run away with me | {cecily/beau}
Sept 28, 2021 0:24:56 GMT -5
Post by dars on Sept 28, 2021 0:24:56 GMT -5
He stands there like an idiot and watches as the girl he thinks he might be in love with marches toward literal death. He's supposed to do something, say something- that's what people would expect of Beau Bravina. Bellamy is probably somewhere with the other sixteen years old's confused and wondering why the hell he hasn't said something already. He should. He knows he should. His hands shake at his sides and people are staring at him and he feels the same pressure in his chest that he feels when he's competing- the weight of the whole wide world on his shoulders for an uphill hike. She's the only one who thinks he's enough. Really enough, as he is. Despite all his best efforts to wear his most polished masks around her, Cecily Deerling always saw right through him. Saw right up to his core. Saw all the secrets he's never told and the imperfections he hides so very well and she still chose to come back over and over again. And she became a constant- familiar, like the electric blue color of the cotton candy ice creams they share or the smell of freshly mown grass as he walks to her house or the sound of darts clipping against the wooden walls of his parents' guest house. He looks at her like 'Cecily' and 'home' cannot exist in a place without the other. And if he were brave, he'd have said something months ago. Here's thing, though- the big secret that no one knows: he's a fake. He isn't... brave. He gets a lot of credit for it, and maybe it's because people think he has a nice smile, or maybe it's because he's so goddamn stubborn that by the time he's done with anyone who'll listen to him, he's somehow convinced them to buy into the lies, or maybe its because he's so scared of letting everyone down that failure isn't an option. But that isn't bravery that's... Compliance. The golden boy, the prodigy, the older brother to be idolized and set examples and the only athlete from his school's team to make all-stars. Genetics. None of it within his control. All of it decided for him. She only sees his heart and he wants more than anything to hand it over to her in that moment. Her eyes find him from across the square and she hesitates. He's seen that look before on her- the way her pupils are dilated just so and the way her tongue is pressed to her top lip and her chin is tipped up ever-so-slightly. She's playing ahead, forever the girl who grew up playing chess instead of checkers. And seeing that, seeing her, and how brave she can be, even with the peacekeepers pushing her away from the remnants of the crowd- it makes him get it. He's still afraid, make no mistake, but he also doesn't really care if he has her with him. And so when she runs, he doesn't hesitate. He runs, too. The sirens are distant from here. It's easy enough for him to convince himself these problems are too far away to matter anymore. He's been waiting for exactly two minutes and fifteen seconds, lurking within the hollow husk of what was once a church, but is currently little more than stone walls leaned against one another, more overtaken by nature than not. 300 yards further, through that thicket on the right side, is the border of Five. There's a setup that diverts the electricity from a single panel, rendering it completely safe to touch until the wires are disconnected. His fingertips are still twitching in phantom pains from getting it set up and he wonders if he's made a mistake doing this. He wonders if doing it officially incriminates him. Or if coming here alone was. He wonders if she's already been caught. He wonders if he was stupid to think she'd come here, their special place, when there are probably a thousand better places to go and a million better people she could ask for help. For a terrifying moment, he wonders if he'll ever get to see her again, and then he hears footsteps. He pulls her into the fallen structure possibly before she even knows he's there. A pregnant pause as he stares at her, angry, and shocked, and scared, and confused. He opens his mouth to say something, but loses the thought. He scowls. She's never been one to go down without a fight, he supposes, and she will, even if the price is a gamble with her life, do whatever she wants to do at the end of the day. Despite the warring of emotions within him, there's one more present than any of the others: Relief. He hugs her and it washes over him in a wave, consuming him so much that it's all he can do to drown in it. He's holding her in his hands. She's still there, right in front of him. "You're real," he whispers. She's real. He feels the warmth of her against him. He allows himself to exist in a state of bliss for only a moment longer before he pulls away. His eyes catch on the stain in her dress and he smiles even as the tears spill over onto his cheeks. She still looks so fucking hot. "We have to leave now. I disabled the fence over there but they'll find it soon. We've probably got about thirty minutes until then, and they won't be travelling on foot so we gotta move fast." |
