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Five years. Five long, glorious years ago, Bellamy had met Clarke. Murphy had been stupid enough to get roped into assisting a charity, and of course that had meant Bellamy got dragged down too. He’d hated it the second he’d walked into the first meeting, but then Clarke had shown up. Blonde hair, practical yet flattering clothes, blue eyes holding a slightly frightening intelligence. Bellamy had been attracted to her from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.
He can still remember how she had smiled with her friends, but not with anyone else. Outside of her central group she was all business, getting things done quickly and efficiently. He had teased her for the first few meetings, hoping to draw a smile or blush from her, but soon it had seemed wrong to do so. She deserved so much more from him than light flirting and demeaning her leadership through mockery. So he had started to back her in all her decisions, which he should have been doing all along. Clarke never put forward an idea she hadn’t thought through fully.
They had got to actually talking, and then one day Bellamy had made her laugh. After that point he had been totally gone on her. All he’d wanted to do was see every smile she could form, hear every exclamation of joy she could produce. He had asked her out at the end of that meeting, more nervous than he’d ever been when asking a girl out. She had said yes, and he had taken her out immediately. He just couldn’t wait days for planning a meeting before seeing her again.
Every day they spent together saw Clarke growing more relaxed and Bellamy getting a little more serious. He needed to be worthy of her, in his own mind. He had gotten a better job, found a nicer apartment that he didn’t share with three other slovenly guys, and had asked Clarke to move in with him. Once again, she had said yes, with a slight blush on her cheeks that had made Bellamy’s chest ache with barely contained joy.
It had been a small apartment, but in a decent part of town. They had lived there for two years, made so many memories, built a life together. They’d had their fair share of fights, but the good times had been plentiful enough that bitterness and frustration had never stuck around for long. They had spent nights lounging on the couch, Clarke getting really into football matches and Bellamy watching her expressions and gestures with fondness. Whenever her team did something good, she would squeal with joy and kiss him quickly, before returning her attention to the game again. Bellamy still doesn’t know the rules of football.
Bellamy smiles as he adjusts the collar of his suit for the umpteenth time. Glancing at the clock, he sighs and grabs his jacket, pulling it over the clean pressed white shirt and tie. There’s not a wrinkle in any of his clothes today, which is a miracle in and of itself. Clarke always used to lecture him on leaving his clothes around, slung over the back on the chair where he would spend hours reading every whatever historical document he had managed to get his hands on. He would kiss her and say that it didn’t matter in the end, that the clothes will always get messed up after wearing them anyway. She would wrinkle her nose and tell him that the state of them at the end of the day doesn’t matter, but he has to at least try and make a good first impression.
They had moved to a larger apartment, planning towards their future together. They both wanted kids, once they had enough money and stability, and getting a bigger place had been the first step. They had repainted the entire place before moving in, wanting it to truly be their own. When they had finished the last room, Bellamy and Clarke had been covered in paint and slightly loopy from the fumes. Bellamy had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the ring he’d bought months ago. It wasn’t diamond, because he knew Clarke was far too special for something so ordinary. White gold and pearl, elegant, and perfect for her. She had said yes, again.
They had taken their time planning their wedding. It had to be a big affair, considering Clarke’s family was very well off and would accept nothing less. Bellamy only had his sister and his friends who were like a family, so he would have been happy with anything. But Clarke’s eyes would light up as she looked over dresses and centerpieces and cakes, so Bellamy had become interested just due to the fact that she’d loved it.
Now, on the day of, he feels a little out of place. The suit is uncomfortable, but he knows it’s important. There are flowers everywhere, which make him slightly nauseous from the overwhelming perfume. This is Clarke’s dream, though, everything she’s ever wanted from her wedding. So it’s perfect, even if it sort of makes him want to just grab her and elope.
He takes his place by the altar, nerves growing by the second. They’ve rehearsed it so many times that he knows the exact second she’ll walk down the aisle, the cadence her words will take as she pledges herself to him and he does the same to her. He doesn’t know what her dress will be like, but she could wear baggy sweatpants and a ripped shirt and still be perfect. The surroundings, the flair and aesthetics, none of that matters. All that matters is that this is the day he finally gets to marry Clarke Griffin.
Minutes pass, and Bellamy looks at his watch. He slumps to the ground and leans his back against the cool stone of the altar. He knew it wouldn’t change anything, putting on his suit and following the steps laid out for him so many times. His gaze drifts over the empty pews, which should be filled with rambunctious orphans who grew up well, all things considered, and fancy people giving them slightly disapproving glares. He should see the love of his life walk down that aisle, nervous but proud as she always is.
Was.
But the church is empty, save him and the kindly pastor who had let him in without a word. Tears track down Bellamy’s face as more time passes and the truth sinks in again, as painful as the first phone call had been. Octavia had called, asking him if he was alright, saying she was coming over. He’d asked why she was concerned, and heard a sob. You haven’t heard?
The news provided the details. A woman had drifted over the center line on the highway, apparently falling asleep at the wheel for a second. Clarke had been on her way home from work, her last shift at the hospital before her vacation for their wedding and honeymoon started. She had been doing everything right, but she had swerved to avoid the oncoming car. Another vehicle attempting to undertake her had clipped the rear corner of her car, and… Well, momentum did what it does, and over the edge of the cliff that the highway curves around, gravity proved to be a heartless bitch.
The should have been married by now. He should be kissing her to the cheers of their loved ones, going outside for tedious photos made joyful by the feel of her in his arms. He shouldn’t be planning her funeral, selling their home, moving back in with Murphy. Bellamy should be happy today, and Clarke should be alive. But things never work out quite the way they should.