⊹*☾:･ﾟ 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒
𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 bellamy mikaelson learns to love again.
❝nothing makes you hurt like hurtin' who you love❞
Brett was the sun, bright and warm, melting Bellamy's fear slowly, day by day, moment by moment. Bellamy was the moo...
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❝ let's start with ball handling ❞
BELLAMY HAD NEVER BEEN THE TYPE TO MAKE FRIENDS. Growing up, he'd managed to make one real friend, and he ended up a serial killer. He had no intentions of testing his odds. This was instead a way to get to know what made Stiles' friends different. Noah brought it up, Bellamy agreed. Stiles, of course, hadn't been pleased by the idea.
Bellamy knocked on the door as they walked up, but Stiles objected to this too, "What're you doing?"
Bellamy turned to Stiles and began to wonder if he had any braincells whatsoever, "Knocking." He deadpanned.
"We never knock-"
Thankfully, Stiles blundering was cut off by the door opening. The guy with the crooked jaw from the clinic seemed confused as he looked at Stiles. His eyes drifted to Bellamy and it clicked.
"Come on in." He stepped out of the way. Bellamy slowly stepped into the house. He immediately placed everyone in the house. 1 upstairs. The older woman was talking on the phone as she paced. It was the nurse that he took the keycard from. 2 were in the seating area with the tv on. They were saying something about coyotes and what friends do.
The three tee, "Is pizza here? I want pizza." Stiles clapped his hands together and rubbed them as he walked into the sitting room.
"Heard you signed up for lacrosse," Scott smiled, "We could use some more players."
"Not sure how I'll do. Don't know a thing about it." Scott laughed, as if it were some joke.
"So how much do you know about lacrosse?" Brett asked as he spun his stick in his hand.
"It's a sport," Bellamy offered a half smile. Brett chuckled as he shook his head, his lip caught between his teeth.
"Looks like I have my work cut out for me," Brett sighed, "Let's start with ball handling."
"I'm pretty good at that," Bellamy raised his eyebrows as a teasing smirk pulled at his lips. Brett hit him in the chest with one of the lacrosse balls, "Hey, I didn't hear any complaints from you to prove otherwise."
Brett shoved the lacrosse stick into Bellamy's hands as a light blush tinted his cheeks. Bellamy tossed it between his hands before settling on what felt the most natural. Only, when Brett turned around, he bust out laughing. Bellamy huffed as he tried to hold it the way he saw Brett holding it moments before, but he was only met with stronger laughter.
