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It had started out as a drunken argument that somehow turned into desperate groping and making out in an alleyway, which somehow turned back into drunken arguing, and then into having quick, rough sex in his apartment. It was what all of their friends had been expecting to happen for years (Miller won the pot with a delighted ‘pony up, y’all’ at their hangover brunch the next day). But for all of the teasing and bickering, Bellamy hadn’t really expected it to actually happen. He wondered if Clarke had, but couldn’t bring himself to ask her. He never asked her anything about what they were doing. Except, of course, when he asked ‘do you want to get out of here?’, and she always said ‘yes’. And he tried really hard not to think about why, six months later, they were still doing what they were doing and never talking about it.
“Clarke’s moving,” Octavia said, flopping herself down on the couch beside him. Bellamy looked up from the book he was reading.
“She’s always hated her apartment,” he replied with a shrug. Octavia shook her head, and placed a hand on his leg.
“No, Bell, she’s leaving. Moving to LA. She’s been head hunted to work on some medical trial thing. She wrote that article about it last year, and they want her on the team,” Octavia explained.
“Psoriatic arthritis and Apremilast use,” Bellamy supplied automatically, because he suddenly felt wooden and empty, and he’d never been very good at lying to himself. Which was why he tried not to think about it. Octavia looked at him sympathetically.
“You didn’t know, I can’t believe she didn’t tell you,” Octavia said. Bellamy shook his head, frowning.
“No, O, it’s not like that. We’re just friends, not even super close friends,” Bellamy said, but it was a lie, and he knew it. It was exactly like that, and he felt sick with betrayal that she hadn’t even mentioned it to him. Octavia raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, big brother,” she said, sympathy forgotten. Bellamy’s mouth felt dry and he had a feeling water wasn’t going to help.
“It’s a good opportunity. She’s always said she wanted to do more research,” he says after a moment. Octavia shakes her head.
“You’re an idiot. And so is she,” Octavia said sadly. “You should say something to her.” Bellamy looked at Octavia, and he knew that his face was showing the pain he was feeling.
“She wouldn’t want me to,” he says after a moment, then he closes his eyes and waits for Octavia to leave, her mission having been accomplished. He hears her huff, and feels her lips against his forehead.
“I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything, Bellamy Blake, so why are you starting with her?” Octavia asked, and he knew she wasn’t expecting an answer, but his brain supplied one anyway: because I’m in love with her and I’ve never felt like this before.
Clarke is scheduled to leave three weeks after she accepts the position. Bellamy spends this time trying to pretend nothing is wrong. They hook up twice, and she says nothing about leaving to him in those moments, and he says nothing about how he’s wondering if this is the last time he’s going to get with her. He wonders if she can tell, if she can sense the desperation in his touch, or the emotion is his kiss, or in his dedication to making her orgasm again and again before he gets his own release. But he never says the words. Each thrust is a secret ‘I love you, please don’t leave’ that he will probably take to his grave.
Octavia spends a lot of time looking at him sadly, and Miller tries to cheer him up with video games and drinking. What he doesn’t tell them is that it makes it worse, the way they look at him. Like his heart is some sort of land mine and when Clarke steps off it, it will explode and he’ll be irrevocably shattered in the process. He wants to tell them that he will be fine and that they are wrong. But he’s not so sure that they are. What he wants to happen is for Clarke to tell him that she’ll stay if he asks her to. But she will never ask, and he’s not so sure that he could tell her to stay when he knows what this opportunity must mean to her. She’s been desperate to get out of her mother’s shadow since med school, and she’s really passionate about this trial. He wants this for her. He just wishes it didn’t have to come at the expense of her leaving him.
“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Raven tells him. He raises his eyebrows at her.
“How did that work out for you?” he asks her dryly, referring to their one night stand after what will forever be named the “Finncident”. She rolls her eyes at him.
“Shut up. You know what I mean. You were a bad choice,” Raven explains. Bellamy plays at being offended, and she hits him.
“Shut up,” she adds. “I just picked you because it was easy. I should have picked someone who wanted me,” she explains. Bellamy sips his beer and thinks about this for a while.
“Wick wants you,” he says in the end and Raven glares at him. Bellamy grins. “What? He does. We all know it. You should try it.” Raven scowls at him, and then down at her beer.
“It’s not that I’m not over everything that happened. It’s just that… I don’t know. It scares me, to be honest. It could be something, if I let it,” she says eventually. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “The last time I had something it was a fucking disaster. I want to be… ready, I guess. To work at not fucking it up. He deserves that.” Bellamy grins at her.
“Rae, it sounds like you’re pretty much there. Wanting not to fuck it up is basically the definition of ready to date someone,” he says.
“And what’s your excuse then?” she bites at him. Bellamy winces.
“Saying something fucks it up,” he admits. “We never talk about it. It’s just sex for her, and I’ve gone and fallen in love like a fucking idiot. And she’s leaving. What can I say?” Raven rolls her eyes at him.
“You’re a sap. I didn’t know you were a sap,” Raven announces, taking another sip of beer. “And you’re an idiot for not telling her.” Bellamy shakes his head and drinks more beer. She tilts her head considering him for a moment. He changes the subject soon after.
“I stand by what I said,” Raven says as they get ready to leave. “Either tell her, or get under someone else. Moping is pathetic.” Bellamy gives her a quick hug while he thinks about it. She’s right, and he knows that she is. He makes a decision.
“I will if you will,” he says. She looks confused. “Tell Wick you like him and I’ll stop moping.” Raven shakes her head.
“I don’t even know how to tell someone I like them,” Raven sighed. Bellamy laughed.
“Well, I’m not saying you should show up at his door and start stripping, but you certainly charmed me into bed,” he teased her. She hits his shoulder.
“Shut up. You know what I mean,” she said. Bellamy knocked her shoulder with his.
“I don’t know. Just kiss him or something. Or tie a note around a rock and throw it through his window. I don’t care. But you should do it,” Bellamy tells her. Raven scowls at him, but it lacks heat, and he knows that he’s won this round.
“I hate you. I don’t know why we’re friends,” Raven says over her shoulder as she’s walking out the door. Bellamy laughs, he doesn’t really know how it happened either, but he likes it.
The following day, Bellamy receives a phone call from Wick while he’s cooking dinner.
“What did you do?” Wick demands as soon as Bellamy picks up.
“Uh? Context?” Bellamy replies distractedly, stirring pasta sauce.
“Raven just threw a bolt at my head, and I asked what the fuck she was doing and she yelled ‘this is all Bellamy’s fault’ and ran away,” Wick explains. Bellamy bursts out laughing, and can barely manage to remain upright.
“What the fuck is so funny?” Wick demands.
“Do you still have the bolt?” Bellamy manages through his laughter. He hears some movement on the other end of the line.
“Yeah?” Wick asks suspiciously.
“Is there a note?” Bellamy asks. There is some more movement and the crumpling of paper. Wick doesn’t say anything for a full thirty seconds.
“Are you still there? What does it say?” Bellamy asked.
“She wants to date me,” Wick says, his voice full of wonder, and Bellamy snorts and starts laughing again.
“Why the fuck did she throw a bolt at my head? She could have just asked like a normal person,” Wick says after a moment.
“Sorry man. I joked that she should kiss you or tie a note to a rock and throw it through your window. At least she didn’t break your window,” Bellamy offers. Wick laughs at that.
“Raven fucking Reyes,” Wick says. “Unbelievable.” Bellamy can hear his phone getting text messages he just knows are from Raven telling him he’s an idiot and she’s going to kill him.
“Wick, I gotta go man. Maybe go put Rae out of her misery?” Bellamy suggests.
“Shit! Yeah. Hey, thanks man. For, you know, this,” Wick says.
“Not a problem,” Bellamy says before disconnecting so he can keep laughing. He continues to laugh as he reads through his messages from Raven.
5:27pm: I’m going to fucking kill you.
5:27pm: I THREW A BOLT AT HIS HEAD.
5:28pm: This is all your fault Bellamy Blake. He’s not going to want to date me now. I threw a BOLT at his HEAD. Because of YOU.
5:28pm: I hate you.
He responds telling her that she loves him, and he’s about to go back to his pasta sauce when he gets another text message.
5:34pm: So apparently we’re dating now. And now you have to stop moping.
Crap. He’d almost forgotten about that part. He suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore.
Bellamy has successfully managed to both not get under someone and not say anything to Clarke about how he feels in the week between Raven and Wick getting together and Clarke’s farewell party. Raven keeps sending him text messages telling him to man up, and reminding him that she embarrassed herself because of him. Bellamy ignores them, or reminds her that she now has a boyfriend because of him, and Raven sends him pictures of her poking her tongue out. Octavia is still looking at him sadly all the time, and Miller keeps asking him if he wants to hang. It will almost be a relief when she’s gone because then at least his friends will let him mope in peace.
When he arrives at Clarke’s farewell party, he sees her almost instantly. She is surrounded by people, but his eyes find her blonde hair instantly, then her blue shining eyes, and red lips to match her red dress. He loves her and never seeing her again is a legitimate possibility right now, because her mother moved to Seattle last year, and she has no real reason to come back. And unlike Raven or Octavia or Monty, they aren’t really good enough friends to use it as an excuse to visit her. He is frozen in the entrance, because she is so fucking beautiful and he’s so fucking in love with her that it hurts and all that’s left is goodbye because he couldn’t fucking tell her. And he still can’t. He can’t do this, he realises. He can’t go into this room and attend this party and pretend that everything is okay, because it’s not. He’s not okay. And he’d rather have her think he couldn’t be bothered coming than have her see him cry because she’s leaving. So he turns on his heel and walks back at the door.
He makes it almost to the corner of the block before he’s stopped by her voice.
“So that’s it? You’re not even going say goodbye to me?” Clarke calls out to him. He stops dead and tries to decide if it’s a good idea to turn around. But it’s the hurt edge to her voice that makes him do it, slowly turn around, jam his hands in his pockets, and look at her. He hadn’t gotten a clear look at the dress before, and she’s stunning. His mouth goes dry and he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. She takes three steps toward him, but he doesn’t move. She’s looking at him like she can’t believe he’d leave, and maybe from her perspective that’s the way it is. Oh, we’re just friends with benefits, no feelings. And friends with benefits probably wouldn’t have any problem saying goodbye.
“Sorry,” he offers, but he knows it’s not enough and she frowns at him taking another step forward.
“I’m leaving,” she says softly. “I’m moving halfway across the country. I leave in three days and I don’t know if I’ll be back. And you’ll fuck me for the past seven months, but you won’t say goodbye?” He hates how hurt she looks and sounds. He can’t look at her, so he stares at the pavement in front of his feet.
“I can’t,” he says to the ground. He has never hated himself more than he does in this moment.
“You’re an asshole,” Clarke tosses at him. “I thought you were better than this.” Bellamy can’t stand the anger and hurt in her voice and he looks up at her again.
“Clarke,” he tries, but his voice is weak and broken. She glares at him.
“Just don’t, Bellamy,” Clarke throws at him, and turns to go. Suddenly the words rise up in his throat choking him, forcing themselves out his mouth.
“I’m in love with you,” he says, and then he’s in shock and she’s turning around to look at him, eyes wide and mouth open. He swallows. “I’m in love with you,” he says again, slower this time, tasting the words, taking a step toward her. “And I can’t go in there and pretend I’m not. I’m happy for you, I am. It’s what you’ve always wanted. But you’re leaving, and I can’t be happy about that and I’m sorry,” he finishes, pulling one hand out of his pocket and uses it to gesture towards her slightly before letting it fall by his side. He studies her, watches her face closely. He feels sick. His entire body feels like it has got pins and needles. She swallows, takes a deep breath.
“You’re an asshole,” Clarke tells him. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” Bellamy nods, understanding. He is an asshole. She’s leaving in three days and they’ve been having sex for seven months, and he chooses now to tell her. He’s too late, and he’s an asshole.
“I’m sorry,” he offers, and then turns back around. He kind of thinks he needs to be alone right now, to sort through his feelings.
“Please, don’t go. Just. Give me a second,” Clarke calls, and he can hear her heels on the pavement clicking towards him. He turns back around to look at her. She looks nervous. He’s never seen her nervous.
“It’s okay, Clarke. I know you don’t… that we never talked about it. I know you’re going. You don’t have to… say anything,” Bellamy finishes lamely. She stops directly in front of him.
“You’re an idiot. Why are you telling me this now?” Clarke asks him softly. Bellamy almost laughs at the question, and he exhales deeply, looking up at the sky, before looking back to her.
“Because you asked. You never asked before,” he said honestly. Clarke offered him a smirk.
“You have been waiting for me to ask if you loved me?” Clarke asks in disbelief. Bellamy shrugs.
“Well, yeah. I mean, we have sex and you’re gone before I even get the chance to offer you a cup of coffee. I figured you were using me for sex and didn’t want to hear it,” he admits. Clarke hits him in the shoulder. And again. And again. He stands there, staring at her, letting her hit him.
“You fucking idiot. You should have told me!” she shouted, punctuating each word with a slap of his chest of shoulder. When her words sink in, Bellamy grabs her hands and holds them in between their chests.
“I should have told you?” Bellamy asks slowly. Clarke glares at him.
“Yes, you idiot. You are the king of meaningless sex. I thought it was… that you… ugh,” Clarke finishes, stamping her foot in frustration. “You should have told me.” Bellamy processes this information slowly.
“But why should I have told you? Why does it matter if I love you?” Bellamy asked, an implication slowly trickling down into the back of his mind as the universe narrowed on her. She looks away from him and half-heartedly tries to take her hands out of his grip. But he doesn’t let her go. She huffs, giving in, and then she juts her chin out and looks him dead in the eye.
“Because… I’m in love with you too,” Clarke says like she’s issuing a challenge and Bellamy grins broadly like he won a prize. He moved forward to kiss her, and that’s when the other shoe dropped. He pulled back, dropping her hands.
“Oh,” he said. She was leaving in three days and she didn’t know if she was coming back. He swallowed. This was worse, he decided. This felt worse than he felt before. He was going to kill Raven. Clarke sighed, looking up at him.
“Yeah,” she agreed dryly. “Oh.” Bellamy licked his lips. He didn’t have a solution for this. He didn’t know what to do next. They looked at each awkwardly, neither saying anything.
“The party,” he said in the end. “You should go back.” Clarke raises her eyebrows.
“I’m leaving in three days and you want me to go back to the party?” Clarke asks him, disbelief evident in her tone. Bellamy nods.
“Yes,” he says. Because he does want her to go back inside, and he’ll go home and get drunk, and then in three days she’ll be gone and… he doesn’t really know what comes next.
“I could stay,” Clarke offers. Bellamy shakes his head. He knows she means it, and that she would, but she shouldn’t.
“You should go,” Bellamy tells her. “Because you’re brilliant and this is what you want. It’s an amazing opportunity and you aren’t going to throw it away because some guy is in love with you.” Clarke shakes her head, but she’s smiling.
“But it’s not ‘some guy’, Bell, it’s you,” she says, and her eyes well up with tears. “And I love you so much and this is so fucking unfair and you have the worst fucking timing in the world. Because I was leaving to get away from you. Because I couldn’t stop seeing you and you didn’t love me like I loved you.” Bellamy’s heart breaks as her tears start to fall. He wraps her in his arms and pulls her against his chest.
“I’m so sorry, Clarke. I’m an asshole. A stupid fucking asshole who should have told you how he felt months ago,” Bellamy whispered into the top of her head. Clarke nods, and he loosens his grip. She looks up at him as she wipes her face clean of tears.
“We should talk about this. Make a plan or something,” Clarke offers. Bellamy nods, but he doesn’t feel hopeful, and it’s clear that she doesn’t either. They’re both too logical to think long distance relationships are a good idea.
“Go back to your party, Clarke,” Bellamy says gently, dropping his arms from around her.
“Are you coming?” she asks, holding out a hand to take his. He wants to. He wants to go back in and pretend that everything is fine, but it’s not. It’s worse. And he couldn’t go in before he knew she loved him back. Now it was impossible.
“I can’t, Clarke,” he says softly. She looks up at him and nods.
“I don’t want to go back in either,” she admits. Bellamy tries really hard not to cry as he nods his head slowly.
“You could… you could come with me? To LA, I mean. You’re still writing your thesis and we could come back after the trials are done,” Clarke tries. Bellamy sighs.
“The trials could take years, Clarke,” he says. “You know that.” She’s trying not to cry, and he knows it, but he’s not going to pretend it’s a three month jaunt to the other side of the country and then they come to their lives. He feels sick.
“I love you,” she says. “This isn’t fair.” Bellamy nods.
“I know,” he says. Her phone starts going off.
“They’ll want to know where I am,” Clarke says. She swallows hard again and Bellamy wants to kiss her. But it won’t change anything, so he doesn’t. He just stands there waiting for Clarke to step off the landmine that is his heart.
“You should go,” Bellamy says. And then, because he’s sick of not telling her the truth, he adds, “But I don’t want you to.” She covers her mouth with her hand as she nods, and turns to go, but she stops turning back.
“Think about coming with me,” she commands him, pleads with him. “Just… I know it’s hard and unfair, but please think about it. It doesn’t have to be in three days. It can even just be for a month to see if it works. But think about it.” Bellamy nods his agreement, and truth be told he’s not sure what else he’s going to be able to think about for the next little while. She nods, her point made, and then walks back down the street towards the party and he watches her go, red dress swaying as she walked. When she disappears back inside, he pulls out his phone and texts Raven:
7:17pm: I fucking hate you. That was the worst.
7:18pm: Clarke looks awful. What did you do to her?
7:18pm: I told her I was in love with her. She feels the same way.
7:19pm: You guys are fucking idiots, you know that?
7:20pm: Raven the girl I am in love with loves me back and she’s moving half way across the country in three days for an undetermined amount of time. Now is not the time.
7:21pm: For two smart people, you guys are ridiculous.
A moment later, he receives more messages.
Octavia
7:21pm: Don’t be so fucking stupid, Bellamy. Get your ass back here.
Miller
7:22pm: You’ve got to be kidding me right now
Jasper
7:22pm: She loves you asshole. God knows why but she’s heartbroken and it’s your fault.
Monty
7:24pm: I’m sorry about Jasper. But he has a point.
Octavia
7:25pm: You’re in love with her, she’s in love with you. Don’t be a fucking idiot.
Raven
7:25pm: Seriously if you don’t get back here we’re all coming over to your place to yell at you. I can’t stop them. They’re forming a mob.
Bellamy texts them all back the same message:
7:27pm: Clarke isn’t the only one with a broken heart here guys. Can you all back the fuck off please and let me mope in peace?
And then he turns off his phone.
He doesn’t see Clarke before she goes. He doesn’t go to the airport to see her off. He sees the pictures on Instagram and Facebook, tearful faces and cheeks pressed together. He wishes he was there and he’s glad he’s not in equal measure. He sits in his apartment alone, drinking whiskey as her flight departs. But the moment it ticks over to be a minute past the departure time, he places the half empty tumbler on the coffee table, places his head in his hands, and cries.
There are lots of reasons, good ones, why he shouldn’t go to LA. Octavia is still so young and he’s not ready to leave her. He is working on his thesis and his advisor and university are here. He has work here, bartending, and it’s steady and they understand if he needs time off. His friends are here. But Clarke isn’t, and there’s something unbelievably empty about the life he was happy in now. And he knows that it’s because she’s not there. He even tries to take Raven’s advice about getting under someone, but he finds he just can’t go through with it. So he packs a bag, kisses his sister, and gets on a plane.
When Clarke opens her front door, she stares at him in disbelief. She stares in silence for so long that Bellamy is scared that three weeks was too long, and he’s left it too late, and missed his shot. He’s about to apologise and take a cab back to the airport, but finally, finally, she speaks.
“If I let you in, you have to promise me that you won’t leave,” Clarke says softly. Bellamy licks his lips.
“I’ll have to sometimes,” he admits. “For O, and for my thesis defence, and stuff.” Clarke shakes her head.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Clarke says. “Don’t break my heart. If you’re just here for a holiday or whatever, it’s just going to make this worse. But… please, don’t leave, unless you don’t intend on staying.” Bellamy smiles at her softly.
“I won’t,” he promises. “I’m with you. If you’ll have me.” And then his body is slammed against the hallway wall behind him as she throws herself against him, holding him tightly, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his lips.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers in between kisses. He kisses her long and hard, arms wrapped tight around her, and then he remembers they are in a hallway.
“Can I come in?” he asks, leaning back to smirk at her. She hits his shoulder.
“Of course you can, idiot,” she says, and takes his hand, tugging him into her, or more accurately, he supposed, their apartment.