you see right through me {lucas&bellamy}

[kousei ♚]

You see right through me

Sunlight wakes you and you throw on yesterday's clothes.

Sunlight breaks through the sky thick with smoke and somehow through the bedroom window and you find yourself squinting with your hand hovering just over your eyes. Everything's automatic, from the soft rhythmic breathing trapped in your chest to the basic function of your heartbeat. You were awoken by the sunlight, your body sprawled with the sheets across Sierra's mattress and her. It's become routine, easy even, to creep out of your room and across the corridor and into hers and the opposite case comes into play just as easily. You get checked on by the lazy orphanage workers and then left to your own devices for the night, and since that first night it's just felt right.

You throw on yesterday's clothes and leave her while she's sleeping because you don't want to disrupt such a peace. And if you had things your way you would just lay there, watching the rhythm of her chest rise and fall for hours and you'd gladly sacrifice pieces of your vision when her hair inevitably got caught in your face. Sunlight woke you, somehow through smoke and smog.

It doesn't matter that you leave now because you'll see her again later today. It feels impossible, for the two of you to spend more than a day apart and perhaps that's where the beauty of an internal compass within your brain lies. It doesn't need to be a conscious effort that brings the two of you together, it's just a part of life. As easy as thermodynamics and chaos theory, you just naturally drift towards each other. Perhaps that's because a part of you craves the disorder she brings to your life. The routine, your life orbits around, she seems so happy to break just with her presence seems irrelevant in the hours you spent together doing anything.

Perhaps when you meet again, it'll be with smoke in your lungs -- the smog isn't so bad today after all. It's a common poison the two of your share and wear on your sleeves. You don't care though, there aren't any parents to scold you for letting part of your lungs decay with every inhale and exhale you take.

You leave with yesterday's clothes on your back, slowly swinging the door open and stepping across creaking floorboards with worn shoes over a day old. You smile, rubbing the back of your head with your right hand and sticking your left hand in your pocket. There's always a feeling of immediate satisfaction the morning after you've found, a phantom feeling left over from the moment. Not quite the same but never dull. Any care you'd usually have vanishes, you step across creaking floorboards without a care in the world of who or what sees or hears you. Unlike before where you would hope no one but Bellamy or Sierra sees you, you didn't want to be seen or heard.

You don't count steps to safety anymore, you've never been happier.

Sunlight breaks through the smog and windows and his figure sharpens from a shadow to a blur to reality. Dark hair, tall stature and features you never admitted were handsome to anyone but yourself.

You scratch the back of your head and widen your eyes. Sunlight breaks through smog and spills across the ground between the two of you.

"Bellamy?" Silence; you break it before it festers. "Hey, how are you?"

You wake up.

Table: Briar

[Benson Sharpe D3M [Tom]]

Bellamy Scott

Bellamy's a machine of broken hearts that plays the game of walking a tightrope of normality. They don't stare at the dark circles under his eyes as he moves along the halls with nothing more than exhaustion in his veins, but sleep doesn't ever come to him anymore. Not often enough to rest his beating heart and tired eyes. An echo of shattering butterflies that tear open his stomach like bullets being scattered through his skin almost as bad as his father's death had been. The whisper of a question upon his ears as they dared to pull away the truth of what he had seen in that damned room.

Are you okay?

No.

Like the machines that reside in Three, he pushes on with gears turning and lights shifting. Night turns a tune of silence with wind that chills glass and moonlight that glows through the entire room that was his. Something that Lucas had given him as children lays gently on a table in the far corner where he doesn't dare look. Like a machine pulling for something to feel when all he feels is numb. The sight of red hair and sweat burned into his skull with a mathematical equation that explains it all to him. Sierra and Lucas. Lucas and Sierra. Two ones that equal a two. Everything hurts, but nothing is hurting at the same time. There's no gunpowder that reaches his nose like it had once done before, but all he can feel is numb with regret and heart break.

Fist pulling his pillow up with an eager force of frustration as he tosses it at the ceiling with a pat, until it lands near him once again. Drowning on a tsunami of butterfly feelings and careless hope for something that never truly existed, even if it had, he couldn't ruin what they had before. Instead of forcing himself on the idea of red hair burning like flames and the boyish features of a math genius that fills his chest with an entire ocean of butterflies. "Fuck." A breathless curse falling from his lips with a sound of exhaustion in his tone. Sitting up as his eyes meet the moonlight through the window as the ringing of a bullet sounds in his ear, but how he wished that bullet pierced his own skin just to never see what Lucas and Sierra were doing. Death would feel easier than breaking down, but he was only being over dramatic.

Instead of sleeping, he writes in the leather bound journal with caution. Drawing out the scene of a scared boy hiding in a closet from his father's death, but then it's changing into something new. Not a scene of the murder, but the scene of his heart's release where a tsunami of emotions drowns him under a wave of electricity that dies out with a flickering of stuttered words. Fingers take over as he can feel the light of morning rise across his skin with a softness that warms his skin, until his stomach churns to life with a grumbling feeling of hungry for food.

Escaping for food would be good, if it hadn't led to a machine jammed inbetween gear shifts of love and lost. Lucas Ashling looks thoroughly a mess of things that he didn't want to think about. Morning was always a sanctuary of sunlight and forgotten memories of the past that he was tired of remembering. The way that Lucas stands with a relaxed, but pleased form gives him an electricity of jealousy that strikes through his skin like a lightning bolt of emotion. Words come from his attractive friend that has a groggy, but satisfying voice that makes his skin shiver down to the core of his being.

"Bellamy?"

Don't speak.

"Hey, how are you?"

Fuck. Three words that didn't seem right to be answering as he looks at sunkissed beauty with messy hair and messy clothes as eyes reach his own icy ones for a moment. Bellamy can feel his own heartbeat throbbing in his ear as the smile comes forth with a comforting smile trying to ease his friend of what was deep down. A thoroughly fucked situation that he did not want to be in at that moment. Soon enough, he'll find somewhere to go to make him forget. To make him forget of the electricity that runs in his veins at the thought of Lucas Ashling. Some forgettable hot guy that'll thoroughly make him feel like the world wasn't collapsing in a flutter of butterfly wings and fiery red hair. Shifting to his other foot, he lets out a nice laugh as he speaks.

"Good. Just early start to my morning. I can see you had a, uh good time last night?"

Eyes meet with a twisting of gears and bolts that mix with gunpowder and salty sweat smells that fill his senses of horrible things. Whole body screaming for him to find a closet to shut and hide away from everything forever once again. Peacekeepers would never look for him again in the sense of leaving him in a closet in peace. Everything's different now that he's seen red hair and dark hair becoming one. Dreams don't exist in their world, but he gives a small smile as he shuffles back onto his other foot with words already coming from his lips.

"How are you doing?"

A whisper of words mumbled under his breath, that Lucas wouldn't hear, about how good he must be doing by the look on his face. Tiredness in his eyes, teeth already biting softly in a nervous manner on his cheek, with a silent hum of the air in his ear. Heartbeat be damned, he's tired of living like a shadow from the truth of the situation, but he's got to be supportive after all, he can't remember a time Lucas dated anyone. Bellamy was the asshole after all with many different lovers that he's never told Lucas about, but standing there in front of his friend only makes his blood boil, but the friendly smile stays.

All he can see if sunlight and a messy vision of attractiveness.

A strike of electricity that makes his skin crawl with sorrows buried beneath his metal.

Everything hurts, but the butterflies still flutter.