Heterochromic Haze

26- Purple Thursday

My crappy studio flat is the smallest thing I've ever seen described as a 'living space', has a train line almost directly next to it and the thinnest walls I've ever encountered, but it very quickly becomes my favourite place to be.

My plants are growing out of control, like a small jungle next to the window and I managed to come up with a loft bed contraption to give me more floor space for my art. I didn't think it would happen so quickly, but London has become home.

Another perk of my new life in London is Greyson Hayes.

His flat is about 20 minutes from me, and he has become my unwanted but greatly appreciated guardian angel. Not that I would ever admit this to him.

Somehow he's become my closest, and only, friend in London. My shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear, the sober friend to remove my phone from my hands when I'm three sheets to the wind and dead set on calling his eldest brother to confess my undying love.

He's kinda awesome and he's the only thing that has made leaving Amyas behind bearable.

He is also unnervingly good at knowing when I need company most which is why I'm not surprised when I find him on my doorstep this morning holding a box of pastries.

"Good morning!" He chirps, ignoring my death glare.

He strolls into my flat like he owns the place, raising an eyebrow at the state of my kitchenette but otherwise making himself at home on my raggedy, second hand sofa.

"Hello Greyson, please, won't you come in?" I mutter, staring at the empty doorway for a moment before closing the door.

"The cafe down the street gave me these for free and I can't eat them all, thought you might be able to help me out." He says easily, ignoring my foul mood and flipping open the box in front of him. He nudges the coffee cup in his other hand towards me.

My stomach feels hollow.

My hand ghosts across my ribs, my collar bones, feeling how prominent they've become as I wonder when it was that I last ate something. I eventually concede that I don't remember, which isn't the best sign.

I sit down reluctantly, picking up a croissant and shoving it in my mouth. We're silent for a moment and I take the time to observe Grey. He looks immaculate, as always, a trait he has no doubt inherited from his eldest brother, and is sporting a pale lilac jumper.

"I like your sweater." I garble, my mouth dry from sticky puff pastry.

"Thanks, I crocheted it." He says, nudging the coffee even closer to me with a somewhat disgruntled expression.

"Really?" I ask, my eyebrows raised as I sip on the beverage.

He nods, picking at the sleeve absently.

"Me and my friends have this little knitting club going. We order takeout, watch movies and craft every Thursday night." He says and I nod.

"It's good for dexterity, it would be nice to see you if you wanted to come along?" He adds and I sigh.

He's made about a thousand attempts to get me to socialise since I moved, and most have been declined due to my bad mood and constant sulking, but this one sounds so odd that I'm actually considering it.

I chew another mouthful of croissant, my eyes narrowing as I watch him.

"Alright. I'll come." I say finally and he smiles amicably.

That's the annoying thing about Grey. He does stuff for you by making you feel like you're doing him a favour. Plus he might be like, the nicest guy I've ever met with a fucking movie star smile. Frankly, it's irritating.

"Cool. Shall I pick you up around seven-ish?" He asks, a devious glint in his eye.

"What?" I ask.

"Today's Thursday, Ledger. So, 7pm?" He says and I curse him under my breath.

The wily minx knew I'd have no fucking clue what day of the week it is. I suppose I brought this on myself though, I have a bad habit of flaking on plans or forgetting about them entirely. Still...it feels like I've been blindsided.

Today is fucking Thursday?

"Seven is fine." I grit out and he nods.

"Cool. Oh, you've got a bit of washing to do, I could take it for you, I've been meaning to do mine." He says, looking at my precariously balanced tower of dirty clothes and I glare at him.

Not a fucking chance. I smack his hand when he touches the basket and he backs off.

"Are you actually part of a knitting club, or is this just a weird ploy to get me to go outside?" I ask and he laughs.

"What a curious thing to say. Why would you ask that?" He says, good-humouredly. I narrow my eyes, watching him as he drifts towards the sink.

"You're old-fashioned enough that I wouldn't question you being part of a knitting circle, but you've also made it your mission in life to make me function adequately, so it could just be an avenue of intrigue that you haven't explored yet." I murmur, pondering his ulterior motives aloud.

"You're silly." He says, stacking my plates into my cupboards efficiently.

"Stop cleaning! You're like my goddamn mother." I hiss, waving him away.

In fact, he's worse than my mother. She wasn't the most dependable soul when she was alive, but you could always rely upon the fact that she'd be too wasted to care about nagging me to do housework.

"Alright, I'll see you this evening then. I'll pick out some wool for you. Blue?" He asks, not really listening to me and I sigh.

"Make it navy." I mutter and he hums.

"See you later, Ledger!" He calls, letting himself out of my house, leaving his entire box of pastries with me.

That motherfucker, he's stocking my fridge now too. I glare at them. I bet they weren't even free.

"Bye, mum!" I call cattily, knowing he's already gone.

Despite all of this, I clean my flat and do my washing, managing to get showered and dressed before Grey appears to collect me at 7pm for knitting.

As I follow him down the street, I unhappily ponder whether he's a hypnotist or an actual Jedi master.

_

A/N Another double update because both of these are quite short, and I feel bad. But, to make up for it, please enjoy the hilarious relationship that Grey and Ledger share. I honestly love it.

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