lockwood and co♡ locklyle

18・❥・blurred lines

Lucy♡

1360 words

Love's gonna get you killed  ♬

But pride's gonna be the death of you, and you, and you and me  ♬

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: PRIDE. Kendrick Lamar

 

Chapter Eighteen. Blurred lines

 It was decided after little contemplation that we would take the waiting cab to the station. From there, we would wait until the lines were up and running again and catch a train back to Marylebone. It was cheaper that way.

As much as Lockwood would like to pretend that fares aren't an issue for us anymore, it simply isn't true. I told him this would allow us an extra tin of tea bags and he quickly stopped his protesting.

The cab driver, an elderly man who thankfully held no end to his patience, let us out on the side of the road upon Lockwood's request. 

The station sat nestled into the rolling hills below us, overlooking the coastline. "Lockwood, I'm certain we could have afforded to be dropped at the station, not a hundred metres above it."

He hoisted my bag over his shoulders and spread his arms wide. "But then we would miss this view."

We stood atop the hill looking over the vast expanse of land around us. Rolling hills tumbled down towards the ocean, so flat it mirrored the sky above until there was no telling sea and sky apart. Bright rays shone down from gaps in the tempestuous clouds that loomed over the bay. It was something out of a dream. The sort of vision where no words, painting or picture could ever capture the extent of its beauty. My fingers itched to capture the view on paper, but I knew not even the most talented artist in the world could recreate such a scene.

I held my breath in wonderment, quite certain in the knowledge that the only thing I could be sure was real was the boy beside me. And even then, I had my doubts.

I glanced over to Lockwood to find him already looking at me, the same sort of mirthful glint in his eyes that I have wished a thousand times over to know the meaning behind. "I don't know what to say," I murmured, eyes flicking back and forth between him and the horizon.

"Don't say anything," he answered. And I didn't. Neither of us did. We stood admiring the beauty of the land, letting the coastal air dance through our hair and twirl through our fingertips. The breeze washed over us and carried every bit of sadness I held within me away in the open sky.

Eventually, puffs of steam billowed out of the station and curled upwards, reaching for the clouds. "The trains are starting," I said regretfully. "We better go."