Vienna

sixteen

"Fascinating the art we create when our hearts are broken."
-a

Vienna

"Thanks," I say awkwardly, stepping into the family room.

"Just take a hot shower or something.... I can drop you off at home later," he says, scratching the back of his neck after he closes the door.

"Oh, ok," I say, walking up the steps.

I know the house pretty well so it's not a problem for me to find the bathroom.

I hop in the hot shower, which feels amazing, and clean off all the grime from my body.

I get out to find a tee shirt and sweatpants already laying on the toilet seat.

Weird. Those definitely weren't there before.

I push the thought out of my head and put on the clothes. They smell like him. I like this. A lot.

I saunter into Bellamy's room, snorting at the sight of a pin- up, "Thanks for this, that felt really good," I say gratefully, smiling.

"Ehm, sure, want me to take you home now?" He asks seconds later, even though it feels like an eternity.

"Your room has definitely changed," I laugh, ignoring his question.

"Yeah, ok," he says in a monotone voice.

"Don't be such a party pooper," I laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

I prance around his room, and somehow, I feel at home. I feel secure and safe, like nothing could ever hurt me. I feel like my old self.

My feelings lie to me.

"Hey, what's this?" I ask him, holding up a drawing I found on his desk.

He snatches it out of my hand, "Nothing," he snaps harshly.

"No, it's something," I reply, "When did you start drawing?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the articulate sketches sitting on his desk. It's only then that I start to catch a glimpse of a notepad filled with words.

"I think it's time you go home," he grabs my arms, forcing me out of his bedroom.

Ok, now I'm curious.

He practically shoves me into the passenger side and speeds off, looking uneasy.

I stare at him for atleast two minutes, which I know is making him uncomfortable.

"So, when did you decide that you hated me?" I ask out of the blue.

"What?" He retorts, confused.

"I'm just curious," I shrug as he pulls up to my house.

"Vie-" he sighs but I cut him off, fearful of his response.

"No, you promised," I say, shaking my head, feeling rather vulnerable.

"I what?" He snaps his head toward me, looking genuinely confused.

"Happy Christmas, Bells," I say weakly, getting out and slamming the door behind me.

I run inside, wheezing to catch my breath.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Don't fucking cry.

You're weak and pathetic, he hates you.

There is no such thing as evermore.