The Archer by Taylor Swift

All the king's horses, all the king's men, couldn't put me together again, 'Cause all of my enemies started out friends. Help me hold onto you.

TW: Taking advantage of someone emotionally vulnerable.

Grayson:

I hover above her, pressing our lips together. "God.. I'm so.. glad.. I have you." I say between kisses, barely getting a word out at a time before reconnecting our lips.

Paris separates our lips, I watch her eyes flick between mine. Something shimmers behind those beautiful eyes. Those eyes that make me warm inside. The eyes I could get lost swimming in.

I let out a low laugh at the look she's giving me, pure amazement as she watches me carefully. Her pink lips part slowly, my eyes focusing on nothing but her lips. 

"I love you." She whispers.

I feel my head burn at the words alone. I feel dizzy. My heartbeat is pounding against my chest. I swallow, only feeling more shocked when I see the pure joy on her face. The anticipation she feels, she expects me to say it back. She's waiting. I need to say something. But my lips are dry, it's exactly then that I realise I can't say it back.

I try to build up the courage to say it back. Why have I not said it yet? Just say it Grayson. It's just three words.

But I can't.

It's not that I don't love her. I adore her in every way, she's the best thing that ever happened to me. So why can I simply not force those words to leave my mouth?

Because she's not the only person who's said it to me. My brothers and I never really say those words, though it's more of an unspoken thing. I never had any other family to tell me it. The only person who ever spoke those words to me was Emily. 

"Grayson?" Her voice sings softly in my ears, a symphony blessing my ears every time she opens her mouth. "Em?" I reply with a subtle smile. We're kissing, I'm hovering above her on her bed, wearing nothing but underwear. 

Emily's red lipstick spread over my cheeks, blending with the sweat from the passionate moment. "I love you." She whispers with a mischievous grin. Her cold eyes glancing between mine. 

I bite my lip and hold back the smile. She loves me. I've never heard those words spoken directly to me before. "I love you too." I reply simply. Although when I say it, it's more of a compliment than a comment. Do I love her? I guess I do now that I've fucking told her that. She giggles and brushes our noses together, pressing our lips back together.

I look down at Paris, the memory ripe in my mind, haunting me much like every other memory with the same girl.

"Oh." I manage to whisper in a shaky voice. My face goes cold, my eyes dead as I look down at same face from my past. I'm no longer looking at Paris, the girl I adore. Instead I stare down to the face of the girl from my past who I loathe, Emily Laughlin. 

Why did I have to choose to fall for a girl with the same face? 

I know it was cruel. I know it was a mistake. But even still all I can see is Emily and I feel no remorse pushing myself off the bed and grabbing my shirt from the floor.

I need air. I'm sweating and panicking. It feels like a panic attack. I haven't had one in years. I suppress those ideas and focus on buttoning my shirt once again.

"What?" Em– Paris murmurs. I can't shake the feeling no matter what that this is Emily. She's here. I know Paris. But this isn't Paris. The ghost that haunts me every night is here.

"I need to go." My voice cracks faintly. I try to ignore the violent shaking of my hands, the pounding of my heart, the ache of my head. I'm about to leave but my eyes catch Paris' just for a moment. She's upset. Obviously she's upset idiot. But it's her. I almost stay but before I know it Emily's voice is echoing in my ears once again.

"Are we breaking up?" She sobs, standing up from the bed and stepping closer. 

If that's what she wants then yes. But I don't want that. I need her. But right now I can't even look her in the eyes anymore. I just need a minute. A minute outside to catch my breath is all I need.

"I think that would be the responsible thing to do." I reply monotonously, staring beyond her out the window. 

I force my feet to walk away, my eyes staring into her tear lined ones. 

I'm not stable right now, I need to go before I break down in front of her. To let her see me like that would crush me.

A ghost guides my body out the door. Pushing me around every corner of the house until I can't take it anymore. 

"Fuck." I yell loudly as I throw my fist into the wall beside my bedroom door. Dust flies off the old bricks and my fist drips with blood.

I stumble back onto the stone wall, sliding down into a ball. It's over. I fucked it all up.

I can't believe the sob that escapes my lips when I hit the ground. Actual tears forming in my eyes. The sort of tears I haven't seen in a while.

I need Paris. I wish I hadn't messed it all up. I need her to sit beside me and hold me, tell me it's okay. I need her. I love her.

"Grayson?" A familiar voice speaks. I look up, blurry eyes. But even through the blurs I can identify who it is.

The same face I just ruined things with.

At first I wonder if Paris followed after me. Then I remember I'm a dick and she would never follow me after that. I fear it's more hallucinations of Emily. But these seem real.

So I quickly determined the perfectly inherited features and her red hair belongs to Eve.

I try to look away and compose myself by sniffing my nose and starting to get to my feet but she kneels right beside me. 

Her hand caresses my knee slowly and I look to her with confusion. She gives me a friendly and comforting smile. I don't initially know how friendly she thinks we are after barely knowing me a few days.

"It's okay." Eve frowns sympathetically, reaching her hands out to my cheeks to wipe away the tears intimately with her thumbs.

Stupidly, I'm too vulnerable to notice these gestures aren't anything more than a genuinely friendly action.

She helps me to my feet and helps me into my bedroom, letting me sit down on the edge of my bed as she heads into my bathroom.

I shift uncomfortably, wondering if she really had to shut the bedroom door behind her.

Eve reenters from my bathroom with a wet towel. She approaches me and slowly mounts on top of my lap, facing me so we're so close we're nearly touching noses. I feel a little uncomfortable but brush it off as she uses the warm towel to dry my tears and take away the stinging pain in my eyes. 

Her breath is cool on my face, I feel it falter for a moment. She drops the towel to the floor nearby and her two hands grasp my cheeks. She presses our lips together firmly. 

My eyes widen and I tense up, still in shock about the whole situation. I break away from her for a moment to tell her this is not okay, I just broke up with P so it's wrong, not only that but I don't think I particularly want to.

"This okay?" She smirks, grabbing my hands and adjusting them onto her ass. She doesn't wait for an answer before reconnecting our lips and starting to really get into it.

Maybe hooking up with her wouldn't be so bad. I just broke up with Paris. 

Eve reaches down her bra and produces something. A condom. Why does she keep that in her bra? I recognise that brand. That's one of the condoms P and I bought, the ones we use together. Maybe I'm just overthinking it. That's a perfectly common brand of condoms. But why is it she went into the bathroom where I keep them and came back with one conveniently placed in her bra? Did she plan this? When I was sobbing on the floor did she plan that she was going to have sex with me? 

Between that point and everything after that moment I felt immense pressure and guilt for what happened. The whole time all I could see was Paris. And Emily. 

I lay stiffly in my bed. The bed I used to sleep with Paris in. Beside me lays a naked girl I don't even know. One that took 7 minutes to jack me off enough to give me a hard on, which only happened when I thought of Paris.

The point is, I had 7 minutes to stop her and leave. But I didn't. And all I can imagine is Paris' face when I walked out. Is she still crying? I want to leave this bed and go see her. 

I feel Eve's hand creep up my chest, a proud grin on her features. 

I'm an awful person. When my ex girlfriend told me she loved me all I could think about was my dead ex girlfriend. When some perfectly kind girl tried to hookup with me all I could think about was my ex. It's not my fault they all share the same face.

I feel awful for leading this girl on and letting her believe I wanted her in any way. 

I don't love her though. I could never love anyone the way I love Paris Riley Grambs.

(a/n. Well say that to her fucking face the Grayson!! Y'all hate me after the Eveson hookup don't you? I know people will either completely switch back to team Graris again or like fully convert to Jaris, but regardless I hope this chapter helped you understand why Grayson couldn't say it back. Poor baby was traumatised. But he does love Paris. And he DOES NOT love Eve!! I hate Eve and this brought me serious pain to write. Can I also just say how much the whole Emily+Grayson+Jameson relationship reminds me of Katherine+Damon+Stefan from the vampire diaries? Like i've thought that since reading the OG trilogy, she manipulated them both into loving her.