-
Song: i hate u i love u
Artist: Gnash
I hate you, I love you, I hate that I want you
-
LAST DAY OF SCHOOL
Bellamy P.o.v.
I wince, watching the stereotypical-looking clock. That silver rim around the minimalistic black and white interior is not as comforting as you'd think. My foot taps anxiously on the cheap linoleum floor, as our teacher tries to keep our attention for the last few minutes of class. I'm not excited like the others are, I'm actually dreading the final school bell, because–
The mechanic clang sounds, and I sigh, slowly blocking my ears, trying to avoid the chaos of the beginning of summer. Personally, I think it feels like fall. The weather is only mild and the sky is grey, like it is most of the time. I wait until the class is pretty much empty, which doesn't require me to wait long before standing up, tucking in my chair under my dest like any normal student, and slinging my bag over my shoulder. I lazily take my report card from my teacher's hands, ignoring him when he wishes me a happy summer. I step into the doorframe, waiting for the perfect time to merge. I take out my report card from its envelope, discarding it into the recycling bin behind the door. I scan over my marks, smirking at my A+ in Math and History, sighing at my B in Science, knowing that I could have done better. I frown at my lowest mark, which is in Art. B-. I stuff it into my bag, shoving my way through the crowd to my locker. I open it roughly for the last time before break, not caring that people are trying to push themselves past me. Whoever thought it was a good idea to dismiss over five thousand kids at one time?
I empty my locker, throwing pages that I don't care about anymore onto the floor for whichever poor soul to clean up later. When I'm about done, I close my locker–
"Fuck," I hiss, seeing Murphy behind it. I take a breath. He ignores my shock and a loose smile of success finds its way onto his face.
"I passed all my classes." he informs as if it's no big deal and I take the paper from him, looking it over. I notice his close-to-fail mark in Math and his high Art mark. He actually pulled it off. I'm not that surprised, he studied like hell for the last month, and teachers dismissed what he missed on account of his mom croaking it. If his mother hadn't died, he wouldn't have gotten that sympathy and he'd most likely have had to do summer school.
"Well shit," I say, impressed, nodding satisfactorily. He smiles, but his eyes widen, looking behind my shoulder. He blinks twice before cocking his head to the side. He takes his report card, folding it in two.
"We should really get going," he mutters, the sound barely making it to my ears. He grabs my wrist, yanking me towards him. I glance quickly behind my shoulder, seeing two guys I recognize, but don't know, making their ways towards us. I groan, following Murphy reluctantly out of the building. He pulls me to the side of the school, bringing his finger to his lips, telling me to remain quietly. I nod, looking both ways, noticing a piece of decaying wood that leans against the school with a morose look. It could have come from anywhere, but it's big and I have the itch to see if there's anything behind it. I take a step, but Murphy lets out a sigh, brushing himself off and grabbing my attention. "We can go now," he informs and I raise an eyebrow, abandoning my curiosity.
"Who'd you piss off?" I ask as he shoves his hands into his pockets, raising his shoulders as we get back to the sidewalk that is still littered with kids.
"Some people really don't know how to take a joke," he mumbles, ignoring my question. I scoff, nudging him.
"You've already made enemies for next year–good job," I muse and he nods.
"Yeah, they were suppose to graduate yeah though, but they didn't and I... Yeah." he says vaguely, but knowing him, he probably mocked them or some immature shit like that. Honestly, he shouldn't be acting all high and mighty, I mean, he almost failed the year, but earned the bare minimum to continue on to grade twelve.
Shit, I have to start thinking about college.
***
My eyes droop as I look at my book, forgetting its title. It has words, the story's got an interesting plot, but I think I'm just rereading the same sentence over and over again. A few soft knocks sound on my door before Octavia peeks her head in curiously. I stare at her blankly, wondering what she wants. I let my book fall to the side of the bed. "You guys gotta come, Mom and Dad said they wanna talk." she says uncertainly. I frown.
"What's wrong?"
"I think I'm in trouble." she says nervously. I blink twice, sighing and shaking my head.
"They're probably just gonna talk about grades." I reassure her, sitting up, but Murphy, who had been asleep on my shoulder just seconds ago, falls back down and hits the pillow. I wince for him. He scrunches his face in discomfort before opening his grey eyes. They were blue this afternoon, I swear.
"Sorry," I mumble, swinging my feet onto the floor and standing up. I look to the door, seeing that O's already left. I bite my cheek as Murphy, stares at me intensely for a good two seconds before pulling the covers over his head and turning over, huddling as close to the wall as he can get.
Not again.
I contemplate wether or not I should force him out of bed, but I decide against it, turning off the light and closing the door instead. My hand burns as I leave it on the doorknob for a few seconds longer. Even though he's sad right now, I hope sleeping makes him at least a little more content.
The feeling I get downstairs is an uncomfortable one. I give a confused look to my sister, who gives me a 'see, told you it was weird,' look. Mom, looks at her plate as she tries to repress a smile of some sort and Dad looks over all three report cards carefully, as if looking for some kind of error. I take my seat.
"These are impressive." he remarks.
"Where's Murphy?" Mom interrupts, looking at the stairs.
I place my elbows on the table, letting my hands hold my head. "He's doing that thing again, I dunno." I mumble, upset because I wish there was something I could do. "He's always sad." Well, always might not be the case, but it's often, and he doesn't say anything, sometimes for hours. He once slept three days, not wanting to get out of bed or talk to anyone. The following day, he was a completely different person. Full of life, happiness, joy... but those never last.
Mom nods, sighing. "He's been through a lot this year."
"But he could talk to me if he's so upset, you know?" I argue and she nods.
"Some people aren't very vocal about the way they feel." she confesses and I raise an eyebrow, scoffing. Her tone made it seem as though it was directed at me. I open my mouth–
"You did really well on your classes this year kids," he says and I lean back in my chair, ignoring my mother. "Tell Murphy the same, I'm proud that he passed." he says and I nod slowly. Octavia looks like she's going to cry from nerves. He clears his through unnecessarily before folding his hands on the table as if he was some big CEO. "Your mother and I have something we want to tell you." he says and I furrow my eyebrows in concern. They better not be getting a divorce. "We thought of something fun that we could all do this summer," he says and Octavia relaxes into her seat once she understands that they're not mad. "What would you two think about maybe taking a trip to Australia?" he asks and my sister and I exchange an odd look, waiting for the punch. I raise an eyebrow. "We'll ask Murphy when he wakes up."
"Australia? Isn't that a bit expensive?" I intervene.
"There was a sale at work, I got them cheap" he informs and I narrow my eyes.
"A sale." I echo sceptically.
Dad rolls his eyes and sighs in annoyance. "My company's giving us cheap tickets to Australia. Now, if you want to turn them down because you, who won't pay for it, think that it's going to be too expensive, then we'll just stay here." he says with attitude. I feel a slap on my arm and I flinch, seeing that it was Octavia who'd hit me.
"No! I wanna go!" she exclaims excitedly. "I wanna see the kangaroos and the baby kangaroos in the pockets–shut up, Bell." she says and I roll my eyes. I nod indecisively. I really don't think we can afford to go, but if Dad says we can, then I guess.
"Tell Murphy the good news when he wakes up, okay?" Mom asks as I get up, heading to the stairs. I nod a few times, pulling my weight up the stairs, utterly exhausted. Not just from the day, but from the entire school year. It's the first day of summer and I feel like we're caught in the middle of a snow storm. Something's blocking my emotions. I used to ignore the wall that held them in, but being with Murphy and witnessing all of his, I've understood that I can't not cry and I can't solve everything by hitting miscellaneous objects until I'm calm. He's a major hypocrite when he tells me that, but at least he cries some times too. I know why people cry and I know that it's okay to, but I don't and I can't. I'll cry rarely– if I break a bone, maybe not even then. The only recent times that I can remember crying, have been caused by him. This guy asleep in my bed, dreaming dreams or having nightmares. I know he loves his sleep, and he knows that I hate sleep because sleep means being unaware and I won't have that. Okay, maybe I'm just not admitting that insomnia might come into play here, but sleep gets in the way of my everyday life.
I get into bed cautiously. It's become a bad habit. I shouldn't enter my bed as if I were entering a lion's den. I keep to my side, but I stare at his back, wondering what it'd be like to be in a normal relationship.
That wouldn't be so bad, would it? A nice girl, not too short, not too tall, nice hair, preferably brown– blue eyes would be nice, but they'd have to be the blue that had the capability of telling stories. They'd turn turquoise when she'd cry, but I'd tell her it's okay to show her feelings. She'd fit perfectly under my arm and our lips would fit like puzzle pieces, as cheesy and corny as it sounds. She'd make me laugh, give me butterflies, tell me that I'm worth a damn...
I bring my eyes back up to the back of Murphy's head, when I hear him shuffle under the sheets. He turns around, a pained expression on a face that doesn't deserve it. Well, maybe he deserves it, but not when he's sleeping. He opens his eyes and in the dark I can still make out their light shade. He finds my hand under the covers and pulls me next to him, wrapping his arms around me easily. He fits so nicely under my chin and his hair isn't itchy. It's soft and smells–not of fruit or girly scents, but of freshness. He smells like something that I can't describe, but it's something that makes me smile. He removes his head from under my chin and without hesitations, places his soft lips on mine with no innuendo other than caution. I feel flutters when his his hands slowly balls the fabric of my shirt into loose fists.
No words need to be exchanged, to know that what we're doing isn't wrong. We're not going behind anyone's back, Murphy's not here against Mom and Dad's wishes, no. He's here because he's wanted and because he wants to be here. We're kissing because it feels right, but something is off and I still feel scandalous when I touch his skin. Whether or not he feels the same isn't any of my concern really. I really do love him, and I know that he loves me, but does he like me?
"Murphy?" I ask in a low whisper, he plays with the collar of my shirt. "Do you like me?" he looks a bit confused, but nods anyway.
"I love you," somehow he's managed to kill the beauty of those overused words with the dead sound in his voice. It's enough to make me question his own sanity. I shake my head.
"No, do you like me?" I stare at him, waiting.
"I'm not answering that." I tense, feeling my heart speed and my face flush. He places a hand my chest. "We never liked each other." he's not wrong. "We didn't get along when we were younger and we never gave it any time now, but who cares? People like and stop liking each other all the time." he admits softly, not speaking directly at me. He speaks to my chest. "Falling in and out of love is hard, but..." he loses his words somewhere in the bed. I wait for him to find them. "It was easy for us, so maybe we won't break up like others did, like Raven and Finn or Jasper with that girl, Maya." he says and he's slowly starting to mumble. "You saved my life," he mutters, bitterly– he's falling asleep. "And I'll never forgive you for that," he says. I can feel his eyes drooping shut. "And I want to hate you." he admits. "In class, I'll be able to convince myself that I do, you know..." he says, I don't even think he's fully awake anymore. "And then I'll get made because I'll wonder why I wasted so much energy on you," his words sound final in his mouth. "But then you talk to me and–and," he's starting to shake. "And you talk to me like you want me to listen and you touch me like I'm glass." I find one of his hands, lacing our fingers together. " You care about me even though you claim not to give a damn about anyone and I know you get upset when I get upset and–Dammit!" he exclaims, frustrated. "I've done nothing to deserve this." I pull him closer to me, staring at whatever in the dark. I think it's a wall– it's the wall that the bed is shoved up against. I asked Murphy one time, why he insisted on being closer to the wall even if he claims to be claustrophobic. Because I'm in the middle of two very important things. he said. He was tired, it was a long day and we both just wanted to sleep. One of the things will prevent me from falling and it keeps me safe, he spoke each work with an artistic accent. Each word was another sort of special to him. And the wall, well... I don't like to get hot when I sleep, and your wall's not insulated, so the it kind of cools me down.
-------------------------------------------------
Vote if you liked this chapter and feel free to leave feedback!!
Love you lotsXx