Gao
[sad jester jingle noises]
GRAYSON.
mood
hetero asf
outfit
Stupid fuckign nerd
location
Getting abused @ party
As to be expected, Grayson was doing badly. A mental note was made to work on this. Next time he was challenged to a game of darts he’d be near competitive level. He would be perfect at everything.
That was the plan, anyway. Hard to say if Grayson would dedicate his oh-so important time to training for such a trivial game. He had better things to do.
Upon his next interaction, the Brit was soon to realize how naïve it was to consider Bean ‘drunk’. He had turned to take his trusted bottle of water from a nearby table when he was met with the collision, alongside the spill.
Grayson hunched with disgust, shoulders at his ears as the cold liquid splashed against clothing. The uncomfortable feeling seeped and spread through the cotton, an expression of horrified insult.
It was a scoff of disbelief to process the violent assault. He could even faint from the shock. How dare they.
The one time he made an effort to turn up at these stupid activities was the one day a dimwit decided to empty their drink on him. The one day he dragged himself to a social event was the day someone had to be an undignified clutz.
Did they know who he was? Someone important? Someone to NOT throw drinks at?
This is fine, he rationalised and dejectedly pulled at the wet fabric that stuck to his skin, everything is fine. It would be childish to have a tantrum over just a spill. Grayson was a mature, level-headed individual, much better than the inebriated fools at this party. He was patient. He was understanding. And most of all, he was forgiving.
"Shit, man. My bad," came the laidback voice. It held no guilt over the blatant disrespect.
Never mind.
"My bad," Grayson whispered, “My bad?!”
Perhaps being a mature individual could be left for another time.
“That’s your apology?!” Grayson was offended at the audacity, finally looking up to meet the attacker. “This is Egyptian cotton, you muppet! Do you have any idea who I am...”
Grayson trailed into silence at the sight of the blasphemous copper shirt, quick to avert awkward eyes from the clothing to the male’s face.
Why are they wearing that. How crass.
It’s not like Grayson spent a lot of time looking at men.
Or women.
Or muppets.
But it was certainly not gay to acknowledge what another male was wearing. It was called being observant, a trait Grayson could pride himself on in a completely heterosexual way, thank-you very much. It is good to know your surroundings. Not gay to be aware. Never that, for that would be incredibly inappropriate.
The dip of their collarbones? Important. Their bare shoulders? Even more important. Do not forget that. It is simply a given right to inspect a ruthless attacker, just in case you need to fill out a witness form. Or have some kind of identifier for the police. Or something.
Not gay.
As far as anyone knew, this person could have committed a murder minutes beforehand, and Grayson was one of the few clear-headed ones who could provide an accurate description to the authorities. Their curly hair and freckles were important. Note that down. The police will want to know. It’s not gay. Grayson didn’t have to prove himself to anyone. Back off.
The piercings and tattoos spoke for themselves. Must be one of those… punk hooligans. Dangerous and reckless types, it’s no wonder such an individual would be out ruining pristine, beautiful Egyptian cotton shirts.
Bitter and protective over what was once immaculate, Grayson regained his composure enough to carry out his lashing. This clutz could wear whatever they wanted. Wasn’t going to stop Grayson being rude.
“I understand that you are stupidly drunk,” the slurring and initial thought of - holy shit is that an entire bottle of alcohol, was enough evidence. “But are you also too stupid to use your eyes?”
He was important! And not gay! “I am not hard to see!”
Grayson had never been intoxicated to understand difficulty with mobility under the influence, but he was still going to get in a huffy mood over it.
“Now I am going to have to change, you imbecile." This was the first time in Grayson’s entire life he actually smelled like liquor, and not because of some crazy bender. How disgusting. "Lay off the booze."
That was the plan, anyway. Hard to say if Grayson would dedicate his oh-so important time to training for such a trivial game. He had better things to do.
Upon his next interaction, the Brit was soon to realize how naïve it was to consider Bean ‘drunk’. He had turned to take his trusted bottle of water from a nearby table when he was met with the collision, alongside the spill.
Grayson hunched with disgust, shoulders at his ears as the cold liquid splashed against clothing. The uncomfortable feeling seeped and spread through the cotton, an expression of horrified insult.
It was a scoff of disbelief to process the violent assault. He could even faint from the shock. How dare they.
The one time he made an effort to turn up at these stupid activities was the one day a dimwit decided to empty their drink on him. The one day he dragged himself to a social event was the day someone had to be an undignified clutz.
Did they know who he was? Someone important? Someone to NOT throw drinks at?
This is fine, he rationalised and dejectedly pulled at the wet fabric that stuck to his skin, everything is fine. It would be childish to have a tantrum over just a spill. Grayson was a mature, level-headed individual, much better than the inebriated fools at this party. He was patient. He was understanding. And most of all, he was forgiving.
"Shit, man. My bad," came the laidback voice. It held no guilt over the blatant disrespect.
Never mind.
"My bad," Grayson whispered, “My bad?!”
Perhaps being a mature individual could be left for another time.
“That’s your apology?!” Grayson was offended at the audacity, finally looking up to meet the attacker. “This is Egyptian cotton, you muppet! Do you have any idea who I am...”
Grayson trailed into silence at the sight of the blasphemous copper shirt, quick to avert awkward eyes from the clothing to the male’s face.
Why are they wearing that. How crass.
It’s not like Grayson spent a lot of time looking at men.
Or women.
Or muppets.
But it was certainly not gay to acknowledge what another male was wearing. It was called being observant, a trait Grayson could pride himself on in a completely heterosexual way, thank-you very much. It is good to know your surroundings. Not gay to be aware. Never that, for that would be incredibly inappropriate.
The dip of their collarbones? Important. Their bare shoulders? Even more important. Do not forget that. It is simply a given right to inspect a ruthless attacker, just in case you need to fill out a witness form. Or have some kind of identifier for the police. Or something.
Not gay.
As far as anyone knew, this person could have committed a murder minutes beforehand, and Grayson was one of the few clear-headed ones who could provide an accurate description to the authorities. Their curly hair and freckles were important. Note that down. The police will want to know. It’s not gay. Grayson didn’t have to prove himself to anyone. Back off.
The piercings and tattoos spoke for themselves. Must be one of those… punk hooligans. Dangerous and reckless types, it’s no wonder such an individual would be out ruining pristine, beautiful Egyptian cotton shirts.
Bitter and protective over what was once immaculate, Grayson regained his composure enough to carry out his lashing. This clutz could wear whatever they wanted. Wasn’t going to stop Grayson being rude.
“I understand that you are stupidly drunk,” the slurring and initial thought of - holy shit is that an entire bottle of alcohol, was enough evidence. “But are you also too stupid to use your eyes?”
He was important! And not gay! “I am not hard to see!”
Grayson had never been intoxicated to understand difficulty with mobility under the influence, but he was still going to get in a huffy mood over it.
“Now I am going to have to change, you imbecile." This was the first time in Grayson’s entire life he actually smelled like liquor, and not because of some crazy bender. How disgusting. "Lay off the booze."
CIFCIK
Strokes
♡coded by uxie♡