Stage. Dear friendly Kezia Sinclair, meeting me when I was at my lowest. Staying with me during danger without a care for her father old. An abnormally heavenly looking queen with a voice of honey who shrivels up to a mere common girl when I'm cut or bled. 

Against my better judgement—or maybe with— I curved up my lips into a welcoming expression. Accusing people of being a Performer of the Stage was itself risky, not to mention the fact that they might traceback it to me being an ex-Performer myself.

"Hah, sorry," I went over, hugging her, "just zoned out by this beauty. You're fault for being so good looking."

Her laughter rang for a moment.

"Not looking half bad yourself," She kissed both sides of my cheek. I tried not to flinch away from the sudden gesture. I looked back at Pretty Boy, silently pleading for his almighty assistance. Instead I was met with a silent Hawthorne.

His pupils were dilated, blown wide, nearly. He was frozen cold as stone. Staring at Kezia as if in some sort of trance. A mortal in face of an angel. The only difference was,

He was in pain.

All gears in my body shifted. "Grayson?" I rushed to his side, my face complete calm as my heart boomed against my ribcage. "Grayson, answer me." I shook him by the soldiers, trying to snap him out of it. But he kept staring at Kezia. His eyes would dry up soon.

"Leena, is he okay?" Kezia stepped forward, genuine concern in her eyes. I didn't want to have to take such a rude path out. But to me, his safety came before anything and anyone.

"Kezia, I think you should go," I said, my voice leaving no space for arguments, "I'll join you in a moment."

The Sinclair girl hesitated, but the lurking hostility in my words woke her up. She offered a nod and dismissed herself.

All my world was Grayson Hawthorne now.

"Grace," I tapped his cheeks. He still didn't come back, "Grace, come on!" I sharpened my nail against nail. I hoped to snap him out without drawing blood, but I guess not. I poked his thumb.

"Shit," Grayson cursed, his eyes blinking rapidly, moisturizing the dryness in them as he came to his senses. Glaring at the bead of red forming from the tip of his finger. 

"You okay?" I held back the physical urge to cup his face and check for any external wounds.

Grayson was silent for a long moment, those grey pools drinking me in, "... That was—"

"Kezia," I confirmed, "And I think so too. But I'm not sure how to confront her, she really doesn't seem to know who she is."

"Or she possesses exceptional acting talents."

"Or both," My shoulders dropped in a shrug, "point is, I don't have enough proof to act otherwise. So, just tell me are you okay or not."

"Just peachy, my dear," Grayson rubbed his temples, clearly fighting a migraine with dear life and not showing a thing. "Come with me." It sounded more like a request than an instruction. 

I nodded, following him.

Too bad I saw Kezia sulking in a corner, alone. I never could let people I know be alone and sulking. I paused on my tracks, looking up at Grayson, "Sorry, you go ahead." I flashed him a grin, "I'll go play diplomats with the angel lady."

The Armani Amor's face flickered with disappointment for barely a moment before he nodded. He reached over to tuck my hair behind my ears and press his lips against my cheek. A formal gesture, I told to the fluttering insects in my stomach.
We held gazes, as if afraid to tear away from each other.

Get a hold of yourself, I stepped back, you're getting weak. Only later did I realize that I repeated the very words Salvatore, and Arthur drilled into my head. 

With a sweet wave, I turned away from him.

Not realizing that I wouldn't smile so endearingly at him for a long while later.

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a/n: starting off short, starting off strong people!!! 💪