Fanfic Request! Theme: Whatever You Want
001.Beginnings. 002.Middles. 003.Ends. 004.Insides. 005.Outsides. 006.Hours. 007.Days. 008.Weeks. 009.Months. 010.Years. 011.Red. 012.Orange. 013.Yellow. 014.Green. 015.Blue. 016.Purple. 017.Brown. 018.Black. 019.White. 020.Colourless. 021.Friends. 022.Enemies. 023.Lovers. 024.Family. 025.Strangers. 026.Teammates. 027.Parents. 028.Children. ( Read more... )
Now, that wasn’t her real name and he knew that. But that was what he decided to name her until he knows her actual name. Besides, it fit what he knew about her and added a dash of mystery into the situation.
Right now, he was heading to the club hoping that he’ll no longer need a reason to call her Bella Desconocida.
Entering the club, alone once more, he spotted her easily. It wasn’t that hard since she was shining in the dark place like a diamond.
He dances up to her again, smiling against her neck and blowing hot breath over her skin teasingly. “Hello Bella,” he whispered in her ear.
“My name isn’t Bella,” she said, looking at him with those gorgeous eyes.
“You’re beautiful though,” he said with a casual shrug. “Bella means ‘beautiful’, you know?”
Bella smiles, her face flushing in pleasure as she presses closer together to him. “No,” she says with a secret smile. “I didn’t.”
Again, it was a blur after that but the next morning was different. Yeah, he still woke up in a motel room. Yeah, he was still nude and sticky. Yeah, he smelled like smoke and sex.
But Bella was there that time.
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Ever night after leaving the club, for about two or three months, he would take her to a parking lot he knew would always be empty, a rarity in New York, and look up at the stars with her.
Sometimes they would make out or say nothing, but they would almost always talk to each other.
“I want to be like them,” he confided to her one late night. He pointed to the stars, looking at her all the while. “Bright and easy to see and known by everyone by just a glance.”
“Aren’t you already?” Bella asked, tugging on his purple hoodie and laughing.
“Don’t diss the hoodie,” he said, playfully slapping her arm. “I’m serious, Bella, I don’t want to worry about my next meal or wonder if I’m ever going to get the Big Break.
I want the Cobra’s message to spread; I want to know that my friends and I aren’t doing shit for nothing at all. Don’t you ever feel like that, Bella? Want to leave a mark on this earth somehow?”
“Not really,” she said honestly with those eyes of hers. And, for some reason, he loves her even more after that.
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Their relationship was great; he would even say they were getting steady, until he said something to fuck it up.
“I really think I’m beginning to fall in love with you,” he admits as they leave the club one night.
She suddenly stiffens in his arm, her eyes widening and lips tightening in displeasure. Pushing him away from her, she glares at him and he wonders what the hell he had done.
“You,” she hissed, moving away from him and shaking her head. “You just had to ruin it, hadn’t you? I thought…I thought you were…”
“What?” He was honestly confused. “What did I do, Bella?”
“Don’t call me that!” She hits him on the shoulder and keeps shaking her head. “Don’t call me that Gabe, don’t! I…I…I hate you. You ruined everything.”
Without any running, she suddenly turns and runs. He just stands here, dumbstruck and wondering what on earth he had done to set her off like that.
She disappears into the urban jungle of the city, ignoring his frantic pleas.
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Feeling anxious, he looks around there and stares at any face that has eyes inviting as hers and a smile that made him want to smile as well. He asked people if they’ve seen a girl dancing without a care in the world. He tries to smell smoke and sex at the same time.
Nothing.
He goes to the bartender and asks if he had seen her.
“Oh, her. Sweet kid but seemed a little bit…troubled,” the bartender said. “She had that she had a fear of getting close to people. Likes to be with them but not close to them.”
“How do you know?” He admittedly sounds too harsh when he said that.
“She told me once when she was drunk as a skunk, kid,” the man replied. “Was crying and sobbing about her past, something about her family and life before she came here to the U.S, and saying it made her feel scared now and days.”
He thinks about the image of her face streaks in tears, clutching to the glass like it was life preserve, and it made his heart hurt. He didn’t know that. Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn’t know a lot of things about her.
“Have you seen her? I need to talk to her.”
“She hasn’t been here yet. But if I see her and you’re not here, I’ll pass a message onto her. What’s her name?”
He realizes he never asked for her real name.
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