HIRAETH

It's funny how just last night we were watching the stupid stars. I wish I could take them all away and keep the sky pitch black. That asshole doesn't deserve to see stars anymore, he doesn't deserve anything.

I hated Grayson Hawthorne, absolutely hated him.
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"What are you doing here?" Grayson directed the question at me, I think he only expected Avery. "Nunya." I prayed he would fall for the joke. "Nunya?" he raised a quizzical brow. "Nunya business." I snickered, so did Avery and Jameson.

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"So scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen.
This means you really love me."
-rusholme ruffians; the smiths

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