Archive of Our Own

The headache threatening to bloom in Clarke Griffin’s skull was about two minutes away from her completely just chucking her entire set of oil paints into the trash and walking away. The biggest thing that held her back was that the stupid headache had nothing to do with the unfinished canvas positioned in front of her.

It entirely had to do with the fact that she actually was becoming the girl who fell apart after a break up.

What good was she as an artist if she couldn’t channel her own emotional turmoil into her paintings? Wasn’t that the inspiration that fueled so many famous names that had come before her? Well, maybe not all of them. It certainly worked for musicians at least, even if not every person that she looked up to in the art world fell into that category.

With a sigh, Clarke forced herself to accept that she needed to end today’s session. Her progress had come to a screeching halt and besides, she had to get ready for girls’ night over at Raven’s. She’d just be wasting time and then inevitably late after rushing to get ready.

The funk lingered even throughout the clean up process.

As she wiped off the loosened paint from her brushes, she thought about the deadline for the exhibit coming up. She still technically had time, but she wasn’t as far into the set as she ideally wanted to be. It had been a risk on Diyoza’s end to accept her work for the remaining room; Clarke was a relatively fresh-faced graduate with mainly college-level exhibits and a portfolio under her belt. But the ex-military colonel turned art curator took one look at Clarke’s determination and her work’s themes and made the offer. It still felt like a strange miracle she didn’t deserve if she was being honest with herself. 

While Clarke swirled her brushes through the solvent, she counted down the remaining weeks she had and tried to imagine what the older woman would tell her to do in this situation.

Probably just tell her to shut the fuck up and get over herself.

Not even the worst advice in all likelihood either.

But the part of it, that even imaginary-Diyoza couldn’t understand, was that break ups were different when you were marked and your ex wasn’t.

It was such a ridiculous stigma and it was hard to imagine the days when Clarke had been enamored with the possibility of having a soulmark. It had been such a dreamy concept. One day you’re like everyone else, the next you turn eighteen and wake up as one of the few remaining individuals to be marked forever as one half of a couple destined by fate. It had been a trope in every fairy tale, every rom-com. Valentine’s Day cards had puns like you wouldn’t believe. And any time in elementary school when she opened one from her pink and red covered construction paper mailbox, Clarke wondered if the person who had given it to her would one day be her soulmate.

Well, the day had come then. 

She’d turned eighteen, woke up to a mark against her skin, and knew that somewhere out in the world, she had a soulmate waiting for her. And then she almost immediately figured out why soulmate-themed media was always created for young people and not anyone who was actually an adult (or at least was marked themselves).

Navigating through life, emblazoned with a “THERE’S SOMEONE ALREADY OUT THERE FOR ME” sign permanently on your body, made it extremely difficult to get any sort of good experience.

Not that you couldn’t get any experience at all. It was just always with an asterisk by it. 

Inevitably dating was a bit weird. When do you tell someone that you are genuinely attracted to that one day… you won’t be? Or at least not more than the person with the matching mark, whenever they may enter your life. So do you set it all up for failure at the start or a little further in? Clarke pretty much had settled for one-night stands and friends with benefits.

Until Lexa.

Clarke stepped into her shower with a groan as the burning hot water scoured her back. Truly the only way to shower when you felt this shitty.

Scrubbing at the paint staining her forearms, she did her best to not dwell on it. 

Which meant that she couldn’t stop.

Lexa had been the first person for Clarke to truly open herself up to. Even people she’d thought she’d cared for hadn’t made it very far, not as far as her and Lexa had. They’d met her senior year of college and the poli-sci major had left an immediate impression. If it hadn’t been for the dull shade of her mark, not yet activated, Clarke would have had a hard time not believing that their passion for each other wasn’t the work of destiny. The whole soulmate conversation had come up early. Lexa hadn’t minded at all that Clarke was marked. The recessive gene was just that in her mind: a gene. To her, it was as simple as being born with brown or blue eyes. She’d admired Clarke’s determination to not let the mark hold her back from living her life, instead of just waiting for someone else to come and fulfill it. 

But it was all easier said than done.

They graduated. They both ended up in Polis, Lexa focusing on a career in politics and Clarke thankful that her mom had warmed up enough to the idea of her being a full-time artist to at least assist her a little bit with her rent. It should have been the start of something beautiful. 

Slowly over time, the comments cropped up.

The hesitation when it came to talking about the future.

Sure, Clarke still hadn’t met the person she was supposedly destined for, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen. And Lexa, who had scoffed at the concept of marriage (“a government shouldn’t be involved in the personal choices of a consensual couple”), seemed tepid on what their path together would mean. What it would look like. Marked people weren’t the stars of rom-coms in the real world. They were future divorces waiting to happen, whirlwinds of gossip in the political world where opponents waited like vultures to slander your personal life.

Ultimately, Clarke could have lived like that. But it came down to something a lot more simple.

Lexa had turned to Clarke one morning two months ago, hair in her usual braid and cutting an impressive figure in her sleek all-black pantsuit. In her hands a steaming cup of coffee and her face a look of neutrality. The face she used when she fought to get her say heard amongst the older ambassadors but didn’t want to be accused of letting her emotions get in the way.

“You care about them more,” she’d said, a small nod towards Clarke’s hip.

“I care about you! I don’t even know who they are.”

“But you will. And you’ll care for them more.”

There wasn’t room for debate. No chance to defend something that deep down, Clarke knew had been inevitable. Because what was she supposed to say to all of that? She would have to one day make a choice and no matter how strong-willed she considered herself, even Lexa didn’t believe that it was “just a gene” anymore.

The self-loathing was hard to ignore. 

She wasn’t even mad to be single at 25-years-old; she wasn’t like those simpering girls she went to high school with who were convinced that you were rotting away if you hadn’t had kids by this age. She wasn’t even rushing to find her soulmate, wherever the hell they were in the world.

Clarke just wished she hadn’t let herself open up like that, when clearly disappointment was all that she was going to let in.

She finished getting ready with a shake of her head. It had been nearly three months and she still hadn’t been able to shake the loneliness that had taken over her since then. Yeah, she definitely needed to get away. Both tonight to catch up with friends, but also probably even further away if she had any hope in clearing her head of all of this.

The city of Polis was many things, but being pretty in January was not one of them.

Perpetual grayness cloaked it, from the towering cement buildings to the cloud-filled sky. Post-holiday cheer meant that the twinkling lights had been taken down and everyone was back to walking hunched over (thanks to northern winds from the Azgeda mountain range) and bustling on with their lives.

Thank goodness for best friends that lived close, even if she didn’t see them that often.

Clarke was able to hop on the ARK Transit line, taking it all of the way south to Mecha. Then, just a five minute hop and a skip away from the station, she was knocking on the door to Raven Reyes’ apartment. A few beats later and the sound of laughter and footsteps led to it swinging open, as Harper McIntyre appeared and dragged her inside with a spin.

“Clarke’s finally here!” She called back into the surprising depth of the apartment. Clarke muttered something about not being that late under her breath but took the ribbing in stride. Her extra hot long shower had actually taken longer than she’d meant it to but she had absolutely zero regrets. 

Knocking her boots off as she left them alongside the pile of shoes by the door, she trailed after the blonde woman. Voices grew louder as she made her way into the living room. It wasn’t a huge apartment by any means, but it was sneaky bigger than what Raven was paying for it. The supposedly less desirable part of town knocked down the price a bit and it was worth it for the extra bedroom that had been converted into a decked out tech space. Besides, even Clarke could admit that there was just so much more character to it than her more modern place. Brick walls that hadn’t been put in to give it an “industrial vibe,” but because they were the original exterior walls. You actually couldn't hear your neighbors because it had been built before people started cutting corners in the architecture to save pennies. Sure, the galley kitchen was crammed, the windows were minimal, and there were three locks on the door, but it was all perfect for Raven.

Sprawled out in the small living room was the rest of the gang. Raven, currently in the middle of stretching her leg on the floor as a part of her PT recovery. Octavia Blake, folded like a pretzel on the giant bean bag that definitely had been left by Raven’s on-again-off-again boyfriend John Murphy. While sometimes there were more than the four, they were essentially the core of the group from the get go. Clarke loved when everyone could get together, but she was especially happy for nights when she could just hang out with the three girls.

“It’s about damn time!” Octavia teased, knocking back a gulp of beer. She was still in workout clothes, probably coming straight from her job at the rock climbing gym on the west side of the city.

Clarke good-naturedly flipped her off as she slid into her usual spot on the couch. 

Harper hovered in the archway into the kitchen. “What do you want to drink? We’ve got okay beer and shitty beer. I brought some extra wine and then of course some liquor. Though obviously none of us are as good at making cocktails as Niylah, we can obviously try!” 

“The beer isn’t shitty, it’s cheap,” grumbled Octavia. 

“I’ll take whatever wine you’ve got!” Clarke stuck her tongue out in the direction of Octavia. “Sorry I don’t like instantly becoming bloated the second I drink something. Or just like… the taste of wheat.”

That got her an eye roll in response but acceptance as well. It had been a difference of opinion between the two of them since they first met in college. Clarke had walked into her dorm room on move-in weekend Bardo State University and had been instantly greeted by an exuberant hurricane of a girl. She hadn’t even sure they’d become friends, let alone best friends, but somehow it had all worked out over time. Nevermind the fact that Octavia always enjoyed kegs and Clarke would rather do shots of semi-chilled liquor in the corner. 

They’d managed to make the rest of it work though. Despite the differences between one of them being a bossy only child and the other the wild younger sibling, they’d found a rhythm with each other that had balanced them.

Then came sophomore year when they included Raven, Clarke’s tutor for her compulsory computer science class for her interactive media minor freshmen year, in their four bedroom dorm setup. Their fourth was randomly assigned and a fucking nightmare. So when junior year rolled around, they swapped Ontari out for a girl that Octavia had started doing fitness training with and Harper then officially became a part of the group. Clarke was pretty sure she wouldn’t have survived her last two years of college without the three of them.

This had been one of their longer gaps in hanging out, so most of the first part of the evening was spent catching up and gossiping. Life was much more scattered than it used to be when they were younger. But at least whenever they came back together, it was like no time had passed.  

Harper and her husband were in their second year of owning a small plant nursery. Between their two green thumbs and Harper’s stubbornness, they were successfully pulling it off. It also took the pressure off of Monty’s side business with his best friend, Jasper––though their weed gummy line was doing a lot better than it probably had any right to, considering the chaoticness of the owners. Harper always joked that even though her and Monty were soulmates, Jasper felt like a platonic third soulmate in their little trio. 

Counting down the days until she could just do freelance full-time, Raven was still working away at her more-lame full-time job as a web developer for the tech company, ALIE. But the healthcare was too good to give up, especially post the car accident that seemingly was going to fuck her leg up for the rest of her life. 

A round of sympathetic nods were had and Octavia got to have her routine “fuck capitalism and privatized health insurance” speech that she always had at the ready.

It was then her turn to chat about the rock climbing trip she’d just returned from a couple weeks ago. Octavia and her fiancé, Lincoln, were adrenaline junkies and even though Clarke couldn’t imagine a more terrifying way to experience South America (you’d find her at local restaurants and markets instead), it was thrilling to hear the recounted tales. Octavia and Lincoln were soulmates and had found each other in a similar way to how they now spent their free time––except that first time, Lincoln had saved her from falling off the side of a mountain instead of climbing up it. Subsequently, their soulmarks had immediately illuminated and it had been an instant connection.

After passing Octavia’s phone around to look at all of the photos, expectant eyes all swiveled over to stare at Clarke.

“Okay, Griffin, your turn. Please tell me you’re not still moping about.”

Raven’s warning sounded a lot like she already knew that Clarke had spent way too much time in her recent shower lamenting the very issue.

Groans were abound when she could only sheepishly shrug.

“I’m sorry!” She whined, dodging Harper’s slap to her leg and protecting her glass of Pinot Grigio. “I don’t know why I’m still being so dramatic over it. I just thought that maybe I’d broken the code or something. Found love that didn’t need a scientifically fated connection.”

Harper and Octavia could only look at her with understanding sympathy, the two others marked. Raven simply shook her head.

“It’s been three months, Clarke. I get being all in on a relationship but this is going to start becoming unhealthy! You deserve to feel good about yourself, it was never meant to be. Don’t let it eat you up so much.”

“I know, I know.” She glumly drank some more wine. “We just spent so much time at my place together that it doesn’t feel like mine again. Not yet. I haven’t been able to shake it and now it’s slowing me down on my deadlines.” Clarke let out a long breath, watching as stray pieces of hair floated up from it before tucking them back behind her ears. “I don’t know, I just really need to get away for a while.”

That perked Octavia up, her posture straightening as her face lit up.

“Okay I know I can be kind of shitty for advice, buuuttt I definitely can actually help out in that case. You can go up to my family’s cabin in the mountains to finish painting.”

Harper snapped her fingers. “That’s perfect! Fresh air in multiple ways.”

“I couldn’t possibly––”

Octavia shrugged. “I mean, no one really goes there anymore. Bell does occasionally but he left today for some week-long tropical wedding getaway thing with his girlfriend. It’d be all yours.”

“Ooh, is it a marked wedding?” Harper poked her head out from the kitchen. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to make ours not feel melodramatic. Which is really hard when every marked ceremony online is so dramatic to pile onto the whole soulmate thing.”

It was always funny hearing Harper talk about her wedding plans. When she and Lexa had ever discussed marriage, it had been clear that the intention would just be a standard court wedding. Harper and Monty were certainly picturing something more extravagant than that, even if the two of them lived a more slow paced life than the rest of them. Harper was more than a bit of a romantic.

Swirling her drink around as she considered, Octavia frowned. 

“I’m not actually sure. It’s one of Gina’s friends I think. Probably a marked one if they’re making such a big deal out of it.” She then turned back to Clarke with a smile. “But see? It’ll be totally empty up there, it’s meant to be. It’s the perfect place to get away and get inspired or whatever. It’s fate!”

The isolation of it all sounded pretty tempting. And if it really was just sitting there, well what was the harm in that? She’d helped out Octavia and her other friends multiple times, it wasn’t a weakness if she had to rely on them as well once and a while. And besides, what better place to force herself to get over the sting of the breakup? No accidentally running into Lexa at the grocery store, a reason to stay off of her phone and social media. Just her and the mountains and her work.

So when she left that night, wine buzzed and filled with laughter, Clarke now had an address and a spare key in her purse.

If there was one thing that Clarke was good at, it was doing things as soon as her mind was made up.

She packed all night and then first thing in the morning the next day. A quick text to confirm that Raven could swing by and water her plants, a minimal clean out of her fridge (thankfully living in a city meant she tried to only shop for one week at a time), then she was ready to head to the mountains. Her mom had been a bit surprised at her announcement when she’d texted her, but she’d simply told her to be safe and wished her happy painting. Abby Griffin knew well enough that her daughter’s stubborn independence was pretty directly influenced by her own nurturing (and a reflection of herself as well). They were thankfully a good distance now from the years of her trying to control her daughter’s choices with an iron fist.

Clarke didn’t drive nearly as much as she had when she first moved to Polis. It was too easy to just use public transportation and just swallow the dread at how much it cost to have her car sit in her apartment’s basement garage. She just couldn’t bring herself to part with the old black Jeep. Not when it had been her dad’s last gift to her before he died.

And now, bags and painting supplies in tow, she was even more thankful to still have it so that she could make the trip up as soon as the idea had been settled.

The drive was smooth overall. Lunch was on the road, at a greasy local fast food place that reminded her of her childhood. Sitting inside Mecha, the smell wafting through the air in a way that she knew would cling to her hair, Clarke couldn’t help but smile. She’d never been nearly the junk food junkie that some of her friends were, but even her health-nut parents had loved stopping at places like these when they would go on long road trips. The tension of her parents’ work lives would drop. Her dad would let her juggle the tray of paper wrapped up food to the table, her mom sorting through an unnecessarily large amount of tiny condiment packets. 

All of these years later, Clarke felt a similar relaxation take over her as she got her order. As she munched on her fries, she resolved to do more things like this. Even if it wasn’t necessarily escaping to her best friend’s cabin, she needed to get back into doing stuff for herself that wasn’t just art. 

Once she was satisfyingly filled with greasy food and a chocolate shake, Clarke got back into the car and finished the drive with renewed energy. Her podcasts only cut in and out a couple times as she grew closer to her destination, finishing the story of famed female serial killer Josephine Lightbourne right when she put her car into park in the driveway.  

The cabin was quaint. Rustic in a way that was honest, not some type of faux aesthetic applied to it to appeal to a potential buyer. This was a cabin that had been built for winter days like this. It was definitely on the smaller end, but that fit with Clarke’s knowledge of Octavia’s upbringing. During college, the other girl had never been shy about the occasional needling of the class difference between their two childhoods. 

But it looked perfect and exactly what Clarke had needed after everything that had been going on. 

She made a mental note to pick up a gift card or take Octavia out for drinks after all this, since she’d refused to let Clarke pay her for the weekend. No way she couldn’t pay her back in some form.  

Stepping out of her car, she shivered. Switching to the cozy lounge clothes she’d brought were absolutely her new priority once she was inside. 

Puzzling at what seemed like a distant glow of yellow in what could be one of the back rooms, Clarke moved to grab all of her things. Maybe it was just a security thing so it never looked abandoned and enticing to anyone who might have a less than altruistic reason to peek in. 

An icy blast of wind made her resolve to accomplish dragging everything in on no more than two trips for sure. There was leftover snow from a past snowstorm and with the weather seemingly worsening, she didn’t feel like making a bunch of treks back and forth. 

It was a struggle; Clarke’s art wasn’t exactly on a small scale. 

Between her canvases and supplies, her hands were pretty occupied. Slightly hunched over from her backpack, she had to juggle to hold onto everything and her duffle bag, creating a double layer of pressure on one shoulder that she was deeply regretting.

She struggled her way up towards the door. Thankfully the pavement wasn’t icy or this would have been a razor thin line between potentially comedic or potentially disastrous. 

But then once she was nearly right in front of the door, a realization sunk low in her gut.

Oh shit, where had she placed the key?

Without a doubt, and knowing her luck, the key was probably at the bottom of her backpack and underneath her small toiletry bag. Which wasn’t exactly the end of the world, but she’d already done such a good job of maneuvering all of her things, she didn’t have a spare hand to reach for it.

She didn’t get a chance to try and strategize though. Or give up and put everything back down and try again.

Suddenly the door swung wide open.

Clarke squeaked in surprise, taking a couple stuttering steps back out of instinct as she looked up to take in the confused expression of one Bellamy Blake.

She’d seen him a fair amount of times, both in person and in even more photos. He and Octavia, despite a few glaring gaps when they weren’t talking, were extremely close. Close in a way that as an only child, Clarke couldn’t even fathom. She’d be more jealous if she felt like she could get a handle on Bellamy’s personality whatsoever. 

He first showed up at family weekend in college, hovering in the doorway as Clarke’s parents had chatted with Octavia about her classes. When they’d offered for the Blakes to join them for lunch, Bellamy had said no faster than his sister could even open her mouth. Then every family weekend after, he was always just a figure waiting to pick her up. Same for the occasional holidays when he picked Octavia up instead of her catching a ride with one of the other girls. Graduation was the most Clarke saw him and seeing the pure pride he had for his sister left her confused at who he really was. It was the happiest she’d ever seen him, but why he hadn’t been able to show that side of him during their time at college was beyond her.

Save for a few mentions of him at girls’ nights or in texts if Octavia was explaining why she was busy (or who was taking care of her Rottweiler, Helios), that was the last real time Clarke had even thought of him.

But he was most definitely standing in the doorway of the cabin, not out town at a wedding with his girlfriend. The past few years had––tragically––made him even hotter. Damn it .

He also didn’t look remotely pleased to see her standing outside his family cabin. 

Double damn it.

“Oh, uh hi, Bellamy!” 

Real smooth introduction. Clarke could just die there if given the opportunity; just one more thing to pile on to her misery. Oh god, what if he didn’t remember her? It wasn’t like they were anything more than acquaintances, if even that.

“Clarke,” he answered back with a nod of his head. Thankfully he did remember her. So she wasn’t misremembering his bad manners after all (though yes, she was the one that was technically not at her own place). That was a good enough reminder to her to try and clear the air.

“I’m really sorry, I swear Octavia said you weren’t going to be here. There’s no way I got the dates mixed up but maybe she did? I can turn around and head back…” 

At the mention of his sister, Bellamy’s expression broke into a more rueful smile and Clarke found her own posture relaxing as well. 

“Oh she definitely forgot to let me know. Don’t worry, it’s not on you. You know her, once something’s left her attention span it’s completely gone.” He let out a sigh and glanced beyond Clarke and at the horizon. “And while I’m sure we’re both here for alone time, I’m not about to send you back out into that storm coming in. That would be ridiculous.”

Clarke peeked over her own shoulder. The thick cloud cover was increasing over the mountains, flattening the dwindling light with the overcast. Puffy and gray, melting into one massive shroud of cloud cover. There was definitely a heavy snowstorm stored in those clouds and she was absolutely thankful that Bellamy wasn’t going to make her head back in that. There was no way she’d get back to Polis before it hit. 

“I appreciate it,” she huffed with a small laugh, turning back to him. “And I promise I’m good at staying out of people’s hair. Only child shit, you know? It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

Bellamy chuckled and pushed the door open wider. 

“Thanks for letting me stay, I know we don’t really know each other that well so I appreciate it.” As she moved to pass him, manners overtook her and Clarke fumbled with her belongings so that she could politely reach a hand out to initiate a handshake. 

Touch was a strange conundrum depending on the marked person.

Some people were extremely cautious about touch, hoping to make their mark reveal a more special moment. Some people didn’t care at all. That had become the more prevalent nature as societal expectations relaxed and the stuffiness of norms had gone away. Clarke didn’t think twice about it anymore and spending a decent amount of time around unmarked people lately made it easier to forget sometimes (unmarked people didn’t seem to remotely care for obvious reasons). 

What Bellamy thought, or if he even cared, would remain unknown though. Because as soon as Clarke reached her hand out, she nearly dropped her canvases and had to redirect her movements to save them from the ground.

“Don’t worry about pleasantries,” Bellamy interjected with grace, “let me help you get some of that in before we freeze our asses off.”

Relief flooded her and Clarke slipped past him, shouting instructions about the remaining items in her car. Soon enough, her suitcase and art filled a corner of the tiny living room and the two of them were left to stand there awkwardly.

“There’s not much of a tour to give,” Bellamy said with a wave around them. “Living room with a dining table crammed in a corner. Kitchen, fully stocked. Down that little hallway is a bathroom and bedroom.” 

He paused a little longer then added, “Sorry there’s not more space for both of us. It was just me, my mom, and O for a long time and by the time we would have needed to expand it, Octavia’s dad had bailed. We weren’t coming as much and then without the extra money around, it just wasn’t a priority. O and I just built a tent and camped out here in the living room as kids mainly.”

It was easy to imagine. The rustic cabin, though definitely small, felt more cozy than crammed. It was warm and welcoming, too easy to imagine the middle school aged siblings playing board games and making an adventure out of sleeping in the living room.

“No worries,” Clarke reassured him. “Hey, easier to keep a smaller place warm in this snow, am I right?”

He chuckled and nodded. “You’re not wrong. But uh, yeah. It’s easier to work out here, better light, but I know we’re both trying to get shit done. I don’t know if that’d bother you.”

“What are you working on?”    

“I’m working on a research paper,” he gestured towards an overstuffed backpack and a laptop waiting on the login page. “I’d fallen a bit behind my timeline so I thought I’d come up here to… focus.”

The last word came out a bit pointed and Clarke fought the instinct to glare.

“And I have a deadline for an art exhibit, if that wasn’t obvious from the pile of art supplies you helped me bring in,” she responded. Good––minimal snippiness. They’d come a long way from her freshman year.

He hummed and nodded, looking at everything in the room except her.

Clarke sighed.

“Obviously this isn't ideal. But if we’re both actually wanting to focus, I don’t see why we won’t be able to just ignore each other. I’d planned on staying for a week, but we can just see how the weekend goes. I’m sure the snow will let up and if it’s a complete disaster, I can drive home Sunday afternoon. That work for you?”

Bellamy considered her carefully before shrugging.

“Let’s do it then.”

Outside, snow began to softly fall and the two of them fell into a rhythm. 

It was surprisingly natural with the two of them. It caught her off guard, as if she’d met an entirely different person than those days back in college.

They both became extremely invested in their work. Bellamy, at the kitchen table with a mountain of books and a small black laptop. When he caught Clarke staring (trying not to make it ogling) at his newly acquired glasses, he quickly explained that it was for staring at screens. He then teased her about her fancy Bluetooth headphones and she rolled her eyes, pointedly miming that she couldn’t hear him over her music. Yes it was crammed, but it wasn’t actually too bad. Clarke rearranged one of the dining chairs in the living room by her easel, while her box of paints blocked off a part of the living room. Because she was somewhat blockaded, he helped refill her water glass when he got up to fill his. 

He even made sure to put it back on the opposite side of her paint water cup so as not to accidentally drink from the wrong one. 

In between songs, she could hear the relaxing sounds of him typing and it made her smile.

At school she’d worked alongside other people, but there was something peaceful about this set up even if they were co-working on different types of projects. Neither one pestering the other, but nothing uncomfortable or cumbersome about it. They’d both clearly been skeptical about the initial set up. They’d clearly both been wrong to doubt it. 

Then, when the small clock in the kitchen moved to eight o’clock in the evening, Bellamy’s gentle hand hovering by her shoulder and corner of vision brought Clarke out of her zenned out focus.

He nodded towards the kitchen. “We put in a pretty good amount of work. I’m getting pretty hungry, if you’d, uh… like to join me.”

So that was what led to them hanging out in the kitchen, Bellamy preparing the pasta and Clarke leaning against the fridge watching him. He even let her control the music while he cooked and she hadn’t missed the surprised smile on his face when she’d turned on one of her favorite soft rock playlists. It made her have to duck and hide her own smile. She liked the way it felt to surprise Bellamy Blake.

After clearing some space on the table, the two of them were able to indulge in their well-earned spaghetti and garlic bread. Knees knocked into each other, close enough that Clarke could make out the small scar above his lip.

That lingering examination had her jolting herself to awareness. She must have been sniffing too much of her paint fumes if she was paying this close attention to Octavia’s brother’s lips. 

“It’s probably good that you’re here,” he said, rubbing his neck with a rueful grin. “If I get too focused on work I tend to forget to eat.”

Clarke stabbed her fork in his direction. “Never, ever forget to eat. Especially if you’re working on something.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll never miss a meal again,” he laughed. “Cross my heart.”

The two fell silent again as they continued eating. Clarke was just finishing placing her wine glass down when Bellamy spoke up again.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

His apology, seemingly out of nowhere, caught Clarke off guard. When he spotted her confused reaction, he quickly elaborated.

“I know I was pretty standoffish those years at Bardo. Everything about that place was intimidating for a couple of rural kids, and well… I was still really jealous of O at the time. She got to go to college first, even though it had been my dream first.” The words tumbled out faster than he could almost keep up with, a confession that surprised Clarke. But it also certainly shone a new light on her memories of him.

He smiled crookedly. “I just couldn’t bring myself to try and get to know you or your family, it stung too much. Obviously I’m fine now, I finally got to have my own experience, but at the time I didn’t know how to process those feelings.”

“Takes a big person to admit that,” Clarke replied, smiling softly as she glanced over at him. “For what it’s worth, I’m actually glad that this worked out. You’re not as bad as I built you up to be and that wasn’t fair of me either.” 

Old hatchets now buried, from there they ended up sharing about their projects they were working on. Clarke got a little into a heated rant––her pieces were a series of a post-apocalyptic take on environmentalism and how nature might have to change as it adapted to human destruction. As the paintings went on, it continued with the idea of how then it might grow back if humans were forced to leave the planet for survival. Bellamy didn’t seem bothered at all about her tangent, his eyes sparkling with equal amusement and interest. He then chimed in with his own takes on where exactly oil companies should go, and the connection of Octavia’s passionate politics became even more apparent. 

It segwayed nicely as well into his research. Since childhood Bellamy had loved myths and legends. But it wasn’t until high school that he realized the only ones that anyone was concerned with teaching were Greek or Roman. He still loved those, the ones that sparked his interest to begin with, but it bothered him throughout college. He wasn’t as connected to his Filipino heritage without his dad in the picture. But that almost made him more interested. So now, working on his master’s degree, he was dedicating his time to writing a textbook on Philippine mythology. He wanted to make it accessible for younger high school students as well, a resource to accompany any budding interest.

They moved from the table to a more relaxed set up, Clarke instinctively doing a quick minute of clean up while Bellamy finished washing dishes. She could tell that her desire to keep working the rest of the evening had plummeted, there was no use in leaving it all out. Besides, if she continued on this track, well she wouldn’t even have to worry about getting these paintings done. 

“We should play a get to know each other game,” Clarke announced as she finished covering her canvas. “You know, keep breaking the ice since we’re practically snowed in here for the night.”

He frowned. “What are we at, summer camp?”

“Relax, it’s just so we can get to know each other more! Now that you’ve decided you don’t actually hate me,” she tacked on with a wink that he good-naturedly groaned at.

“I shouldn't have opened up about that,” he grumbled not-so-seriously.

Clarke’s eyes opened wide.

“What about truth or dare??”

“Truth or––? Okay yeah, you’re officially kicked out. Time to drive home in the snow.” He mimed going to pick her up and Clarke shrieked as she scrambled away from him.

“Absolutely fucking not! Come one, it’s a classic for a reason!” She pleaded, breathless as she stood on the other side of the couch. Her heart thudded with the flare of excitement, not so dissimilar to the feeling of playing tag as a kid at recess. Bellamy seemed equally amused; he’d lost the earlier frown lines of concentration and had a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But only because I’ve heard from Octavia how ruthless you are at Monopoly and I have no interest in experiencing that.” 

It was a reputation that Clarke took immense pride in.

She did not fuck around with board games.

She’d thankfully thought to bring a box of red wine for herself for the evenings, saved from the terrible fate of whatever beer it was that Bellamy pulled from the fridge. What a tragic trait to share with his sister. As he joined her on the couch, Clarke tucked her feet under her, racking her brain for a fun one.

“Okay, okay. Since you give off ‘I have a stick up my ass and too much responsibility on my shoulders’ vibes––” Bellamy choked mid-swallow but could only grumble in unintelligible disagreement “––I dare you to tell me the dumbest thing you did as a teenager.” When he frowned, she pointed dramatically at him. “And no bullshit that you didn’t do anything either. Everyone does something ridiculous when they’re a kid, it’s like in our DNA as humans.”

Bellamy laughed and shook his head, raising the hand not holding his mug up in surrender.

“I wasn’t going to lie, don’t worry. And trust me––I know.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was actually kind of a complete dick when I was younger. Went through a very rebellious stage.”

“Details, details!”

He waved her off. “Relax, Griffin, I’m getting there.”

He paused as he sorted through memories before smiling with satisfaction as it seemed he landed on one.

“Picture this. Me and my best friend Nate, we just called him Miller back then, were juniors in high school. And all of those Jackass movies were coming out. So the fourth one, Jackass: The Conclave, had just come out and we were convinced we could recreate the stunts. We finally had a camcorder and I’d just gotten a new skateboard for Christmas, so we roped a couple other neighborhood friends and Octavia into our idea. Obviously we didn’t have any budget, even less than the original movies did, so you can imagine how this went.”

It was an easy enough picture to paint in her mind, even if her mom had never actually let her watch those prank movies. Bellamy’s words wove together the lower-middle class suburbs that he and Octavia had grown up in, mirroring stories and old film photos that Octavia had shown her in college. It sounded like a childhood held together by bandaids and adventures.  

Bellamy shook his head with a laugh. “We totally busted the window of this older woman who lived on our block. Indra thought we were a bunch of hooligans––guess I can’t really blame her. We had to spend the whole summer volunteering around her house.”

Clarke perked up at the name, slowly connecting separate stories she’d heard from the other Blake sibling. “Indra…”

“Yeah,” Bellamy said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Octavia mentioned her before. Indra kind of took O under her wing, slowing down the wild path that she was starting to head down. The rest of us were just restless teenagers; O needed more guidance than either my mom and I were prepared for.”

That definitely rang a bell in Clarke’s mind. She’d seen a few photos of the woman now that she thought about it. Relatively stern looking, athletic. Freshman year, Octavia had had a weekly call with her. Clarke hadn’t thought about it too much then, but it made more sense now.

“Enough of that,” Bellamy switched topics with a small laugh. “Your turn. Truth or dare.” 

“Truth,” Clarke chose quickly. 

“Do you think modern art is bullshit?”

Bellamy got a pillow chucked to the head before Clarke admitted that while she respected the artists, she had a hard time with it. Hence the overly intricate landscapes that she meticulously threw herself into. 

The back and forth remained like that for a bit. Clarke had to prank text Raven, Bellamy admitted that the only time he got lunch detention was in middle school for spitting off a lighthouse at a field trip. As the alcohol settled into a pleasant buzz, the questions got slightly more revealing. They shared a kinship about loving difficult mothers and tumultuous relationships that showed intensity wasn’t always equal to love.

It was that topic that opened Clarke up to the next round and the core of what had brought her to the cabin.   

Bellamy cocked his head, lips pursed as he studied her. It was strange to not be thrown off by it. The version of her that had first arrived here would have assumed he was doing it out of judgment. Now, though, she could sense that it was just how he was. Constantly observing, taking in the world around him to better understand people and things.

“Okay. This time I choose truth. Why did you come up here? I mean, I get the painting,” he gestured his beer in the direction of her canvases, “but why here in the end?”

Clarke bit back a smirk. “Let me guess, you think my family probably has a bunch of vacation homes and why didn’t I just go to one of those?”

Bellamy had the graciousness to at least blush a little bit.

“Something like that, yeah I guess.”

“It’s fine,” she said with a shrug. 

“I was having an impossible time focusing at home and I have a deadline coming up. And we did have a timeshare when I was a kid, but when my dad died and then my mom went through rehab, holding onto it was a waste. We stopped going once he was gone and then eventually it made more sense to sell, use the money to help my mom. I probably would have tried to work through it at home, but the breakup was still so fresh and Octavia was pretty deadset about it, so here I am. It sounded like a true getaway where I wouldn’t have any connections to the past to distract me.”

“Sounds like Octavia to be stubborn, even with helping people,” Bellamy grinned. Then frowned, his brows furrowing. “You mentioned a breakup…?”

The question hung in the air. Usually you didn’t get follow up questions but it was technically a part of why she was here. It was his family’s place after all, even if she wasn’t a chronic rule follower even in truth or dare, she also felt like she owed him a genuine explanation. So Clarke dug deep to allow herself to open up to him. 

A feat that felt strangely easy.

“I’m actually marked. And Lexa, uh, wasn’t,” Clarke stammered out. “And I know I’m not special going through something like that. But it just hurt a lot more than I was expecting. I just kept dwelling on it, even though it’s been a bit now.”

Bellamy’s expression didn’t reveal anything beyond sympathy. Which felt nice to see, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued about his feelings towards marked people. He very well could be happily connected to his soulmate, or he could have been on Lexa’s end in the past and hated soulmarks as much as the next non-marked person.  

“So yeah,” her hand fluttered anxiously as she waved the emotional moment away, “running away from romance issues like a cliche.”

He just nodded understandingly.

Clarke did her best to move past it, but when Bellamy picked truth for the next round, her eyes narrowed as her mind connected some related dots. After all, he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

“Well then… Why aren’t you at the wedding Octavia told you were supposed to be at? Not that I’m not surprisingly glad we’ve gotten to hang out,” she rushed to add, caught off guard by her own urgency to ensure that he knew that she liked spending time with him. “I’m just curious why you’re here too.”

Bellamy humorlessly chuckled. 

“Gina and I––” he sucked in a long breath before continuing “––we actually broke up a while ago. I’ve been kind of cowardly about really saying anything; Octavia and our friends really liked her. It wouldn’t have been their fault if they’d been upset, but I just didn’t want them processing it the same time I was.”

It was difficult to imagine that feeling and Clarke felt a flare of jealousy. She usually had a knack for picking partners that didn’t impress her friends very much.

“But it was similar to your story,” he said quietly.  

It was a partial answer to her early unspoken question. But was Bellamy the marked person or had Gina been? Was he the one who’d felt the keen sting of knowing that the person he was with wouldn’t be able to ultimately choose him in the end? Or was her pain something that he connected to?

She couldn’t bring herself to ask him which it was. 

They were growing closer, but that felt even a step too far into personal territory than she was ready for.

She was saved from the moment by twin yawns coming from both of them. Clarke was then startled to look at the old grandfather clock in the corner and see that it was already nearing midnight.

And then, instinctively, she glanced towards the single bedroom and then back at Bellamy. He seemed to pick up what she was silently saying and shook his head with a grin. 

“I guess I don’t have the usual living room tent supplies with me this time,” he laughed. 

“I can take the living room, really it’s––”

He held his hands up, cutting her off. 

“Nope. Not going to hear about it. You take the bed, you had the longer drive up here. Besides, I don’t want any rumors insulting my hospitality going around,” he teased with a crooked smile.

It was impossible to fight him over it.

So Clarke found herself in the lone bedroom, while Bellamy took the leather couch in the living room. He hadn’t been completely wrong––she’d been unable to swallow back the yawn of exhaustion as he’d closed the door behind her. It had been a long drive, accented by a long evening of painting and socializing. It would be nice to get some sleep in here tonight. 

She found herself just staring up at the ceiling instead.

The blankets were comfortable, cozy and warm despite the chill in the rest of the cabin. Quilts that had been clearly handmade, faded olive green sheets that were softer from time than even the expensive ones sold in stores lately.

Yet she couldn’t sleep. 

Clarke rolled from side to side, huffing out an exasperated breath. 

If she was struggling to sleep, she could only imagine what Bellamy was experiencing out in the living room. Not that there had to be a connection. But she was in the bed he’d expected to be in and if her brain was still a bit too restless, she had a strange hunch that his might be as well.

Also it was fucking freezing in here. Even with the heat on, it wasn’t enough to fight against the night’s snowy chill. Her quilt was fine, but Bellamy would definitely be freezing out there with just a throw blanket. It was an easy enough decision to make. She wasn’t going to let his (very nice) gallantry make him suffer during the night. 

She tiptoed into the living room. The floor was freezing underneath her feet and she cursed taking off her fuzzy socks.

“Bellamy?” She whispered loudly. If he was truly asleep, she’d leave him alone and just insist on it the next night. But it didn’t take any more than that to get an answer back.

“Yeah?” 

Bellamy’s voice was groggy but not completely out of it. She was right; he hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Satisfied and speech prepared, she scurried around the couch to get in front of him. And of course Bellamy was handsome when he was half-asleep too. He slid on some glasses as she rounded the corner and he managed to pull off the rumpled hair look a little too well.

Clarke rolled her shoulders back to focus on the task at hand.

“Look, if you didn’t want me driving in heavy snow on your conscience, then I don’t want you getting a bad night’s sleep on mine. We’re both here to get work done, there’s no reason to mess up tomorrow just because you didn’t sleep well out here.”

“Who said I’m not sleeping well out here?” grumbled Bellamy. But he had a sort of guilty look on his face that clearly said he was definitely letting himself suffer rather than ask for help.

Clarke just gestured back towards the bedroom. “Don’t be a stubborn ass. Come on.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned back around and walked back. Only a few seconds later, the sound of padded footsteps followed her.

“Octavia wasn’t kidding that you’re more stubborn than her,” Bellamy grumbled quietly as he crossed into the room behind her. Clarke could only smile smugly in response. 

She let him slide in first, following suit afterwards. The quilt had been good before, but now with his extra body heat, it was even better. He’d had socks on so his feet weren’t even bringing in a chill with them either.  

She’d shared a bed with people that she wasn’t in a relationship with before. Club soccer teammates at tournaments, friends and hookups in college. Lexa, up until recently.

She couldn’t place why it felt different laying in bed with Bellamy. 

There were of course a few moments of awkwardness as they situated themselves. Clarke gave up one of the pillows she’d stacked, Bellamy stretching out but trying to respect her space. But at the same time, an ease settled into her. The sleepiness that had evaded her earlier now returned. A warm, cozy sort of relaxation that made sinking into the mattress easier than earlier.

They faced each other, outlines of features just barely visible as their vision readjusted to the darkness.

Clarke quietly cleared her throat to break the silence. It was stretching almost too long and she couldn’t lose herself in his eyes. Not while they shared a bed like this.  

“Truth or dare, without the dare?” 

Bellamy chuckled. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Snorting indignantly, Clarke rolled her eyes.

“I feel like you got the impression from Octavia in college, and those few times you saw me when you stopped by, that I’m not fun. And I am, in fact, very fun.” 

“The funnest?” He teased, eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“You know it,” she quipped back, pretending to toss her hair over her shoulder despite laying down.

Their conversations were slower and softer. The questions were a little easier than earlier, sleepiness slowly slipping in between their words. Stories about high school, neighborhood shenanigans. Filling in all of the gaps in Octavia’s story that Clarke didn’t realize was missing. As the stories merged, a flushed out image of the Blake family childhood unfolded in front of her. In turn, she found herself opening up to him in a way that she’d never quite been able to even with his sister. There was another level of understanding between them, a thread that surprised her.      

She really loved the way he smiled. The way it would light up his face, affection warm in his eyes. Even in the moonlight, she could see the shadow of freckles dotting his face. She could feel some dangerous stirrings in her chest, a flutter of nerves that only seemed to accompany the seed of a crush. An unexpected, but not quite unwelcome, annoyance. 

A wistful sort of ache tugged in her gut.

It meant that she was capable of feeling attracted to someone again; it meant that she was attracted to Octavia’s older brother. 

This whole day had been so easy. She couldn’t remember the last time a relationship, platonic or not, had settled this naturally. The early ignition of her relationship with Lexa had been all about the immediate passion. She hadn’t considered that this type of feeling could exist too and that, if she allowed herself to consider how much she was attracted to him, it could feel just as nice.

Bellamy’s words slowed, turning to soft mumbles. As much as she fought her own body too, Clarke’s blinks grew longer and his face blurred in front of her as sleep overcame the two of them. Facing each other, breath mingling and hands just inches apart on two separate pillows.

When Clarke slowly stirred awake, it was quite early in the morning. The type of silence that came with heavy snow blanketed the outdoors, a sliver of fluffy white just barely visible where the blinds didn’t quite reach the window sill. They wouldn’t be quite snowed in, but it was definitely a good thing that they’d both brought food and that he hadn’t let her attempt to drive back home last night.

It took her a while to realize how entangled she and Bellamy had become in their sleep.

At some point in the night, they’d turned to each face the same way. Her leg had become intertwined with his, while the heavy weight of his arm was draped across her hips. His body was bowed away, but it meant that the back of his head was nestled near the top of her spine, curls brushing against her cheek.

Clarke would have bet anything that her entire body was blushing at the realization.

The room seemed cold around them and it made sense as to why they’d probably gravitated towards each other in their sleep.

Mortified and unable to imagine what might happen if he woke up while they were still like this, she came to the split-second decision that now would be an excellent time to make an escape to the bathroom. She could shower and pretend that her body wasn’t humming at the enjoyment it got from being so interwoven they were.

She carefully eased her limbs away from his.

Bellamy mumbled something, forehead wrinkling in confusion at the movement.

Clarke quickly shushed him, trying to lull him back to sleep before his eyes opened up. “You stay comfy,” she whispered. “I’m just going to shower.”

He sleepily seemed to understand, or maybe was just tired enough, so he blew out a long breath and shifted onto his back and released Clarke from his grasp.

She was equally torn and relieved.

It felt wildly inappropriate how much she just wanted to jump back into bed and curl up in his arms. Was this the type of thing that would bother Octavia if she heard about it down the line? Or would it make her laugh with glee as Clarke tried to explain herself? They weren’t high schoolers, surely it wasn’t as taboo anymore to potentially be interested in someone’s older brother.

But that even felt ridiculous to her. 

How was she already feeling this strongly??

She did have a bit of a track record for falling fast, but this was even a record for her. And now she was going to spend the rest of the week with this guy? She was going to have to get a grip on herself.

Destined to always be fighting with herself about matters of her heart in the shower, Clarke slipped into the bathroom and did her best to not think about the warm body that she’d left behind in the bedroom. It didn’t take long to figure out the shower and Clarke quickly moved to take her clothes off so she’d be ready to jump in once the water heated up.

Piling her clothes haphazardly on the toilet lid, she then glanced back in the mirror to do her usually cursory glance. A check of her skin, a hmph directed towards the way her layers were growing out from her most recent haircut, smoothing out the red creases from the elastic of her pajama pants on her waist. And then…

Her hands faltered from where they’d been on her skin, falling to her side as she twisted her hips just slightly to get a better angle.

Holy.

Shit.

Not quite trusting her eyes in the mirror (as if somehow the steam was clouding her vision even though that was a ridiculous thought), Clarke looked straight down at her body and pulled the skin by her left hip bone taut.

Her soulmark shone back up at her.

The faded crescent moon had sat on her hip since the day she turned eighteen. Faded, just dark enough to stand out against her stretch marks but never illuminated or vibrant enough to indicate she’d found her soulmate. It was easy enough to forget about––except for when you were being broken up with or in this case, seeing it activated for the very first time.

Its bright, reflective silver color seemed to wink at her in the dim yellow lighting of the bathroom.

Clarke went completely still.

It was difficult to process. No story or movie had prepared her for the feeling that would overcome her during this moment. 

Especially seeing as how she’d only touched one person since getting here and it definitely hadn’t been glowing yesterday morning.

Just when her brain was warring between hyperventilating or sitting on the ground in shock, the door banged open and she nearly jumped out of her skin.  

“Clarke, there's something I need to tell––oh, fuck, sorry.” Bellamy nearly fell into the small bathroom as the door swung open. 

Bellamy immediately glanced away, stammering out an apology at catching her half-naked and not in the shower like he’d assumed based on the sound of water running.

“I was just going to uh, try and shout at you through the curtain,” he explained, still determinedly not looking at her body.

He was still talking after that, clearly wanting to talk about what she’d already pieced together, but Clarke was too busy trying to see for herself. Because he was also half-naked, chest bare and sweatpants slung low on his hips. Her eyes scanned him, because there had to be––

Yep.

There it was.

A reflective gold shimmer drew her focus to his shoulder and the outline of a sun.

It was simply a bonus for Clarke as an artist that their marks held such symbolism with each other. 

There were always links between the marks, sometimes they even matched. Clarke had never thought much about the design of hers. But now, seeing Bellamy’s, she couldn’t help but think how perfect it was. 

That seemingly was the same time that his eyes found her soulmark on her hip. His voice died out in a sort of awe-struck pause, eyes wide. The surprise clearly written on his face felt as familiar as her own feelings. Was it all marked people, or just the two of them, who had both apparently had had trouble believing in the supposed happily ever after that came with the mark?

Bellamy Blake was her soulmate.

A rush of nerves quickly overcame her and their roles reversed, as Bellamy then remained silent and it was then Clarke’s turn to babble on. 

“Maybe we should, uh, talk? Or oh my god, should we call Octavia? We should definitely call her. And then––”

Bellamy groaned before interrupting her, his voice strained.

“Clarke, can––fuck, can we just talk later?” He was looking at her desperately and it made the words and her breath die in her throat. “I would really, really like to just kiss you right now if that’s okay. I’ve actually wanted to since I watched you paint for an awkwardly long amount of time, but now that we’re soulmates I’d like to make that a reality as soon as possible.”

One of them initiated the movement, not that it was clear at the moment. Because the next thing Clarke knew, she and Bellamy were kissing each other desperately and he was pressing her up against the bathroom counter.   

It was still too astounding to fully process.

How many threads in their lives had intertwined to bring them to this point?

His decision to not go to school before Octavia, granting her the chance to go to college first. The two girls becoming roommates and then remaining friends this whole time. The timing of both of their breakups and Octavia’s offer for her to come to the cabin. Both of them being here, in an instance that would have been alien to their past selves, but now together with a chance to truly get to know each other in a way they wouldn’t have let themselves before.

Fate was kind of overwhelming in that type of way.

They pulled apart, Bellamy exhaling softly against her skin as their foreheads rested against each other’s. She could almost feel his smile as much as her own. Bodies thrumming but at peace, a final puzzle piece slotted into place. 

Fate was completely unpredictable. 

But she wouldn’t have it any other way.