#technically still on hiatus but I couldn't sleep so I decided to knock out some drabbles

[benvoliosantodomingo]

@portiaphan asked for / actually friends au  mentioned / @romroses 

the apartment of jack hawthorne, oxfordshire, england / before

the sound of his phone vibrating against the nightstand rouses bellamy from sleep. jack makes a soft sound that might be an acknowledgement that something is happening, but might also be nothing more than an exhale of breath, and his hand tightens where it’s gently curled around the skin of bellamy’s hip, before it relaxes again. he smiles, and for a moment he is keen to ignore the instance of the intrusion--he closes his eyes again and focuses on the warmth of the contact, of the body pressed up against his spine, and for a moment he is lost to the memory of the night before.

i’ll be the first to admit that it’s cliche, jack had said, his lips and teeth stained by the wine. but i think you’re the most real and present person that i have ever met. bellamy had rolled his eyes and declared that such phrasing was cliche, and that someone with the level of education that his boyfriend possessed was capable of doing so much better--and then jack had smiled, in that way he always did. open and inviting, and yet somehow teasing--as if between his lips was the answer to every question bellamy could ever think to ask, if only he could conjure the correct phrasing. he had smiled and pressed his lips to bellamy’s jaw, followed the curve of the bone all the way to his lips. no, he had said. i think terribly real is the best way i could think to describe you. warm to the touch in a way that no one else is, at home inside of the cathedral of yourself. the sun in constant orbit, perhaps.

he feels the corner of his lips pulling up in a lazy smile, and he has a half formed idea that involves rolling over and seeing what else he can conjure out of the mouth of the poet, when the sound of the phone going off again begins to register. he huffs out an annoyed breath, and brings the screen close to his face, in an effort to assist his still heavy with sleep eyes.

three texts from marcelo, ten from roman, a missed call from odessa, one from paola and henry a piece, and two missed calls from pandora.

he drags a hand over his face and exhales slowly, before pressing a kiss between jack’s eyes and somehow managing to bring himself to his feet, and subsequently the kitchen. the sun, or at least, what passes for sun in england, is just beginning to rise as he fills the kettle with water and carefully places it on the stove, and he comes to the conclusion that it is far too early, relative to the amount of wine he consumed the night before.

he leans against the kitchen counter and presses pandora’s name on the screen. it's best to begin the process of healing whatever new wound verona has chosen to deal out with a modicum of truth--before he makes his way to whatever fantastic recollection his two best friends will inevitably share between them.

“bellamy,” she answers, and her voice is rough around the edges--tired in a way she doesn’t normally allow others to glimpse. “have you talked to anyone else, yet?”

“no,” he immediately starts to feel the familiar mixture of emotion in the pit of his stomach--something like survivor’s guilt, mixed with sadness and something that might be residual anger at the life they were all thrown into, at the city that brought them into adulthood exhausted, sharp edged in an effort to draw attention away from each tender bruise. “you were the first call i made--is everything all right?”

she is silent for a long moment, during which bellamy’s mind begins the process of coming to terms with about a dozen horrible possible scenarios. finally he hears the sound of a long exhale of breath, as if his friend is attempting to steel herself for something. for as long as he’s known her, pandora phan has been afraid of nothing--what could she possibly have to tell him that would require so much courage?

“are you sitting down?” she asks, and bellamy groans.

“just tell me--if something happened--” he huffs out a breath and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “i’ll come home, i’ll help in any way i can--just tell me, so that we can get the hard part out of the way.”

she pauses again, before she speaks. “i wanted you to hear it from me, first. roman and i announced our engagement last night. or well--damiano, and my family, announced it to roman and i. bellamy--” there’s an emotion in her voice that he can’t quite place, that he hasn’t heard from her before--he’s not sure, he’s too busy trying to decipher the meaning of the sudden roaring in his own chest. “bellamy, you have to know that we had nothing to do with it. we can’t just say no to these things.”

i’m sorry, he wants to say. i love you dearly, but i can’t really process this information right now. for some reason, it feels like the floor, perhaps the earth itself, has suddenly given way underneath my feet. can i call you back?

i’m sorry, he wants to say. i love you dearly, but i can’t. not when it's him. you understand, right? no? i don’t really either. does it feel like the miles of distance between us has suddenly compounded in the center of your chest, as well?

i’m sorry, he wants to say, for reasons he can’t quite articulate.

instead, he chuckles, and he’s certain that the sound is the furthest thing from genuine. “panda--i’m happy for you, really. i’m glad that it's you.”

he notices then that his fingers are gripped tightly on the edge of the counter, that the tea kettle has been hissing steam and making noise for long enough to draw jack out of the bedroom, wearing a pair of bellamy’s pajama bottoms, his bleach blonde hair sticking up in odd angles that on any other morning, bellamy would gladly take the time to smooth out with a gentle hand.

“damiano is throwing a party, about a month from now.” pandora says, though bellamy has trouble processing the words--the sound of her voice suddenly seems at odds with the life that bellamy has constructed for himself here. his life that’s filled with books, the sound of rain falling gently against a pane of glass, laughter followed by the honeyed words of a poet--verona seems like it should be on an entirely different celestial body from that life, not on the other end of a red string, pulling on his wrist. “we’d both like you to be there, if you can make it. bring your english boy with you--i know everyone would love to meet him. i’d love to meet him.”

he can hear her smile on the other end--he can almost see it too. determined, all teeth, only sad around the edges if you know to look for it. “of course i’ll be there--you’re two of my best friends. i wouldn’t miss it.” he smiles in return, and hopes she can hear it in the same way, hopes maybe she’ll imagine it happier, than it is in actuality.

“it will be good to see you. take care of yourself until then, bellamy.”

“you too, panda.”

he sets his phone down on the countertop, before accepting the mug of tea that jack presses into his hands. warm, but not quite real, at this particular moment in time. “what was that about?” his boyfriend asks, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

he hesitates--taps his fingers against the mug. it's emblazoned with the logo of a play they’d seen together on the west end a week ago--it's been bellamy’s favorite, ever since. he sets it down carefully next to his phone, and shrugs one shoulder. “two of my friends from back home just got engaged. i’m thinking about flying out for the party.”

jack smiles warmly, gently rests a hand on bellamy’s shoulder, before it moves up his neck, cards through the short hair at the base. “that will be the first time you’ve been home in a while, won’t it? i can come with you, if you’d like.”

bellamy shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. i don’t plan on staying.”

the home of damiano montague, verona, italy / before

damiano montague towers over his guests, an image that is almost comically opposed to the glimmering crystal of the champagne flute in his hand. its clear to everyone invited that he is proud of his son, of the woman they’ll welcome into their family sooner rather than later, and it's clear to everyone invited that the young couple are a good match for one another--surely the montague empire will only flourish, once the uncrowned king and queen of verona ascend to their rightful thrones, once the mind of pandora phan is united in matrimony and purpose with the charm and energy of roman montague. it hardly needs to be said, and yet damiano still smiles, taps his knife against his glass, and declares that he would like to propose a toast.

bellamy takes the opportunity to wrap his jacket around odessa’s shoulders, and make a half hearted excuse about needing some air.

he steps out into the massive expanse of the montague garden, which has been strung up with an innumerable amount of fairy lights for the occasion. the night air is cool, as opposed to the oppressive heat of people pressed together inside, and the setting is almost beautiful--but he can’t un-know what’s happening inside, behind the door he now has his back to. he can’t un-know how he feels about it, either.

once, he had known the exact number of steps it took to gain enough momentum to push himself over the gate nearest to roman’s room. once, he had known the exact number of steps it took to get from the other side of that gate to the trellis that just to happened to climb just underneath his best friend’s bedroom window. it had seemed vital then, to know such things--now, as he wanders through the foliage, yet again trying to stay hidden away from view, it feels half remembered, unimportant.

why would he choose the boy who had been so desperate to be close to him that he had memorized every detail of the process, to the point of it being damn near muscle memory?

he throws back what remains of his champagne, startles at a hand on his shoulder.

pandora smiles, presses a kiss to his cheek. she’s holding both of her shoes, and wearing a black zip up hoodie over her dress. “i--wasn’t feeling well.” he tries to say, in way of explanation. “didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

“it’s all right.” she says, in a tone of voice that is kinder than it has any right to be, all things considered. “i can’t imagine how overwhelming it must be, to suddenly be back in the belly of the beast.” she leans her head on his shoulder. “i’m glad you came, bellamy.”

he exhales, a shaky release of breath that suddenly feels trapped and hard to draw. “of course--it’s not every day that two of your best friends get engaged, after all. what kind of person would i be if i missed this?”

she shakes her head, wraps her arms around his middle. “one with self preservation instincts, bell.” he hugs her in return, presses a kiss to the top of her head. her voice is quiet, meant for only bellamy to hear, in comparison to her usual concise and cutting manner of speaking. “i’m so sorry. i see how you look at him. i know how he talks about you. if he had a choice--”

her voice trails off, and bellamy bites down hard on his bottom lip, until he can taste copper on his tongue.

“i should be the one apologizing to you.” he murmurs, after an indeterminate amount of time has passed. maybe an eternity, maybe only a few minutes. “i wish i could stop--but i think--” he chuckles, though it’s a hoarse sound, like sandpaper rubbing against brick. “i think i’ve felt this way longer than i’ve known that i have.”

he inhales and exhales slowly, rubs a hand gently over her shoulder. “i’m going back to england tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about me.”

she pulls away, in an effort to meet his gaze properly. “don’t be an idiot, bellamy santo-domingo.” she shoves at him playfully, before she rests both of her hands on his chest. “i am always going to worry about you. but you should know, that until--i don’t know, whatever happens--i won’t hurt him.”

she hugs him again, and he rests his chin on top of her head. “just--don’t stay away too long, okay? he misses you more than you know.”

she laughs, and lets out a long and dramatic exhale of breath. “if we don’t get back in there, people are going to get suspicious of the wrong thing.”

her offers her his arm, and together, they head back in the direction of the house.