I sighed as I shuffled through my massive closet, looking for more outfits to pack tightly in my waiting suitcase. It laid open on my bed, 2 pairs of heels and a pair of sneakers were already sitting inside it. I had decided on packing plenty of shorts, and short-sleeved shirts. The Caribbean wasn't exactly cool, you know. 

"Should I take dresses? Or, stick with simple stuff?" I mumbled quietly to myself. I pushed a few hangers aside, wondering how the hell I accumulated so many clothes over the years. I looked up slowly when a knock came to my door. I mumbled "come in" and the door slowly opened. An older, taller, tan woman walked in. Wearing a dark blue pantsuit. Her brown hair was twisted in a heap on the to of her head. Pearl earrings shined in her ears, I sighed. It was the only woman I had ever felt like I was never good enough to...

My Mother.

"Courtney, dear. I'm afraid to tell you I will not be able to attend this year's family trip to the Caribbean. I simply have far too much work to do here." she said, not even bothering to look up from her phone as she spoke. I resisted the urge to snort. Like she had ever really planned going in the first place? 

"But Mom, this is the last trip I'm going on before I go to Oxford," I said, she looked up. Her gray eyes narrowing

"Don't guilt trip me, Courtney," she snapped. I stiffened, my Mother was the only person in the world I was truly intimidated by. How sad was that?

"Sorry, I'll just miss you," I mumbled, I saw her eyes slowly soften. The stress lines in her face evening out. At first, I thought she was actually going to say something Motherly for once. But-

"Don't be so dramatic. It's only 4 weeks," she said. And left. I slumped against my closet door. And rubbed my face, why did she always have this effect on me? I shook it off and slowly went back to my closet. And pushed more clothes aside

"I'm happy she's not going. All she'd do is work anyways," I growled, and pulled out 3 dresses and angrily threw them into my suitcase. I continued to pack for about 45 more minutes, when I heard my 14-year-old brother run upstairs and into my bedroom. I growled at him as he threw himself onto my bed. Messing up the silk sheets

"College Physics," he said, holding up a rather large textbook that had been laying on my bed. 

"You're such a dork," he said, I sighed and turned to him. Placing my fists on my hips

"Jax, I'm not in the mood for your annoying antics tonight. Shouldn't you be packing anyways?" I asked, he smirked 

"Oh, I already am packed. I just threw in a bunch of clothes into a couple of suitcases and called that good," he shrugged. I scrunched up my nose. Wondering how the hell we came from the same parents. But, when you looked at us it was easy to tell. We shared the same tan skin, and chestnut colored hair. We had similar colored eyes, and even the same freckles on our noses. When Jax smiled, he had dimples. Something I had always been jealous of.

"So, Mom told me she wasn't coming," he said, rubbing his hands on his tan cargo shorts. I sighed

"Did you expect anything else?" I asked, he looked at me. 

"I don't really know, ever since Dad died she's been stuffed up her work's ass," he said. I smiled a little, remembering our father. He'd been the Dad any child would have been lucky to have. He would always go to my violin concerts, and Jax's lacrosse games. But, he passed away a year and a half ago. Cancer. Fucking cancer. 

"She just has a different healing process than us, Jax," I said quietly. His dark eyes looked at me. Almost wanting to tear up

"I just wish she'd realize how much we miss her," he whispered. I slowly walked over to him, and sat next to him. Wrapping a warm arm over his shoulders 

"Me too," I whispered. "Me too,"

Jax slowly walked to my door, and smiled at me a little before leaving. Gently closing the door behind him. I looked over at my suitcase. Neatly folded and everything in it's place.  I slowly realized I had forgotten to pack PJ's. I walked over to my dresser and opened the top drawer. I shuffled the clothes to one side, when something caught my eye. I looked at it, and winced when I realized it was one of Duncan's old T-shirts. The skull on it seemed to be smirking at me, smirking at the fact that, even though I was able to throw away everything else he had ever given me... I just couldn't do the same with this. It still smelled like him, like old cologne, and something distinctly Duncan. 

I slowly looked around my room, as though expecting him to walk in at any second. To make fun of me for keeping something so stupid. When I had no doubt he had easily thrown away all of my things the day we got back from World Tour. I pulled the shirt out, and slowly sat on my bed. The skull had the same smirk Duncan had. The same damn smirk that would always make my knees weak, and my lips tremble. The smirk he would give me when he knew he was right. Which happened more times that I would care to admit. I slowly ran my fingers across the smooth fabric. No wonder he loved this shirt, it was soft. Like cotton. I sighed, as thoughts filled my head. Thoughts about the fact that all of my shirts that I ever left at his house were being thrown away. My sweaters and cardigans being replaced by black tank tops and corsets that belonged to... her.

I hated it. I hated the fact that even after 2 years he was still all I could manage to think about. Whenever anyone asked me about the show, I would never think of all the crazy moments. All I could think about was him. Him and his stupid red converses, and his stupid green hair. And the way his nose would twitch when he was angry about something. The way he ate his cereal really fast, because he hated it when it got soggy. Him and his stupid teal eyes. And the way he would always seem to stare into me. Through me, as corny as it sounded. 

I stood up and neatly tucked the shirt back into the bottom of my dresser. I covered it up with other PJ shirts, and closed the drawer. I swallowed hard, and slowly zipped up my suitcase. 

Maybe I'd throw it away tomorrow.