#rohan tgg

[lyra-kane]

Looks like they're looking at each other🤭 @rohan-his-lordships-successor Jameson has the knife that you asked for💕

[hawthornesbiggestfan]

my favourite part of this fandom currently is the jamesonxrohan shippers

[clarissaweasley-10]

Grayson: What does 'idk' mean?

Lyra: I don't know

Grayson: me neither..

[inmyheaddd]

rohan is 6’3 - 6’4…

just putting that information out there 😇

[su4vz]

“Grayson ripped the drawing he’d made out of the sketchbook, folded it in quarters, and tucked it into his tuxedo jacket.”

he’s definitely going to treasure that drawing forever.

[wish-i-were-heather]

"JUST A DAMN DREAM" ⤵ ROHAN X SAVANNAH GRAYSON

ABOUT: 3016 words, not proofread

STORY: savannah comforts rohan after flashback to his earliest memory

WARNINGS: descriptions of drowning and panic attack. swearing

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @maybxlle @xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77

A/N: obviously everyone is going to have different experiences with panic attacks, so this is just one of many based on my personal experience. also i dont really like how it turned out but :/

Rohan was drowning. 

Just a moment ago he’d been comfortable, warm, safe, a child in his mother’s arms. She’d been humming a soft tune, the same song she’d always hum whenever he was upset. The melody had wrapped itself around him like a blanket, keeping his small world safe from whatever lay outside. Just a moment ago, he’d been happy.

And now he was drowning. 

The strong arms cradling him to his mother’s chest were gone, dropping him and leaving him alone in the cold, unforgiving water. He couldn’t see through the darkness surrounding him, couldn’t even hear his own screams. Panic seized him as he thrashed around wildly, but there was nothing for him to hold onto, nothing to save him.

His lungs burned as he attempted to inhale, only swallowing water instead. He kept sinking deeper and deeper, like the bottom of whatever body of water he was in didn’t exist. Kicking and flailing still proved to be useless, the heavy water only dragging him deeper. He was a small, helpless child against the endlessly deep water, pulling him impossibly lower. 

He couldn’t swim, couldn’t do anything but keep drowning.

And just when it felt like his lungs were about to burst, something wrapped around him and yanked him upwards. The water only resisted a little against the invisible pull. It felt like his chest was on fire with the need for air.

He finally broke the surface with a violent gasp of air, oxygen flooding his lungs much slower than the water had, and in that same moment-

Rohan’s eyes snapped open.

His body jerked awake with a sharp movement that was stopped by something around him. The same something that must’ve pulled him out of the water.

There was no water, he had to remind himself. It was just a dream

Just a damn dream. 

It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t something, but it was someone. 

Savannah Grayson was lying next to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, spooning him from behind. 

And as much as he normally loved it, that position was suffocating now. Too much touch, too close, too much to feel. For once, Rohan didn’t want to have her face nuzzled into his hair. He didn’t want her arms around him, For once, he just wanted needed to be alone.

And not to be touched. 

Rohan’s breaths came in and out in ragged gasps as he tried to figure out what to do. He needed her off of him, he needed space, but he wasn’t going to wake her up. He couldn’t let her see him like this. No one, not even Savannah, should be allowed to see that a memory, a mere dream, could reduce a grown man like him to this. 

So with trembling hands, he grabbed her wrist and gently removed her arm from his side. He tried and failed to quiet his panicked breathing; the last thing he needed was to burden her with this. 

Once her arm was free, Rohan slowly inched away from her. He slid his legs out from under the blanket and sat up. There was a tightness in his chest, like he could still feel the water in his lungs. But there was no water. Just him, Savannah, and the bed.

But if it was just a dream, why did it feel so real?

The room was too small, too hot. There wasn’t enough air. Rohan couldn’t do this. He needed to breathe, he needed air, he needed to get out of there before it got worse.

He climbed out of the bed, the tightness in his chest only getting worse. His palms were wet and suddenly his whole body was again, drenched in water, his wet clothes sticking to his skin and-

No, not water. Sweat. It was just sweat. His palms were sweaty. 

Rohan stood and stumbled his way out the room. He was underwater again, the world around him too blurry to see past the water surrounding him. He could hear it rushing past his ears, the only sound louder than the pounding of his heart. The water was thick, slowing his movements down as he rushed to the bathroom. 

Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream-

He slammed the bathroom door open and then slammed it back shut. The light was off, and he felt blindly against the wall until he found the switch. 

The fluorescent lights were so bright that he had to squint his eyes at them, but Rohan didn’t care. It was better than the darkness- anything was better than the darkness. The light made everything more real, more solid, but the walls were still closing in on him. His head was spinning, not quite dizziness and not quite a headache. His vision was blurring once again and he couldn’t tell if it was more water or simply his own tears. 

Rohan forced himself to look into the mirror, resting his still-shaking hands on the edge of the counter with a vice-like grip that turned his knuckles white. The reflection that stared back at him was a version of himself he never wanted anyone to see. Wide eyes, pupils blown with fear, tears staining his cheeks. 

It was a stranger looking back at him, a stranger he knew all too well. 

But his chest was still heaving and the water was still surrounding him. Stop it, he told himself. You’re fine, it was just a dream. But no amount of rationalization could remedy it. He was broken, choking back sobs in front of the mirror, his throat closing up.

He knew he was fine, he knew he was just in the bathroom after a bad dream. Savannah was waiting for him. He needed to pull himself together and go back before she realized he’d left. There was no reason for her to need to know this happened. 

But he couldn’t.

In a moment of desperation, Rohan turned on the sink. He stared at the water rushing down the sink, the same way he’d gone down in the memory. 

But this water was safe, he tried to tell himself. He snapped out of it and brought his hands from the counter to the sink, using them to splash the cool water onto his face. It was supposed to have helped him, to ground him, to calm him down, but the moment his face was wet he was drowning again. 

Down and down and down and down and-

Rohan wasn’t sinking deeper into the water, but he had fallen back and hit the wall with a loud thud. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered under his breath, barely able to speak at all. Rohan let himself slide down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “No, no- fuck…”

His hands clutched his chest like his life depended on it, because in that moment it did. He sat on the bathroom floor, his lungs refusing to take in enough air, drowning in his tears and dying. 

~~

Savannah was normally a light sleeper. Ever since she was a kid, it wouldn’t take much more than a tap or soft whisper from Gigi to wake her up. 

Since Rohan, however, she'd learned to let herself relax. It was much easier to sleep with him, the warmth of him in her arms, his body against hers, the two of them molding into one. And with that newfound comfort, she started sleeping much more deeply. 

But that night, she’d woken up to the sound of a door slamming shut. A noise that normally she’d sleep through, but something was different this time- something was wrong.

“Mh,” she muttered quietly, still half asleep. “What was that, Ro-”

When she reached out to tap his shoulder, he wasn’t there. Savannah’s eyes opened slowly, a frown of confusion making its way onto her face. Rohan wasn’t in bed next to her like he always was. The bed felt strangely empty in his absence. 

Savannah’s initial thought was that he was just using the bathroom. She’d heard the door close anyway, so it made sense. But there were muffled sounds from inside, the water running, and then a loud thud was something hit the wall.

That got her attention.

She sat up immediately and pushed the blanket off of her. There were no more noises, and she didn’t know if she should be relieved or worried about that. So she stood and made her way to the source of the noise, running her fingers through her newly short hair in a hasty attempt of tidying it.

When she reached the bathroom door, Savannah knocked softly. “Rohan? Are you okay?”

He was frantically muttering something to himself, words she couldn’t make out what the words were. It took just a little longer than it should have for him to respond.

“I’m fine.”

And it was clear by the way he said it that he was anything but. Rohan was clearly hyperventilating, and his words came out barely audible between his heavy breaths. Savannah didn’t understand what was wrong with him, but she knew he needed help.

She reached for the doorknob but realized it was locked. “I need you to open the door for me,” she said softly.

“No!” He shouted. But even if he’d shouted, she knew it wasn’t because he was upset. Whatever was happening, his voice was broken. And whatever was happening, she wanted to help. She used a harsher tone, demanding more than asking.

“Rohan, unlock the door.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then the lock clicked. 

Savannah opened the door quickly, and the sight she was met with made her heart sink. Rohan was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, his hands tugging at the collar of his shirt. 

She’d never seen him like this- so vulnerable and completely unlike his usual, confident self. Their relationship was open and honest, but never had she seen him like this. 

She rushed over to his side and crouched down next to him, unsure of how to help. The only person she’d ever really seen cry was her sister, and even then it was never anything this serious. Savannah wasn’t fully sure what was happening, but this was more than just a few tears. 

“Rohan…” she whispered. That got his wet eyes to meet hers. The complete panic and fear behind them was enough to sink her heart even further. She reached out slowly to place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away before she could make contact. 

“No-” he snapped breathlessly. “No, no- please don’t… don’t touch me.”

Savannah’s hand froze midair. She retracted her hand after a few seconds, trying not to take offense to the rejection. But she knew something was seriously wrong- and she needed to figure out what.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I won’t touch you,” she told him. Rohan was still struggling to breathe, only heightening her worry. “Can you… can you tell me what’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

Rohan shook her head, still tugging at the collar of his shirt. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words escaped him. 

Savannah nodded patiently. “Not hurt, that’s good. Did you…��

Oh. 

She realized then what it must’ve been, why he was sitting on the floor hyperventilating.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

At the question, Rohan squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back against the wall. To Savannah’s relief, he managed just a few steady breaths before falling back to his erratic breathing. His hands continued to tug at his shirt, pulling it away from himself. 

She watched, realizing this was more than just an attempt at soothing himself. Rohan’s movements grew desperate. Savannah wanted more than ever to just wrap her arms around him, but she knew that would only make things worse.

“Are you-”

“Off,” Rohan interrupted her, his eyes still closed. She hadn’t expected any words from him, let alone that one. “Panic attack,” he spoke again. “Off.”

“Okay, we can get it off,” Savannah told him, finally understanding what was wrong. He had a nightmare that caused a panic attack, and now she could only assume the shirt was only worsening his panic. “But if you want help, I’ll have to touch you. Is that okay?”

He didn’t respond, but his fingers loosened their hold just barely on the fabric. It was as close to a yes that she would get.

Savannah hesitated only for a moment before reaching for the hem of his shirt. Her fingers brushed against his stomach as she grabbed the fabric. Rohan flinched again, but he didn’t tell her no. So she continued, slowly lifting his shirt up oh so carefully. The last thing she wanted was to do something wrong and make his panic worse.

“Just keep breathing,” she said, half to herself. “In and out, Rohan. You’re doing so well. We’re going to get you through this.”

As she continued lifting the shirt, making its way up his torso, Rohan’s breath hitched. He flinched away, much sharper than before. He almost tried to move away, like he wanted to push himself into the wall. 

Savannah froze. This was so far past anything she was used to dealing with, and the fear of making it worse was unrelenting. 

But she couldn’t stop. He needed her to keep going.

“I need you to stay still,” she told him, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m just helping you take your shirt off like you asked, nothing else. You’re safe.”

Rohan still didn’t respond, but his body relaxed if only slightly. And once it did, Savannah was able to pull the shirt up and over his head. She tossed it aside and immediately moved just a bit back, giving him the space he clearly wanted. 

And once she did, he finally opened his eyes. They were still wild with panic, but he looked at her with… almost gratitude. 

It was hard to tell through his tears. 

“See? That wasn’t too bad,” Savannah said, offering a weak smile. She still had no idea what she was doing, she’d never had to help someone through a panic attack before. “Focus on your breathing, just like I said. In and out, slowly.”

She was about to demonstrate until he blurted,

“I- I can’t breathe. That’s the damn problem, I-” he was cut off by his own ragged breaths. “I’m drowning, Savvy, I’m fucking drowning.”

Those words hit her like a knife through the heart. 

“No you’re not,” she insisted. “You’re not drowning, understand? You’re here in the bathroom with me and you’re breathing. Look at me.” He did as she said only with a little struggle. Savannah made sure he was watching, then placing her hand on her torso. “Do what I’m doing.”

Rohan’s brow furrowed, his mind probably too overwhelmed by everything to process the words at first. But then he did, looking down as he placed a shaking hand to his now-bare torso.

Savannah nodded. “Good. Do you feel that?” She paused, offering him the chance to speak, but continued when he didn’t take it. “Up and down. Up and down. You know why that’s happening? Because your lungs move with each breath. Which means you are breathing.”

For a long while, he didn’t respond. Then,

“Oh.”

He was still clearly having a panic attack, but it was easing out. His breathing was still fast and erratic, but he was trying. 

Savannah couldn’t have been more proud of him for that.

~~

“Do you want to get up?” Savannah asked. “We can go lay down again.”

The worst had finally passed, and now Rohan found himself wiping the tears from his face and slowly catching his breath. The attack was over, but you didn’t just feel fine after something like that. 

Especially not with a trigger like that.

He said no with a small shake of his head. “No,” he said, his voice raspy from crying. “Can… can we stay here for a bit?

“Of course.” She answered without hesitation. Savannah didn’t care where they were, she just cared that he felt okay again. And she was willing to wait as long as she had to for him to feel that way. 

If he wanted to wait on the bathroom floor, then that’s exactly what they’d do.

She shifted herself so that she was sitting against the wall next to him, their shoulders touching but not quite. The silence was loud, but not uncomfortable. A calming silence, letting both of them catch their breaths after what had just happened. 

Rohan’s hand moved, hesitantly reaching out towards Savannah’s. Without hesitation, she intertwined their fingers, letting him know that she was there and wasn’t going anywhere. 

Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Time didn’t seem to exist in that moment between them. Everything else faded away. There was nothing else besides Rohan and Savannah, no other sounds than their breaths, no other feelings than their hands together. 

Eventually, Savannah found herself resting her head against his shoulder. She did slowly, in case he was going to say no, but she wasn’t told to stop. It wasn’t quite the comforting hug that she wanted to give him, but it was something. Something small but significant after what he’d just gone through. 

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a long, exhausted sigh, tilting his own head slightly to rest against hers. 

“Thank you,” Rohan whispered eventually, so quiet that she almost couldn’t hear. 

Savannah shook her head lightly, careful not to disrupt their positions. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, the slightest of smiles making its way onto his face. “You helped me. With… everything. I’m sorry that I was-”

“Don’t you dare apologize for a panic attack.”

Silence fell over them again.

“Thank you. Again.” Rohan swallowed hard. “I love you.”

Savannah grinned. “I love you too, British. Are you ready to go back to bed now?”

“I'd like that.”

A/N pt 2: im posting this at 4am and i didnt proofread it so sorry if theres any mistakes, ill try to check in the morning but if its already been reblogged idk 🤷‍♀️

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

[stolenpagesofarex]

istg if someone says that rohan and savannah are "enemies to lovers" i am gonna LOSE it

[slarxsa]

Savannah is much better than me if I was locked in a room with Rohan we would NOT be making it out of there.

[jkriordanverse]

ooh look i found the perfect place for some of the tgg contestants y'all

[balladofareader]

Mrs. Barnes asked me who my favorite tgg character is, I told her Gigi and she told me, 'You know, I can't tell you much, but I'm excited for what's to come for Gigi in the next book.'

Me: *D.I.E.S*

Any theories on what happens to Gigi in Glorious Rivals??

[bonafidebutter]

tgg Barnes & Noble deleted scenes Pt. 2 Lyra + Pt. 3 Savannah/Rohan

[lyra-kane]

The way I thought the club on the cover was a hint that it would be the winning team, but it's actually the losing team....well played Jennifer well played....

[clarissaweasley-10]

Grayson Hawthorne is the most British (-like) American.Ever.

[inmyheaddd]

rohan: if a beautiful woman disagrees with me i will immediately change my views. i have no principles

savannah: well maybe you should have principles.

rohan: you’re right maybe i should

[g-in-love]

theory

WHAT IF ODETTE WAS ONCE PART OF A LOVE TRIANGLE W TOBIAS AND ALICE??? CUZ EVERYONE IS SAYING THAT 3 OF HEARTS REPRESENTS A LOVE TRIANGLE

I MEAN ODETTE IS OLD ENOUGH... TOBIAS DIED AT AGE 78 AND ITS BEEN 2 OR 3 YEARS SINCE TIG SO IT MAKES SENSE THAT SHE IS 2 OR 3 YEARS OLDER THAN 78... MEANING 81 YEARS OLD, WHICH SHE HAS ADMITTED IN THE PREVIEW

MAYBE SHE IS HERE TO GET REVENGE OR PAYBACK FOR THAT?

[wish-i-were-heather]

HATE IS A STRONG WORD ⤵ ROHAN X JAMESON HAWTHORNE

ABOUT: 1766 words

STORY: chapters 40-42 of the brothers hawthorne but... different

WARNINGS: none that i can think of

A/N: forgive me 😔🙏 also im getting really uncreative with the titles and just using quotes from the fic my bad guys

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Avery scolded Jameson as they walked. She was holding him up on one side, her arm around his waist, while Zella had him from the other. The latter had made it very clear that she did not want to be there. 

He only shrugged, which made his whole body hurt.

She rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have raised your hand to fight.”

“But it worked,” Jameson insisted. “The Proprietor, I got his attention. He watched me, and he told Rohan to stay down. Which means-”

“He let you win,” Avery finished for him, her eyes widening. “Which-”

“Gives me a better chance at an entrance to the game, I know.”

“Do you guys always do this whole finishing each other's sentences thing? It’s weird,” Zella interjected. 

Jameson grinned. “What can I say? Great minds think alike.”

“And this mind says no more fighting strangers in foreign countries,” Avery said firmly. 

He didn’t argue back. His mind was half fuzzy anyway. Everything hurt everywhere- there was blood dripping from his temple, bruises littering his entire form. His nose was also bleeding, and he was certain that he’d broken at least three of his ribs. 

But Jameson tried not to let his mind linger on the pain for too long. He focused on staying upright, feeling grateful that he had the two people keeping him that way. He wanted to do more- he needed to get into the game. And today was the last chance he had. 

For now, though, he let them walk him up to an area curtained off, in the Lust section of the Devil’s Mercy. 

He laid down on one of the grand beds, back against the pillows, and took a deep breath. Which, of course, hurt his ribs. 

“We need to clean you up,” Zella began, surprising him. He didn’t think she cared enough. “The Proprietor wouldn’t appreciate you leaving a trail of blood across the Mercy.”

Jameson closed his eyes and let her and Avery do what they had to do. Antiseptics were used, bandages were applied, and each time someone's hand brushed against his injuries, he tried not to flinch.  

It hurt. 

But soon enough, they were finished. He didn’t open his eyes. Avery propped herself next to him, taking his hand in hers. 

“You’re the most reckless Hawthorne,” she told him gently. 

“Have you met-”

“I’ve met all your brothers, Jamie. Rest assured, you are the most reckless.” 

Jameson didn’t argue, and squeezed her hand. Avery moved forward, sitting closer to him on the bed, but still careful of his injuries. 

Their moment was interrupted. 

“Avery,” Zella blurted impatiently. “May we speak?”

Jameson’s eyes snapped open and he frowned. “What do you need to talk to her about?” But she didn’t look at him. The two women held eye contact for a few moments and Jameson struggled to tell if they were having a silent conversation with their facial expressions or if they were just staring.

But then Avery stood up.

“Heiress…” he practically pouted. 

“You’re fine. Just don’t get into any more fights while I’m gone, yeah?”

She gave him a look that promised she would tell him every detail of their conversation, and squeezed his hand one more time before walking out. Zella, of course, also had to give him one final side eye. 

~~

The room was silent and cold. To him it felt like it had been hours since Avery left, but Jameson knew it really could have only been fifteen minutes. But what was there even to talk about?

He closed his eyes again and tried not to focus on the injuries. He was alone now, no one to distract him from his thoughts and the pain that assaulted him with every breath. 

“You’re bleeding on the sheets.”

Jameson opened his eyes, but fell back when he saw who it was. 

Rohan was standing at the entrance, having pushed aside the curtain and staring at him with a certain look in his eye that Jameson didn’t like. He wasn’t shirtless anymore- an observation that surprised him. Instead, he was back in a suit.  

He didn’t even look like he’d just been in a fight. Any injuries were well concealed. 

Jameson suddenly felt self-conscious about the fact that he was sitting there on the bed alone, his face probably half swollen, and a poorly applied bandage being the only thing covering his top half. But he forced himself to look back at Rohan.

“And you care why?”

“I don’t,” Rohan said. He stepped forward, the curtain falling closed behind him. “But you’re making a bloody mess and I quite enjoy being on the Proprietor’s good side.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with me?”

Rohan eyed the bandages. “I’m the one who injured you. It’s my responsibility to… undo that damage.”

“Aw, how gentlemanly.”

“Shut it.”

He walked to the side of the bed, his eyes never leaving Jameson’s. There was something in his expression, something hidden under the layers of indifference. A look of concern, and some other unidentifiable tension that had been between them since the fight.

“You shouldn't have won,” said Rohan. “You’re in no condition to be in the game.”

Jameson scoffed, though it hurt his chest. “Yet you allowed me the victory.”

“I didn’t want to,” Rohan sighed. “But some things are worth sacrificing.”

“Like your dignity?”

“It’s getting really difficult to want to help you, Hawthorne.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Rohan shook his head as his eyes scanned Jameson’s battered body. Some bruises were his doing, while others were the fight he’d won before. Either way, it was clear that whatever first aid was applied earlier was not enough. And Rohan needed to clean any mess, cover his tracks.

That’s the only reason he was there, of course. 

“The pool of blood you’re sitting in says otherwise,” Rohan noted. Jameson rolled his eyes. 

“If you’re so insistent on fixing me,” he told him. “Then go right ahead. Be my guest, Mr. Factorium.”

He narrowed his eyes, but instead of arguing, Rohan stepped forward. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small case. 

“Are we just carrying around first aid kits now?” Jameson laughed. “Is that normal here?”

“Does it hurt you so much to be prepared?” Rohan asked, opening it and from it taking a roll of gauze.

Rohan set it on the bedside table and turned to face Jameson. Without a word, he reached for the edge of the bandages around his abdomen and began to unwrap them. Jameson inhaled sharply. 

He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected to feel Rohan’s cold hands against his unusually warm skin. He hadn’t expected to uncover all the visibly painful injuries. And he most certainly hadn’t expected to let Rohan essentially rid him of covering his top half. 

Nor had he expected Rohan’s eyes to linger there for just a moment too long. 

“The wound wasn’t properly staunched.” The sound of his voice snapped Jameson back to the present. 

He only managed a small “oh” in response.

Rohan’s hands got to work, doing who knew what. Something to stop the bleeding, but Jameson only felt the touch of his fingertips, Rohan’s skin against his own. Pain was brought back every time he put too much pressure on the injured area, but at least that helped him stay awake. 

Maybe he’d lost too much blood, because this was strange. This was wrong. This was… Rohan. Rohan, who thought he was so much better than everyone else. Rohan, who spoke with that stupid accent. Rohan, who was the most insufferable person. 

Rohan, who made it very clear that he hated him.

And that hatred was very mutual. 

Jameson’s breath suddenly hitched as Rohan pressed a little too hard against his broken ribs. He tried not to react, but keeping his body neutral was impossible. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Rohan muttered, his eyes focused on wrapping him up again. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before throwing yourself into a fight.” 

He managed a shrug. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a second thought in my life.”

“Clearly.”

Jameson opened his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t escape. Rohan’s hands had moved, now finishing wrapping the fresh gauze around his ribs, careful not to press too hard. The touch was surprisingly gentle and it stunned him more than any punch or tackle ever could. 

“Why are you helping me?” He asked finally. Rohan had said it was because of the Proprietor, but he knew it had to be something more. “You hate me.”

Rohan hesitated for half a second. “Hate is a strong word.”

“Is it?” Jameson pressed, ignoring the pain as Rohan tightened the wrappings to keep them in place.

“I can’t say I hate you. I’ve barely met you. You’re simply… very hard to like.”

Jameson furrowed his brow. “Right. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m doing this,” Rohan explained. “Because I don’t want to get in trouble with his lordship.”

“You say that title like he’s the most important man in the world,” Jameson remarked. 

“I don’t think he’d appreciate you talking negatively towards him,” Rohan warned him.

He shrugged again, but this time it hurt. “Negative attention is better than no attention at all.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m a Hawthorne.”

“Same difference.”

Jameson grinned despite the pain. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You take that however you want,” Rohan sighed. His lips tightened into a line as he finished the bandaging. His hands hovered over it for a moment, before stepping back. “There, you’re all patched up.”

“Appreciated,” Jameson said reluctantly. Rohan nodded, recollecting the items into his strange, pocket-sized first aid kit and slipping it back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Jameson watched, keeping his eyes on every little movement. 

He nodded and began walking out, back to the closed curtain. A small part of Jameson didn’t… didn’t want him to leave? 

But before walking away, Rohan turned around. 

“Hawthorne?”

“I thought we were on a first name basis, Rohan.”

He ignored that comment. 

“Your nose is horribly swollen. You look like a blobfish.”

Jameson lifted an arm and very clearly flipped off the insufferable Brit. He simply flashed him a snarky smile before turning around and leaving. Jameson sighed, leaning back against the pillows again as his mind wandered, questioning what kind of interaction he’d just had.

Though he was confused by how the Factorium was acting, Jameson couldn’t help but smile.

Rohan was a puzzle, one he had every intention of solving

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

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