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Clarke was angry. Red-faced and huffing, she stomped into her tent and started kicking off her shoes. Not many people had paid attention to her and Bellamy’s fight, but it caused some commotion and Clarke could not bear to speak to whoever walked into her tent behind her, no matter who it was. The minute she began to unravel her hair from the ponytail it was in, she heard the crunch of gravel and whip of the tent’s tarp as the inevitable situation was upon her. Turning around Clarke faced her mother, who was holding a roll of bandage, a needle and a canteen of what was assumed to be Monty’s moonshine concoction, being used to disinfect instead of ingest.
“You look like you were in the middle of something.” Clarke stated turning back towards her makeshift desk, peeling off her wet jacket still soaked from that morning’s rain.
“Jackson can handle the work load on his own.” Abby replied while taking a step towards Clarke with a sigh and crossing her arms.
“I’m sure he’ll have trouble ‘handling the work load’ without the alcohol and bandage.” She sassed. All she wanted to do was grab her art supplies and walk back to the drop ship to sit in silence and peace. She couldn’t form her thoughts properly with all the consistent noise at Camp Jaha.
“I’ll make this quick then. I want you to stop speaking to that boy.” Ordered Abby, straightening her posture as if it showed more vividly how serious she was being.
“Which boy, Mom?”
“You know which boy, Clarke. I’m talking about Bellamy. He’s bad for you. My decision is final; stay away from him.” Abby began to make her way out when Clarke stopped her.
“Excuse me? He’s bad for me? He stood beside me while you sent me down here to die.” She mimicked her mother’s stance and also folded her arms across her chest, but cocked her hip to one side. It seemed as if the minute the Arc passengers landed, all the adults took over and acted as if they knew the politics and survival strategies of Earth as Clarke, Bellamy and the rest of the drop ship survivors did. Clarke was tired; tired of having to prove to Abby that she did not know as much as Clarke did and that arguing with her was pointless.
Abby was speechless. She stuttered, “You can’t say that. I did what I thought was right, like I always do.” Just then, both girls turned to look at the unexpected addition to the tent. He was flustered, with his hair messy like he had ran his fingers through it a million times trying to make a decision if he should come speak to Clarke or not. Every time they fought it ended similarly.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I come back?” He said, wide eyed at Abby’s presence and already beginning to make an exit so he wouldn’t have to deal with Abby’s judgment. Clark and he had spent many days walking aimlessly around the forest, ranting to each other. A lot of the time, it started with them ranting about each other. But despite what Abby said, Clarke knew how much she needed Bellamy and she liked to think he needed her too.
“No, Bell, stay. She was just leaving.” Clarke grabbed her pencils and her sketchbook, making a notion that the conversation was done.
“No I wasn’t, Clarke.”
“No matter what you say it won’t matter, you don’t have that power over me anymore. Not since you cut ties with me by sending me here.” She walked past her mother and out the tent, heading towards the gate that led her out of the camp and into a better sense of freedom. Abby and Bellamy both followed, with Abby still determined to get Clarke to listen and Bellamy confused.
“Clarke, stop!” Abby yelled, gaining the attention of the other camp residents. All of three of them were now standing in the center of everything, with all eyes on them. No one dared to blink.
“You can’t just ask me to stop talking to him, mom!” Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows and stared incredulously at Abby at Clarkes words.
“You said what?” He breathed. Abby looked frustrated and closed her eyes for a long time as if trying to regain her calm.
“I have every right to tell my daughter to not speak to someone when I don’t think they’re good for them.”
Bellamy was more than shocked. All he had ever wanted to do was care for Octavia but somewhere along the road, Clarke slipped into the picture and he was fine with it. He always wanted what was best for them and would never hurt Clarke in the slightest. He wondered, did everyone else think this? Did Clarke think this? He looked to Clarke for help, and was relieved when he saw her glaring at her mother. She didn’t want to comply. He saw how her eyes were flickering with rage, her beautiful blue eyes. He wanted to take her hand and run her out of the camp and never look back. He would do it, probably, if he didn’t have Octavia to worry about as well. He also wanted to yell at Abby, tell her she was wrong and didn’t have any right to order Clarke around like that. But she was Chancellor and he couldn’t screw up his chance of being able to walk freely with a firearm. The only thing keeping him sane was Clarke and her loyalty and -
His thoughts were cut short by sudden warmth against his skin. His lips were wet and there was far more pressure on them then there was before. He realized then, Clarke was kissing him. The minute he came to realization he melted into the kiss and put his hands on her waist, kissing hard against her. He could hear the gasps around them, as could Clarke. But she didn’t have any sort of regrets. Not only had she wanted to do this for a really long time, but it was the perfect excuse. Everyone, including her mother, probably thought it was just an act of defiance. Yet for some reason, she prayed Bellamy was the exception.
Pulling away, she glanced at him and saw his eyes wide and his cheeks red. Both of their breathing was uneven and she looked at Abby with a smug smile, as she watched her mother angrily storm back into the med room. She took her pencils and sketchbook that she had previously dropped on the ground and ordered the guards to open the gate. She began the long trek to her favorite forest spot, breaking into a run through the trees. She didn’t even have time to realize there were tears streaming down her cheeks. But Bellamy did. He had been following her the entire time, only making his presence known when she stopped running and fell to her knees. Clarke couldn’t believe herself, all the things she said to her mom. They weren’t untrue, but the way she said them disgusted her. He touched her shoulder and knelt beside her. A small gesture, but she turned to him and hugged him tightly, thankful for his presence. Like she always is when he’s there for her.
Clarke wished she didn’t say the things she did to her mother, that’s true. But she needed Bellamy so much. She could never just stop speaking to him. He was almost everything she had to live for and Abby was wrong. Clarke was good for him and Bellamy was good for her and that was as much as they knew about the relationship between each other but they didn’t care and it wouldn’t matter for a long time as long as she never had to think about being separated from him again.