37 | mine

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E P I G R A P H

She made stars fall by the way she looked at them. He was one of those stars.

thirty seven | mine

"We're here." Holt announced as he parked in his driveway.

My limbs tingled with angst as my heart pounded against my ribcage as I looked at the mansion that adorned me, so big. It held so many memories, both good and bad.

"Hals," Holt said soothingly, shaking me slightly, "you ready?"

I turned to face him, my eyes connecting with his before I nodded hesitantly, "Yeah, I am."

Holt offered me a small smile before he nodded and exited the car. I inhaled sharply before exiting as well, the cold November air biting at my bare arms and legs, causing goosebumps to rise on every inch of my body.

I followed Holt closely as he walked towards the front door and opening it. I was hit with the smell of roast chicken as well as cleaning products, which was a strange yet comforting mixture, but the cleaning smell was obviously from the house itself. Though we were only in the entryway, everything was spick. Not a speck of dust in sight and even the tiles glistened elegantly, just like the chandelier above me.

Two years.

Seven hundred and thirty days since I have been here, roughly. It felt strange, I was yet to enter entirely, but it didn't feel nearly as foreign as I had imagined it too. It felt like home, but that could just be because Holt is here, that feeling seems to travel wherever he is.

Everest and Holt's parents always seemed to keep the place in perfect condition, well more so their maid, whom I am assuming still works here. It almost seems as though nothing has changed, except the last time I came here I was being greeted at the door by Everest, this time I am entering with the other brother.

"Holt, is that you?" a mature women's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

Holt visibly tensed from next to me before Mrs. Stone entered the room, clad in a skin-tight yet modest dress paired with stilettos and she looked as though she just had her hair done as caramel highlights adorned the once brunette strands, accentuating her bronzed complexion her no longer son got from her. Holt doesn't have the capacity to gain a tan, he is the type of person that will burn to a crisp if he does not put any sunscreen on.

I, on the other hand, require no sunscreen and tan easily, but I still apply it because I'd rather not gain skin cancer.

"Yes, mom." he groaned as she came to a holt in front of us.

Her green eyes watched me in an intimidating yet observing way, I couldn't tell if she was wondering who I was, or if she was wondering why I am here.

"Halo, is that you?" she asked, her tone hard to decipher.

I smiled politely, nodding.

Her eyes then diverted back to Holt before she squinted, her stare scary and cold, "Holt must have forgotten to mention he was having a visitor," Mrs. Stone cleared her throat, "obviously, he forgot to inform you that he is grounded."

Holt Stone. . .the almost eighteen-year-old that seems to do whatever he pleases on his own accord, is grounded?

"I thought you'd let it slide considering you pretended not to notice Santana coming over the other day," he spat.

My eyes widened and my heart sunk. She was here?

Who cares, Halo. She can be here if she wants too, he was hers first and he isn't even yours now, Holt Stone is only property of Holt Stone.

But she. . .never mind.

Mrs. Storm stared at Holt like a deer caught in headlights before she nodded, "Well, then." she gulped as she realized the short-lived battle between mother and son was over and Holt overruled her with his snarky comebacks, "Halo, why don't you stay for dinner."

Angst flooded my system, filling my veins and increasing my heart rate, but I nodded nonetheless, "I would love too, Mrs. Storne." I grinned.

She forced a smile, "Call me Vera." she insisted, just like she had the first time I met her.

I was so nervous the first time I came over for dinner. Everest's entire family seemed so intimidating. I recall Vera's judgmental eyes, boring into me the entire dinner, hoping her tantalizing gaze would force some forbidden secret out of me that would allow her to not like me.

I may be awkward and not very outgoing, but I am somehow a people person. I know exactly what to say to please someone and—like most people—I know what to say to make someone which I didn't exist.

Hence the Stone parents' approval towards myself and their sons' relationship. I was only thirteen-ish at the time, so they went relatively easy on me, but I still hadn't expected such eloquent adults with such elegance.

Holt missed that dinner, for that I am not sure why, but no one seemed to care, which now I find rather sad. He's never really told me about his parents. . .are they the same with him as they were with Everest?

I feel like the women in front of me isn't the same one I met a few years ago. This one seems more uptight and harsh, more cold, like her blood had run cold and her heart now beats off hurt and not happiness.

She isn't the same lady that told me I was welcome to call her by her first name; Vera and that I was 'such a lovely young lady' now she looks at me as though we had never met once.

But I get it. Death makes you change, I just wish she wasn't taking the only son she has left for granted.

Holt is right here, in front of you, appreciate him in all his loving-soft-wholesome-glory whilst you can, please. I felt like begging.

"We're going upstairs." Holt growled lowly before gently tugging my arm and leading me up the stairs.

"Leave the door open!" Vera shouted, but I think at Holt's rate, they were past the whole leave the door open thing, especially considering Santana was here not long ago and I doubt they followed that rule.

Shut up, Halo. You sound jealous, you do not feel jealous. The feeling is sickening and so foreign, it made my stomach churn.

We walked down the hall and as we passed Everest's door my body froze and it felt as though I had just been dumped into an ice-cold lake, bare naked with no way of exiting. I felt cold, scared, shocked. Every negative emotion possible, it was horrifying.

"Hals," Holt's warm voice soothed me as he placed his hand on the small of my back, "you okay?"

I gulped, my mouth drier than the Sahara Desert as I nodded, "Sort of. . ." I replied reluctantly, "You know, maybe it was a mistake coming here. Maybe I should just go home. . ."

It was rude. I just got here and the mere sight of Everest's plain white door was enough for me to want to hug the toilet as I empty my insides for an hour straight, but I suddenly didn't feel right being here. 

'Come over anytime' he used to tell me. I know he meant it in a kind boyfriend type of way, but I took it quite literally and spent days here, obviously I never really stayed, both because I was too scared he'd see how ugly I look sleeping and because my father would never allow such a thing—at that age anyway.

The last time I opened that door was two days before the party, I came in after being sick two weeks with the flu and I had never experienced someone express such excitement to see me. He tackled me onto his bed and we talked for hours, though our conversations weren't deep, it mainly consisted of football and me pretending to understand.

"You're not leaving." Holt said sternly, "Go in."

My eyes widened, "What?"

He rolled his eyes, "You heard me, go in."

I stared at him blankly, the encouraging look on his face forcing me to reach for the knob before I turned the handle and pushed the door open.

I took one step in and suddenly it felt as though it was just another Tuesday afternoon after school.

His walls were a grey color, like the color of fresh un-dried cement. His bed neatly made. His room smelt of his scent, the smell of that David Beckham cologne he wore everyday, it also smelt like fresh linen, informing me that his mother still washes his sheets regularly.

His desk and dresser had no dust, meaning his room was often cleaned too. There were still a few posters on the walls of cars and almost naked girls from those car magazines boys used to go crazy over—my brother being one of them—and as I neared his dresser, I noticed the framed picture of him and Holt.

I remember this picture. I always used to look at it and think; god, their parents have good genes. It was a picture someone took of them at a football game. Everest was in his varsity uniform, whilst Holt wore jeans and a white shirt, his pale arms on show and it was like staring at a different person, seeing him without all the ink on his arm and knuckles.

"You had no tattoos." I stated the obvious as I held the frame carefully in my hands.

Holt stood behind me, "I told you, I only started getting them when E died."

I nodded, "I know." I replied softly, "It's just strange. I barely remember you without them."

He chuckled softly, his hot breath hitting the back of my neck, "Is that a bad thing?" he asked, but something in his tone seemed. . .teasing almost.

I gulped, my breathing becoming obviously heavy, "Definitely not." I assured him, "I love your tattoos." I stated honestly.

Adding the word love in there made my heart jolt. Not because of the word itself, but because of the way I said it, with such defiance, such passion, such. . .proudness. I wasn't even saying it directly to him, but it felt like I was.

God, I hate that I am thinking this in Everest's room.

"Holt?" 

He placed his hand on my forearm, as if without it I would fall and break, "Hmm?" he hummed softly.

Should I say it? No, I can't. Not now, not here.

"Earlier Esme and I. . .we went to the beach and did this whole activity thing where we wrote down all the things we wanted to let go of on a balloon and then we—we,"

"You what?" he cut me off, growing impatient with my rambling.

I sighed, "We let them go." I explained and his eyes slanted whilst he stared at me with an expression that sort of said 'and your point is?' before he nodded his head, encouraging me to continue, "I put Everest's name on that balloon."

If the room wasn't silent before, it definitely was now. You could basically hear if a pin drop. Holt was barely breathing, his expression was—as always—completely unreadable and me. . .well, I didn't know how to feel, not right now.

What I just told Holt wasn't major, but it felt like it,

"You're finally ready to let him go?" he finally spoke.

I nodded, "I already have."

His eyes searched my face for a moment as though he was searching for any traces of falseness, but then he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips before slowly, ever so slowly, he began to lean forward and I felt as though I had just been tossing into another dimension where life is completely perfect.

Holt's eyes connected mine and I felt silly because I came to a realization. Those damn beautiful orbs of his. That's what I fell in love with, those cold deep eyes that hold so many emotions, but they hide behind the depth of his grey irises. 

I drew his eyes because they caught hold of me before I realized. It is common to be attracted to eyes before anything else, but Holt's are beautiful, amazing. . .perfect. They should be captured with a HD camera and framed in a famous art gallery for the entire world to see.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul, I never believed that saying because when I look into Holt's eyes, I see grey. Endless grey. But his windows are just slightly foggy, but the right person to clean those windows will then see the whole world and more.

I just wish so badly, he would let me see. Let me help. Let me in.

I want Holt in every form, every way, every emotion, feeling, conversation, place, time. Holt, Holt, Holt. 

I sound obsessed, but I'm seventeen, six months (approximately) away from hopping on a plane to who-knows-where, I don't know what my future holds, what I'll become, god, I barely know who I am now. But one thing I am certain of is Holt. He is here now, right now, so why not hold onto that?

"Holt. . ." I breathed as his nose touched mine, "Please. . ." I said breathlessly.

He grinned, his deep dimples adding to the many (some still discovered) reasons as to why I love him, "Let me in." I pleaded, "Let me in, Holt. I won't hurt you."

His eyebrows knitted as he pulled his face away from mine, but I placed my hands on the sides of his face and tugged him right back down, "Holt." I said sternly, "I am—in the least creepy way possible—infatuated with you, I may not know your middle name or what cologne you use, but I am so in love with this Holt right here, I need to see the rest."

Holt's eyes widened and at the same time so did mine because without realizing. . .I just said the L word. Is that too soon? I only realized less than an hour ago. Oh my god, I've messed up haven't I? Great job, Halo, ruin this just like you ruin everything.

"What'd you just say?"

I shook my head, "Um, I don't recall." I laughed awkwardly, "Auto-correct, you know how it is."

He glared at me, "Halo." he said sternly.

I cleared my throat, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me whole, I don't care if that hole takes me straight to the gates of hell, anywhere is better than being in this situation right now.

"The—the part where I said I didn't know what cologne you use?"

Holt growled, "No, Halo. Not the part where you said you don't fucking know what cologne I use, the part where you said I love you!" he yelled, but it wasn't in a degrading nor hurtful way. He was relieved.

I scratched the back of my neck, "Oh," I laughed nervously, "that."

"I love you too, angel." he said so softly, I could barely hear it.

My eyes widened, "Are you. . ."

He cut me off, "I swear to god if you ask if I am sure—"

I shook my head vastly, "Definitely not."

He grabbed my face between his enormous hands, his lips growing closer and closer when—

"Dinners ready!"

I smiled, "We better clean that lip up quickly."

***

"So, Halo." Mr. Stone began speaking, digging his knife into the roast chicken on his plate, "What are your plans for college?"

I gulped, "I don't really have anything definite in mind." I answered honestly, but by the way, Mr. Storm analyzed me, I instantly knew it was the wrong answer. 

"Nothing definite? Admissions are due in two months."

I nodded, I know, trust me.

I smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say as I stuffed my mouth with food, so that I was unable to answer. Mr. Stone looked at me with an expression that screamed 0 before he cleared his throat and proceeded to eat the food on his plate.

I felt out of place at this table. Mr. and Mrs. Stone both looked so pristine and neat, whereas I was sitting across from them in a flame-red dress which probably stunk like alcohol and weed from being in the same room as the stoner next to me.

"Holt and you share something in common then." Vera piped.

I used the back of my hand to wipe the crumbs off my mouth before swallowing, "Sorry, what?" I asked, confused as she glared at her son.

What happened to her? Was all I could think as I watched the villain in front of me in the tight dress. We weren't the closest, but at times, she was the closest thing I had to a mother. Now, she seems judgmental, in times like this I wish I had the ability to mindread, as Holt said; 'it's because I'd like to know what you're thinking.' I would love to hear her exact thoughts right now.

I know she's piecing me together. She's eyeing the chipped nail polish on my nails, thinking 'she doesn't keep up with her appearance.'

Her eyes subconsciously drop to my slightly exposed chest. There was nothing there, but I could tell by the disapproval apparent in her eyes that she was disturbed by my loud choice of clothing.

As I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, she caught sight of my diamond studs and thought 'oh, so she isn't entirely poor' but then she noticed the many rings and studs which practically cover the entire curve of my ear and then her eyes widened if they couldn't anymore.

Maybe she was trying to act intimidating or maybe, just maybe, she's trying to figure me out. Who is she? Is she still the same girl I met years ago?

It's funny—well not really—because Holt and her both share that same quality, they can figure people out easily. They can make a brief timeline of their life, their aspects and what they mean as well as their motives without any background knowledge. 

Like Joe from You; the Netflix show. In the first episode in comes Beck, the love interest. All she does is come waltzing in, clad in jeans whilst she searches for a book and boom, he has her figured out. He's creepy and god, I'd hate for him to figure me out, but I must admit, though I may be observant, I cannot know someone until I have had at least one conversation.

I remember when Holt told me about Zayden and his intentions, at the time I was thinking who on earth does he think he is? But now, I think; he was right. Same with Alix and even me.

"You and Holt," she replied finally, "you both have no idea about your futures."

I snorted, but then realized how rude I looked, so I covered my mouth immediately, "Excuse me."

Holt is definitely internally killing me right now.

God, if looks could kill right now, I would be long gone.

"No, please." Vera encouraged me, "You obviously have something to say."

I cleared my throat, dropping my knife and fork on the plate before dusting my hands off, "I just don't think it's necessary to know exactly what I—we want right now."

She laughed, raising an eyebrow, "Oh, so you two are a we, now?"

I shook my head vastly and at the same time, so did Holt, "No, no!" I panicked.

She is already antagonizing my entire life, she doesn't need to know that Holt and I are even in the realm of becoming a we. 

Which reminds me, holy sweet son of the gods. I just told Holt that I love him. Holt just said he loves me.

Holt Stone loves me. Is it weird that I almost feel like doing a fist bump in the air right now? He loves me, it's surprising enough that he likes me, but love. That is something I never thought would be possible, I thought I was some socially awkward, unlovable teen.

"I didn't know you were into brother-hopping." Mr. Storm snorted and my cheeks burned.

Yeah, me either. But it happens sometimes. Elena Gilbert gets me. I always was more into Stefan than Damon, which probably explains why in the end, I fell for Holt. 

Holt quite literally growled, like an aggressive dog, "Father," he warned, "don't."

I smiled, "No, it's fine, Holt." I reassured him, daring to place my hand over his on top of the table where both Mr. and Mrs. Stone could see as clear as day.

"Look, Halo." Vera sighed, her façade dropping for a split second, "I like you, believe me, I really do. But Holt isn't good for a girl like you, I am saying this to protect you." she said so softly, I almost fell for it, "He will destroy you."

My heart

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