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@undedfuck
Los Geckos Hermanos
Holly wants throw herself at his knees, sob and whine until the sun has turned to dust and the moon has floated away, until she’s shaking violently and he’s held her so tight she’s started to turn purple. However she settles for the blink of an eye and the raising of her brows.
Holly freezes in her own spot, unsure of how to even respond, scared that if she did the man would disappear once again. That had fucked her up, the not ever knowing what had happened to Cyrus or why he had left her. Did he hate her ?? Couldn’t stand her anymore ?? She’d like to believe that he wouldn’t just do that to her. Just because he does awful things does not lead Holly to believe that he is an awful man, though the fact of the matter still remains that he DID leave her.
The lump in her throat is swallowed as she hears those words spill from his lips, and it’s then that Nick realizes that he isn’t being followed anymore. Perhaps Cyrus had stopped to look at a painting, or a dumb ass art piece he had somewhere, but when he turns around, it’s neither. They’re staring at each other, Cyrus and Holly. A look of confusion paints over Nick’s face so wildly it would catch even him off guard.
Those words has Holly crumbling, and it’s obvious to Nick. He hadn’t seen her like this in years, not since before her death.
Holly scrambles for any words to say, lips parting to speak but nothing comes out, and all she can manage at this second is the furrow of her brow and a nod of her head.
It takes everything in her not to get up, not to run over there and wrap her arms around the mountain of a man, the love of her life. And Nick can see that turmoil in her, enough for him to shake his own head ‘no’, and speak himself.
“ Hey guys, uh, what the fucks goin’ on ?? “
He asks. Hands planted firmly on his hips a moment, fully expecting an explanation. However, at least from Holly's end, she gives him one look and says, calmly:
“ Can you please give us a moment, Nickolas ?? “
Hardly does she ever government name him, only in times of seriousness and when he’s done something wrong. The Hound gives Cyrus another long glance before shaking his head in disbelief. He supposed it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that in a past life she knew one of these men that he has unfortunately hired to work for him. Though he never expected it to actually happen.
“ Listen, whatever the hell is happening between the two of you, figure it out, and come back to see me, Cyrus. “ But before anyone could say anything else, he’s headed towards the kitchen.
In that past life they knew each other in, Holly had cared a little too much about her appearance. Always making sure she’s well put together, makeup perfect, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle on her shirt. Even when relaxing at home, sure the clothes were comfier but they were still nice. Clearly, she’s a different person now by the oversized t-shirt she dawns ( Nick’s, no doubt ), the short blonde bob she now sports, and the smudged eyeliner and mascara around her large eyes. Were this her past self, she’d tell him to look away, no matter how long they had been together, she always had to be presentable for him.
Holly stands, the blanket being thrown off her bare legs, and she begs them to move. But she stays planted firmly in her spot. Anxiety is something she’s still used to, and god does it rear its ugly head at this moment, the phantom heart beat pounding in her chest as hands fidget with each other for a moment.
“ Cyrus, I- “ Words still don’t come easy, eyes refuse to give him even the slightest bit of attention, though she forces it finally.
“ Why’d y’leave me ?? “ The question is posed and brows are knitted tightly together.
How long had it been since he’d made an in person delivery for nick? cy couldn’t tell. Months, weeks, years they all blended in together to the point that he rarely noticed when the sun set or rose. This called for a special arrival on his part, a hand signed and passed over letter clearly showing that the agreement nick had been working for finally went through. All the time he’d spent working his loose ends and putting away strays worked out, and he felt more pride than he’d admit about the deal. That and every so often cy did look for a reason to come sniffing around nick’s stomping grounds, pay a visit to the man himself.
It explains why he graces his polished doorstep, breezes through the ornate doors themselves. He wouldn’t deny that he enjoyed nick’s sense of decoration, it reminded him of the old days – the days when having rich pieces actually meant you were rich and not bored with too much money. Granted cy couldn’t pinpoint exactly where nick stood and he didn’t bother with categorizing the younger man, it didn’t matter – none of it really mattered in the end. Not the polished marble floors, not the grand staircases or the elaborate garden mazes people built just to fuck and get lost in. None of it survived.
His steps are lazy and slow as he takes his time to absorb just what has changed and what remains the same in this house. Easing through the doorway into the main room his milk-like eyes are raised toward the ceiling, careful in their assessment – was he looking for bullet holes? maybe. It all looked the same, frozen much like him. Raising his eyebrows he drops his attention to the rest of the room, noting the chairs, the paintings, the tv left on, and the woman on the sofa covered in a blanket. No, no, no, no, no – not just a woman and not just a girl. He knows her, he’d know her anywhere.
Holly.
To think even her name felt like a gash in his side, a holy searing pain that consumed his every fiber and being and writhed like a freshly killed snake. She was alive. She lived – she lives, it's been…ages. Ages locked behind a stone tomb, feeling his body be eaten by rats, roaches, and more as he waited. Waited to be free, waited to return to the one face that haunted him more often than the moonlight he only ever caught glimpses of. It was holly, his holly … the girl that now looked so different but was exactly the same.
His throat didn't dry up any more, he didn’t need to breathe, there was no reason for him to hold air in his chest. Seeing her made him freeze, made his entire body root itself into the very marble he stood on. Several questions ran through his head loud and demanding and angry and happy, overjoyed and consuming they rolled one right after the other – but all fell at the feet of the one thought that he could fully process. She’s there. She is here in nick’s house with you, after ages of being locked away she is sitting right there mere steps away.
His lips part, brows rising just a fraction higher on his forehead as his eyes drink in every detail about her. “ you’re still here…you’re real. Please tell me you’re real princess. “ his final words are a whisper, almost like a prayer he can't bear saying out loud but he does so anyway. He has to know.
why is there so much smut on the dash *bonks u*
because it’s so much FUN, jan
DO YOU LIKE ZOMBIES? if you ugh do, i have one.he's old, like old as fuck balls. he's here >> X
@thehollyverse (holly) said: [ dying breath ] sender talks to receiver before dying
she doesn't know this is the last time. the last time she'll be held in his arms, head against his chest listening to the beat of his heart. the last time he'll press a kiss to her head, burying his face in her hair. a deep inhale of the shampoo that smelled so sweet & so perfectly her. he had well & truly loved her, more than anything on this earth. maybe that's why he feels the need to walk away: to ease the guilt for dragging her down with him, getting her hooked on everything that should have killed them a hundred times over.
if she looked up, she'd be able to see the tears pooling in his eyes. attempts to blink them away are futile, fingers tangling themselves in bleached blonde hair as if her very being was the only thing keeping him in place [ there's some truth to that ] & his only wish is that they could've had more time together. years of being his baby brother's best friend weren't enough. months of sharing a bed weren't enough.
❛ you know i love you, right? ❜ question is mumbled into her hair as fingers tighten their grip & eyes squeeze shut — maybe the drugs are wearing off, or maybe he's just forgotten how to breathe but his chest feels so tight it'll explode. her laugh & ' i love you too ' is music to his fucking ears, even at the end of everything. ❛ you're my everything. ❜ another kiss to the top of her head, & he waits until her breathing is slowed & her grip on him is released: confirmation that she's asleep is his sign to worm his way out of the bed, note left upon the nightstand for her. one last look at the love of his life, one last kiss to her forehead, one last ❛ i love you, ❜ before he's slipping out the door.
* MEME, always accepting.