hollandwestbrook·:·
Nico stopped existing. All that mattered anymore was his action; what he’d done, what had happened because of it.
Aspen on the ground. Aspen on the ground. Holland’s knees now on the ground. Nico faded out; everything else, faded out. Like the night on the roof, her breaths coming quick, Aspen between her legs – but this was not that moment.
That might have been the beginning. Maybe the middle. And this was the end. Their book of love would be short.
She grasped for Aspen’s hand, holding it tightly, squeezing and not caring how hard she squeezed. “Aspen, I’m right here, I’m here, tree girl, I’m right here. Don’t die. Fuck. Don’t die.”
.
Holland was there, the familiar face she’d come to adore more than anything she had known in her entire life; she had never known anyone who was the same as her. Holland, Holland, Holland, her Holland.
Their hands fit together so perfectly; it felt like it was a curse. It felt like it was all Aspen’s fault for pursuing this, pursuing something that had been doomed from the start – quick to love and quick to trust a total stranger.
But Holland wasn’t a stranger. They saved birds, they had bled for each other. What kind of stranger would do that?
“I’m okay,” Aspen lied between a sharp breath. Her heart was fluttering hard in her chest, anxiety beginning to bleed out the same way the blood was falling from her ribcage. Her hand tightened as best as she could around Holland’s and her eyes began to well with tears. This isn’t how she wanted to go. They weren’t even supposed to be here. They were supposed to be long gone. If they had just run when they were fucking supposed to she wouldn’t be clinging to Holland like she was her last tether to this planet.
“Don’t let go of my hand, I don’t wanna be alone,” Aspen begged, as the tears finally poured over, her eyes scanned down to their interlocked hands. A cough left her lips and she choked on her breath. This wasn’t fair – this wasn’t fair! She couldn’t protect Holland if she died.
Her body shook, either with a sob or because she was getting so cold. Why was it so cold? Aspen’s free-hand, clumsily, sloppily sought out Holland’s cheek cupping it as best as she could, trying to take in every last part of Holland’s face, if it was the last thing she could memorize, it would be. “Love you,” She managed through a slur, like it was most important thing would ever say.
If there was an afterlife, she was going to remember Holland. If there was an afterlife, she’d wait for Holland to join her there.
Her hand slipped from Holland’s face slowly, and her breathing almost too shallow to comprehend. It felt like she was slipping, slipping, she was running, she was –













