⊹*☾:･ﾟ 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒
𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 bellamy mikaelson learns to love again.
❝nothing makes you hurt like hurtin' who you love❞
Brett was the sun, bright and warm, melting Bellamy's fear slowly, day by day, moment by moment. Bellamy was the moo...
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❝ you did this to yourself ❞
BELLAMYLOOSELYHELDACIGARETTEBETWEENHISTEETHASHEDUGTHROUGHTHEFRIDGE. He wanted chocolate chip cookies, and luckily for him, some were left from Christmas. The floorboard right in front of the door creaked. Bellamy slowly blew out a puff of smoke. A quiet shit echoed with a muffled thump, just outside the door. Bellamy stubbed the cigarette out and prepared himself for a midnight snack better than cookies.
Hunger took over as the veins from under his eyes ran hot, fangs burning for something much richer. He almost wasn't able to stop himself from lunging at the warm body. He took a deep breath; it only made matters worse. The sound of Stiles' heart filled his ears.
Bellamy anchored himself to the wall. If he got any closer... He didn't want to think about that.
Stiles turned on the flashlight on his phone and managed to aim it right at Bellamy, sending himself into a panic. He tripped over the coffee table. Stiles landed on his back on the couch. It would be so easy for Bellamy to just get a sip.
"Your girlfriend's waiting on you," Bellamy gritted as he nodded towards the stairs. His fingers dug further into the doorframe.
Stiles took a deep breath and his heart slowed. He let out a long string of whispered, vulgar curses, directing a few at Bellamy, "The hell is wrong with you?"
Bellamy didn't respond. While the living room was silent for Stiles, Bellamy could hear the blood pumping through Stiles' body. His eyes drifted to Stiles' carotid. He swallowed. He tried to focus on the wall and the floor.
He had to get out of there. Bellamy brought his hand to his nose, rubbing it violently, "Have you been smoking?" Bellamy grabbed his keys off the table.
"Where are you going?"
"The hell do you care?" Bellamy slammed the door behind him a bit too hard. Bellamy needed another pack of cigarettes, a bottle of something that would dull this need, and then he would allow himself to get a snack... or two...
Stiles stared at the door as if it had personally offended him. He could smell cigarettes and the window above the sink was open, probably to rid the smell. When did Bellamy start doing that? It was becoming more and more apparent that Bellamy wasn't the same kid he remembered playing with at Aunt Rachel's.
But he wasn't anything dangerous, right? That wasn't possible. He'd just had a rough go in life. He just did some things he probably shouldn't have. Not everything was out to get him and his friends. He was just being paranoid. Bellamy was his cousin. He loved his cousin. Bellamy loved him. Bellamy couldn't harm a fly.
