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Darkseeker
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Please do not posts unless you're mentioned above <3 |
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Darkseeker
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Darkseeker
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Full Name Hollis Even Omar Halvorsen Pronunciation Hōll-iss Ev-an Oh-mahr Hall-verse-an Meaning Near the Holly, gift, defender Reasoning His first name was one his mother picked, due to his birthdate being close to Christmas, and his middle name is his father’s name, as is tradition in their family. Nicknames N/A Preferred name Hollis Birth Date December 24 Age 17 Zodiac Sagittarius Gender Male Pronouns He/Him Nationality Swedish Ethnicity Venezuelan/Swedish
Social Class Working Class Education Level Senior in Highschool Father Even Halvorsen Mother Valentina Chavez Halvorsen Sibling(s) Davin Halvorsen, Bo Halvorsen Birth Order Hollis, Davin, Bo Pets Astrid~Husky
Previous Relationships Magnus Foss Physical Strength Not very strong, but sturdy Offense Poor Defense Good Speed Above Average Intelligence Average Stamina Good Teamwork Good Talents Singing Languages Writing Shortcomings Poor at Math Socially uneasy Language(s) Spoken Swedish English
Appearance Hollis has an oval-shaped face with a softly defined jawline. His skin is a warm golden-brown colour, thanks to his mother's heritage. His eyes are light brown and almond shaped, with light hints of gold, and his hair is a thick mess of dark brown curls, nearly black. He normally keeps his hair reasonably short, and neatly trimmed. He never has facial hair. Hollis has no vision problems, and wears no glasses or contacts. His dominant hand is his left. He is 5'8, not terribly tall, but enough to be respected. He works out on occasion, but mostly to bulk, as he is known for being underweight. He has no tattoos, but his ears are pierced. He has a small scar on his upper left cheek, nearly into his lip.
Notable Features Cheekbones, eyes Usual Expression Half Smile Clothing Style Streetwear outside of school School Uniform within Jewelry Earings, lots of rings, occasionally necklaces Allergies Peaches Body Temperature Naturally very warm Diet Vegetarian Physical Ailments N/A
Enneagram Type 7w8 The Enneagram Type 7w8, known as "The Opportunist," is a dynamic and ambitious individual who blends the adventurous spirit of Type 7 with the assertiveness and drive of Type 8. These individuals are outgoing, energetic, and constantly on the lookout for new opportunities to explore, achieve, and expand their horizons. They have a natural ability to seize the moment and make bold decisions, often thriving in high-energy, fast-paced environments. The 8-wing adds a layer of confidence and determination to the typical 7's playful and optimistic nature, making them more focused on achieving tangible results rather than purely seeking fun or experiences. They are resilient and resourceful, often using their charm and strategic thinking to navigate challenges and turn obstacles into opportunities.
While their enthusiasm and assertiveness can inspire others, their drive to avoid discomfort or limitations may lead to impulsive decisions or overextension. They may also struggle with balancing their desire for freedom with their need to stay grounded. At their best, Type 7w8s are visionaries and leaders, capable of creating exciting, transformative paths for themselves and those around them. Fears Being Alone Being a Disappointment Speech Style Hollis's voice is rich and warm, with a melodic undertone that makes it sound like he is singing. He speaks with a rhythmic flow, normally punctuated with playful inflections and a touch of dramatic flair, especially when telling a story or expressing excitement. He is highly expressive, using his voice to convey emotion or humor. His words are always accompanied by facial expressions and gestures. Accent Hollis is a mix of heritages and his accent reflects that. Because his mother is from South America, but his father is Swedish, he has a mix of the two accents. When speaking English, he has a slightly Spanish-influenced accent, often softening certain consonants and vowels, but his Swedish is always slightly more musical. Habits Chewing his cuticles until they bleed Sense of Humor Very Dark
Favourites: Activity Running Animal Leopard Beverage Mango Juice Book For Whom The Bell Tolls Colour Yellow Designer Gucci Food Spaghetti Flower Roses Gem Pearls Holiday Christmas Movie Pride and Prejudice Quote “I love crying in the rain, because then no one can hear the pain.” Weather Rainy
Greatest Dream Becoming Famous Greatest Fear Death Most at Ease When With his family or friends Least at Ease When He feels like he is being talked about behind his back Biggest Achievement Getting into a prestigious boarding school Biggest regret Moving Top Priorities Being a credit to the family
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Lightbringer
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Name Zephen Ezekiel Lytton Name Pronunciation Zephen: ZEF-en Ezekiel: eh-zee-kee-uhl Lytton: LIHT-ahN Nickname(s) Zeph, Ezzie, Ly His mother calls him all these things, although he's never been close enough to anyone eles for nicknames. Role Prince of Luminara Age 17 Gender Male Pronouns He/Him Sexuality Straight, although he thinks as such only because he was trained to be by his parents from a very young age. Personality Zephen is like a brewing storm. You never know when it's going to rain, but you can tell it's coming. His emotions are as fleeting and unpredictable as the weather. Honestly, he's a bit emotionally unstable. And it's all thanks to his parents. They didn't teach him how to deal with his emotions and he wants to please them so badly that he tends to ignore what he's feeling in favor of their good graces. Therefore, he's prone to fits of rage, and it's all to hide the hurt he's really feeling deep down. Still, it's easy to see he can be dedicated and driven, which in itself are awesome traits. But because he's so focused on making his parents proud, those awesome traits are only wearing him down, exhausting him. He has the makings to be a great leader, and while his parents's intense training brought out more of that greatness, it came at a cost. Zephen isn't the compassionate soul he used to be as a child. Despite not going through any horrible hardships, Zephen is now like a battle hardened warrior when there are things to get done. When it's time to work, he's always in the middle of it all, directing everyone and everything with the efficiency of an experienced king. However, during his free time, you can find him on his phone, being a gloomy little storm cloud. . While most of the time Zephen is either hard at work or being a grumpy little bum, he also has a softer side to him. But that side is rarely shown, especially around his parents. And it's only reserved for the things his hard heart finds precious. Specifically, animals and babies of any kind. Despite knowing the dangers wild animals possess, he doesn't hold any fear of them, instead seeing them as things to be revered and protected. That is to say, he absolutely adores tamed animals, always sneaking off to secretly cuddle with them. As for babies and kids, he's fascinated by them. He loves seeing the pure, innocent look in their eyes and their carefree actions. It reminds him of the things he once had, and of the childhood he wished he had. Even when he's busy working, he will always make sure the people who are working under him never even look at an animal or little one wrong. So yeah, he's very protective of the things he cherishes. Appearance Zephen has dirty blonde hair that could be mistaken for light brown when you aren't looking close enough. His eyes are hazel, with green being the dominant color. He stands around 5'9 and has excellent posture thanks to his role as a prince. Speaking of prince, he has that princely charm where his clothes always seem to shine and there's never a hair out of place. That is... when he actually trys. When he's not working, he usually looks like just a normal teenage boy. Family Father: Arthur Lytton, king of Luminara Mother: Halynn (Herrera) Lytton, queen of Luminara Siblings: Tristan, Laurel, Daniella and Benjamin Birth Order: Tristan(25), Laurel(22), Zephen(17), Daniella(10) and Benjamin(7) Backstory Zephen's parents have and will always favor the youngest. No matter how much the older siblings have accomplished, his parents will always favor the baby of the family. They loved Tristan when he was first born, but they quickly forgot about him when Laurel, his sister, was born. The same happened to Laurel when Zephen was born. Laurel warned Zephen that he wouldn't be the favorite forever, but he didn't listen, and instead soaked up all the attention his parents gave him like any kid would. That is to say, his whole world came crashing down when his little sister Daniella was born. At the age of seven, Zephen found himself pushed to the side, no longer the pride and joy of the family. While both his older siblings had accepted this fact, Zephen wasn't ready to let go yet. He wanted to be the center of his parents's attention, to please them. He wanted to make them proud of him. So at the age of ten, when his parents started training him to be a prince in earnest, he took on everything he possibly could. He won many awards for being what the people called, "an amazing talent". He excelled at everything from school to swordsmanship to etiquette. Just as it seemed like Zephen was becoming the favorite again, Benjamin, his little brother was born. . Despite everything, Zephen doesn't hate his younger siblings. He used to dislike Daniella but he's grown to be quite fond of her. He'll never admit it, but every once in a while, he'll read her a book or play tea party or sometimes he'll even snuggle her a bit. Him and Benjamin, though, have quite the rivalry. Benjamin is somehow alot more spoiled than the rest of the siblings, so he's very demanding of his parents's attention. And of course, Zephen won't give up without a fight. So they often fight for their parents's attention, neither one gaining a real lead. They act friendly when eyes are on them, but behind people's backs, it's easy to catch them glaring at one another despite their age differences. Other Zephen's favorite animal is a horse ^^ |
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Lightbringer
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Zephen Zephen barely held in a sigh of frustration as he boarded a plane set for Norway. He couldn't believe his parents were making him flee like a coward when he could be helping to find the person behind his little sister's assassination attempt. Luckily Tristan had arrived and spotted the sniper before a bullet had embedded itself into Daniella's head, but after their parents had learned of what happened, they ordered for all of their children to secretly be sent all over the world in order to hide and stay safe. In Zephen's opinion it was a stupid idea. If they were all spread out and in places they were unfamiliar with, it would only give the enemy more of an advantage than they already had. Plus, leaving the country without drawing attention was hard when they were princes and princesses. It would leave them open to attacks. But of course, Zephen didn't speak up, not wanting to anger his parents. . So here he was, dressed as a lowly civilian, sitting on a plane by a bunch of other lowly civilians. Tristan and Benjamin had went to America and Laurel and Daniella had went to France. He was going to Norway. So unfair. What was Norway even known for? Although, it was true out of all of his siblings, Zephen was the only one who knew how to speak Norwegian. So maybe his parents were just honoring how smart he was? The thought made the grumpy prince feel a little bit better, although the people around him were a constant reminder of his misfortune. He should've been traveling in a private jet, not a crowded public plane. But, at the very least, atleast his parents has given him a hefty allowance to use in Norway. That was probably the only silver lining in this situation. ~~~ After a short plane ride, Zephen found himself in a taxi, on his way to his new boarding school. He couldn't help but be a bit nervous when he thought about it. He was joining in the middle of the school year after all, surrounded by people below him. His parents had ensured him that his fellow classmates were as esteemed as they came and his teachers would be the best of the best, but he was still doubtful. Afterall, he had had a tutor all his life. He had never set foot in an actual school. And now, during his last year of highcshool, he was set to be thrown into a completely new and unknown situation. Nevertheless, Zephen was determined to fill and ace this role just like he had done with everything eles given to him. He was a prince, afterall. He needed to be able to handle anything. Including a school full of commoners. . Soon, Zephen had stepped onto the school grounds, his suitcases in hand. He struggled to haul all his luggage with him as he followed the map he had to the room he had been assigned. He winced externally as curious eyes followed his movements. It's not as if he cared that people were watching him, he was used to it. He just didn't like being seen struggling. Plus, he hated the plain clothes he was in. Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead in an outfit like this. But atlas, it made his parents satisfied. And that's all that mattered to Zephen in the end. But in foresight, he probably should have listened to Tristan and not taken so much stuff. He just couldn't help it, he had a strict routine he followed that required the best of products. He would only sleep on expensive silk bedsheets and pillowcases. |
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Darkseeker
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Hollis had spent the past four hours unpacking, meticulously ensuring every detail in his room screamed *him*. He always insisted on arriving at Forelsket with at least a full day to spare, claiming it was to acclimate, but in reality, it was so he could indulge his inner diva in peace. His arrival was a production, as it always was. His entire wardrobe—spanning every season, occasion, and mood—had been hauled up to his dorm. No corner was spared from his touch: posters of his favorite bands and art hung in perfect symmetry, bedsheets in a bold graphic print tucked just so, and his signature scented candles strategically placed to exude vibes of “effortless chic.” Satisfied with his work, he tossed his dark curls, a casual display of dramatics perfected over the years. His gaze flitted to the neatly folded school uniform hanging in the corner. Maroon? Absolutely not. That shade of red was a crime against his complexion, and there was no way he was suffering through a tie before it was absolutely necessary. He smoothed the thighs of his baggy jeans, pairing them with a cropped sweater that showed just a hint of his midriff. He shot a glance at the mirror, arching a brow at his reflection. Hot. He was sure of it. *Unquestionably hot.* Leaving the dorm room door half-open—a sign of openness for the traditional Forelsket back-to-school gift exchange—he grinned at the thought of the treasures awaiting him. Tradition was sacred, but this one was his favorite. Hollis had spent weeks curating the perfect presents for his friends: carefully wrapped trinkets, each imbued with meaning and a pinch of his theatrical flair. Magnus’s gift, in particular, had occupied a significant chunk of his summer brainpower. He smiled at the thought of his blond best friend and briefly considered going in search of him but decided against it. Not yet. He was in the mood for a walk first. The front staircase was out of the question. It was choked with the chaos of incoming freshmen and their harried parents, the air thick with overly applied cologne and the emotional wails of separation anxiety. Hollis wasn’t going to ruin his vibe by wading into *that* mess. He opted for the quieter, more dignified back staircase, rolling his eyes at the thought of his own family. His parents hadn’t come to drop him off this year, which was fine by him. Bo, his younger brother, had a football game that apparently required the entire family’s undivided attention, and Davin, the self-proclaimed violin prodigy, was probably still locked in a practice room somewhere, nursing his obsession with being perfect. It suited Hollis just fine. No need for awkward hugs and unnecessary commentary on his outfit choices. Stepping out into the crisp fall air, he took a deep breath, savoring the mingling scents of dried leaves and the faint promise of fireplaces. Forelsket was at its best in the autumn, with the commons area lit by roaring fires and endless supplies of warm cider. The thought of strolling the grounds, basking in his own magnificence, was tempting, but something caught his eye. A boy stood by the school’s entrance, struggling with a pile of luggage. No parents hovered nearby, which was unusual—Forelsket’s admissions after freshman year were practically unheard of. Hollis tilted his head, curiosity piqued. The boy didn’t look like a freshman, but he was clearly out of his element. Hollis loved three things: drama, tradition, and, most of all, a good mystery. He smirked, adjusting the strap of his bag, and sauntered down the path toward the newcomer. “Need a hand?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting. It was the kind of tone he imagined a leading man would use, practiced to perfection. Unfortunately, his eyelashes betrayed him at the worst moment, clumping together thanks to the new mascara he was trialing. He blinked rapidly, trying to recover, hoping it still looked like a deliberate flutter. The boy looked up, startled, and Hollis leaned against the nearest post, flashing his most disarming grin. “I mean, I probably can’t carry anything heavy,” he added, gesturing vaguely to his slender arms. “But I’m *phenomenal* at providing moral support. Also, I’m pretty good at judging which bags should go where, so there’s that.” The boy stared at him for a beat too long, and Hollis could practically feel the gears turning. Yes, he’d made an impression, though whether it was good or bad remained to be seen. The thought thrilled him. Forelsket was about to get interesting. |
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Lightbringer
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(This post is mentally unwell. Sorry in advance XD) . Zephen somehow made it to the school's entrance. With the grace of a dying elephant, but hey, atleast he got this far. Going from the curb where the taxi had dropped him off to where he was now had felt like a lifetime. He wasn't used to doing the work himself. Usually, he had servants for this. Zephen made it a point to only focus on the important things, the things that would impress his parents. Hauling luggage was not one of them. Oh how he wished he could call his dad right now and explain that this had been a mistake. But he had promised not to contact them unless absolutely necessary just in case their devices were compromised because of the assassin. . Hearing a voice, Zephen quickly looked up, not expecting anyone to approach him when he looked like a dying animal. As their eyes met, Zephen caught the tail end of Hollis's rapid blinking. It drew attention to the makeup adorning the other boy's face, which shocked Zephen. A man? Wearing makeup? He had never heard of such a thing within the sheltered walls of his family's control. It seemed like madness, and so Zephen Immediately went on guard. He had been taught to always be cautious and merciless to the things not conforming to his "normal"... which was biased considering his parents had all but shipped him into the unknown, but the day Zephen truly questioned his parents would be the day pigs could fly. . Zephen's eyes trailed down Hollis's body, taking in the rest of his appearance. He was honestly speechless at what the boy had chosen to wear. And the way his stomach showed just slightly, well, it was disgusting... Yes, disgusting... That's exactly why Zephen didn't look away and instead just kept staring at the other boy's midsection. Yep. A totally logical thing to do when you find something disgusting, just.. stare at it. It will make all your problems go away, trust me. Without realizing it, the prince's face had started to heat, giving the impression he had been out in the sun too long. But perhaps Hollis's uncovered skin was the sun to poor little Zephen, something you shouldn't look at lest you hurt your eyes. Zephen could confirm his eyes were burnt. . When Zephen finally realized what he was doing, it was too late. It was obvious to anyone near the two that the boy was completely taken by Hollis. And yet the prince straighted as if he hadn't been staring for a whole minute, his princely posture finally shining through. "I hope for your sake that you aren't mocking me. I'm not so weak as to need something as silly as motivation to do my work. I do it simply because it's the thing required of me. I apologize if that's too big of a thing for you to comprehend, but no, I don't need your help." Zephen answered with a huff, feeling disgusted by the stranger. Atleast, that's what he told himself he was feeling. But as he glanced down at all the suitcases and bags at his feet, his heart clenched uneasily. He really could use some help if he was being honest... . Zephen turned away while simultaneously handing his backpack over to Hollis. "Don't run off with it. Crime does not pay." Zephen took one last glance at the boy's middle before starting to haul his stuff once more. "Hopefully you can atleast carry that despite your inappropriate attire. I do hope you have better clothes than that. If kids were to see you they would get the wrong idea. You don't want to lead them astray." |
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Darkseeker
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Hollis hadn’t expected the sharp sting of sarcasm and clipped words that greeted him as soon as he opened his mouth. It threw him off balance, but only for a second. He’d been stared at before, of course—what was there *not* to stare at? Still, the way this boy’s eyes lingered had a different edge, more like someone inspecting a piece of art they didn’t understand. Hollis was used to people appreciating him, gawking even, but this? This felt like an entirely different category of scrutiny, and he wasn’t sure if he hated it or found it fascinating. The boy—tall, pale, and radiating a kind of tightly wound arrogance—looked like he’d never seen anyone outside the confines of a Brooks Brothers catalog. And here was Hollis, standing there in a cropped sweater, his honey-toned skin on casual display, curls falling into his eyes, and makeup done just well enough to look effortless. Of course, the boy was staring. But that didn’t excuse his *tone*. Hollis blew a stray curl out of his face with an exaggerated pucker of his lips, watching the boy bark something about not needing help and mocking peasants. Hollis raised a brow. Peasants? Really? That was the vibe? Before he could fire back a sharp retort, a heavy backpack was suddenly shoved into his arms, nearly knocking him off balance. “What the—?” Hollis muttered, staggering for a moment as he adjusted the weight of the bag. He shot the boy an incredulous look. *Hot girl walks* were not supposed to involve schlepping someone else’s luggage. That was not the assignment. He was *pretty sure* he’d specifically mentioned that he couldn’t carry anything heavy, but that he excelled in moral support. Apparently, this kid had selective hearing. He huffed, shifting the bag awkwardly in his arms, the strap biting into his shoulder. A warm breeze teased the hem of his sweater, which had ridden up even further as he tried to balance the bag, exposing more of his toned stomach. He began to extend a hand to introduce himself, thinking maybe a little civility might smooth over the situation—only for the boy to snap something absolutely cutting about his sweater. Hollis froze mid-motion, his hand retreating as quickly as it had extended. For a brief second, his lips parted in shock before pressing into a thin, unimpressed line. He steadied the bag against his hip, giving himself a moment to process the sheer audacity of it all. People had opinions, sure. Hollis was used to the whispers, the sidelong glances, the occasional comment about his makeup or outfits. But this? This was said to his face, straight and unfiltered. It was a new level of audacity, and it made his blood simmer. The sharp words seemed to echo in his head: *“Lead people astray.”* The hell did that even mean? He tightened his grip on the bag, his brows knitting together in a frown as he shot a pointed glare at the boy. “Lead people astray? The *hell* are you talking about?” Hollis demanded, his voice rising just enough to convey his irritation. “You think you’re gonna catch something from me? That I’m gonna make some poor boy wake up and suddenly decide he likes his friends a little too much?” His words were sharp and laced with an edge of wary defensiveness, his tone cutting through the crisp autumn air like a blade. He was fine being openly gay. In fact, he enjoyed it. The freedom of being himself in a world that so often demanded conformity was worth the occasional awkward moment or even the outright slurs. But it still stung—this constant undercurrent of judgment, the little reminders that his existence made some people uncomfortable. That even here, at Forelsket, someone could take one look at him and immediately decide he was *too much*. He kicked at a small rock on the path, his frustration bubbling over, and spun sharply on his heel. His curls bounced with the movement, but there was nothing playful about the venom in his voice when he turned back to the boy. “Well, *your majesty,*” he snapped, the sarcastic title dripping with mockery, “let’s get you up to the dorms, shall we? The sooner the better, yeah? Wouldn’t want you to catch the homo or whatever it is you think I’ve got.” Without waiting for a response, Hollis adjusted the backpack in his arms and started walking up the path toward the dorms, his stride purposeful and determined. If this boy wanted to keep acting like a prick, fine. Hollis would carry the bag, lead him to the dorms, and be done with him. But if he thought Hollis would let the interaction end without getting the last word, he had another thing coming. |
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Lightbringer
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Zephen couldn't help but eye the hem of Hollis's cropped sweater as the boy adjusted the backpack in his arms. It caused his shirt to ride up even higher than it had been, which in turn made the prince very uncomfortable. With a light blush to his cheeks, he looked away. This was so many levels of wrong Zephen didn't know how to adress it. And even if he did, it's not like he was in charge anymore. He knew he physically couldn't do anything about the other boy's attire, besides making snide remarks that probably wouldn't change anything, and it frustrated him to no end. All he could hope for at this point was that his roommate would be better than the boy currently carrying his backpack. Hopefully this school wasn't filled with psychos like Zephen was beginning to suspect. . Zephen was honestly and utterly shocked as Hollis talked back to him. He wasn't used to hearing such things said back to him. Afterall, no normal person dared talk to a prince that way. And that glare- Who did this boy think he was? Zephen shot back a glare of his own. One he had seen his father give to unruly subordinates countless times. It always shut them up. And yet that didn't happen. It seemed like the other boy couldn't care less he was getting a prince's wrath and instead turned on his heel. Zephen was speechless, his lips parting in silent shock. How dare he walk ahead without permission?! "Come back-" Before Zephen could finish speaking, Hollis had already turned back to adress him. . Zephen's eyes widened as the boy called him "your majesty". First of all, that was the wrong title. His parents were to be called that. His correct title was, "your highness". But he couldn't exactly blame someone as childish as the boy infront of him for getting mixed up. Beyond that though, how the heck did he know from just one interaction? Were people at this school that smart? If so news of his arrival would be all over the front news soon. "How did you-" Zephen stopped midsentence, the sarcasm in Hollis's voice finally registering with the prince. His expression turned gloomy, frustration and anger simmering beneath his eyes, not unlike that of a storm cloud. . Just as Zephen was about to come up with a nasty retort, Hollis had already taken off again. "Wait!" Zephen called in a commanding tone out of habit as he struggled to keep up. Just because he had one less thing to carry didn't mean the rest of his stuff got magically lighter. He grit his teeth together, annoyance flashing behind his eyes. Stupid boy. Stupid school. Stupid luggage. Stupid situation. Stupid world. . Whenever Zephen managed to catch up with Hollis, whether the other boy had stopped to wait for him or not, Zephen blurted out the first thing that came to mind. As soon as Hollis had mentioned it, the prince had been confused. But of course, everything had happened so fast that he didn't have time to ask. He wasn't about to let the boy ignore him now, though. "What did you mean? What's a homo? You didn't give me a chance to explain what I meant." Zephen said with a huff. "I have no idea what you were talking about earlier, but I just meant that you might make kids think they can actually wear that stuff, although I really shouldn't have to explain myself." He said, vaguely gesturing to Hollis's outfit and makeup. "So anyway, tell me what you meant. Why would I catch something from you?" Zephen asked, doing his best to act as if he didn't care although he was very much confused. Living under his protective parents hadn't done Zephen any favors when it came to the outside world, and quite frankly, the prince was pretty naive and innocent, even if he would never admit that aloud. |
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Darkseeker
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Hollis stalked up the path, his jaw tight and arms aching from the weight of the boy’s obnoxiously heavy bag. He could feel the lingering sting of irritation prickling at the edges of his mind, a mixture of the biting comments and the sheer audacity of being reduced to an impromptu pack mule. His chin tilted higher in defiance, his dark curls bouncing with each purposeful step. No one—*no one*—was going to ruin his vibe on the first day back at Forelsket. He hugged the backpack tighter, as if the pressure could somehow smother his rising temper, and tossed his curls dramatically, hoping the movement exuded a sense of effortless grace. Behind him, the boy was apparently still determined to make his presence known, catching up enough to start yammering again. The rapid flood of words hit Hollis’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. He bristled, his brows knitting together as he tried to make sense of the sanctimonious drivel spilling from this walking catastrophe. Something about the way he spoke—every syllable laced with a bizarre mix of obliviousness and entitlement—made Hollis’s blood simmer. It was clear this kid had no understanding of…well, *anything.* Especially not him. The bag slipped slightly in his grip, and Hollis huffed, hauling it back up with an exaggerated groan. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He spun around, his narrowed eyes locking onto the boy like daggers. “Homosexuality,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut through the crisp autumn air. “You know, when a boy likes a boy. Or a girl likes a girl. That’s me, in case you somehow missed that memo. And for your information, a *lot* of people dress like I do. It’s called streetwear, buddy boy. Ever heard of it? Probably not, since you clearly crawled out of some posh, preppy little old-money enclave where every boy is required to date a princess and wear Armani fucking suits to breakfast.” He shifted the bag again, adjusting the weight as he caught his breath. The indignation rolled off him in waves, though there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze as he saw the faint flicker of confusion—or maybe frustration—on the boy’s face. “And *another* thing,” Hollis continued, his tone growing sharper. “This isn’t *your* world. You’re not in whatever uptight, bowtie-wearing fairytale kingdom you crawled out of. You’re at Forelsket. Here? You’re just fresh meat, my guy. And honestly?” He looked the boy up and down with a critical eye, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “You look *filthy*. But we’ll circle back to that later. Let me give you a little crash course: most of the kids here speak at least three languages, have traveled more than you’ve probably even Googled, and are well on their way to being the next generation’s most prolific writers, actors, and politicians. So let me spell it out for you: *you’re nothing special.*” With that, Hollis flounced forward, the click of his boots against the stone path emphasizing every dramatic step. He refused to let this boy’s ignorance and condescension throw him off. He was Hollis fucking Halvorsen, and no amount of bad attitude was going to change that. When he reached the front doors, he paused just long enough to smirk at the chaos inside. Families clustered together, mothers dabbing their eyes, children waving eagerly, and a general cacophony of excitement. The perfect storm. Of course, *he* knew about the far more civilized back staircase—a secret he was absolutely not sharing with Mr. Prissy Pants until there was an official apology for the sweater comment. Instead, he pushed straight into the crowd, weaving through the melee with practiced ease. The boy, for all his grumbling and awkwardness, managed to follow, though he seemed far less adept at navigating the bustling scene. Hollis suppressed a laugh as he watched him stumble through the throng like a deer on ice. By the time they reached the staircase, Hollis had to bite his lip to keep from making a comment. When they reached the top, Hollis turned to face him with a practiced air of haughtiness, his chin tilted just enough to emphasize his unimpressed expression. He adjusted the bag in his arms, then planted a hand on his hip, his honey-toned skin peeking out from beneath the hem of his cropped sweater. “All right, *your majesty,*” he said, the title dripping with sarcasm, “what room are you supposed to be staying in? Because the sooner we drop off your stuff, the sooner I can get back to enjoying my day.” He raised an eyebrow, his tone as sweet as it was cutting. “And maybe, just *maybe,* you can use the time to come up with a better opening line than insulting someone’s sweater.” |
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Fall 
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