Chapter Text
Bella fingered the hem of her shirt nervously. The smell of sweat and alcohol permeated the air, making Bella feel queasy. There were lights flashing in time to the bass beat of what seemed like the same song she first heard when she walked in, but with different lyrics. Voices were yelling and music vibrating, continuous noise, noise, noise. She just wanted to get out, to find a quiet corner and read, maybe write a little, fall asleep with a book lying on her chest and ink stains on her hands. She tried to make her way back to the bar, pushing her way through the masses of people, which was quite a feat considering her size, unfortunately she couldn’t avoid a range wandering hands attempting to touch her in rather inappropriate places.
By the time Bella reached her destination her arms were wrapped tightly around her small frame, and she was trembling in fear. Sweat clung to Bella’s brow and she bit her lip anxiously, tears forming in her big brown eyes. Everywhere she looked hands and people, and hands on people. The tears made tiny trails down her cheeks, before dropping onto her shirt, leaving little dark spots on the white material. A hand grabbed her shoulder and she screamed, jumping as high as a tiny kangaroo on speed. She tried to turn around and scramble backwards at the same time, the result of which was a rather awkward landing ending with Bella falling on the floor. More hands came into view and reached down to help her up, touching her jacket and arms and wrists, and it was too much.
“Don’t!” She screamed, attempting to scramble backwards again but whimpering as she ran into the legs of a barstool. Faces stared down at her, watching her every move. A man loomed over her and she held up her arms as if blocking imaginary blows.
“Everyone, back up. Give her some space, okay?” The voice was ruff, but sweet and lilting. Bella heard a murmur of agreement in reply and the tapping of feet, she lowered her arms hesitantly, but she didn’t look up. Blood rose in her cheeks and tears began to gather in her eyes again. The music was hurting her head.
“Hey, sweetheart, don’t cry,” said the kind voice. “Is it okay, if I...” As he trailed off, Bella jumped up, knowing that he was asking to touch her, and moving with surprising grace she ran straight for the exit. She needed to breathe, needed something. She knew she shouldn’t have come. Jake should’ve realised. He should have known she couldn’t handle it.
And then she was falling again, before strong arms wrapped around her waist and halted her descent. Bella squealed in protest.
“Easy girl, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The voice was the same from the bar and that didn’t exactly comfort her as she began to struggle.
“Little girl, stop. I said I wasn’t going to hurt you, and I meant it. Be good and stop struggling.” Bella whimpered and stilled in his arms as he righted her and then took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. She kept her gaze firmly locked on the cobbled pavement and wiped at her eyes angrily.
“Are you okay sweetheart?” He said softly. Bella still refused to look at him, taking note of all the cracks in every stone that lay beneath their feet.
“Look at me.” He said in tone that brook no argument, but still managed to sound soft and sweet. Bella lifted her gaze and gasped at what she saw. He was, not handsome, but beautiful, and he was staring right at her. Bella swallowed nervously and blushed a deep crimson. His gorgeous bow mouth tilted up at the edges as he smiled crookedly and his eyes crinkled at the corners, making him look older, but boyish at the same time. Oh bunny, contradiction, is it an oxymoron? She wasn’t even making any sense. And for that reason, she instantly disliked him.
“That’s better little girl. Now, are you okay?” Bella looked at the ground and scowled. Her head shaking unintentionally. Stupid involuntary movement. Stupid pretty guy. Stupid Jake. Everything is stupid.
“Who’s Jake?” Said pretty guy. Shit, she didn’t mean to say it out loud. For some reason his expression had turned dark and anger sparked in his eyes.
“N-no one Mr.” Her gaze dropped to the ground again and she eyed his black leather work boots, counting every scuff mark, as she began to look up she took note of what he was wearing, torn black jeans and a black singlet with a black shirt thrown over the top and left unbuttoned. A rag hung out of his pocket. That happened to be the only thing that wasn’t black, more of a stained white colour. It was getting there. Her gaze lifted to his face again and she noticed a tiny black ring of metal glinting as the light from the street lamp hit it. It was looped through his eyebrow making him look rather dangerously sexy. He smelled faintly of alcohol and cigarette smoke.
“Don’t lie to me little one.” Bella flushed again and attacked her abused lip.
“I should probably go. Thank you for, uh, whatever you did.” Bella fiddled with the zip on her jacket and backed away a couple of steps.
“Okay.” His voice was different, wary.
“Have a good night, little one.” And with that he smiled crookedly, turned and walked away.
Bella felt at home on her bike, it was her only gateway to freedom excluding writing. The faster she went, it meant the further she was from where she’d been and that was something she found truly fascinating. That was what her stories were about, people going somewhere. The wind picked up as she straddled the leather seat, her leg rising to step down on the ignition. The bike roared to life before settling to a deep purr, slowly she slipped it into first and released the clutch. This was her favourite part, that feeling of being out of control as the bike lurched forward. The only problem was, eventually she had to stop. She sighed as she pulled up outside the apartment and shoved her hands into her pants pocket. Time to face the beast.
Bella was fourteen when she broke her arm. She had fallen, which in itself was no surprise. It was technically a minor fracture, but saying it was broken was easier than having to constantly explain the difference between a fracture and a break. She imagined she was the world, the fracture a fault line between sections of the lithosphere. She imagined that the blood and tissue were the inhabitants, clinging to her bones in a futile attempt not to be thrown off by the constant motion of her body. It was a fanciful idea. Aristotle was the first to publicly back up the idea of rotation around a singular point, he proposed that the Earth was the centre of the universe, the other lesser planets, as well as the sun, revolved around us. Just like Aristotle, with his illusions of importance, did she think, for that tiny moment, she was the world. That everything relied on her.
She met Jake the next day after she almost broke his nose with her cast. It wasn’t intentional, but gravity has firm rules, all of which Bella’s body did happen to obey. As she began to fall to the ground her arms flung out in an attempt to regain balance, they hadn’t quite understood that she was already on her way down, and that no amount of flailing would change that fact. Jake was good natured about it. The first words he said to her were hello, I’m Ja- the second thing he said was ow, fuck! Never approach from behind had become a personal joke of theirs. Jake was nice. He didn’t push. He was also very protective. Soon after the cast had come off, he taught her to ride. Bella picked it up quickly, despite her usual lack of skill when it came to anything to do with mobility. Riding a bike was better than riding in a car. The close proximity scared her, as well as the idea she was stuck in a moving metal box. The Charlie’s Angels roll was never really something she was game enough to try.
His apartment was nice, technically it was theirs now, but she still thought of it as his. From the outside it looked rather dark, the only bright thing being the rather yellow front door that opened into a hallway. You could either go up the stairs, to Jake’s apartment, or down the hallway to what was Maple’s little flat. Bella had liked Maple. She was a lovely old dear who shuffled about her garden at all hours of the night and drank copious amounts of tea, which was occasionally spiked with something a little stronger than milk to settle her nerves and calm her spirit. When Bella was having a bad day, she would visit Maple and listen to her complain about THE war. Whether that was the first or second, no one was quite sure. Just that Maple was there, and that she wasn’t afraid to tell anyone about it. Last year a man broke into her flat. When the police arrived he was laying on the floor, unmoving, as she stood over him with a broom in her hand. She had the sort of strength that only came with age, and it was age that eventually defeated her. Bella went to her funeral, she tried very hard not to cry. Maple wouldn’t have liked that. Now the flat was silent, and no more Ray Charles played in the middle of the night.
Jake wasn’t fond of cleaning and it really did show. The apartment was mostly open planned, excluding the two bedrooms. A large leather couch sat in the centre of the room, with the kitchen off to the side, a small and practical area with a tiny island and a broken oven, so perhaps not that practical. The focal point of the apartment seemed to be the large television that was bracketed to the wall. Below it was a coffee table, which was actually just a small oak slab lined with pizza boxes and beer cans. Bella had quite a tiny room close to the front door, there was enough space for her desk and her bed and a small sliver of carpet. She kept her clothes under her bed. All in all, it wasn’t exactly paradise, but she was grateful to Jake for letting her stay there rent free. Speaking of which, Jake wasn’t in his usual spot on the couch and his keys weren’t hung up on the little brass hook next to the front door. Bella bit her lip. He was probably still at the bar, waiting for her. She debated whether or not to call him. In the end she didn’t.