! 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗶𝘁𝗶 ¡
in which blair grayson
has a secret admirer,
a superhero for a stalker
and parents
who won't stop lying to her.
𝗼𝗰 / 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿
𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿-𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 / 𝗮𝘂
𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗹
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
IN HER PATHETIC SIXTEEN YEARS OF living in the same bedroom, for some reason, Blair never noticed the black paint stain that was near one of the blades to her fan. It had been bugging her since she noticed and okay, maybe it was, no most definitely it was because she was desperately trying to find something to distract herself from the screaming and shouting outside her bedroom door.
Her parents had been home for less then a few hours, and it had started pretty normal, fake hugs and declarations of how much they missed her, to them fighting about who was supposed to take her to meet the bus.
Blair flinched when something crashed to the floor outside her door, more hushed cries echoed after and before she knew it, somehow blanking out, she found herself climbing over the railing and dropping onto the fire escape next to her window.
She knew there would be a very lengthy phone call when they figured out she was missing, but honestly, at that point, she just needed to get the hell away from them.
Clarissa had been texting her for at least an hour wondering when she was going to show up at the bus, somehow having been able to convince Mr. Harrington to let her travel with the rest of the team.
Her phone continuously beeped as Blair caught the first taxi that sped down her street, chucking her bag inside before climbing in after it. The man who was driving, a sweet old thing with an English accent that made her smile, asking if she was alright.
"Just fine, sir," she responded, typing blindly. "I'm meeting my academic decathlon team, we're heading to D.C."
"Well that's just swell, my grand daughter did that when she was younger, she was smart." He sighed wistfully.
"It's quite enjoyable." she agreed.
The rest of the drive was quiet, the old man hummed to himself as she pressed her shoulder against the cool window pane.
Her yellow team blazer was pressed neatly and she avoided moving too much to keep the wrinkles out, and the jeans Clarissa had picked out, saying they looked 'clean and professional, without being tacky' itched beyond compare.
Blair's phone buzzed as Clarissa sent her another text.
from rissa where are you?
to rissa in the taxi the rents were too busy to fighting to drive me
