// Best YA Romance in the Romance Fiction Awards 2021//
Thrill Hawthorne, keeping up to his name, lives his life on the edge. Or so people think.
Ignatius Rookwood is the darling son and the sole male heir to a gigantic business corporation. Or so...
For those of you who don't know, the spin-off to Akimbo, THICK AND THIN, is now a published novel. It's out on Amazon (link is in my bio) and it would mean the world to me if you could go support.
It's the story of Drayden and his three best friends (with cameo by our favourite boi Thrill).
I know most of us on Wattpad are broke, so don't feel pressured by this a/n. I completely understand. *facepalm*
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Ignatius had dreamt of running ever since he could remember. He couldn't actually do it – he was bad at sports (like at everything else) – but he dreamt of it. It was a little secret tucked within the deepest folds of his heart; one day he would run, run, run, till his lungs couldn't find oxygen anymore, till he finally reached a place where he wasn't... him anymore.
Now, standing in the living room of the Hawthorne Residence, clutching onto his bleeding nose and facing a Drayden who looked downright terrifying, Ignatius felt the desire to run, overpowering and animalistic. But he could neither will his legs to move nor find a direction to run towards.
"Drayden!" Emily, stepmother to the two Hawthorne boys, threw herself between Ignatius and his attacker. "Don't."
Drayden ignored her. "Get out!" he shouted, standing his ground in front of Thrill, as if protecting him from Ignatius. "And don't ever show your fucking face in this house again."
Ignatius did not need to be told twice. Cupping his face with one hand, he turned around and ran out of the house.
It was raining outside, a heavy downpour that seemed to be there only to taunt Ignatius. See, you can't run. You're not strong enough to run in the rain. You'll fall sick, get mobbed or robbed, or fall into a manhole.
But right now, shame won over the fear. Without knowing where exactly he was going, Ignatius ran into the rain, away from the Hawthorne Residence. His alcohol muddled brain numbed down most of the fear he could feel crawling at the edges of his heart. He instead tried to focus on the searing pain coming from his nose and the warm blood spilling down his lips.
How could he be so fucking stupid? Why did he... why did he do that? He had only wanted to apologise to Thrill, make him realise that Ignatius did not actually hate him or find him disgusting. But... the moment he saw Thrill, he was reminded of that boy from the videos telling people about how much he had suffered yet continuing to smile... Ignatius did not want to be the bad guy anymore. He did not want Thrill to hate him. He did not want to hate himself...
Ignatius' lungs were ready to burst. He was breathing through his mouth, tasting the blood on his tongue, and with every gulp of air he swallowed, the pain in his nose seemed to increase.
But he did not stop. He could not.
"Rookwood!" A black sports car slowed down next to him, and from the rolled down window Thrill Hawthorne was peering out at him. "Get in."
