ｃｈｒｙｓｓｉｅ

ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ ｃａｋｅ

The darkness of the night had seeped through the windows, casting shadows across the sitting room.

Such things had never bothered Grayson. It took much more to disturb him than a hint of shade and rumours of a monster hiding under the bed. As a child, he had always been more concerned about the monster in the next room, worried of when she might drag him out of bed kicking and screaming.

So, there he was, cleaning his sitting room of fingerprints (he was quite particular about things like that), when he heard a noise.

His ears perked up. He knew that it wasn't his Chryssie - his Chryssie was asleep upstairs, and he would have seen her come down.

That left only one option as to who it could be.

An intruder.

Grayson smiled. Perhaps it was the universe making up for the fact that he didn't get to murder Edmund - or at least slice off a finger or two. The best part was that his Chryssie wasn't there - she wouldn't be able to tell him that he couldn't kill a home intruder. She wouldn't even have to know.

Almost peacefully, he picked up his knife, making his way towards the kitchen, where the intruder was still making an awful lot of noise.

(Grayson thought that burglars were usually smarter than that, but apparently, he had been wrong.)

His veins tingled with anticipation. He knew the sort of rush murder gave him - akin to some sort of drug. He craved it with his entire body, though not as much as he craved the touch of his Chrysanthemum.

He crept up to the room, then threw the kitchen door open dramatically, because Grayson was in the mood to make an impression.

He nearly dropped the silver blade when he saw Kingston rummaging through his cupboard.

"Oh, hello," he said cheerfully. "I was wondering when you would hear me. Sorry about the pan - I'm kinda clumsy. Hope I didn't wake anyone up."

"Kingston, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!" Grayson demanded, brandishing his knife in the intruder's direction.

"For the sake of all things holy, Grayson, put the damned knife down," Kingston told him, hands on his hips. "You'll poke someone's fucking eye out. Now, don't you have any biscuits? What the hell do you eat, anyway?"

Grayson practically snarled.

"Oh, right. The souls of innocent children. I forgot," Kingston responded, rolling his eyes, starting to rummage through the cupboards again. "I don't know how you live off of this shit. Is that fucking tofu?"

Grayson blinked. "Is there a reason that you broke into my house at three in the fucking morning?"

"There's always a reason," Kingston replied, closing the cupboard. "Mainly because Mum doesn't have any food at her house, because she's in the middle of a psychotic break, and I seem to remember you having an obsession with Cinnamon Squares a few years back."

"Get out."

"It's true!"

"You're going to wake her up," Grayson finally said, pointing to the door. "We don't want you here."

"We? I'm sure Chryssie would love me. I'm the best."

"What the fuck do you want, Kingston? Drop the act."