[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190929/6d86913eb7866f565c5cc945704ae872.png[/img] [img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/bf1d8300845e4838855829dfd91f19d7/tumblr_n0thk4gzEq1qb9q7zo1_500.gif[/img] [color=dimgray][color=bc4f29]____________________________________________________________________[/color] ____________________________________________________________________[/color][/center] [indent][color=a9a9a9]Standing in front of the resort, across the street, leaned against a lamp post, Grayson Chambers fiddled with his late friend's classic zippo lighter. Making flame with the cigarette lighter, just to close it shut and forcibly make it dissipate. Again and again. Perhaps, this was a nervous tick, since he hadn't seen the majority of these individuals for ten years. Perhaps, he was buying himself time. Regardless of the reasoning behind his fidgeting, it was obvious, he wasn't ready to enter the building. In silence, he watched as a familiar face exited a taxi cab... Allison. Appearance-wise, she hadn't changed a bit. As he watched his old classmate, who he had no doubt still hated him, enter the hotel, his mind started thinking about the man that wasn't standing next to him, filling this place with his infectious laughter. Jason Graves. A man who should be here taking on this beast that was the ghost of their high school past. The sweetest comic book nerd you'd ever meet. Grasyon couldn't help but revisit the feelings he went through last year. There were times he felt like he could easily mask his stresses and smile like he knew what he was doing half the time, but today felt strange. Today felt like he might encounter something that would effortlessly take down the defenses he's built over the years. Thinking of Jason and Elizabeth only brought him grief. As if he could've prevented the 'accident' from happening. There was guilt because, to him, he did have control over the direction their story ended. Elizabeth, as strong and confidant as she seemed, confided in him about her postpartum depression. Something she couldn't go to her husband about because he already felt ashamed that she had to compromise her dreams for him and their child. He still replays those last words she said on that day, as she grabbed the keys off the kitchen counter, and he held his goddaughter, [color=#e4717a]"Gray, you love her, don't you?"[/color][i] Of course. [/i] Why wouldn't he? Millie was his life, as were they. His memories were vivid, like their last day together only happened yesterday. He stood there, watching from a cold distance, while his friends rushed to leave for their day. He wasn't there. Not really. His mind was focused on figuring out what happened to a dead woman's body he found the day before on the east-west line near 41st street running west from the lakefront, where part of the abandoned Chicago Junction Railway use to be. Why didn't he pay attention to the signs? Jason came rushing out, grabbing Millie from him, and left to the car. It wasn't like he didn't notice. Elizabeth stared at him desperately, internally screaming for help, while she locked her apartment's door for the last time. To this day, he still beats himself up about it. How could he solve a homicide case but not see when his friends needed him? Like really needed him? Was he that emotionally detached to understand when someone he loved simply wanted him to be there for them? Staring at the glass entrance, he wondered if he did truly grow from when he was in high school. Did he improve his way of thinking and believed that there was more to life than people using other people? That love was not a mental weakness and that being genuinely honest was not just an example of being spineless? Closing the lighter for one last time, Grayson looked up to the blaring Florida sun and thought of some of the faces he had to see again. People he needed to admit fault to, because he was a callous asshole in high school, and that resulted in him hurting them terribly. Who's to say he even changed much? Not him, that's for sure. Deeply sighing, as a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w84r1BaPmoY]ringtone[/url] that was hardly him (but hey, he let his goddaughter choose) disrupted his brooding thoughts, Gray pocketed the lighter and switched it out with his phone. Answering it, his somber aura began to glow with comfort. Pulling his suitcase with his freehand, he listened to her melodious voice and answered to her cheer with a fatherly grin, [color=bc4f29]"Looks like you and auntie got my text. How's your day going, Kiddo?"[/color] His goddaughter explained to him her day so far (also slipping in that she wanted many souvenirs and presents) and when he approached the front desk he pointed to the poster on the wall that said 'Class of 2009: The King's Academy West Palm Beach - Est. 1970 - 10 Years Later', before showing his ID. [color=bc4f29]"What's that? You want to see Grandpa? Maybe if you're good, we'll visit for Thanksgiving."[/color] [i]Pause.[/i] [color=bc4f29]"Oh, you mean forever..."[/color] Out of habit, he started analyzing the woman in front of him. He hoped, at least for this weekend, he could shut this part of his brain off. The way her eyes surveyed him, with such an impish gleam plastered on her face, she's already made a casual assessment on his appearance. Seeing how there is a dent on her left ring finger, she's removed a band that is tighter than she'd like it to be and does it every once in awhile, so that the dent stays there. As for how she displays herself physically, her hair's coiffured to perfection and her nails painted to match the little accessories on her, like that green neck scarf, in hopes to still bring out her beauty, even with such a mundane uniform on. Her fluid motions to let her skirt ride up her thighs ever so slightly is an obvious deduction that she is well aware of what her body can do. She strategically moves her hands in a way that it hides the calluses from what he presumed would be a musical dream gone nowhere. While she may have thought she was well kept, keeping everything hidden from others, the dark circles, that she so horribly failed at covering up, was a dead giveaway that she was completely and utterly miserable with where her life was. But, it was that sadness that she used to lure men in. Like she knew men would want to save her, if they realized how damaged she was. Hardly authentic. A complete bore, honestly. Grayson and the receptionist locked eyes before she gave him his room keys and a pamphlet, [color=azure]"Room 203. Look at you, you're right beside the person who threw this all together! I'm jealous."[/color] In that moment, the woman in front of him did not matter. Gray realized how much he filtered [i]one[/i] person out of his mind, focusing on everything but [i]her[/i], even if her John Hancock was on the bottom right of his invite, [color=bc4f29]"What?[/color] Millie, with sass from Aphrodite herself, repeated what she said (which she hated to do) in his ear, [color=#ffff99]"I said, we should MOVE because I wanna' go to the beaches and have Shirley Temples with papa! Anyways, auntie and I have a lot of shopping to do with your money, so I'll talk to you later, Chief. Love youuuuuuuu~!"[/color] [color=bc4f29]"I—"[/color] The line went dead. [sub][color=bc4f29]"—love you too."[/color][/sub] Wait, shouldn't she be in school? Grayson was stunned briefly, before snapping back to the present reality by the 'chipper' receptionist, [color=azure]"I hope you enjoy your stay!"[/color] Dully blinking at her, he grabbed his keys and strode to his next destination, pulling his suitcase behind him and realizing who was going to stay right next to him, these next couple of days. [i]Amanda.[/i] Ahead of him, he caught sight of Willow, which helped get the image of the bewitching woman out of his head, replacing it instead with a mirror of his former self. He thought about calling out to her, but decided against it. It was neither the time nor place to try to make amends with her. The annoyance and regret slithered its way back into him. He hated this. Grayson felt strongly inclined to throw his luggage in his room and get to the bar (in hopes that it was open for service). Whiskey would help him deal with talking to everyone. Maybe he could meet up with Caden and Brent at some point, but knowing Brent he'd want it to be a King's Men affair, which means someone unwanted would be there. Sighing once more, Gray wanted to appreciate the design of the hotel, but it was becoming clearer and clearer by the second how hated he was. That coming to this reunion was a ballsy move on his part. Entering the elevator, he focused on his breathing. Nothing more, nothing less. An exercise he did to calm his restless mind and focus on being nothing. Feeling nothing. He was nothing. When the elevator opened, he heard a door close, which could mean that Willow was inside her room and he wasn't going to ruin her day by showing his face. Trying to stay as discrete as possible, Gray searched for his room only to stop at what he assumed was Amanda's. 201. It was either 201 or 205. Something told him she was number 1. No! He needed to stop this. This wasn't high school all over again. He was better than that. Escaping to the privacy of his room, he hid away before he was forced to interact with anyone and put on his charm. Unceremoniously, he threw his suitcase in the closet and went straight to the bed, laying on his back.[/color][/indent]