𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳

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Walls !
‧͙⁺˚*・ nothing to ruin a good mood like murder ༓☾
(a.k.a loser 1 and 2 fucked up bellamy's great idea)

a loser 1 and 2 fucked up bellamy's great idea)

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❝ yes, you do look twenty-one to me ❞










             "WHY DON'T WE HEAD BACK TO YOURS?" Brett asked as he looked at the large house.

   "We just got here," Bellamy rolled his eyes as he placed the car in park.

   "I know... I just thought about it... and... I think it'd be more fun back at yours." Brett was obviously trying to coerce him into leaving, but Bellamy had already been convinced to leave, and he was having a hard time wanting to return. At the very least he wanted to get a drink.

   But, as his eyes landed on Brett, he could see something was wrong. His hands were in his lap, fingers fidgeting. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Even in the dark, Bellamy could see how stormy his eyes were.

   "What's wrong with you?" It came out harsher than Bellamy intended. He always had the grace of a giraffe when it came to social situations. He may be able to convince people of just about anything, but that was due to compulsion and a charming smile. Not his tone of voice.

   "Nothing," Brett got out of the car with a huff.

   Bellamy hung his head. Brett didn't stop as he went up to the porch without him. He was beginning to wonder how much longer he could keep this friends with benefits going. Brett was starting to get attached Not that Bellamy was. He didn't care about people like that anymore. Brett was no exception.

   With a heavy sigh, he got out of the hummer. He used his speed to get to the door in half a second. He raised his hand to knock, but the door was already opening. Peyton, red in the face, was ready to storm out. Bellamy put his arms out in time to stop her from running into him.

   "The fuck are you doing here?" She snapped. Her fists were clenched at her sides. She resembled another read-head ticking time bomb he knew.

   "Came here to see you, obviously," He drawled sarcastically, "This your house?"

   "What do you care?" She crossed her arms. Her eyes darted Bellamy, into the yard and back at him, like she hadn't decided if she would run past him or scream at him.

   "Invite me in," Bellamy compelled, discreetly pressing his foot against the solid barrier of the doorway.

   "Come in," She droned. Bellamy's foot moved ever so slightly, past the doorway. Her eyes snapped to a group in the dining room, "No! Put that down!" She ran to them snatching a blue vase from them.

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 ╼╼ b. talbotWhere stories live. Discover now