You’re laying in bed, scrolling through whatever app caught your attention tonight when you get a text message at midnight sharp

”I’m outside” it read. You knew who it was. You always knew who it was.

So you put on your coat and walk outside to find Grayson Hawthorne in the front seat of his car, wearing his regular suit, waiting for you. Grayson Hawthorne, in all his glory, who confuses the hell out of you.