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Clarke Griffin entered her apartment at 10:15 pm. Shrugging out of her jacket she sighed at the blast of warmth that greeted her. People would always complain when they came over, asking her how she could possibly keep her heat up so high. She would just roll her eyes and turn the thermostat down, vowing to turn it right back up as soon as they left. Throwing her tired body down on the couch, she toed off her sneakers and put her socked feet up on the coffee table. She hummed a tune she had heard on the radio on her ride home from the hospital. Exhausted and starving she held up the remote and scrolled through the unwatched shows on her DVR. It had been a long day and the last thing she felt like doing was cooking a meal. The discarded takeout menus taunted her from a pile on the other end of the couch. She jumped when she felt her phone vibrate in the pocket of her hoodie. Pulling it out, she sat up a little straighter when when she saw who it was from.
Bellamy Blake: do you wanna hang out
Sure, I still smell like hospital though, half an hour sound good? She quickly typed out, biting her lip to hold back a smile. Clarke hadn’t heard from him all day and she was excited at the prospect of seeing her best friend. Her shifts at the hospital down the road had become increasingly more unpredictable and she felt like it had been forever since she saw him last. She waited a few minutes and then decided to get started on her shower. Skidding into the bathroom, she stripped off her scrubs and threw into a pile in the corner. Her sweatshirt was hung on the rack next to her towel, she didn’t want to step on her phone by accident.
Ten minutes later she turned of the water and pushed aside the curtain. Wringing out her blonde hair with one hand, she reached out for her towel with the other. As she pulled it off the rack, she heard a thump signaling her phone had fallen out of her pocket. She glanced at it, surprised to see the screen aglow with notifications.
Drying her hands, she stepped one foot out of the tub and leaned over to pick it up. 2 missed calls from Bellamy Blake. She froze. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she typed in her passcode. Her hand was shaking slightly and it took her three tries. As her heart hammered against her ribs, she tapped his name and lifted the phone to her ear.
It only rang once before she heard the sound of someone fumbling to put a phone to their ear. She strained, listening for a sarcastic Princess? It drove her crazy when Bellamy answered the phone like that, which was precisely why he always made sure to do it. Her heart sped up as every millisecond of silence passed.
“Bellamy,” Clarke whispered. She waited desperately to hear something other than the staticky silence on the other end. Water was dripping off of her, forming a puddle around her foot on the cold tile floor. Her towel remained clutched in her other hand, hanging limp and useless.
“When are you coming?” She let go of the breath she had been holding. Bellamy's voice sounded tiny and strangled, but at least he was able to speak.
“Bellamy are you okay?” Silence on the other end. Clarke was pretty sure she could make out the sound of rough, uneven breaths.
“Bellamy is Octavia there?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“She left. Lincoln picked her up,” his voice was so weak, she had to press the phone to her ear just to make it out.
“Bellamy, are you okay?” she asked again, trying to ignore the weight growing in her stomach.
“I’m not sure.”
Clarke felt a shiver pass over her. “Bellamy are you hurt? Do I need to call 911?” she kept her voice steady, but her heart was beating so violently it wouldn't surprise her if he could hear it.
“No,” he whispered after a beat.
She allowed herself to breath again, “Okay, that’s good,” she stepped her other foot out of the bath. “Listen to me, Bellamy are you listening?” He didn’t say anything but she heard a quiet noise and she took it as a yes. She wrapped her towel around her, holding the phone with her shoulder. “I’m coming over right now okay? I will be there in ten minutes. Is that okay?”
“Okay,” she heard a click and the line went dead.
“Shit,” she said, springing into action. She ran to her bedroom and yanked the top dresser drawer. She stepped into the first pair of underwear she could get and reached for a bra. She spent all of thirty seconds trying to secure the clasp behind her back while her hands shook dangerously. Swearing she threw it aside and dug around for a sports bra. Grabbing a pair of dirty sweatpants from the floor, she tugged them on as she stumbled back into the living room. Looking around frantically, she swallowed the fear that she wasn’t moving fast enough. Get a hold of yourself, she demanded, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She darted into the bathroom and snatched up her hoodie, zipping it blindly as she shoved her feet into her sneakers. Grabbing the keys off the hook, she slammed the door behind her.
Her breath hung in the air as she scrambled down the steps. Jumping into the car, she put the key in the ignition, turning it immediately.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered as her car groaned in protest. The second the engine roared to life, she switched on her headlights and shifted into drive. Blasting the defrost, she turned the temperature all the way blue, and pulled out of the driveway. Glancing at the clock, she saw it blink 10:42. She pushed the gas a little bit harder.
She pulled into his driveway at 10:46. She had to hold onto the icy railing as she ran up the front steps, they hadn’t been shoveled and the last thing she needed was to slip. She decided to try the handle instead of knocking, to her surprise it opened easily. Octavia must have forgotten to lock the door. She swallowed her fear and stepped into the house.
“Bellamy?” she called out immediately. The house was quiet and mostly dark, Clarke ran her fingers over the wall, feeling for the light switch. She followed the pool of light spilling from the crack in the bathroom door.
She pushed it open tentatively, and couldn’t hold back a gasp when she saw what was on the other side. The distinctive smell of vomit entered her nostrils and she swallowed the bile that was rising in her throat as she took in the sight of the man curled into a ball before her. His forehead was pressed against the bottom of the shower door, and his torso was bare. A crumpled t-shirt lay on the ground in front of him. It was sitting in a pool that she identified as the source of the smell. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the freckles that dusted his face and shoulders looked out of place on his ghostly pale skin. He didn’t look up until she crouched down in front of him, laying a hand gently on his hip.
Bellamy’s eyes were red and fresh tears were leaking out of the corner of them. She took one moment to slow her beating heart and then arranged her features into a mask of composure. She wouldn’t break down at the sight of her best friend looking defeated and broken on the bathroom floor. She would be strong, if not for herself, she would be strong for him.
“Bell?” she said softly. He sat up when she spoke, but the sudden movement caused him to dry heave. Doubling over, he spit onto the ground, shaking his head in disgust. Clarke reached for the towel hanging next to the sink. She held it under the tap and soaked it with warm water. Turning back to him, she held up, silently asking for permission.
He nodded slowly. She felt like her heart was breaking as she looked into his eyes. The pain she saw was overwhelming. Biting her lip, she gently wiped the sick off his face. She reached back to rinse of the cloth, this time she soaked it in cool water. Gently brushing it over his forehead, she pushed the hair off his face.
“How can I help you?” she asked him, setting the towel down and reaching for his hand. He shrugged his shoulders, and looked away. She noticed that his hand felt strong in hers.
“Do you want to move to the couch?” she asked tightening the grip on his hand. He nodded his ever so slightly. “Okay, I’ll help you up.” Clarke pulled him up, keeping her hand firmly in his to hold him steady.
Bellamy trailed behind her as she led him to the couch. He fell onto it and she took a seat beside him. Tears were still flowing freely.
“Sometimes I forget what she looks like,” he said quietly. Clarke’s mouth felt like sandpaper. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and let him stay there forever. She wanted to protect him in anyway she could. But she didn’t know how to protect him when his torment was coming from deep inside. There was nothing she could do, so she just rubbed his hand with her thumb as he stared numbly ahead.
“I feel so empty when I can’t remember. It’s like losing her all over again,” he whispered. His fingers tightened around hers. He was holding onto them like they were the only thing holding him down. “Clarke, how am I supposed to do this without her?” he cried, finally turning to look at her.
She swallowed the tears that threatened to spill over, and pursed her lips. “Bellamy, you're the strongest person I know,” was all she could think to say. She really did mean it. By the time Clarke had met Bellamy, Octavia was all grown up. She was in college now, and could take care of herself; but Clarke knew that Bellamy had practically raised her by himself. She couldn’t imagine what it must've been like having to take of a small child when he was still one himself.
“But what if I don’t want to do it alone?” he said, choking back a sob. He fell forward into her arms and she held him tight to her chest. She rubbed large circles on his back, as he sobbed into her shoulder.
Clarke felt the tears from earlier begin to fall, she bit her lip as they rolled down her cheeks. They stayed like that until Bellamy had no tears left to shed. His sobs began to quiet, and soon he just laid there quietly. His head tucked into her hair, his breath coming in gasps. She did her best to keep her breaths steady, hoping that it would help to calm him. Finally his breathing began to slow. He was so still she thought he may have fallen asleep.
“It’s been seven years,” Bellamy said quietly into her neck. He took a deep breath. “O was here earlier. We had a nice day I guess. She cried. We watched How to Train Your Dragon.” He broke off. Clarke shifted so she was leaning against the arm of the couch, one of her legs hung off the couch the other sandwiched between Bellamy and the back of the couch. Bellamy moved so that his head rested on her chest.
“That sounds nice,” she said wrapping her arms around him. When he stayed silent, she leaned her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes. They laid there for a while, Bellamy occasionally sniffled, but other than that they were quiet. Clarke ran her fingers idly through Bellamy’s hair. Laying on the couch with him in her arms, she felt content. She felt him start to stir.
“I just really miss her,” his voice was barely above a whisper. Clarke his fingers lace with hers, and she squeezed them reassuringly.
Clarke looked down to see that his eyes were tightly shut. Tears were still leaking out, but his breathing was steady.
“I don’t understand why it still hurts so much,” he said. “Isn’t it supposed to hurt less?” He looked up and her words got stuck in her throat. His eyes were pleading with her, and she wanted to do whatever she could to take his pain take his pain away. She owed it to him to tell him the truth though.
“I don’t know if the hurt ever really goes away,” Clarke said honestly. She thought of her dad, a lump forming in her throat. She missed her dad every day, and she would be lying if she said that his absence didn’t leave a gaping hole in her heart. Bellamy let out a strangled laugh.
“Thanks,” his voice was still weak, but he offered the smallest of smiles.
“Sorry,” she said and she meant it. She was sorry that she didn’t have the words to make him feel better.
“Can I tell you about her?” he asked quietly, looking away from her.
“I would love that,” she said, smiling softly.
“She was beautiful,” he began, “and she was strong. She had this take no shit attitude and would never let anyone tell her she couldn't do something. That’s where O got it from.”
Clarke watched him as he spoke. His voice was raspy, and tinged with sadness, but his words were strong. She continued to run her fingers through his hair, caressing the soft curls. His skin was starting to regain it’s color, and the life was returning to his cheeks. Even though his face was covered in dry tears and snot, she didn't think she could remember a time when he looked more beautiful. He really is something special, she thought as she ran her hand over the soft skin of his cheek.
“She worked a lot, she had to. She had two kids and no one to help her,” he took a deep breath. Clarke watched his chest rise and fall.
“She loved to tell us stories, my favorites were about ancient Rome. That’s where I got the name Octavia from, the sister of Emperor Augustus,” Bellamy smiled fondly. “Mom let me name her. On the nights she wasn’t home, O and I would take turns telling our favorite stories to each other until we fell asleep. Even though our mom couldn’t always be there for us, she always made sure that we were there for each other.”
“She could sew almost anything. It didn’t matter what state it was in when she got it, when you came to pick it up, it looked better than new,” he voice was full of pride. “She would make O a special first day of school dress every year, and then I was the one who had to convince her not to wear it to school every day after that.” The smile faded from his face, it was a few minutes before he spoke again. “I wish she could’ve met you,” he said it so quietly, that Clarke wouldn’t have even known he was speaking if she wasn’t looking at him.
“I wish I could’ve met her too,” she said, brushing tears off his cheek.
“I think she would've loved you,” he said looking up at her. Her hand was still on his cheek and her eyes instinctively flickered to his lips. She wondered what they would feel like on her own. Swallowing the urge to lean down and find out, she willed herself to look away. When her gaze shifted back to his eyes, she had the lingering feeling he’d been thinking the same thing.
His stomach growled loudly, breaking the spell. “Do you think the Chinese food place is still open?” he asked offering her a sheepish smile. She smiled back at him.
“Man I hope so,” she said, thinking back to the takeout menus she’d been eyeing earlier.
* * *
“Mmm, I don’t think chicken and broccoli has ever tasted so good,” Clarke said closing her eyes, and leaning back into the cushions. Bellamy made a sound of agreement from the kitchen. He came over a moment later with two bottles of beer in one hand, and a pint of salted caramel ice cream in the other. “I like the way you think Blake,” she said reaching for the ice cream. He held it just out of her reach, and laughed when she stuck out her bottom lip. She couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the way his face lit up when he laughed.
He flopped onto the couch next to her and she scooted closer to him. Handing her a bootle, he traded the pint of ice cream for a take out box. “Did you pick something out?” he asked nodding his head at tv. He took a long sip from his beer and then set it down on the table. Propping his feet up, he balanced the takeout box on his lap.
“The emperors new groove,” she said immediately, “or Hercules, I couldn’t choose.”
“Hmmm, that’s a tough choice,” he said, picking a piece of broccoli out of her container with a pair of chopsticks. “Pull the lever Kronk,” he said seriously. Clarke laughed.
“You are such a nerd,” she said to him, selecting the movie on the screen. He chewed his food, pretending to be deep in thought.
“Yeah, but I’m your nerd,” he finally said, putting his other arm around her. She leaned into his side, basking in his warmth.
“True,” she smiled.
* * *
When Clarke’s phone alarm went off the next morning, the last thing she wanted to do was get out of bed. She was pleasantly surprised when it stopped ringing on it’s own. Letting out a sound of delight, she snuggled deeper into her pillow. Her bed was especially cozy this morning, and she felt like she never wanted to leave the warmth of the covers. She lay there, breathing deeply, feeling safe and warm, until suddenly, her bed moved.
“What the hell,” she shrieked, sitting up quickly. The light blinded her for a moment and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make up for her mistake.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” said a gruff voice beside her.
Laying next to her was Bellamy Blake. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and he had a mark from the blanket across his cheek. Her face broke into a smile, and she started to laugh. She couldn’t hold it back, and Bellamy just looked at her with the most adorable sleepy grin she had ever seen. She couldn’t pin point the exact reason for her giddiness, but she was willing to bet it had something to do with the man laying beside her.
“Do you always wake up like this?” he asked, stifling a yawn. He reached up to run a hand through his hair.
“Absolutely not,” she said breathlessly, once she had regained her composure.
Bellamy was shirtless, and she had taken off her sweatshirt before getting into bed, meaning she was only wearing a sports bra on top. Her cheeks flushed a little at the thought and she pulled the blanket up a little higher. If Bellamy noticed, he didn’t show it. He had offered to sleep on the couch, but she had turned him down, insisting they share the bed. Clarke had only let herself fall asleep once she was sure that Bellamy was out. Looking over at him, she smiled widely. “You’re really amazing, you know that?” she asked him.
“Was it finding me in a pool of my own vomit that told you that? Or was it watching me sob uncontrollably on the couch for hours?” he challenged, a teasing tone in his voice.
“Both,” she said simply. “And pool is a bit of an exaggeration,” she added. A strange look passed over his face, and he suddenly became very serious.
“I think I might be falling in love with you,” he said quietly. Clarke’s mouth fell open, and for a moment she seemed to loose control of her words.
“Is this because I shared my chicken and broccoli with you last night?” the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her eyes widened when she realized what she had said, “Uhhhh,” she opened and closed her mouth but she couldn’t form any words.
Bellamy was looking very pointedly at the sheets, a steady blush creeping onto his cheeks. Smiling at the way he bit the inside of his lip nervously, she moved closer to him.
“Bell,” she said, putting a finger under his chin and gently tilting his head up to look at her. “I’m way past think.” The smile that crept onto his face was blinding.
The next thing she knew, her lips were on his, and it felt better than she could’ve ever dreamed. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer. She couldn’t think about anything other than the feeling of his lips on her. She was running out of oxygen but she didn’t care. It didn’t really seem all that important. An alarm was going off in her head, telling her she should pull back, but she ignored it.
“Clarke, I think that’s your phone,” Bellamy muttered against her lips. She smiled as she felt him speak. Kissing him felt so good and she never wanted to stop.
“Mmmm, you taste really good,” she said, her voice more breath than words. Bellamy chuckled and pulled away. She moaned as he did. She didn’t want it to end.
“It’s your alarm,” he said, handing her a phone.
Clarke blinked rapidly, staring down a the phone he had placed in her hand. She unlocked it and shut of the alarm for good. Her head was swimming and her breathing was uneven. Slowly she managed to collect her thoughts. “I forgot to shut it off last night, I don’t have to go in until later today,” she said, tossing it aside. Bellamy was looking at her, a lazy smile on his face.
"What?" she asked him.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Clarke felt her heart flutter, “you’re not too bad yourself,” she said as she leaned in. He met her in the middle, and she sighed as he pressed closer. She couldn’t imagine her life without Bellamy Blake in it, and she was beginning to think she might never have to.