bloodline [sweet pea]

act two, scene one

❝If there's a problem I can be a soldier, bring the hurricane right to your door...❞

☽ ---------------- 𓆙𓆙𓆙 ---------------- ☾

THE TWO STOREY HOME THAT BELONGED TO the Cohen-Matthew's household stood quiet, and dark on that particular night. In a neighborhood who's streets were light up with the light that filtered out of the windows of each home it was the one who's blinds were drawn that stood out without any sign of life within it's walls. The lights were on, but sheltered by curtains that had been pulled shut hours ago, and the front porch was dark. 

It was the stillness of the house that made Sweet Pea approach the side of the house cautiously. The only room in the house that showed signs of life was the one at the front of the house, on the other side of the living room. The one he knew to be Theo's bedroom. The curtains were drawn over each of the windows, but he could hear soft music coming from beyond them. 

He lifted his hand, closing it into a fist tapping his knuckles firmly four times against the glass. The music stopped, but the light filtering through the edges of the the windows doesn't turn off, there was no sign of movement, or anything else to tell him someone within the room had frozen to listen for another knock.

And yet somehow he knew she was in there waiting, so he spoke in the direction of the window before him, "It's me Theo."

The curtain is pushed aside, the metal grommets clattering against the curtain rod and she watched him with furrowed brows as he stood in the shelter of trees, hidden from the sight of the street. She pulled the window open, stepping aside to allow him to reach in and clamber through the window, his feet landing on the hardwood with a thud. 

When he straightened up Theo shut the window, clicking the lock into place before she pushed the curtains shut again and closed them off from the outside world again. She wouldn't quiet make eye contact with him, but instead she stared at the tattoo on the side of his neck with heavy eyes rimmed with smeared mascara. 

He let his eyes sweep over her. From her bare feet, to the baggy grey sweat pants rolled at the waist, belonging to Fangs he was sure, the baseball shirt with the grease stains on it, his he thinks. He doesn't know why it occurs to him now but he realizes he's never seen her in sweats before. 

Her hair is a mess of dark curls, the roots just starting to show the signs of oil, and her eyes and cheeks are puffy, the tip of her nose red. 

Clearing his throat Sweet Pea held up his phone, which was still on her contact profile, and explained his presence, "You weren't answering your phone."

Her phone, as it would turn out, was sitting face up on her desk and it lights up with a new text message that diverts his attention to it. Eight-two new notifications. He nodded his head, understanding now why she hadn't answered his calls or texts all evening. She had turned the sound off.