PRACTICE WAS ESENTIAL // GRAYSON

[CAROLINE AMY BISHOP]

[/b][/color] finished
( words ) 636 words without coding
( tags ) grayson
( outfit ) click
( notes ) i told you i fail at starters :(
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[GRAYSON NATHAN BROWNE]

<sup>Grayson had been in this place for six months. Six long, boring months. Well, it wasn't exactly boring. He was in a mental hospital after all. Random screaming was commonly heard throughout the day, especially at night. Stupid patients that had real mental issues having stupid nightmares. Luckily Grayson wasn't like that. He was normal here. If you could consider being an alcoholic and cutting yourself normal. But whatever. This place wasn't all that bad. Three square meals a day. A room to stay in. He even got a cell phone and computer. But of course his calls were monitered, and his text messages could easily be looked at if he forgot to delete them. And they probably checked his computer history too. But still, you didn't get anything like that at other mental hospitals. Luckily, his parents had sent him to one of the best in the country. And even though he was all the way in fucking Maine, which was across the country from California, his home, it really wasn't that horrible. Except that it was getting cold and would probably snow soon.

But after living here for six months, Grayson had learned some responsibilites he had really never learned back home. Even though he was nearly twenty years old. Yes, he was a slightly spoiled child. Grew up in a big house in Los Angeles. Had enough money. Pretty much got whatever he wanted. But with all that lovely stuff, came parents who were pretty much never around. Grayson had gotten lonely, though he would never admit that]. He started drinking occasionally with his friends at fifteen. When he was sixteen, he started cutting. He didn't realize he was an alcohol until he was eighteen. And his parents hadn't realized until six months ago, which showed just how much they were around. But they had sent him here to get help right away. At first, Grayson had hated them. Hated everyone here. They didn't let him drink. They took away anything sharp. It was horrible. But then again, it was their job.

It had taken the boy a few months to learn how to do laundry, but he had finally mastered it. Grayson still hated doing laundry though, and wore all his clothing items multiple times before washing them. Which means...he often did not look the cleanest. Except for his hair and body. He showered every night. He hated not showering. Grayson walked downstairs to the laundry room, hoping no one was there. He didn't like doing his laundry with other people in the room. It was just...weird. Unfortunatly for him, there was a girl there though. She didn't look familiar, which was odd. Grayson had been here long enough that he knew basically everyone. This wasn't the largest place out there. She must have been new. And of course, he wondered what was wrong with her. She looked normal, but then again, everyone in this place looked normal. Well...most people did.

Grayson set down his basket of laundry two machines away from her, and began loading it in. Whites with whites. Colours with colours. He couldn't help but watch the girl out of the corner of his eye. She was kind of pretty. But probably crazy. Grayson wasn't about to start talking to a crazy girl. Then he noticed she wasn't separating her clothes. He should probably tell her to separate them, shouldn't he? It wouldn't be very nice if he didn't. "You're supposed to separate those, you know." Grayson said after a moment, his voice echoing in the laundry room. "Unless you want your clothes messed up." He couldn't help but add in a sarcastic little remark. That was just how the guy was.</sup>

word count; six forty five
tags; caroline
outfit; here
lyrics; if i only had the heart- the maine
credits; elizabethhh

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[CAROLINE AMY BISHOP]

[/i] It read, as she held it out for him to read, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she looked around. Could this get any more awkward? No, probably not.


( status ) finished
( words ) 700 words without coding
( tags ) grayson
( outfit ) click
( notes ) hey madi, i suck at playing a mute. this is my first time. fffuuu.
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[GRAYSON NATHAN BROWNE]

<sup>Grayson was a partier. Which meant, he enjoyed being surrounded by a big group of people. He preferred group dates to single dates most of the time. He liked going to a club with at least four other people. He was social. He had a lot of friends. But, as he spent more time here at St. Iris's, this lovely mental hospital, Grayson found himself kind of liking his quiet alone time. He really had no other choice though. There really weren't that many people here, and most of the people here were much too crazy for Grayson too talk to. But he didn't freeze up in situations like some of the people here did. The ones with the weird social phobias that made them not talk to anyone, or made them like...break down if there was even one or two people around them. They were just about as crazy as the people who had murdered someone were. Grayson would hate if he was that crazy. Really, he was barely crazy. He shouldn't even be here. It was pretty much a total waste of his parents money. And maybe they would realize that. Soon.

Grayson could tell this girl probably had some weird people phobia. She was practically cowering over there by her washing machine. He wasn't that intimidating, was he? Sure, he had a piercing, but was that really scary? He didn't think it was. It was just a little metal hoop. No big deal. But then again, Grayson was pretty sure she was new here...so maybe she thought everyone was a crazy murdering lunatic. But Grayson had never hurt a fly! Well, okay. That was a lie. When he was younger, about ten, he had been playing baseball with his friend. After Grayson had hit the ball, he threw the bat behind him and accidently knocked out his friends tooth. But everything was okay! His friend had been waiting to lose said tooth. And, okay, he had gotten into a few fights while drunk...but that was about it. But he wasn't typically a mean drunk. Those guys he had punched had just kept annoying him until Garrett snapped and threw a punch. But they had been okay. One guy had gotten a broken nose...but oh well. That was the past. It didn't matter. He wasn't some crazy murdering lunatic.

He watched as the girl as she raised her eyebrows at him in a questioning way. Grayson watched as she pulled out a notepad and a pen out of her pocket, then began writing something down. So...she didn't talk. A mute. Well, that was...interesting. And kind of creepy. What really caused someone to become that way? Grayson didn't know. But he still couldn't help but chuckle a bit once she held up the paper to his face so he could read it. Was she for real? Not talking for some odd reason? That was strange. But to each their own. "You've got to separate the whites from the colours and bright from darks and stuff." He told her, indicating his piles that were ready to be thrown into two washing machines. "Otherwise the colours will be messed up and stuff."</sup>

word count; five fifty five
tags; caroline
outfit; here
lyrics; if i only had the heart- the maine
credits; elizabethhh

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[CAROLINE AMY BISHOP]

[/i] she scribbled in her loopy handwriting before thrusting the piece of paper back over to him and raising her eyebrows, a friendly smile on her face. Truthfully, despite all her issues she'd recently acquired...she was still just as sweet as she'd been when she was sane. Maybe even more so. So despite the fact that this guy didn't seem like the nicest guy ever, she was still going to be friendly...as long as she didn't have some kind of spazz attack, or something.


( status ) finished
( words ) 564 words without coding
( tags ) grayson
( outfit ) click
( notes ) :3./i]
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[GRAYSON NATHAN BROWNE]

<sup>Even though Grayson appeared to be an asshole on the outside, and he kind of was on the inside, he wasn't about to let the poor girl just do her laundry uncorrectly. He could already tell she was new here, she didn't need to be made fun of when her clothes came out messed up. But then again, they were at a mental hospital. Not many people noticed what anothers clothes looked like at a mental hospital. That's why Grayson could go over a week wearing the same pair of jeans, or the same shirt, and no one would notice. Kind of good in a way, because then he didn't have to do laundry has often. Laundry was a boring task. He wished he had someone to do it for him like when he had lived at home. But hopefully he would be home soon and he could get someone to do his laundry for him once again. But when Grayson finally got sent home, he would probably have to move out. His parents would make him. He would have to get an apartment. Or go to college. Truthfully though, Grayson kind of did want to go to college. But he kind of liked living at home. It was...nice. But he knew he had to go sometime.

Grayson turned away as the girl separated her clothes, and he put his in the washing machines. He added the soap and detergent, then turned the machine on. Grayson hopped up onto the washing machine beside this girl, sitting on it and making sure she was separating her things correcting. He nodded when she pushed the paper in his face. "Very good." He said, smiling a bit at her. It was kind of odd talking to a mute. Different and odd. But she wasn't that bad. This girl seemed pretty nice. Even though there was something wrong with her that caused her not to talk. "So, um. My name's Grayson. Yours?" He asked. He felt the need for introductions. But what if she ran out of paper while he was talking to her? What would she do then? For some reason Grayson wanted to get her to talk. Apparently, he had a new goal.</sup>

word count; three seventy eight
tags; caroline
outfit; here
lyrics; if i only had the heart- the maine
credits; elizabethhh

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[CAROLINE AMY BISHOP]

[/i] just to be polite, before quickly picking up the rest of her clothes, all the colored ones at least, and throwing them into the thing, before turning to the guy, Grayson he'd said, and just looking at him. It was her little way of saying 'Now What?' without actually saying it...just like how she said everything else she was trying to say. Only this time she was too lazy to reach into her pocket, so she was kind of hoping this guy knew how to read faces, or something...it was pretty obvious she needed his help, anyway. Even if she had watched him put the detergent in and set it, what was she supposed to set it to? And how much of the soap? God, how did her mother do it without a nice guy like Grayson to teach her?


( status ) finished
( words ) 500-ish words without coding
( tags ) grayson
( outfit ) click
( notes ) :3.
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