Chapter Text
The start of Clarke’s worst day ever started when her sink broke.
“Octavia,” Clarke said into the phone as she tried to shut the water off, “I can ask Finn to do it, you don’t need to send Bell-”
“Puh-lease, Clarke,” Octavia cut her off, “your boyfriend doesn’t know shit about these things. You remember the toaster incident?”
Clarke did not need to be reminded of that. “Fine,” Clarke sighed.
“Just feed him when he’s there and he shouldn’t complain.” Octavia said before hanging up.
Clarke tossed the phone onto the kitchen table behind her and set about to clean up mess. When she was done with that she grabbed one of the frozen pizzas from her freezer (which were always stocked for when any of the boys came over) and put it in the oven.
Clarke was about to go searching for any tools she had lying around when there was a knock on the door. She hadn’t been expecting Bellamy to arrive so soon; the high school where he taught didn’t even get out until three, and it was only two.
And she was right, because it wasn’t Bellamy.
At the door stood a Latina woman holding a thick manila envelope. “You Clarke Griffin?”
Warily, Clarke nodded. She should have lied. The woman’s hand came out and slapped her hard on the face. Clarke’s hand shut up to touch her cheek, “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Raven Reyes,” the woman said, “Finn Collins’ girlfriend of two years, and you’ve been screwing him.”
Clarke’s eyes narrowed and shook her head. No. No…?
“Read it weep, Princess,” Raven shoved the envelope at Clarke, “that’s what he calls you, right? Princess?” She turned on a heel and stomped down the hall, leaving Clarke there shocked, one hand to her cheek and the other clutching the envelope to her chest.
Bellamy had been looking forward to an afternoon off, but no, he had to go and fix Clarke’s sink.
“Why can’t she get Collins to do it?” Bellamy had asked Octavia.
“She said the same thing!” Octavia had replied, “but you very well know why.”
Yeah, Bellamy did. Fucking Collins.
Octavia had said that there would be food, so that was a-
Bellamy stopped in the hallway of Clarke’s apartment building. Her door was right there, and ajar. Clarke never left the door unlocked, let alone open, ever.
“Clarke?” he called out as he took a cautious step inside.
That’s when he smelt something burning. Bellamy rushed to the kitchen and immediately to the oven shutting it off and opening the door to air it out.
“Jesus, Clarke, are you trying to burn the place down-”
He had been speaking to himself really, because it wasn’t until now that he noticed Clarke sitting with her head in her hands at the kitchen tables, photos spewed everywhere.
“Clarke?” He quickly went to her and pulled up the chair next to her, “Clarke, what’s wrong?”
He could hear her sniffling behind her hands. He looked down at the photos on the table. Some were of her and Finn; some were of Finn and another woman. It didn’t take long to put the pieces together.
Fucking Collins.
“Clarke,” Bellamy rubbed circles onto her back, “where did you get all this?” Clarke had seemed perfectly happy in her relationship, no reason to hire a private investigator or something.
Clarke lifted her head out of her hands and looked at him. Her eyes were puffy from crying, but so was her left cheek. “Finn’s girlfriend came by.”
“Did she do this to you?” Bellamy said, referring to her face as he quickly went and got an ice pack out of the freezer. “That bitch-”
“No you don’t get it Bellamy,” Clarke said through sobs, “I’m the other woman. I deserved it. I-”
Bellamy pulled her in for a hug and she shoved her face into his chest, her hands grasping at his shirt. He stroked the back of her head, whispering reassurances to her as one thought repeatedly crossed his mind:
I’m going to fucking murder Finn Collins.
Later, after tucking Clarke onto the couch with a blanket and some tissues he called Octavia, who promptly rushed right over.
The first thing Octavia did was look at the photos and tossed them all in the trash.
“Has he tried calling her?” Octavia asked him.
Bellamy held Clarke’s cell phone, which he had found on the counter, “Like forty times. Her mailbox is full.”
Octavia frowned, “You haven’t told her?”
Bellamy shook his head.
Octavia paced around the kitchen in agitation, "I can't believe the son of a bitch, Clarke's the best damn thing to ever have happened to him-"
“Look O," Bellamy placed his hands on his sister's shoulders, "I'd love to continue this conversation, but we need to focus on Clarke. I'll get this place cleaned up and go pick up dinner. She could really use you right now."
Octavia huffed, then nodded and kissed his cheek before leaving the room to go to Clarke.
As Bellamy got to work on putting Clarke’s kitchen back in order, he wished he could be the out there with her.
For the past three days, quietly taking care of her without mentioning the F word. Usually, when they all got together at Octavia and Lincoln’s for dinner, they were all loud and fun and joyful - Jasper and Monty cracking jokes, Miller telling the weirdest story of what happened at work that week. But yesterday had been full of delicate conversation, like they were all navigating a minefield. Ignoring the elephant in the room, the empty chair where Finn had sometimes sat.
Clarke didn’t say anything that night, because why bother? They all knew what had happened. Clarke just fiddled with her box of Thai food; she didn’t have much of an appetite.
Not recently, anyway.
Her phone had buzzed. She knew who it was: who else could it be? She’d been avoiding it for days, and honestly, she was really surprised he hadn’t come around in person. Was it because of Raven? She didn’t know if she should be disappointed or relieved. She didn’t know what she should be feeling.
She had loved Finn, they had been together for six months. He was always the perfect boyfriend.
But, of course she’d just had to be wrong.
Finn: Clarke, answer me
No more running now. She texted back: Java Moon @ Penn, 2pm
It was the first shitty café that she could think of, in a place that was out of the way for both of them. A place with access to taxis, buses, and trains, if Clarke wanted to run again.
When she had put her phone away, she found Bellamy’s gaze on her. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t look at her with pity. His slightly raised eyebrow, his slightly parted mouth, the hand that he placed firmly on her knee - it all conveyed to her a message she was eternally grateful for: if you need me, I’m here.
But everyone else’s looks were the reason that Clarke hadn’t told anyone about today.
She showed up late by about ten minutes; Finn wasn’t there yet.
Of course.
The last few days her mind combed over her memories of their relationship. She had referred to Finn as the perfect boyfriend, but looking back, all the happy memories were riddled with disdain.
She hadn’t realized how their conversations always found a way to be about him. How conversations about feelings were always about his feelings. She noticed that whenever they were with a group of friends, he’d latch onto her and try to get her away, always keeping on the edge. She hated the way he’d sit at movies or talk down to her or freaking chewed.
She hated the way he’d treat Jasper and Monty like children - and not in the affectionate way that she did. She hated how he treated Bellamy, and how he always complained to her about him. She hated-
She hated that stupid look on his face when he showed up thirty minutes late.
“Clarke,” Finn tried to hug her but she held up her hands. He sat down across from her, eyeing her carefully, “I broke up with Raven.”
“That's what your opening up with?” Clarke was incredulous. How could she have put up with six months of this?
“You’re the one I really want to be with,” Finn said, ignoring her, “I never loved her the way I love you.”
Her previous relationships had ended poorly too. Wells, her high school sweetheart. Lexa, her college girlfriend. Both had gone down in flames.
This one would too.
“If that’s what you have to say then we’re done here,” Clarke stood up, “We’re done, Finn.”
Finn stood up to block her path, “Clarke, you have to listen to me- I’m in love with you-”
“So?” Clarke snapped, taking a step back, “this whole conversation has been about you and what you want but you obviously don’t care enough since you showed up late. You haven’t even once apologized - now or in all your desperate voicemails and texts - have apologized.”
“I’m sorry-”
“Well, it’s a little fucking late for that,” Clarke stormed past him and out the train station doors.
She hopped on the first Circulator bus that arrived. She must still look as pissed as she felt, from all the weird - some scared - looks she was getting.
She knew she had picked the café at Penn Station for a reason.
Clarke got off the bus and entered the Walters Art Museum. She’d been there countless, countless times. But she could get lost in there every time.
She wandered about, gazing at all the sculptures she knew like the back of her hand. She found her way to their recreation of a medieval hall, complete with a long table. On the table was a set of chess and checkers.
Definitely not medieval, but Clarke liked it. She sat down in front of the chessboard and began to play against herself. She just needed something to take her mind off of Finn.
The black pieces were winning over the white pieces when a hand reached down and turned the tide in favor of the white side.
Bellamy slid down onto the bench in front of her, raising an eyebrow as if to say your move.
“You following me?” It came out harsher than Clarke meant, but she couldn't blame herself for that, really.
“No,” Bellamy said simply, not struck by her tone, “I just had a feeling that you’d be here.”
Clarke felt herself relax a little, and mouthed to him: "thank you."