Chapter Text
Day One
It was early summer when Jake Griffin pulled up to the lake house; all pale blue with white trimmings, a wrap-around porch and a tire swing hanging from a tree in the back garden. Clarke was nine, her blonde hair swaying across her shoulders and her shorts reaching her knees. Her pink t-shirt had a picture of Belle, from Beauty and The Beast, printed across it, and she fingered the hems as she stood by the car. Her eyes narrowed on the car next door; different to the one she had seen the last year. Last year’s car was black; a middle-aged couple with greying hair owned it and would sit on the porch around the back of their house, sipping their drinks and casting glares in her direction whenever she made too much noise. This year’s was red, with stickers along the back window; a woman, a boy and a girl.
Clarke waited for her parents to join her, and her mother’s hands gently landed on her shoulders, rubbing a little as she looked at the new car.
“I guess we have new neighbours,” Abby Griffin said. Then her hands slipped away and Clarke’s head turned to follow them. She caught her mother’s hand and Abby pulled her along in the direction of their car. “Let’s unpack, and we’ll meet them.”
It was only an hour later when Clarke stood back out the front of the house. Their summer homes had no boundary lines; it was grass the entire way down and the only way to tell where one property ended and another began was to figure out the half way mark between the two houses. She stood bare foot in the grass, following her parents towards the front door of the holiday home. Her father knocked on the door, and Clarke stood behind his leg, clutching at his shorts in wait.
The door was opened by a boy. He seemed a little older than her, with a lanky frame and tan skin. His hair was unruly and untamed and his eyes were dark and inquisitive as he looked at the three-person family on his doorstep. Clarke’s eyes widened at the sight of him; all jagged edges and hard lines. His cheeks were covered in freckles and he was as bare foot as she. To put it simply, Clarke decided right then and there that she had never seen someone as beautiful as him.
“Hello,” the boy said, furrowing his brow at the strangers.
“Hi,” Jake smiled. “We’re staying next door – are your parents around?” The boy hesitated before nodding and turned away from the door. He faltered though, and looked back.
“Come in,” he said, gesturing with his hands.
Jake wandered in first as the boy disappeared around the corner of another door frame and Clarke followed, looking wide eyed at the home. It was identical to hers, with the same pale wall paper on the walls, and the layout looked familiar, too. The furniture was different, though – while Clarke’s holiday home had large sofas and oak chairs, this one had run down arm chairs, a ratty red sofa, and mix-and-match chairs at the dining table. It was all so different; a bright red plastic chair, a simple wooden one, a silver stool with a black cushion – but it all fit so well into the same space.
The boy reappeared as Clarke’s family reached the living room. He was now carrying a toddler in his arms; with the same dark hair as him but lighter eyes. The child stared at the strangers before burrowing her head into the boy’s neck. Behind them was a woman; she seemed as run down as their furniture, but had the same lines in the corners of her eyes that her father did – the ones that he told her the fairies gave to happy people.
She smiled at Clarke’s parents before the young girl and introduced herself.
“I’m Aurora,” she said, and Clarke’s face lit up.
“Like the princess!” She said happily, forgetting her shyness. Aurora turned to Clarke and smiled at her.
“Exactly like the princess,” she agreed.
“My name is Jake,” her father said next with a lazy smile. “This is my wife, Abby, and our daughter, Clarke.” Aurora smiled at them in turn, before reaching out a hand and placing it on the boy’s shoulder.
“This is my son, Bellamy,” Aurora said next. “And my daughter, Octavia.” Clarke stared at the boy openly, wide eyes and the ghost of a smile across her lips. Bellamy. It seemed to fit him so perfectly, even though she’d never heard the name before. He looked at her too, but in a way of curiosity instead of awe. Clarke didn’t mind though – they were very different. His hard lines were the opposite of her smooth edges; she was a skinny child, but with the chubby face she got from her grandparents. The corners of Bellamy’s mouth tilted upwards as he looked at her though, and Clarke was suddenly very excited for the summer.
Day Two
Bellamy didn’t know how to swim. She learnt this as she splashed around in the shallow end of the lake, her father sitting at the edge with a fond smile. Bellamy sat on the small wooden dock behind his family’s house, his feet in the water, watching. Up on the wrap around porch of Clarke’s house, Abby, Aurora and Octavia sat, and Clarke liked this a lot more than the couple that used to have the house.
“Would you keep an eye on her?” Jake asked Bellamy as he stood. “I’m going to go back up to the house.” Bellamy nodded, not saying a word, and Clarke continued to splash around.
“Why don’t you come in?” She asked, swimming over to the dock and treading water there, as she held onto the ladder.
“I don’t want to,” Bellamy replied with a shrug. Clarke furrowed her brow.
“Can you swim?” She asked. Bellamy paused before nodding. “Can you?” He nodded again, more sure and crossing his arms. “I don’t believe you!”
“I can, too,” he told her, annoyed. Clarke grinned as he glared at her.
“I bet you can’t!” She called out.
“I can swim!” He replied. She pushed away from the dock, smiling still.
“Prove it!”
“Fine.” Bellamy was easy to annoy, she found, watching him slip into the water and cling onto the ladder. While it was shallow, it was still a lot deeper than Bellamy’s height, and his feet wouldn’t hit the mud at the bottom unless his head was under the surface.
“Come on!” She called out. He glared at her, and pushed away from the ladder, paddling uselessly in the water. Clarke, alternatively, was a water baby – she had been swimming from the time she could walk. Their house had a pool, and Clarke was always in it, every day – she was born for this sort of thing.
Bellamy’s paddling was still proving fruitless as his head dipped under the water and he came back up, spluttering, his hair stuck to his forehead. Clarke swam over, as he splashed, trying to stay above the surface. For a moment, forgetting her nervousness around him, she reached out and gripped at his waist, holding him up.
He clung to her shoulders and they stared at each other for a moment, wide eyed. Her face broke out into a smile, as she looked at the boy carefully; wondering if it was possible to count his freckles, and how could his eyes be so dark?
“Told you you couldn’t swim,” she said with a smile. Bellamy huffed, but clutched her tightly as she looped one arm around his waist and swam them back to the ladder on the dock. He then clung onto that instead. There, he wiped his hair away from his forehead, and Clarke smiled once more at it sticking up on end. He just scowled though, not meeting her eyes.
“Do you want me to teach you?” She asked. Bellamy paused before looking at her now.
“You would teach me?” Clarke nodded happily.
“I would love to.”
Day Four
She found out he was older than her. Clarke sat on the floor of his home’s living room, colouring into her colouring book, her Cinderella t-shirt wrinkling as she bent over to reach the green pencil. Bellamy lounged across the sofa, flicking through TV channels and Octavia was on the armchair, curled up, asleep.
Aurora walked in with a smile.
“I’m going out to get some food,” she told the children that were still awake. “Bellamy, you’re in charge until I get home.” Clarke shrugged, nodding, not turning away from her page until she heard the door click shut.
“Why are you in charge?” She asked.
“Because I’m older,” he shrugged.
“How old are you?”
“Twelve.” Clarke’s eyes widened, and she counted the three year difference between them.
“I’m nine,” she told him. He nodded.
“I know.” Clarke didn’t question how he knew, and turned back to her colouring. Later, Octavia woke up crying, while Bellamy was in the kitchen. Clarke knelt by the chair and immediately smelt what Octavia’s issue was; she picked her up carefully, holding her like her mother taught her to do, as she went in search of Bellamy.
He found her though, with an annoyed scowl as he scooped his sister out of Clarke’s arms.
“Can’t I help?” She asked, as he sauntered off in the direction of the bathroom. He shook his head.
“My sister, my responsibility.”
Day Ten
Bellamy was an angry child, she realised. Yes, he was beautiful and gentle when he wanted to be – but he was hot headed, and sprung into arguments easily. Clarke didn’t mind too much. She would argue with the boys in her class all the time – so she needed a new competition; someone older with quicker comebacks and a seething expression. She wondered at night how such an angry look could still be so beautiful.
Day Fourteen
Bellamy got stir-crazy, being in a different place to his friends. He would phone them in the afternoons, when he wasn’t hanging out with Clarke, by her tire swing or down at the lake. After the phone calls, he would tell her the funny things his friends said and she would giggle too, even if she didn’t understand the context.
In the mornings, Abby and Jake would take Clarke out to do something in town, and Aurora would take Octavia and Bellamy. He wouldn’t admit it, but she saw him looking out his bedroom window, waiting for her to return in the same way she did for him. The afternoons were often spent together, and in the evenings, the two families would convene in the gardens, and have dinner together. The adults might drink a little and Clarke would take Bellamy down to the water and teach him to swim.
She held his hands in the water, guiding him out into the centre of the shallow area, and relished in those moments of his touch. She always liked human contact; she liked holding hands with people and having them hug her. Bellamy was no different. At first, he would stiffen at her touch, but he moved into them by the end of the second week. He stopped minding completely.
“Where’s your dad?” She asked him, in the water. They swam in gentle circles, not trying properly, but just to keep moving.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I never met him.” Clarke furrowed her brow.
“But you must have, if Octavia is nine years younger than you.” He tilted his head – which was the closest to a shrug he could get.
“We have different dads,” he replied. “And O’s walked out, too.”
Day Twenty
Bellamy and Clarke rode bikes down the promenade and she fell from hers. Through her tears she saw his gentle smile and she forgot about how he was angry that morning because he had to do his chores before coming out to play.
He pushed up the edge of her shorts, so he could see the scrape, dotted with red, and carefully swiped his thumbs across her cheeks.
“It’s just a scrape,” he told her. “I get them all the time.” Clarke sniffed and looked at the peelings of skin, feeling the tears well up again. “Hey, hey,” he said, shifting and sitting next to her. Bellamy wrapped an arm around his shoulder and she felt her head lull against his chest. “You’re going to be fine. It’ll hurt a bit for now, but when we get back, we’ll put a plaster on it and it’ll be good as new.” Clarke nodded and Bellamy helped her stand. She walked her bike back home, and he rode his slowly beside her.
Day Twenty Three
Clarke had thrown up in the night from food poisoning, and her mother looked after her, spread out on the sofa, watching TV. Bellamy visited in the late morning with a sad smile, and handed her a colouring book that he had seen earlier on. It was another Disney Princess one, to go with the other that she’d almost finished. Clarke smiled up at him.
“Princesses for a princess,” he told her with a shrug. His cheeks reddened a bit – as if he was self-conscious of having been caught being nice to another person.
“Thank you,” she told him, sitting up a little. He ducked his head and nodded. Jake’s footsteps thundered down the stairs and he clapped Bellamy on the shoulder when he saw him. Clarke’s father only spared a glance a slightly wider smile when he saw the colouring book in Clarke’s hands.
“You ready?” He asked Clarke’s friend. Bellamy nodded. “We’ll take lots of pictures,” he promised Clarke, kissing her on the top of her head. She nodded – but she wasn’t too sad about missing the History Museum. She was only sad about not getting to spend time with Bellamy. The boys left and returned a couple of hours later, with photos on Jake’s camera, that he told Bellamy he’d print out and give a copy to, and gifts from the gift shop.
Clarke held the tiny model of the emperor carefully, staring at it in awe. Jake went into the kitchen and Bellamy sat on the floor next to her on the sofa. She was surrounded by colouring pencils and her new book, a quarter of it finished.
“The emperors were like royalty,” he told her with a small smile. “They were men, yeah – but they were like kings and queens.”
“Really?” She asked, not turning her eyes away from the model. He nodded.
“Basically, he’s the equivalent of you,” he said. She furrowed her brow and turned to him, confused.
“What?”
“Well, you’re a princess, aren’t you?” He smiled.
Day Thirty
Bellamy and Clarke sat in her holiday home, eating ice cream. They sat on the sofa, his long legs splayed out over hers, with the tub between them and two spoons. They watched anything and everything and didn’t leave the house until the early evening when Bellamy jumped into the water, from the dock and Clarke followed with a squeal.
Day Thirty Four
Clarke sat under the porch in the evening, listening to the adults’ conversation. Octavia was asleep and Bellamy sat next to her, just as silently.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Abby said, unaware to the children listening. “Do Bellamy and Octavia have the same father?” Aurora laughed a little.
“I don’t mind at all,” she said. “And no, they don’t. Octavia was a happy accident,” she explained. Clarke watched Bellamy’s expression as they talked, but it was blank and empty. “And when I told the father, he wanted nothing to do with us anymore.” There’s silence for a moment before she continues. “Bellamy’s dad – well, I was married to him. And I was about four months pregnant when he slaps the divorce papers down in front of me and walks out.”
There’s just quiet and Bellamy’s expression is annoyed. Like he’s angry at his father, and at Octavia’s. Clarke reaches out and takes his hand, and watches as Bellamy looks to her, surprised. She doesn’t smile, and they continue to spy on the adults in silence.
“So, you raised them on your own?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Aurora responded.
“I don’t think I would be strong enough to do something like that,” he continued.
“Ah, you never know,” Aurora replied, a smile in her voice. “Strength comes out when you need it. And, apparently, I didn’t need it until Bellamy was born.”
Day Thirty Nine
They were leaving the next day. Both families were packing up – getting ready to head home to their two towns, over a hundred miles from one another. Clarke cried on her own about it, and hugged Bellamy tightly throughout the day. He had returned the favour and whenever they weren’t packing, they were in their swimming costumes, swimming in the lake.
It was the first day she’d seen him properly angry, though. Well – she didn’t see it. But she heard the plate smashing, and the sounds of yelling from his house, as she stepped out onto the porch at the back, clutching a washing basket to bring in the dry clothes. She carefully unpegged them as Octavia’s crying rang out, placing each peg into their own basket and putting the clothes away.
The door slammed next and Bellamy stomped out, bare foot and shirtless, into the back garden. She found herself peeking out of the corner of her eyes – even though she’d seen him shirtless for the entire month beforehand. But she found it interesting, at nine, how his freckles weren’t just on his face, but in a wave from his left shoulder and down the one side, becoming more and more sparse as they reached his hips.
Bellamy paused for a moment before coming over to her.
“Are you coming back next year?” He asked quietly. She nodded, not smiling, because she didn’t know if he’d want to see a smile, when he was angry.
“We’re here every year,” she told him. Bellamy nodded.
“Okay,” he said. He helped her unpeg the clothes from the washing line before going back to his house, where his sister’s crying had stopped, and a few minutes later, she looked out of her bedroom window to find him with a dustpan and brush, carrying out the broken remains of a plate and dumping it in the bin.
Day Forty
Their cars were packed and Clarke wore the bright pink Beauty and The Beast t-shirt that she’d worn on the first day she arrived. In the next drive way over, Bellamy shoved the final suitcase into the boot of the car, and slammed the door shut. Aurora carried Octavia out and Bellamy took her from his mother. Jake and Abby walked over to Aurora to say goodbye, and Clarke followed first, hugging her legs and saying her farewell.
Aurora kissed the top of her head and told her that they’d be back next summer. Clarke couldn’t wait for the next one to come around – she wanted it to be the next year, right then. She went to Bellamy next, who was strapping in Octavia into her car seat. Clarke held Octavia’s hand and let the toddler play with her fingers.
“Bye, Tae,” Clarke sighed, kissing her cheek before looking to Bellamy. He watched her with a sad expression; something of regret and slight annoyance – like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Throughout the summer, their contact had been mostly initiated by Clarke; she was the one who pulled him out into the water by his hands, and hugged him when she said goodbye, and drew pictures on his arms. He would only wrap an arm around her shoulder when he had to, or take her hand to pull her through crowds.
Now, though, he was the one who surged forward and embraced her. He was the one who wrapped his arms tightly around her small body, as she stumbled back a little, surprised. Clarke then held him back, as tightly as she could, as her head fit into the crook of his neck.
“Bye Clarke,” he mumbled into her hair.
“Bye Bellamy,” she replied. She didn’t want to cry again about leaving him. For the forty days she’d known him, he was her best friend, and she couldn’t bear to let go.
Bellamy pulled away first with a sad smile.
“I’ll see you next summer, right?” Clarke nodded immediately.
“Clarke!” Abby called from the other side of the car. “We’ve got to get on the road now if we want to avoid the traffic!” Clarke nodded.
“Coming!” She looked back to Bellamy, and wrapped him in another, quick hug.
“I’ll see you next summer,” she promised him. Bellamy ducked down and pressed his lips to her cheek, quickly and barely there, as if it never happened at all. Then he was standing up again, tall and lanky like he had been throughout the summer – all hard edges and strong lines.
“Goodbye Princess,” he told her, squeezing her hand as she walked away. Her hand dropped as they moved apart, and Jake and Abby called their goodbyes to Bellamy over the roof of the car. She climbed into her seat, doing up her seat belt and fingering the fabric of her Beauty and The Beast t-shirt. When Clarke had worn it a week or so before, Bellamy had laughed.
How ironic, he had told her. She had furrowed her brow, looking up at him. Beauty and The Beast, he explained. The story of Clarke and Bellamy. He had sped up on his bike only a moment later, and she didn’t have a chance to question it. So even now, she looked out of the window, watching him and waving goodbye, as he climbed into the car, and hers pulled out, both going in different directions for the next year.