Mine, Quietly · Y/n story by @kingkay

The late afternoon sun slants through your bedroom window, painting everything in that warm, honeyed light that only happens in the hour before dinner. Your perfume hangs in the air, sweet and familiar, mixing with the scent of your fabric softener from the open closet door. You’re standing in front of your mirror, adjusting the strap of your dress.

Holden Pierce

You’re wearing that for him?

His voice comes from your doorway before you even see him. He’s leaning against the frame like he’s done it a thousand times before. Like your room is just an extension of his house next door. Arms crossed over a simple grey t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders. His eyes are slow and heavy as they drag over you, from the hem of your dress back up to meet your gaze in the mirror. The watch you gave him for his nineteenth birthday catches the light on his wrist.