-- reckless

sin city's cold and empty. greyson becker. starring in colour. agender. they / them, him / he, she / her.

[haveharttt]

Open House | Open

[greysonbecker]

haveharttt‌:

who: anyone/ @catalinastarter​​ where:  Lafayette Square

A moment to breathe. For the last few weeks, Tyson had been heads down on his latest project. After countless rounds of revisions and late nights working with Danny on character development, he was finally able to get the team to lock script. It was a relief, something to celebrate even. It was going to be an all out treat yourself party. Tyson was going to go to all his favorite places, gather his favorite things, and veg out on his couch, catching up on all the shows he missed out on while he was too busy working.  

Tyson drove down to Avalon in his pick-up truck, taking the long way to get a more scenic view. He stopped at Antonio’s to get a large pepperoni pizza. Coyote Joe’s for a Double Double Plate. Lloyd’s to get some of his favorite homemade fudge and rock candy. A stop at Queen of Tarts for some saltwater taffy that was as close to the Jersey Shore’s that he could get on the West Coast. 

Circling back to Lafayette Square, Tyson stopped at Catalina Coffee & Cookie Co for some gluten free sticky buns. Marlin’s for some calamari and Red Dragon for scallion pancakes and bao. Finally, he stopped at Scoops for some ice cream to top the night off. However, while he had been so sure of everything else that was on his list, Tyson didn’t know what ice cream to buy. There were just enough options to set off his indecision. While he did splurge on all of his other meal options, Tyson just didn’t have the room in his freezer to buy a mass amount of ice cream. He needed someone to make this choice for him.  “Hey,” he turned to the person next to him. “So, long story short-I’m doing a huge treat yourself day. Went all out and bought a ridiculous amount of food. Now, I just need some ice cream but I can’t decide what flavor I want. Tell me what I should buy and I’ll let you in on my spoils. We can just chill out in my apartment, picnic style, and just straight up veg out for the rest of the night. If it sweetens the deal, I have wine. If it doesn’t sweeten the deal, forget the wine and just know I’m decent company…maybe. And if that’s not enough, I got two cats. One’s really nice. The other…we’ll see.”

Well, what an achievement. A couple of hours ago, he’d been struggling to get out of bed and now, he stood in Lafayette Square with two big bags of groceries in his clammy hands. He smiled with amusement as he felt the satisfaction roll through him, the small task being a big success judging by his progress of late. Things had definitely got a little better since he’d stopped going out every evening, but they’d also somehow got worse at the same time, what with the empty hours and dark skies often feeling like they were closing in on him. Nevertheless, when Greyson forced himself out, things did feel a little brighter. With his Uber on the way, his eyes drifted across the main square as he drank in the sights, the people, the buzz, the life that was so omnipresent in the square, It was better than being at home, that was for sure. And so, Greyson figured he needed something else to occupy his time. He didn’t want to go home to vacant rooms, he needed something to stimulate his brain.

He was shocked, however, when the voice of the person next to him, offered him that opportunity all at once. His thunder grey hues studied the other, their eyes narrowed as they listened to their proposition. Was this what he’d meant by stimulation? What were the chances of him getting any other offers? “Forget the wine. Also forget the cats,” Greyson winced as he even the mention of the name of the animal. He’d had a rather unpleasant experience with a cat at one of his foster homes that’d stuck with him like a bad itch. “But the food is appealing,” he announced with a fiendish little eyebrow twitch. “I’m Greyson,” he told the other, shrugging in the place of a handshake given that his hands were holding what felt like wrought-iron weights. The convenient arrival of his Uber drew a grateful sigh from Greyson. Jolting his head towards it to signal to his new acquaintance, he began to stagger over to it, his breath as heavy as the bags he was lugging behind him.“Well, come on, then. For one, these are as heavy as a camel and two, I need to decide if you are decent company.”

[greysonbecker]

wolfeharwen‌:

There’s confusion flooding his mind when Greyson asks ‘how can we get you out?’ He’s never heard that before, not that he’s ever spoken to anyone about it besides people that are paid to listen. But the sincerity in Grey’s voice nearly knocks him off the bench. Wolfe is confused and overwhelmed by the initial response and when Grey moves closer, placing their hand on his thigh, Wolfe panics for a second thinking he might actually cry in front of someone. Something he hasn’t done since he was a kid, long before his accident. The resolve to shelter himself emotionally didn’t stem from just the physical pain of learning how to function again or the humiliation that came with the fact that he had no one to blame for his perdicament but himself. It came from being the one outlier in a family of renowned over achievers. He had everything someone could ever want except a sense of purpose and being surrounded by the accomplishments and expectations of an entire family was too much for him. He was always weak. It’s not something that just happened. The burden was always there but even at a young age he taught himself to at least try not to be as much of a useless cog as he seemed. Even if it meant taking all of his negative feelings and boxing them away inside of himself. If he couldn’t be talented or smart at least he could be nice, generous, funny, reliable. He could be everything for others that he could never be for himself.

“There is no ‘we’,” he chuckles sardonically before swallowing back the lump in his throat. “I don’t expect anyone to be able to put up with me like this. To know who I really am and actually want me. It’s a burden no one deserves.” He stares down at the keys as he feels something hot and heavy swelling up in his chest. It’s that feeling that he’s incapable of conjuring up for anyone but himself. Anger. He can’t recall a time in his life ever being angry at any other person, so it catches him off guard every time the sensation strikes him. That’s when he knows things are particularly bad because in moments like these, when it swells and crashes in his chest, searing and solid like lava spewing from a pent up volcano, he imagines himself walking around screaming, breaking things, throwing things, punching things, ripping all his notebooks to shreds, throwing his grammy’s through the large, expensive windows, even tearing his own hair out. Even now, he wants to close his fists and slam them down on the keys, mimicing the noise that accompanies the feeling of being angry and ashamed of himself. But he doesn’t, he never does, even when he’s alone. He can’t even allow himself to succumb to such weak and volatile emotions in private.

He wants to scream. He wants to scream until his lungs are sore and his throat bleeds. Scream until he doesn’t have a voice anymore. His hands are still shaking, his fingers culring into fists. He thinks he just might bring his hands down on the keys one time, just to know what it feels like. Relief, maybe it will help him feel better, the way he pretends the momentary euphoric feelings that come from the drugs and the drinking and the sex will last for more than it ever does, until he’s startled by Grey yanking the bench.

This time there’s nothing he can do to stop the tears that spill over as he stares down at Grey, listening to them. He knows that they probably don’t mean to sound angry, but Wolfe’s mind Grey is manifesting exactly the frustration he feels with himself. This is why he doesn’t tell anyone, Grey is upset and it’s the last thing Wolfe would have ever wanted to do, make them upset with his problems. The guilt washses over him, colliding with the anger and it takes everything in him to keep the tears from turning into heaving sobs. He doesn’t want to burden Grey any further with his problems, his emotions, just how much of sorry fuck up he really is.

He can’t stop the tears flowing though, so he closes his eyes as he continues to listen to Grey and there it is, there’s what Wolfe’s been “protecting” himself from all along. Hearing Grey rationalize that Wolfe is too much for him. Too far gone. Which is completely valid and fair, it’s exactly why he himself avoids these sorts of attachments to people. He can’t really be there for them when he’s trapped in his own head. He gets it, whole heartedly, he understands.  He opens his eyes and blearily watches them eye the door, knowing how bad they want to escape. He understands why Grey is is staring at the door now. Wolfe would walk away from himself a million times if he could so he doesn’t blame him for it. He’s hurt, a pain he knows is only going to get worse the further away Grey walks but he’s not selfish enough to even begin to try and convince them to stay.

Instead he sniffles and nods, roughly wiping his face with his hands. “I understand. If you don’t want to see me anymore, I understand and it’s okay.” His head swivels slowly and he stares out the window, the sun pouring in. It’s beautiful, he imagines how warm it must be over there and how the feeling is so much different to everything negative thing he could possibly feel fighting inside of him right now. “I’m sorry for making you feel bad. I’m not your responsiblity, it was wrong of me to burden you with my problems.” It’s almost robotic, the way the words are spilling forth from his lips. He feels like maybe an emergency switch has been flipped in his head, one that keeps him from becoming completely untethered, at least in front of Grey. “But don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything okay. Ever. I’m here.” It’s a stupid thing to say, he knows that. As if Grey would ever want to depend on him for anything having seen him like this. For who he really is. Needy. Pathetic. Useless.

Although tears threatened to coat his taut face, Greyson knew that the tears that Wolfe cried were more important. It was so hard to see someone so utterly flat, it made his heart ache as he looked at the person infront of them. The words are missing, the right ones, anyway, but Greyson doubted whether there were even any right words to be said in Wolfe’s situation. That was why the anger came and the frustration rose like a sky-high block being built under the pressure of time. There was no easy answer, no easy fix, and that meant that for as long as that lasted, Wolfe would be this way and Greyson wholeheartedly knew that he didn’t deserve to be. He wouldn’t let Wolfe apologise for raising his temper, this wasn’t about him and his emotions. “No,” he spoke firmly, “don’t apologise. this isn’t about me.” Greyson dithered in the living room, struggling to know whether leaving whilst Wolfe was clearly distressed was the right thing to do. Nonetheless, he knew that the two wouldn’t get any further. Greyson didn’t hold the answers and Wolfe clearly didn’t either. What he could do, was go home and see if he could come up with some kind of a plan for the guy.  “You and your problems aren’t a burden. And I’m not leaving you as a friend. I want you to call or text whenever you feel your worst, if that’s all the time, then so be it. Nothing you say will burden me. But you’re not going to do this alone.” Maybe this was what he could do, to make things right in his life; being there for someone was a great gift and with all the taking Greyson had been doing recently, it seemed like a good time to start doing the opposite. His eyes grew watchful as he stepped towards Wolfe and placed his hands on his cheeks, his soft touch matching the delicate kiss he planted on the boy’s forehead. Once his lips had left Wolfe’s head, Greyson turned around and began to walk towards the door, looking back over his shoulder towards the boy just before leaving.

As he shut the door behind him, Greyson used it for balance to stop his legs caving away beneath him. To be so low...the tears in his eyes began to make the world blur in front of him, but like he’d said to Wolfe, this wasn’t about him. With a sniff, Greyson kept the unwanted guests at bay and made a promise to himself there and then; I must be better, for everyone. 

[greysonbecker]

marionstewart‌:

She knows a thing or two about being a public figure. Marion isn’t famous, not in the least, though she’d been fame-adjacent for a considerable length of her twenties — and, as such, is far too acquainted of the damage that comes with it. That had been the main proverbial rift in her marriage, after all, and the last thing she wants is to find those perils reflected on someone else. “That’s too bad,” Marion begins tentatively, lips pursed in contemplation. She doesn’t quite know the context’s entirety, though she’s lived with enough people to know that there ought some trouble written between the lines. The public eye hardly ever got the full picture, anyways. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think the guy was used to getting punched. So maybe you did land a good one after all.” 

She’s unconcerned, for the most part, about Grey taking the bag of crisps. “Tell that to them,” she replies, briefly tilting her head back to indicate her three dogs. They’ve never seemed to get the message that the savory snacks she’d picked out were for humans and humans only, but they wag their tails enthusiastically regardless, eager for any extra sustenance. Her smile falters, however, as they finally address the elephant in the room.  “You know drinking doesn’t solve anything,” Not that she’s ever followed her own advice, though she supposes there’s a unique kind of credibility to that, in a roundabout sort of way — follow my advice, lest you land where I’ve landed. “What did your mom say?” 

As Greyson’s mind wandered back to the moment he’d thrown his fist towards Rory Hirsch, he was reminded of the numb look on the man’s face as he’d stumbled backwards. Greyson surmised that the look wasn’t from his punch, but more so from an internal hit, whether it’d been him who’d thrown that punch or not. Maybe Marion was right, Rory wasn’t used to being punched or perhaps, he was just in a place that meant he didn’t care. “Thanks,” Greyson said with a scoff, shooting Marion an appreciative nod as if it was some kind of achievement, but at this rate, he’d take all the wins he could get if it meant him getting back on two normal feet. “I think I needed to do it, for Nadia,” he announced, his lips set in a hard line as he thought fondly of his friend and felt his heart clench with the fierce protectiveness he felt towards her. “You ever do something like that? Something in the name of ‘closure’?”

Greyson’s eyes flitted to Marion’s three dogs, their eyes lighting up at the sight of them. He’d forgotten she had them and was now even more delighted to be in her company. With a jump, he sat up and called them over, his smile matching the light in his eyes. The dogs took him back to one of his old foster homes, one filled with barks and dog-hair-coated sofas. Although the family weren’t all too great, at least the dogs brought him some joy. Yet, even the three dogs infront of him couldn’t protect him from the reality of Marion’s words. As they hit him, the boy let himself fall back onto the sofa, his head looking up to the ceiling as the fact rang true once again. “I know. I just didn’t know else to escape. It was all going wrong,” he reasoned, his hands moving as he spoke. Losing his job, bad habits, bad press to inform the world of his bad habits.. it had all seemed to much to handle. “What do you do when shit gets too much to handle?” He asked, turning to Marion in the hope she’d have some spectacular antidote to the impending sense of hopelessness Greyson had come to feel over the past few months. “She said she’d love to meet me.” Greyson sighed, his mother’s voice ringing in his ears as he repeated her words. He could’ve sworn she was trying to make herself sound less wasted. “But there’s more chance of pigs flying than that happening. Why would I want to meet the woman who literally set me on a path to failure from the day I was born? By putting me into care she basically signed me up to a life of not being able to trust anyone, not feeling like I could build relationships, no stability... the list goes on.  I owe her nothing. All there’s left to say is .. bitch, bye.”  

[greysonbecker]

javierjcseph‌:

@greysonbecker​

The moment that Greyson Becker had contacted him, asking to see him, Javier had nearly tripped over himself at the chance to see the younger man who was, for all intents and purposes, another member of his family. A bit of a feckless stray, yes, but family nevertheless. It had been some time since they had seen one another, Javier only really staying updated on his activities through Nadia and the tabloids strewn about the firm. 

From what he could tell, Greyson hadn’t just fallen from grace, they’d taken a swan dive right off the mountain. 

Still, it would be good to see such things with his own eyes. Work had been going well enough that he could stand to come into the office late (or, really, not at all if he so decided). Stepping into the coffeehouse was like walking into a caffeine addict’s paradise, or so Javier surmised. The place smelled amazing and he could only smile wider when he caught sight of Greyson at a small corner table, complete with a cafe au lait and a chocolate croissant (one of his absolute favorites, as the other well knew). 

“ ¡Hermanito! It has been too long, Greyson. Let me look at you, eh?”

As Javier approached, Greyson felt his apprehension fly out of the window, or at least, mostly, anyway. Had his face not been all over the tabloids for the wrong reasons recently, he might not have been so concerned. His mouth drew into a smile at Javier’s ever pleasant expression, the twirl he gave the man as he arrived at the table being as Greyson-like as ever. “How I have missed you  mi hermano,” he replied with an attempt at using some of the Spanish he’d picked up from being part and parcel of Nadia’s family for what felt like years now. “You are looking sensational,” Greyson told Javier as he sat down after his twirl, his ring wearing fingers cupping around his coffee automatically, once he’d pushed Javier’s treats towards him. “Are you feeling sensational?” That’s it, Greyson, keep him talking so he doesn’t have time to bring anything up, a voice in his head prompted. The thought of letting down any of the Joseph’s was a huge weight for Greyson to bear, which was why, if Javier or Nadia did bring it up in the future, Greyson knew he needed to have sorted his head out ready to give them an answer. 

[greysonbecker]

wolfeharwen‌:

‘What are you protecting yourself from?‘ The question is one he manages to avoid for a little while, even though it sits heavy on his mind. He doesn’t like to think about it even though he feels like it’s all he does. He doesn’t think he can answer it, not out loud. Even when the second question Grey asks comes down on him like a hammer. He doesn’t talk about these things, not in the way people normally would, anyway. If you were to listen to the music he writes for himself and others, every single one of his weaknesses seap out. The restaints that exist for him in the outside world, even if they’re ones he’s tied himself, don’t exist when he’s writing. It’s the only thing that keeps him breathing anymore, the only time he allows himself to exhale every bit of fear and anguish and self loathing is when it’s accompanied by the tunes never ending in his head.

He wonders sometimes why more people don’t ask him about the content of his lyrics even though he knows the answer. It’s because he’s become a commodity. It’s something he’s allowed to happen because deep down he knows, if people were to ask those kinds of questions, he’d lie about where the words come from anyway. About the way he feels. He’d tell them the songs are about other people, his biggest inspiration does come from people watching after all, but unlike the stories he tells, that he watches them to put words and music to scenarios he observes playing out, the real reason is he wants to know what it’s like to feel normal.

He’s envious when he sits in cafes and sees friends greeting each other to talk about text conversations with their signicant others and making plans for the weekend or where they want to go out and eat later. He doesn’t remember what it’s like and he knows he’ll never have it again because…”Because I’m trapped up here.” He points to his head, his answer is almost barely audible and he’s surprised he’s said at all. With the admission comes the same old memories flooding back. The places he has to go when he disappears sometimes when it gets really bad. The psychiatrists he’ll never talk about. The cold, clinical rooms, the constant scans, the battery of tests and everything. Everything he does to try and drown it all out.

“Music isn’t the only thing I hear and I can never turn it off. Ever. It’s constant. Every single second of every single day and I can’t…I’m completely incapable of giving anyone what they deserve when this consumes me.” He stares down at the keys, his hands are shaking and the little voice in the back of his head is louder than the music now. It’s exactly what he expected and he laughs sardonically at it, at himself. “So I’m a parasite. I try to convince myself that if I do enough for people I can make up for it, but it’s not possible…To make up for pretending when I’m with people that it actually means something. Fucking people just to be able to feel anything…Anything but trapped. To pretend to know what it would be like if fucking were…love. Something I’ll never be able to feel or give through all the noise.”

His head bows lower and lower the more he talks, his eyes still glued to his own hands. Wolfe feels almost outside of himself at this moment, as if the room is slightly askew and he’s watching this entire scene unfold a few inches outside of himself. “I know what I’m doing and I do it on purpose because…I’m awful. Disgusting, even.”

He watched Wolfe intently once the question had left his lips, their eyes longing for some kind of signal, sign or body language as an answer. It was like his question had put Wolfe on pause, as if he was the master of the remote and his questions were the buttons. He didn’t doubt that this question would be tough for Wolfe. He seemed so fiercely fragile when it came to personal questions like this, just as Greyson probably seemed to him. 

They wait and wait and nearly miss the response when it comes; how quietly it arrives being an answer in itself. Trapped. Wolfe was trapped. Greyson wondered what the shackles were, who’d fastened them and why they’d been tied in the first place. How long had he been feeling like this? Still trying to muster up the right response, Greyson shuffled over to Wolfe, placing his hand onto the boy’s thigh. Usually, when this happened, it was a sign of things to come. But this time, it was a touch full of tenderness and comfort, accompanied with the only sentence Greyson could come up with in response.  “How do we get you out?” Came his response, his voice taut with worry that his question was too simple for the complexity of Wolfe’s problem. Perhaps Wolfe was the only one who could free himself, but Greyson knew from his own experience that Wolfe had to believe in himself that his freedom was both possible and deserved, to begin to even make a dent.

The piano keys were still underneath the shakiness of Wolfe’s hands, as Greyson observed the boy from above. His honesty was frank, his confessions so strong as they hit Greyson’s ears. It was impossible not to feel sad listening to his self-depreciation. No one seemed to hate Wolfe more than himself and Greyson couldn’t help but feel some kind of anger towards the person, people or events that had made Wolfe feel this way about himself. Music seemed to help, though, from what Wolfe had told him, it seemed to drown out the noise or at least gave him some way of turning the noise into something worthwhile. Meaningless sex on the other hand, as Greyson knew, could often be the opposite of worthwhile. It could make you feel guilty and worthless, as if your body was just a vessel and your mind and heart were unattached and separate, as if they didn’t deserve to all work in unison. For a moment, Greyson wished he could be that person to show Wolfe what love felt like, not just fucking, but Greyson wasn’t who was meant to do that. He needed to sort himself out first before he started feeling and making love with anyone, meaning that he’d just have to pray that someone came along to make Wolfe feel that soon. They almost wished they could shake Wolfe. A shake that would somehow help him to shed these feelings of complete and utter hopelessness, but that wasn’t how things worked. 

But when Wolfe began to describe himself as disgusting and awful, Greyson’s opportunity came. With a yank of the piano stool beneath Wolfe, Greyson turned his friend around to face him. Knees on the floor, Greyson looked up to him, his eyes stern as his hands gripped Wolfe’s arms. “Stop.” He commanded, his voice rough, his breath unshaken. “Just fucking stop.” Disgusting and awful were words that Greyson was prepared to attach to his friend nor let his friend attach to himself. “So you think you don’t deserve love, you think you don’t even deserve basic human kindness, you don’t deserve to belong, you don’t deserve to feel free from your thoughts and how your mind absolutely walks all over you. Can you not at least try to believe that those things aren’t true? Fuck whoever made you like this. Fuck if it was yourself, your dad, your high school friends, I don’t know. But you have got to start thinking believing in the possibility of life being some other way.” Feeling exhausted from choosing his words so carefully to only lose it right at the end, Greyson stood up with his fingers on his temples, his eyes closed to give him a moment to breathe. He couldn’t help but think of the state of his own mind and feel that he wasn’t ready to fix anyone elses, it was too hard and too much to think about when he couldn’t even figure out how he felt. He gulped down a breath before his eyes fell on Wolfe once again, his brown hues softer now after a few seconds of thought. He wasn’t responsible for freeing Wolfe, his mind had reminded him, but he hoped he could at least push him in the right direction. “I wish I could be the person to prove you wrong about all of this, but I’m not. Hell, a month ago I convinced you to take drugs that probably made everything worse, even though you probably felt like it made it better. Or at least I don’t think I’m that person, or can’t be right now, anyway. Not with my own head to sort out.” His hands spread out by his speaks, his words earnest and hurtful to say. “I know I asked you to be honest but I don’t think I can be a part of this, this get drunk, take drugs and fuck thing anymore. I think it’s doing me more damage than good and I don’t want that to be the case for you too, especially after today. We need to learn to feel it, like you say, properly.” Running his hand through his hair, Greyson’s eyes looked to the front room entrance, ready to leave. “You deserve it all,” he told him lightly and almost inaudibly, as he turned and headed towards the door.  “And you got me spot on. With that song. Wish you could play yourself the way you deserve to be heard.” 

[greysonbecker]

Location: Ventura Coffee Roasting  Time: 10:30am For: @javierjcseph​

Although the early hours of the morning were still unfamiliar to Greyson, he knew it was doing him good to wake up at a regular time everyday. He’d done away with his 3pm lie ins, he wasn’t having his first meal of the day at tea time and he wasn’t just getting up to go out that evening; the only problem was, trying to find something that he could get up for. He’d tried a few things: reading, cleaning, walking, running - his worst idea so far - and baking, but none of them excited him. He wanted something to thrill him, something to give him that feeling of wanting to go back for more and with alcohol an drugs being off the list, he needed something to replace them, fast. 

One of the things that Greyson knew would help him, something that didn’t require mastering a new skill or buying lycra, was meeting up with friends more regularly and in daytime hours. Greyson knew that he needed to spend time with people without being wasted and prove to himself that his company was still valuable even alcohol wasn’t seeping into his bloodstream. And so, he rang the man who might as well have been his brother, @javierjcseph​, and asked him to meet him at Ventura Coffee Roasting. He picked up Javier’s favourite and found them a table, both excited and apprehensive to see the guy after such a long time. 

[greysonbecker]

wolfeharwen‌:

The question is surprising but makes Wolfe smile even wider. He enjoys and appreciates the sincerity of it. There’s something about the unexpected turn things have taken between them, as if suddenly peeling back the layers they’ve been using to cushion themselves through out their strange union of sorts. “We’re not that different, Grey. Two sides of the same coin, as they say. You’re not bad, I’ve never thought you were bad.” Wolfe sits back, still smiling, listening to the music in his head for a few moments. Like a lot of other people in Wolfe’s orbit, Grey had a song. Sometimes it was louder, harsher than a lot of other peoples, but it wasn’t foreboding. It wasn’t something that warded him off the way geniunely awful people tended to. It was chaotic, confusing at times but so was Wolfe’s. Their songs were so similiar. “To be honest, I don’t even think you’re an asshole. Don’t get me wrong, you can act like one. You’ve got that down to a T no doubt, but I never believed that’s who you are.”

He’s still smiling, looking Grey over because now more than ever, he feels something that would come in short bursts over time for Grey, something that for the first time is lingering, completely untethered. Genuine affection. Concern. Warmth. Friendship. “You’re protecting yourself, just like I’m protecting myself. We just go about it differently, at least in our daily lives. We came together because deep down we’re looking and hoping for the same thing and the way we escape not having it is the same.” The music in his head is getting louder now, but not in a bad way. His fingers twitch as he glances past Grey at the piano across the room.

Smiling, he takes them by the hand and gently pulls them over, speaking as they cross the room towards the instrument. “But we’re just people. We’ve all got stories and maybe this is really naive way of looking at things but I’ve found that people with the heaviest stories make the most beautiful music, even if they don’t know it.” Wolfe lets go of Grey’s hand and sits down on the bench. “I like your music, Grey. I’ve always liked your music. I may not know your story but I know your song and I think you deserve to hear it. Just like you deserve to be heard and understood and loved and cared for. Even if you don’t realize or believe it yet.” Wolfe smiles up at Grey before placing his hands on the keys and begins to play along with the melody swelling in his head. It’s as playful, unpredictable and hypnotic as the person it’s for, with a undeniable undertone of sadness you can probably only catch if you’re listening closely enough. Just like Grey. It is their song, afterall.

Two sides of the same coin. Was it bad that they’d never noticed? Or was it just that they’d never tried? Wolfe and Greyson didn’t come together to be together, not long term, anyway. But the more time he spent with the boy, the more he got to know and understood him, the more he realised that Wolfe was more like them than they thought. Wolfe’s smile warmed him, even though his face wouldn’t show it. The reassurance that he understood him was more than Grey could ask for, given that he’d used him for sex for years and years without a second thought to the person he was inside. “I guess sometimes an act can become normality, if you do it for long enough,” Greyson admitted, grateful that Wolfe could see past the facade he often put on. Greyson was a show-person, there was no doubt about that. But he had been since he was a kid, acting big and confident and unfazed by anything to stop people thinking they could hurt him, he couldn’t imagine himself any other way. This, was what made him thankful for those who could see both sides of him: the actor, and the person underneath. 

As he wandered over to the sofa, Greyson took a seat far enough away from Wolfe to almost admire him, to watch him, to figure him out a little more. His eyes wandered over his clothes, the little details he could see now he was sober making this new way of looking at Wolfe become even more illuminated. “What are you protecting yourself from?” He finally asked, his hands locked together, one leg over his knee as he studied the boy. This was what he’d come for, an explanation as to what Wolfe was hiding from, why he was ‘the way he was,’ almost as if the answers would help Greyson make up his mind about something he’d been pondering on for a few days now. 

When Wolfe reached out to take his hand, Greyson’s eyes looked to him with apprehension, surely this wasn’t the moment for them to end up in the bedroom, he’d come for a sober chat, not a sober sex session? But as Wolfe pulled him over to the piano on the other side of the room, Greyson’s assumptions were proved wrong, his hand being left limp as Wolfe’s hands reached out for the keys. His song? Greyson raised their eyebrows as Wolfe talked about the melodies, the rhythms that he believed they were made up of. Greyson imagined that it would be some kind of dramatic dun, dun, dun, staccato or some kind of annoying beat that wouldn’t stop in your head all day long or worse, a rhythm that reappeared in your head when you least expected or at the least convenient moment. But he was pleasantly surprised, when Wolfe’s fingers began to dance across the keys, his moves translating into a melody that began to sync up to the images and experiences and memories in Greyson’s mind; the perfect accompaniment to the slide show playing inside of his head. How did he know? How he had he got him down that  well? 

When he’d finished, Greyson stared at the keys in awe, amazed at what Wolfe had just created on the spot. But what Wolfe had just done and what he’d said created more questions in his head. “But how can you say I deserve to be loved, understood and cared for when you don’t believe that about yourself?” He asked after a moment, unable to form the words to express how well Wolfe had just brought him to life using only sound and melody.

[janployshompoos]

[greysonbecker]

@greysonbecker posted to his story:

"hey y'all. long time no see. yep, the blue hair is gone you’ll be glad to know. especially the trolls who started comparing me to a smurf. least i was a hot smurf. anyway, i'd say it was a bad omen but i think we know that's not quite the truth. sorry for being a little MIA on here recently... guess you've probably seen that i need to sort my shit out a little. i've got a proper interview booked in in the next few weeks but for now i've gotta take some time for me. i obviously owe a huge apology to all my fans from colour and to all the people who follow and support me in general but i wanna' do all that when i've got my head straight because i owe y’all a proper apology, not a shitty insta story one. anyway. y'all better till like my old hair now it's back to normal and i trimmed my beard before so least i'm looking fresh coming outta' my breakdown. anyway. better go and do some yoga or some shit to clear my head. see y'all bitches soon. love to you all."

[greysonbecker]

marionstewart‌:

@greysonbecker​.

LOCATION: marion’s residence / avalon DATE AND TIME: friday / 6pm

There’s something to be said about the sheer courage of people willing to interact with both Stewart siblings on a semi-regular basis, especially those not bound by neither blood nor obligation. Greyson counts as among the few threads that she and Hayden have in common — at last, some shared ground — and she’s come to acknowledge their visits to the Stewart residence not just as expected, but also welcome. So when she’d received word of their suspension browsing through television channels some days past, Marion figures the least she could do is invite them over in a concrete display for concern. 

“I’m not gonna ask how your week went,” begins Marion, seated and with snacks in tow, as she begins to idly browse through the Netflix selections. “But I do know you aren’t in the habit of punching people for no reason, so…” She’d never been very good at words in vocalizing her support — or at the very least, not in the way people far more agreeable than she would wield them, “…did you land a good punch, at least?” 

A groan left Greyson’s mouth as he found himself horizontal on Marion’s couch. He was grateful to her for inviting him over, but that didn’t stop him using his hands to cover the shame and regret he wore all over his face. This time, he’d genuinely fucked up and he knew it. He’d worked so hard during his time starring in Colour to become better for his fans, to become a better actor and to become a better representative of his community but now he’d thrown all of that hard work away. “You know, I don’t even know if it was the best I could’ve done,” he moaned with an over-dramatic whimper. “You’d at least think I’d have made it worth the while but to be honest, I was so hungover I didn’t even have the strength.” With a sigh, he took his hands away from his eyes and scoured the sofa for the snacks, reaching over to grab the share bag of crisps Marion had brought for them. “You know these aren’t actually designed for sharing,” he told her blankly, asserting his ownership of the bag with a smirk that quickly turned into an extravagant frown as he remembered the reason she’d invited him over. “I’ve just been doing stupid shit, Mari,” he began, shoving some crisps into his mouth and chomping on them aggressively. “I’ve been fucking up left, right and centre all because my mum tried to make contact. It’s thrown me for six and so all I’ve wanted to do is drink to take my mind off it.” 

[greysonbecker]

talliefostermontgomery‌:

Realizing that her quiet response had made Greyson feel uncomfortable, Tallie offered him a light smile. “No need to be sorry. I’ve made peace with the whole thing. It took me a really long time, since I never got adopted and didn’t have a great experience in foster care. But then I got a degree in social work, and that’s what I do now. I thought about using my resources now to find her and chat, but honestly, once I really considered all the outcomes? I didn’t want to. She left me at a hospital with no note, so I’m not sure I could find her anyway. But why would I want to waste my time trying to find and talk to someone who didn’t want me? I’m sure she had her reasons, but I’m not interested in finding them out. It wouldn’t change anything for me, and I definitely don’t need that drama in my life right now.”

Not wanting him to think she was discouraging him from speaking to his birth mother, she continued, “Now if she somehow found me and reached out to me, that would be a different story. I’d have to think about everything again, consider my options. Lots of kids don’t get that opportunity, but at the same time, I don’t owe her anything. She gave up any rights to see or talk to me when she left me at the doors outside that hospital in Arizona. But maybe I’d be curious. Either way, it’s not an easy situation and I don’t think there’s any right or wrong answer.”

When he asked about her painting selling, she laughed again. “I mean, I like to think that they’d sell. When I first got into art, I sold a couple, but once I started doing sculptures, those really took off. Here,” Tallie took out her phone and pulled up a picture of her latest finished piece. She continued to speak as she handed him the picture. “Once these started selling, I stopped selling my paintings. It’s not all about money, and I wanted one medium that was just for fun. Don’t get me wrong - I love sculpting, but if I sell them, they have to be almost flawless. With painting, I can just relax and have fun doing it, then I get to make someone else happy by giving it to them for free. Sometimes I keep them, but usually I’ll give them to the subject or a friend.”

At the mention of the TV show, understanding dawned on her. “Oh yeah, I think I’ve seen a few episodes! You were really good in them. To be honest, though, I don’t really watch the show.” Tallie smiled apologetically and led the way to her car. “Suspended? What for?”

Like a bird soaring high in the sky, free from the bars of its cage, Tallie seemed to have flown away from the scars of her childhood. She’d cut all of the ties, or at least, had shielded herself from them with her wings and could now glide without concern. She’d actually even then returned to her perch, confidently wanting to help make a difference to other trapped birds and she had talents other than just how strong her wings were. Greyson could only hope to have so much faith in his own. How sure she was of herself and her decision both inspired and terrified Greyson. He could never see himself having the power she did to become the pilot of his own destiny, all he seemed to be was the one who allowed it to crash and burn. It was hard to find the words to reply to the girl, so Greyson’s mouth stayed shut, his eyes falling gently on the sea as the his breath settled with the waves. She’d know he’d listened, his head had been nodding softly as she spoke, but the admiration he felt for her just didn’t match up to any words he could muster, at the thought of being a flightless bird in comparison.

When she spoke again, Greyson had the feeling that she was trying to help him, to help him see sense in the fact that his mother clearly wanted to speak to him for a reason, and that ignoring that was perhaps a missed opportunity. Of course, she also understood that Greyson owed her nothing, but both things now raised a simple question: would he regret not giving her a chance? “What would you do?” He asked after a moment, his head turning to face the girl, his eyes narrowed under the strength mid-day sun. His venture to the board walk hadn’t exactly gone to plan initially, but somehow it seemed to now be working out exactly as he needed. “I think you’re pretty cool, Tallie the sculptor, painter and social worker,” he said a few minutes later, a fond smile on his face as he reflected on what she’d told him and how her words seemed to make so much sense, when his world had for so long seemed to feel the opposite.

As Tallie opened up her phone to show Greyson her latest piece, their face automatically opened up in shock. Whoever her parents were, either they had an artistic gene or two or God had given her a few as compensation for her shitty childhood. “That’s incredible,” Greyson announced as he zoomed in on the image. The detail was truly outstanding. “That would look perfect in my hallway,” he told her with a nudge of his elbow, genuinely considering buying it if it was still available. “It’s good to have a bit of both, right. Something for fun and something serious. I feel like I’ve been getting that balance a little wrong lately.” He told her honestly, handing back the phone with an impressed nod. Maybe he needed a hobby. All he did when he wasn’t out drinking and making a fool out of himself was scroll through instagram and write bitchy tweets. He needed something more, something that made him more. He considered his options for a moment: painting and sculpting like Tallie? They sure seemed like rewarding hobbies. Dancing or cooking? Too sweaty and too stressful. Anything else beginning with ing? Probably too strenuous. 

Even just mentioning Colour now brought feelings of frustration, betrayal, embarrassment and sadness to the surface of Greyson’s mind. What had happened had been entirely down to him and the consequences of his actions, although deserved, reminded him almost too brutally about how he’d lived the past month of his life. Although her praise for his performance in the show was appreciated, Greyson felt it was undeserved given the way he’d been acting recently. “Thanks,” he said with a scoff and a half smile, feeling unfit for the  compliment, but still wanting to be polite. “And don’t worry. There’s no point in catching up now I’m not in it,” he joked as he juggled Tallie’s painting supplies, feeling a little bit like his old self as he made light of the serious situation he’d landed himself in. “I was just being a dick, to be honest. Drinking, making a fool out of myself and the show, punching people who deserved it but also probably didn’t.” Greyson shrugged as they reached the car. It wasn’t as if he was shrugging like what he’d done didn’t matter, but more along the lines of, ‘it’s done now, I regret it and want to move on,’ an attitude he didn’t think he’d have a week ago when the news first broke. “I’ve made a bit of a mess, so..” he confessed, not just referring to his job and reputation, but mostly to the huge splodge of paint he’d managed to redecorate his top with on the way to the car. 

[greysonbecker]

miriamnores‌:

It took everything is Miriam’s soul to not throw a punch to the throat at any of these ass holes. Her hands become fists as the group begins to leave, but not without tossing a few hurtful words in Greyson’s way. Miriam moves to make sure Greyson is behind her at all times - not like they could walk anywhere by themselves at this time. Unfortunately, one of the men was able to crane around Miriam and take his aim, spitting at Greyson. Miriam audibly gasps out of the sheer disgust of the act, but also disbelief and a growing rage. For a beat, she stills, watching the men disappear into the crowd. It brought back a number of memories when she and Grey were growing up and they wouldn’t have let that slid for a second. She knows she can’t go after them… Not here, anyway. Breathe in, breathe out. You have them on camera. You can press charges, if you want. She has to tell herself to calm the crackling storm that is happen festering in the pit of her stomach.

‘ still saving my skin years down the line… ’

Slowly her eyes close. Fuck. For a split moment, Miriam forgot she still had Greyson to deal with. Turning on the mess behind her with a deeply tried glare, she grabs a fist full of their shirt and pulls them away from the crowd that was still not minding their own business. She can already hear the whispers speaking negatively about Greyson. She can tell by the shift in the crowds eyes and how they side step to breathe into another’s ear. Her pace is fast as she weaves to the back of club with Greyson behind her. She doesn’t care if he’s stumbling over his feet. Right now, her biggest concern was getting them away from the public eye. That’s why she brought him to the most private place she could think of in the moment: the employee room.

❝ Sit down. ❞

Releasing his shirt, she moves to take out two glasses from a cubboard and fills them with tap water. With both glasses in hand, she walks back over to Greyson who has funcionally placed himself in a seat and begins to hand him a glass. Though, it’s not before she ends up splashing the water in Greyson’s face with the simple flick of her wrist. The other glass is slammed down beside him. That’s that one he can drink from. Without another sound, Miriam walks back over to the sink where she puts the empty glass and stays there for a moment. Knuckles straining over how much pressure is being gripped around the edge of the sink. Jesus Christ, this really sucked. And here she thought things were going to get easier with someone as close to her as Greyson was back in her life? Was she too optimistic for her own good or was she just stupid?

❝ What the fuck do you think you’re doing? ❞ Piercing hues now look at the one in question with raised brows, waiting for their answer. ❝ What is this, huh? ❞ Miriam gestures to Greyson, mostly implying about the messed up stat that he’s in. ❝ What … ? ❞ Miriam wets her lips and she can’t continue the question. Instead, the anger she had been feeling dissipate when it beings to sink in that Greyson is in much more trouble than she realized. She can’t help it, but tears begin to shine and blur her vision. She won’t let them spill. ❝ Why are you doing this to yourself, Grey? ❞

Well, it was safe to say that Miriam’s formidable strength certainly hadn’t changed since their younger days. In fact, as she dragged him through Whispers, his feet scuffing the floor as he became the subject of countless pairs of judgemental eyes and critiquing whispers from the club’s customers, he actually thought she’d got stronger. Part of them hoped and prayed that she hadn’t developed anymore mental strength, given that she’d always had that by the bucket-load, otherwise, he wouldn’t stand a chance of surviving the night. To the crowd, he must’ve looked like he was doing some kind of awkward dance, with his legs moving irregularly to try and keep up with the girl and his expression a mix of frustration and disorientation.

He didn’t have time to voice this frustration, however, as when they thankfully found a seat, the bright lights of the employee room made them squint painfully as their body attempted to readjust to their surroundings. Had he been sober, Grey knew that a terrible sense of foreboding would’ve probably overtaken his stomach, but it was almost as if nothing seemed real with the amount of drugs pumping around his body. But no matter how out of it he felt, he knew that this wasn’t going to end well. As the soundproof room fell into almost silence, with the only sound being the echoes of Miriam’s footsteps as she wandered around the room, Greyson began to feel sleepy. His eyes were already closed to avoid him being blinded by what felt like rays of sun that were being blasted from the ceiling above, so he didn’t see Miriam’s next move coming. Just as his shoulders had begun to relax and as his head started to dip, ready to drift off, a violent dash of water in his face brought him back to his senses. His face was now dripping, the liquid cooling his face slightly as well as waking him up from his near nap state. This was to be expected from Miriam, of course, she wasn’t one to hold back if she felt like you were acting like a dick, but surely she could see that he was just having some fun and enjoying himself? It wasn’t like they had started the argument with the middle-aged-mother-hating-gang either, Miriam sure knew what it was like to be provoked?

Finally, after an attempt to wipe his face with his hands, a delayed reaction of, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” escaped from Greyson’s mouth. Yes, Miriam had a leg to stand on in that he was causing trouble (after being provoked) in her workplace, but did she have the right to throw water in his face and act like having fun was illegal? No. He couldn’t even look at her. Just doing so made him angry. She was meant to be on his side, at the end of the day, just as he’d always been on hers. “What do you mean, why am I doing this to myself? I’m having fun, Miriam, last time I checked that wasn’t illegal. And,” he began to gesticulate, his face rigid with frustration, “I didn’t start anything with those dicks out there, they started it with me. So don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same if it was the opposite way round.” The effects of the drugs were making it hard to concentrate, the occasional word would come out wrong as he spat out his responses but Greyson didn’t care. If Miriam cared for him as much as he thought she did, she’d realise that she was over-reacting and for her to do that, he needed to explain himself and show her how wrong she was. “I’ve seen you do worse,” he added after a minute, one his eyebrows raised as he spoke. It was true, after all. Causing a scene in a club didn’t even make the cut on the list of things that the two had done. 

[greysonbecker]

wolfeharwen‌:

“Uuuummmm, okay.” Wolfe’s eyes watch Grey as he looks around the place and for some reason he becomes incredibly self concious of the wall all the way across the room adorned with trophies, or how lavish the place seems. It feels kind of pompous in that moment for some reason and he ends up blushing as he shuts the front door following Grey’s compliment about the place. He follows him into the living room space and it immediately makes him nervous, the way they seem to almost be pacing. When they say they have things on their mind, Wolfe rifles through his own to try and guess what it might be, although it doesn’t take much. He figures that their last conversation might have left Grey uncomfortable. It was far more honest and vulnerable then they’d been with each other…well, ever.

Even in his sober state of mind though, Wolfe can’t really muster any regret about having had it. It was something that, looking back, it was clear they both needed and in the moment served its purpose. He could definitely see Grey looking back at the conversation and maybe feeling differently. Wolfe wondered if what they came to tell him was to forget the conversation ever happened. He actually laughs a little at the though, imagining how the conversation is going to go as he makes his way over to the couch and plops down before patting the seat next to him. “Alright. I’m all ears.”

The first question Greyson had for Wolfe wasn’t even one he’d intended to ask on his way to the boy’s house. It was one that had just come to him as they watched Wolfe sit down seemingly happily on the sofa, the way he looked open to whatever Greyson had to throw at him, the way he was still willing to listen despite the way Greyson was with him sometimes. He would ask this question before sitting down. His hands stroking his chin as his lips moved. “Why are you always so nice to me? Or like, always willing to listen to me? You know I am that dick who wants convenient sex, you know i’m incapable of anything more serious. Why?”  It was almost as if Wolfe saw what Greyson was and didn’t care, but surely somewhere, somewhere deep down, he did? Or perhaps he genuinely didn’t, maybe it was as if Wolfe didn’t think he deserved better, and so settled for whatever Grey threw at him? 

[greysonbecker]

anxliese-atwater‌:

@greysonbecker​

The blonde glared at her friend as she twisted around in her seat, not feeling any pity for him in the slightest, knowing that the pounding in his head was Grey’s own goddamn fault. He had also, incidentally, not helped her keep this from happening, and she hadn’t even done anything. It was such a mess and Anna knew she would need to tell Jamie, she knew that, but she wanted to at least talk it out with someone first, someone who had been there, no matter how pissed off she was. 

“Can we, Becker? Because I don’t know if you’ve seen, but this guy isn’t messing about. Scheisse, this couldn’t get any worse,” she mumbled, rubbing at the migraine that was already forming behind her eye. Heaving a sigh, Anna still smiled at the waitress that brought them water, not willing to take her justified anger out on anyone else not sitting at this table. Watching as Grey made up their coffee, Anna winced as the phone started buzzing wildly against the table once more, relieved when the other reached over and shut the damned thing off. That relief, however, was short lived at Greyson’s comment and Anna’s eyes flashed, blue chips of ice as she snarled at him. “He is not my future anything, Greyson. I don’t even know the guy, let alone remember agreeing to marry him. Whatever you think I told you last night wasn’t true. And I don’t care who your reliable source is, either way.” Fuck Greyson and his ‘reliable source,’ honestly. 

The glare on her face was still there but it was calmer now, even as she grasped the cup between her hands and mumbled about Greyson’s supposed death throes, the age-old adage ‘then die’ heard as she grumbled. But Anna didn’t really mean that, and Greyson would know. She was just very, very upset and very, very irritable. It happened, but this was certainly not something she’d ever had to contend with before. 

“Mother would laugh in his face and father would probably try to pay him off, but…with how he’s acting…I don’t think that will work. But no. They wouldn’t. You know that.” She felt like she was on the verge of tears, throat clogging in angry frustration as she shook her head from side to side, wanting nothing more than a hug from her brother and the assurance that it would all be okay. Anna had just wanted to fix this but it had proven to be even worse than she’d feared. 

The reaction he watched build up on Anna’s face was not the one he expected. Admittedly, he knew that she’d be angry when she came to meet him but he didn’t prepare for potential tears. Frustration seemed to be written across her features and Greyson knew that his playful tone was going to have to be swapped out for a more understanding one, although, he still wasn’t quite sure if he could handle her tears. 

With an awkward pat on his friend’s shoulder, Greyson sighed heavily at the situation she was in, almost wishing he hadn’t invited her to the damn party in the first place so all this could’ve been avoided. “At the end of the day, Anna,” he began after a few moments of thinking, “your mum and dad have a reputation to keep up, right?” Keeping up appearances was important. Whether you had a rich circle of friends, a big social following or millions of fans who watch your TV show, Greyson knew that people who cared about how they looked, found their way out of bad shit pretty easily. They braced themselves for their next words, knowing that Anna needed to be reminded of the truth, but also knowing that the truth wasn’t always easy to swallow. “They’re not going to want their daughter being engaged to anyone who isn’t on your level - and yes, not for you, for their image - and this guy, even just from looking at him, is way off. It’s all about reputations and honestly, they aren’t going to let this ruin them. Whatever he wants, I’m sure they can give to him.” Taking a pause, Greyson allowed the coffee to slip down his throat, feeling revived ever so slightly with every burst of caffeine. “What does he want?” He was getting a little irate thinking about it now. Whether it was the situation or Anna’s parents, he didn’t know. “And, yes, it was a stupid drunken mistake, what are your mum and dad actually going to do? Give you a slap on the wrist or take away your trust fund? Anna, ”you’re a fucking architect, you could walk on catwalks, you could be on broadway! Your parents can’t control you. If they try, fuck them.” Greyson puffed out his cheeks when he’d finished, the speed at which he’d spoken had left him out of breath, that and the passion he felt. If this is what parents are like, I want no part in it, he thought. Feeling as though he’d been a little too serious for too long now, Greyson returned the tone of the conversation to his normal level.  With his hands underneath his chin in some kind of angel pose, he announced, “If they’re dicks, I’ll pay him off, I don’t care.” 

[greysonbecker]

talliefostermontgomery‌:

Tallie kept painting as she listened. She didn’t want to seem rude, but she also knew that a stranger asking intimate questions like she was could be seen as a ‘threat’ to some people, who would then shut down. The brunette wasn’t sure if this new friend of hers was like that, so she figured better safe than sorry. The more he told her, the more he didn’t have to bear alone, even if they never spoke again. Sometimes, it was actually better if they didn’t. But as the words birth mum left his mouth, Tallie’s paint brush stuttered on the canvas. Keeping her eyes forward, she said, “I don’t know. Mine never tried to contact me.”

As he mentioned speed painting, she couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh, head back and long brown hair falling down her back. “I have a couple different painting playlists to make sure that doesn’t happen. I was listening to The Sea is a Good Place to Think of the Future this time, I like to focus on the violin. Can you imagine, though? I’d be even more covered in paint than I am now.” Tallie laughed again, lightly this time, gesturing to the paint all over her arms and hands when he held his out to shake, not wanting to get any on him. Finally, she began to add the finishing touches and her signature to the painting as she answered his next questions. “My thing? I guess it’s a side thing. Or a side side thing. Sculpting is my real side thing, that’s what sells, but it’s not my full time job. Painting is usually just for me. Today, though, it’s for Agnes and Harry. Here, take this.” Offering him a quick grin and the cup of paint water she was holding, Tallie collected the painting and crossed the street, sitting on the bench beside the older couple. She introduced herself and handed them the painting, warning them about the wet paint and waving them away when they tried to offer her money.

Then she was crossing the boardwalk again, this time finally taking the opportunity to look over her new friend. He looked oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place where from. “Have we met before? I feel like I know you.” Tallie said as she began to pack up her easel and supplies. “Hey, would you mind helping me bring this stuff to my car?”

The woman’s confession made them pause. Not only did he now feel guilty for interrupting her peaceful art session by the sea, but now he’d also made her more aware of things she’d perhaps rather have not spoken about. Greyson turned his head away from the girl, grimacing as he did so at his obnoxious trait of over-sharing. After a moment, he turned back, his hand itching his neck slightly uncomfortably. “Er- sorry,” he began, his mouth settled into a frown. “Did you ever want to contact her? Like, track her down? Or are you happy with.. the way things are?” Greyson shrugged as he realised he was fumbling with his words. Was he even making sense? Did she even want to talk about it? Not only that, but how ungrateful did he sound, moaning about his birth mother contacting him when her mother hadn’t even tried? But even with the guilt, Greyson couldn’t help but jump back to the tone of his mother’s voice when she spoke to him. When your mother sounded drunk and desperate on the phone to you after abandoning you at birth, did she really deserve your attention?

She was enchanting when she laughed. The way joy drenched her features made her chuckling infectious. It was as if it made you want to soak all of it up and bottle it for future use. As she mentioned being covered in paint, Greyson’s eyes followed her gestures, his body chuckling along with her as he realised how messy she’d truly gotten in the process, glad that she’d denied his handshake after all. Hearing that she sculpted too impressed him more, she was obviously a rather creative person which intrigued Greyson, he wanted to see her sculptures, he wanted to see how the brush moved across a canvas when she felt angry or upset. The painting for Agnes and Harry was finally coming together when the girl finished talking. Greyson’s eyes widened as he pictured the small marks he’d seen on the canvas when he’d first wandered over to Tallie. It was remarkable how she’d taken it from a few brush strokes to the labour of love it was now. “And that wouldn’t sell?!” Grey exclaimed in response, exhaling as he spoke at how well the painting captured the two individuals. He was just about to ask her about her sculptures when a paint pot was thrusted in his direction. He followed her as she stood, watching the joy return to her face as she handed the painting to the old couple, the same emotion and more appearing on both of theirs. He’d let out a gentle laugh as she walked back over, his eyes returning to the sea. He was glad he’d bumped into Tallie today.

As the girl spoke in amongst packing up her painting equipment, Greyson knew where the conversation was going. He hadn’t actually spoken to many people about his suspension from Colour, although he knew people knew about it. The papers and his social media had gone crazy over it when the assault had happened, but thankfully now, things had died down a little. Saying it aloud would feel odd, they imagined, but it needed to be said. It was nobody’s fault other than theirs. Before he replied, he grabbed a few things for her and held them out for her to take, lending himself some extra time prior to his response. “I don’t think we’ve met, but I was on that TV show called Colour? The one set in Brooklyn?” They nodded their head slowly as they spoke, wondering if she’d notice the past tense or whether to just get the words out before she could. “I’m on a break from it though,” he admitted as he began to help her carry her stuff over to the car. As they walked, he corrected himself, “okay, on a break is a cop out. I got suspended.” If Greyson was going to sort himself out, he’d have to start being honest with himself and perhaps this, could be one of the first steps.

[greysonbecker]

jamieatwater‌:

At Greyson’s response, Jamie listened, his face emotionless. He was as over it as Grey was and as long as he was able to settle the financials and be done with it, Jamie would be relieved. He’d never realize how much this one individual could piss him off. Jamie wasn’t usually an angry guy, not at all actually. But it seemed Greyson had a natural talent for it. His eyes flicked down the wallet being pulled out. Thank god. Jamie clicked his tongue, his arms coming up in a shrug. “It’s just how business works, man. Nothing personal,” he explained. Then of course, Greyson had to add in anther little dig. Jamie let out a very forced laugh. “Right,” he agreed sarcastically, refusing to draw this out any more. 

Jamie followed the other’s lead, standing up and taking a few steps to lead the way. “By all means… let’s go,” he said. He waited patiently for the other, as he directed them back to the lobby where he’d have a front desk attendant ring through the charges. “Thanks for your cooperation,” he told Greyson, a condescending tone slipping out just a bit. 

I'll give you fucking co-operation, a voice in Greyson's head replied to Jamie's condescending remark. Fucking dick, it internally cursed again shortly after. At least Grey could say that he was internally proud of the restraint he was showing in this situation. He knew who his favourite sibling was, that was for sure. Outwardly, a false grin took over their face, and a head tilt accompanied it as if all was well in the world. “You’re most welcome,” Greyson finally replied politely without even a splash of his true emotions seeping through into his tone. When the transaction was finished and his card was returned to him, he simply slipped it back into his wallet before looking back up to Jamie, his eyes narrowed a fraction. “I’ll see you next week for my next booking,”  he announced quickly with a smirk before turning on his heels and striding out of the hotel, his arms raising from by his sides to offer Jamie two fingers on both hands as he left. Sure, his booking would surely be cancelled, hell, he might even get banned, but hey, at least he’d got the last word.

[greysonbecker]

wolfeharwen‌:

At first Wolfe ignores the sound of his security system alerting him of a presence at his door. He’s been holed up in his studio the past 13 hours, he barely felt human at that point but it was a small comfort being obsessively wrapped up in what he was doing, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. It was better than being alone with his normal thoughts as of late. So the sound of the motion detector going off barely phased him, he figured it was a delivery of a package since that’s the only thing that ever turned up on his door now a days anyway.

It wasn’t until it sounded a fourth time did he actually bother to finally emerge from his miserable safe haven all the way across the house, not even bothering to check the camera because now his assumption was the delivery was something he had to sign for. He ran his fingers through his hair to make it look a little less of a mess before swinging the door open. Seeing Grey standing there and not a delivery person left him confused. He could only imagine it might have looked comical watching him trying to process that he wasn’t imagining Grey standing there and that made him have to think about Grey occupying enough of his thought to imagine them standing at his door at this hour. Between trying to register through the fog of his isolation brain and the momentary inner turmoil of thinking too much about Grey, he blinks like a deer in headlights. “Uuhh, hi…Are…Are you okay?”

Within seconds of the door opening, Greyson had already flounced his way into Wolfe’s home, his woody cologne following him as he landed his feet on the other side. As he stood, he reached out to give Wolfe’s chin a little push up, in an attempt to alter the flummoxed look the boy wore on his face. “Alright, I know this is weird.” He announced with his hands in the air, ignoring Wolfe’s question with an aim of addressing the elephant in the room before they could go any further. Before speaking again, their eyes began to wander as they took in the magnitude of Wolfe’s house in the daylight and without vast amounts of alcohol absorbed into their bloodstream; it was beautiful. “Jesus. This is a sight and a half,” he told the boy with admiration, taking a few steps to the side to look into the nearest room before getting back to the matter at hand. “I need to ask you some questions that have been bothering me. Very weird, I know. But I’ve had shit on my mind.”

[greysonbecker]

7, 18, 5, 25 💞

5 - spicy or mild:

“it’s allll about the spice baby. i fucking love spicy food. before i moved to catalina, i used to go to this place in santa barbara called marco’s v  - not an ad, just good fucking food - that did the best spicy vegan jambalaya. damn, i miss that shit. i gotta go back there. get ready for me marco, i’ll order extra to take home.”

7 - dawn or dusk:

“dusk. listen, you can’t argue with me on this one. dusk is when the excitement happens. other than good coffee and morning sex, there’s literally nothing dawn is good for and actually, i don’t even stick by good coffee. not with a hangover, anyway. even though i’m used to getting up early for filming, you couldn’t even pay me to get up early when i’m off schedule. dusk all the way.”

18 - driver or passenger:

“god. i can hear my close friends screaming at their phones at the thought of me in the driver’s seat of a car - it wouldn’t end well. i did get an allowance for driver’s ed classes back at the end of high school but other shit was more important back then. plus, i knew i wouldn’t be getting a car on my care allowance so what would’ve been the point? there was fun to be had elsewhere.”

25 - hot weather or cold weather:

“who would live in california if they didn’t like hot weather? my social life would take a big hit if the weather was cold or constantly bad here. no sailor is going to take a yacht out in a storm, after all. hot weather is definitely the one. last winter when we were filming in new york, i literally had to buy a whole new winter wardrobe whilst i was out there because it was so cold. using the air conditioning to heat up the hotel room was a first, damn.”