E P I G R A P H

❝Tangled thoughts, twisted words,
mixed up feelings, loving hurts❞

☾ six | art ☽

Halo's POV

I stared at him weirdly. He's so mysterious and so damn confusing. I've only hung out with him once (today) and his mood swings are already giving me whiplash.

One minute he seems like he's hinting something, the next he's covering whatever it is up. He could be staring at me but as soon as I say a certain thing his features harden, but then if I say his name of instance, every trace of anger vanishes.

I don't get it.

Today has been good don't get me wrong. The ice-cream was great, this place is also great. I love it up here, the view is beyond magnificent.

It was good meeting Ace and Mason too. I like Mason he seems nice; he's got humour which I like. He was nice to talk to because we got along easily, he told me about his sister too, and how she's pretty much his child which I felt sympathetic about.

Ace is. . .interesting. He's cold, snobby and rude yet somehow mature at the same time. He seems smart, though I couldn't get more than a sentence out of him, so I was unable to find out what he truly is like, though he's unique, therefore I like him, regardless of the fact he clearly dislikes me.

"Are you going to answer me?" he said rudely.

I scoffed, "Sorry, what?"

He grunted, "I said it's your turn."

I tapped my chin as I stared off into the distance. Before I wanted to know what, he was thinking about. He seemed so deep in thought. He seemed lost. I can't read minds unfortunately, but I could tell by those hard grey orbs and furrowed eyebrows, he was trapped in a bubble of sorrow.

Now though, I'm not sure I want to know or if he wants me to know. I guess it's worth a try.

"What were you thinking about before?" I said barely above a whisper. He makes me nervous.

He sighed, turning to briefly look at me. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, his lips puckering to the side, exposing the deep dimple on his right cheek.

I've always been a sucker for dimples.

He shrugged, "Everything."

I stared at him dumbly, "That's very specific. Thank you for that insight, Holt." I said sarcastically, clapping my hands.

He rolled his eyes, "I was thinking about here." He stated, giving me once again a very empty answer, "Moonvale. It's such a shitty place."

Finally, something I can work with.

"I know it is," I agreed with him.

He seemed surprised by my answer. He was seemingly surprised by a lot of the things that come out of my mouth.

He raised an eyebrow, "Why do you hate it here?" he asked, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he ran his fingers through his jet black hair.

"I don't know. . ." I whispered, staring down at the ground so far below me, "it's just not the same here anymore. You know. . .since Ever."

Holt inhaled a sharp breath, clearing his throat, "I know."

I didn't expect him to answer me, or so much as let his name slip from my lips. He doesn't seem too familiar with the concept of speaking about his brother anymore.

I'm not either. I think about Everest a hell of a lot but it's rare that I actually speak about him. Everyone assumes I no longer care anymore which is reasonable I guess, I'm the one who portrays the "happy" façade. But that's far from true. I care. I care just as much as I did the moment he died.

It's just nice to speak about him sometimes.

"I just want to finish school and leave this place." I murmured, trailing my finger over the exposed skin on my thigh.

"Me too." He scoffed, "What do you want to do when you finish school?"

I smiled, nudging his shoulder playfully with mine, finally daring to look at him. I had to hold back the urge to gasp when I saw his eyes.

"Is that your question?" I asked. He nodded, one side of his lips uplifting into a small smile. "I don't know what college I want to go to yet, I guess see who wants me, but major wise. . um, I guess something within the arts?"

He nodded, seeming interested by my answer, "Arts?"

I nodded, "Yeah. . " I said, "A writer, an artist or even an interior designer."

Saying these things out loud felt strange. Foreign, even. I haven't ever been able to decide what I want to be.

I do art at school, I'm not the best but I do well, and I do draw a lot at home. Mainly sketches, I've never done anything major, but it does seem to be a coping mechanism for me.

Art is the only thing I am passionate about, but I know the whole education system for it is pristine and strict, there is no "good" or "okay", you have to be perfect and I am far from that.

That's why I'm going for art as a whole, I am creative and I guess writing wouldn't be horrible and neither would any other occupation under that category, I am just not too sure.

"What about you?" I asked him.

He laughed, "I'm not doing shit after school. The only thing I'll be doing is leaving this shitty town."

There he is again. That harsh tone he seems to use whenever he gets defensive. He started this game, if he didn't want to be asked questions then he should have never started it.

"Holt, seriously?"

He chuckled, throwing his back not to laugh but just to look at the sky above him, "I'm being serious," he said, "College isn't my scene."

"So, you have no passions? Not a single thing you'd like to pursue in the future?"

He shook his head, "Not really."

I raised an eyebrow, "Oh, come on!" I yelled, "There's got to be something."

"Literature." He stated, "I want to do something in the literature realm. I want to be a writer, specifically."

"Wow—"

He groaned, "—Wow, what a pussy, I know."

I rolled my eyes, "Actually, I was going to say that's great."

His eyes widened as he turned to face me, straddling the ledge of the building so he was facing me completely. His ripped jean clad knees were touching the side of my leg and it was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

Only because I'm not used to being touched since Ever, and I guess Zayden, but we aren't necessarily a touchy couple.

"Really?"

I nodded, "Of course. Idiot." We laughed, "There is nothing wrong with being a male writer."

He shrugged, "You're the only person I've told whom has said that."

"You should show me some of your writing sometime," I smiled warmly.

And like that, his eyes were dark once again. Almost black and his sharp jaw was clenched, making it even more prominent.

He shook his head, "Definitely not."

I swallowed my saliva, "Why not?"

He glared at me harshly. His look was so deadly, I feared it could have sent me falling off the top of the building, I understand why Zayden got so scared now. He looked at me all of five seconds and it was enough to make my heart stop.

Like when you're crossing the street and you see a car coming and instead of running you just stop in shock, that's what Holt staring at me made me feel. Actually. . .bad example.

"Just drop it, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, directing my eyes back to the blue sky once again. He gives me a headache. I should have just stayed at school.

Suddenly a gust of wind hit my mostly exposed skin, my body instantly being enveloped by goose bumps as I shivered, rubbing my arms.

It is currently fall her in Moonvale, therefore the climate is rather low, and the weather is grey and glum. The weather here is Moonvale is actually rather cold most of the year then immensely hot in the summer, there isn't much of an in between, which I am fine with, I absolutely love chilly weather, I hate summer.

Fall is a magical time of year. It's where the leafs turn orange and fall from the trees, it's where you can finally drink a mass amount of hot chocolate without it being considered unhealthy and you can wear the finest creation of all time; sweaters.

Well most people can, I am the cheer captain, so I have to wear my uniform every single day since I have cheer practice most days, though usually I'd wear a jacket over it so I'm warm, but I was in a rush this morning and forgot.

"Are you cold?" he asked lowly, his eyes on the concrete ledge between his legs.

I shook my head, "I'm fine."

He groaned, "I didn't ask how you are, I asked if you're cold."

I jumped slightly, his tone was so deadly, it worried me.

I nodded, "Yeah, I guess."

He scoffed, standing up before shrugging his leather jacket off, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and plain white t-shirt.

I was finally able to completely see his tattoos and I couldn't help but gawk at the intricate detailing of each and everyone on his entire right arm. His left was completely bare, not a single tattoo on it.

I don't know why I find the art on his body so fascinating, it's just interesting, I guess. My brother Maxen has one on the upper-half of his arm but that's it.

He held the jacket out to me, the black fabric dangling from his hand. I reluctantly reached out to grab it, I was slow because I couldn't remove my eyes from his arm. I felt my fingers begging to trace the outline of each and every masterpiece, but I know that's not right.

I don't think Holt would appreciate it and neither would Zayden.

"Are you going to put it on or what?" he snapped.

I rolled my eyes, slipping both my arms through the sleeves of the jacket before shrugging it on completely. The jacket was baggy and thick, the sleeves extended past my fingertips and the sides reached just below my skirt, though it was extremely warm—like a portable heater—and it smelt heavenly, musky and manly.

It was addictive, I could smell it all day, regardless of the fact there was a faint cigarette smell behind it.

"Thank you," I said, my tone tight as I snuggled into the jacket.

He rolled his eyes, sitting himself back down on the ledge, dangling his legs off the edge once again.

I stayed put, staring at his back as he watched the horizon set beyond him. It was a photographer's dream, here. The picture of him sitting in his sheer white shirt, his messy jet black hair brushed back as the sky swirled with colour, merging from pink to orange—it gave me the urge to grab my sketch book and draw in every fine detail of the magnificent setting in front of me.

"Hey, Holt?" I murmured, hugging my hands to my chest.

He shifted to face me; his legs parted as he looked up at me with the faintest smile on his lips. The expression on his face was adorable, his cupids bow was prominent and the way he stared up at me through his long dark lashes was mesmerizing.

"What, angel?"

The way he said those two words, it was enough to send my world spinning. His tone was hoarse, slightly rough and harsh yet if he hadn't said that simple word, that nickname I've never been called by anyone other than him as of today, then I would've been taken back by his harsh tone.

But that second word, the meaning behind my name, was soft. Regardless of the tone he used, he couldn't sound mad whilst saying that.

"What do your tattoos mean?"

He smirked, his deep dimples making a welcomed appearance, "You really like my tattoos, don't you?"

I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing with red as I nodded slowly, "I guess. . ."

He laughed, "That's enough questions for today, I should probably get you home."

Hiiiiii ♥🚀

This is the worst chapter ever and I hate it but it's Sunday and I have to upload so it'll have to do, hopefully the next chapter is better.

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Okay I'm gonna go sleep now and cry, goodnight and I love you all 💗💖💘