Chapter Text
Bellamy Blake felt the familiar blue eyes burn into the back of his neck, and his face flushed. His old friend Nathan Miller, and his friend, and boss, Monty Green were behind the bar, stacking the glasses that Monty had just brought from the kitchen. Raising his own glass of cheap beer to his lips, he grimaced as it burned down his throat.
“Bro,” Miller said, setting down his glass. “She already knows that you are here.”
“Who?” Bellamy said innocently, pretending as if he had no idea who he was referring to.
“Octavia.” Miller pressed, he was looking behind Bellamy, grinning like a maniac. “Damn. You'll never guess who just walked in.”
Bellamy turned on the stool he was sitting on, his eyes finding his sister and her blonde friend who had just arrived. His heart stopped beating for a moment. He hadn't seen Clarke Griffin, Princess of Arkton, in five years, ever since she left for med school five years ago. She looked great. Her hair was pin straight, and hung down to the middle of her back. She wore a white blouse underneath her black leather jacket, and the only make-up she had on was a little eyeliner, mascara, and the brightest red lipstick he had ever seen. She embraced his younger sister, crushing her tight to her body. And Bellamy could see from the way she locked her arms and closed her eyes, that something was bothering the Princess. When she pulled away from Octavia, her eyes drifted farther over the girl's shoulder, making eye contact with Bellamy. A haunted look flickered over her face, before she turned back to Octavia and the rest of their friends. Bellamy turned back to Miller and Monty, all three equally confused.
“I thought she was stationed in TonDC Hospital in New York?” Miller said, his tone holding a question. “She is the top surgeon there.”
“She's supposed to be, yeah.” Bellamy replied, but a part of himself was still trying to decipher the Princess's reasoning for returning to this shit hole of a small town. “Something must've happened.”
“No shit Sherlock.”
“Um, I am confused.” Monty whispered, feeling out of the loop. “Who is that woman?” The boys had often forgot that Monty had moved here only three years ago, to open his bar. He was such a good lad, it was as if he had always been part of their lives.
“I think this is for Bellboy to explain.” Miller smirked at the nickname he'd given Bellamy back in their high school years, when the only job he could get was a janitor at the local hotel. Monty turned to look at the man.
“That's Clarke Griffin.” He told him, his usually hard face softening while the memories flooded his mind. “She grew up here, her entire life she wanted to be an artist, she wanted to capture moments in anything possible; paintings, drawings, sketches, sculptures, even in colourful chalk in her driveway. But her mom had other plans, she sent her off to become a surgeon. Clarke left when she was seventeen, no one had seen her since.”
“I don't see the big deal.” Monty sighed, obviously disappointed in Bellamy's story.
“That's because Bellboy here left out the good parts.” Miller growled, settling himself on the counter for his version of the tale. Bellamy hung his head. “Because Bellamy Blake, was in love.”
“No fucking way.” Monty cried, slapping Bellamy in the shoulder. He was now engrossed in the story.
“Way.” Miller smiled, continuing. “Clarke was Octavia's best friend, despite being raised in two separate environments. They spent every waking moment together, which meant Bellamy, the mother hen that he is, spent every waking moment with them. “It started off and him and Clarke hated each other. Bellamy, because he had thought that she was an entitled spoiled princess. And Clarke, because Bellamy thought she was an entitled spoiled princess. But considering they both loved O more than life, they had to learn to deal with it.”
Bellamy let out a load groan, he didn't want to relive this. Once was enough. He risked a glance back at the girls to find that Clarke was already watching him, smiling at him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her head as he smiled back.
“But when Clarke turned sixteen, she had met Finn Collins, the douche bag had just moved here from who knows where, and he had become very intrigued by Bell's Princess. When they started dating, our boy finally realized how much he actually like the girl. If not loving her.”
“What happened next?” Monty asked, his eyes wide with anticipation. “What happened next?!”
“Clarke got accepted to Harvard, Collins went with her to Boston.” Miller sighed. “That's the last anyone heard from them.”
“Oh Bellamy, I'm so sorry.” Monty whispered, his eyes holding a sympathy that the other man didn't want. Bellamy laughed, to the others surprise, and he kept laughing. He wished that the last time anyone in Arkton had seen her. He wished that he hadn't been so stupid when he was 23 years old.
“That's not the worst part.” Bellamy sighed, chugging the rest of his beer. “I went after her.”