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"Come on, Come on, Come on!" Illyria moaned, standing at the threshold to the pack house, excitedly moaning at her cousin to hurry up and finish his coffee. The short, stocky boy, who looked much like the male version of Illyria, sipped his coffee slowly, exaggerating how good it was and milking the last few drops. He was doing it on purpose. "Kalvin if you don't hurry up I'm going to leave you behind and Uncle Josh will kill you." The boy, Kalvin, chocked on his coffee, leaving Illyria with a smirk as she stepped out of the door and walked towards his SUV, he followed not long after. "Bitch,"

"Jerk,"

"Dick,"

"Fucknut, just drive!" Illyria groaned, strapping herself into the seat while her cousin started the car. "Someone's particularly impatient today, who spat in your coffee this morning?" Illyria glared at him playfully, "my idiot cousin, the guy told me he'd be done in ten minutes and twenty three minutes later I was ready to drag his ass out of the house." Kalvin scoffed, "it was not twenty three minutes-" Illyria raised her voice and cut him off, "yes it was!" Kalvin rolled his eyes, the car turning onto one of the back roads, leading them back to Illyria's pack. "Why are you so antsy to get home anyway? What's the rush chicka?" she leaned back in her seat and looked out the window, glancing at the neglected gravel driveways leading into the bushes. "Tristyn got back from his trip the day after I left, I haven't seen him in yonks." Kalvin laughs, "yonks, cousin? I thought you were cooler than that," Illyria scoffed, "I'm not cool, I'm hot." She licked a finger and pressed it to her arm, making a sizzling sound effect while her cousin laughed. "Absolutely sizzling, Il, but seriously, it's not like you guys are mates..." he trailed off, "right?" Illyria sighed. "No, we're not mates dumbass, but he was there for me after..." now it was her turn to trail off, her voice growing thick with tears as she thought of her parents death, the death that she had watched from a secret compartment in the wardrobe. She shivered, memories of her parents death were always accompanied by the heebie-jeebies, even though she knew that it was useless. She was three when they were killed, she was nineteen now, but sixteen years had done nothing to dull the wounds left on her heart. Kalvin sighed and placed his hand on her knee. "I'm sorry Il, I know it's hard to talk about it, I'm glad you had him," Illyria turned to her cousin, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "We were your family and we were so far away, we couldn't help you, but he, he did Il, I'm so glad you had him with you," Kalvin sighed, "have," he corrected. Illyria's lips lifted into a little melancholy smile, "me too, Kalvin, me too." With nothing left to say the pair drifted off into a comfortable silence, the radio humming softly as Kalvin concentrated on the road and Illyria sat, with her feet on the dashboard, watching the rolling hills of the country passing. The road lay straight, into the horizon and as the sun began it's decent south streaks of red, blue and purple painted the sky like a masterful piece of art. Illyria found herself smiling as she watched the birds flock to the trees and a familiar stretch of road opened up the them. Nearing her town; her home.

They passed the front steps of an elementary school, the same steps that fourteen years earlier she sat on crying when Tristyn walked past, coming home from school, and spotted her. He asked her what was wrong, unsure of what to make of the crying girl, and when she stuttered out the words 'bullies' and 'parents' he grew furious. He found the boys who found it funny to pick on her; two seven year olds with nothing better to do than play beyblades and bully the orphaned new girl. He yelled at them until they cried and their parents came to pick them up, he then yelled at their parents for raising such disrespectful little children and huffed, taking Illyria's hand and walking her home.

They passed a park where the swings rocked in the wind and the seesaw lay abandoned on one side. The same park where she and Tristyn had their Saturday picnics as a tradition, up until he turned fourteen and was 'too cool' to hang out with the little Illyria. It was a phase that lasted three months until he caught her playing by herself, and by some random act of fate, sat down to join her tea party.

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