over to him, closing the distance between them as she cupped his face and craned it upwards so they were staring directly at one another.
They stared at each other as Lyra made another mental declaration.
She hadn’t been there before. She couldn’t change that now no matter how much she wanted to, but that was fine. Because she was here now. She would help him get over his trauma. She would help his wounds heal, the way he did for her. And, even though the scars would never truly be completely gone, they would lessen, and she would make sure of it.
She would bandage those wounds with new memories, happier ones, and wait for them to give way to scars, permanent, not painful. Visible, not bleeding.
They would always be there, but they would fade. She was here now, and she would be forever.
Lyra couldn’t help the huge grin that broke out on her face as a tear rolled down her cheek. Grayson’s eyes sparkled with both worry and curiosity. She couldn’t afford to give him an explanation now. Not with words.
And so she bent down and they kissed. And this kiss was all-devouring. It was them.
No words needed to be exchanged as they layer next to each other in the dark, knowing fully well that neither of them had their eyes closed and that both of them were staring at one another.
And that was more than enough. They were more than enough.