ｃｈｒｙｓｓｉｅ

ｓｔａｒｌｉｇｈｔ

Not for the first time in his life, Grayson wished to be numb.

He understood why some people turned to drugs, to alcohol, to cigars - even though those things could ruin them, self-destruction was a small price to pay in order to feel nothing at all.

Even though his eyes were closed, he could feel their gazes on him. They seemed to penetrate his psyche, seeing right through him, the entirety of his mind put on display for analysation. How messy and dark it might be - torn apart by unwanted emotion - perhaps grounds to pity him.

Who didn't want to observe the mind of a psychopath, anyway? It must have been fascinating to someone normal - to see how all of the cogs turned, to take notes on how he picked his victims.

"Grayson?"

His eyes snapped open to meet hers - his perfect Chrysanthemum that didn't understand - though it would be so much better if she never did. Something about the worry deep in her eyes both satisfied and terrified him.

How much she must have cared, but how weak he must have been in her thoughts.

He couldn't deny that there was weakness - vulnerability was leaking out of him, leaving wet streaks across his cheeks that he quickly wiped away with his sleeve. The glass that he had been holding was placed on the counter with a clink, and he looked over at her, trying his very hardest to keep his voice level.

notweaknotweaknotweaknotweaknotweak -

"Goodnight, Chrysanthemum. I love you very much. You're free to get Kingston to drive you back to the hotel, if you so wish, but I'm staying here."

"Gray, I didn't mean it like that," she said, placing a gentle hand on his arm before he could turn and leave. "I'm so sorry, I just - "

"Can we please have this conversation at another time? Preferably in private?" he interjected quietly, tugging his arm away, hating how she always had to make it right. Except not really - he could never hate anything about his flower.

She blinked, whipping her hand back like she had just placed it on a hot stove, nodding her head hurriedly and turning away from him. "Of course."

He felt absolutely terrible when he realised that he had hurt her feelings.

"I can leave you two alone if you need to talk..." Kingston mumbled from where he was picking up plates, finally breaking his stare. It was a relief - he had been acting like Grayson was some sort of circus freak.

But wasn't he acting like one? After all, they had both watched him let those dreaded emotions take over for a good two minutes. Even then, there was a large lump in the back of his throat that he couldn't even hope to get rid of.

"Do you need privacy?" Kingston repeated, standing up. "Because I can go in the other room."

He gave him a cold look. "No. I told you already, I'm going to bed."

They looked at each other, sharp eyes on sympathetic ones, and a strange feeling of loneliness rose in Grayson's chest when Kingston finally looked away, standing up. Like he had somehow been given up on. Like all of that pushing and pushing at Kingston to leave him alone had actually done something for once.