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They meet in detention.
Bellamy is used to being there; he recognises the walls of the music room like the back of his hand, has read the posters so many times he’s memorised them – he even knows Kane’s speech before he makes it, about doing better, being better because everyone has the potential, even if Principle Jaha likes to crush it if it doesn’t fit into his mould.
He vaguely recognises Raven, too – they’re not really friends, the Latina who sits two desks back and to the left of him, but she’s been in detention a few times, and not the hundreds that Bellamy has.
Of course he knows Octavia, stretched out lazily in her seat, on the right of his. She’s his younger sister, just by a few minutes, and whilst she’s never in detention as much as Bellamy is, she could probably tell him the amount of bricks in the wall that’s been shoddily painted over, in front of them.
And Miller – Miller is his best friend, so he knows the boredom through the blank expression, knows the way his hands are completely still, knows when he’s going to cross his arms across his chest because that’s what he does whenever Kane reaches the point about Jaha’s terrible ruling of the school – “but he’s the principle,” Kane grouses. “So although it’s not like we can do much, I know we can do a lot more” – Miller’s arms cross just as expected.
The only thing Bellamy doesn’t recognise in the music room is the girl at the front. There’s only five of them in detention, and this girl is new – her clothes are brand name, and her hair is in a braid that curves around the back of her head and falls over her shoulder. She doesn’t look like she belongs here, even if the curve of her back screams defiance, and her head firmly and steadily pointing forward is a tell-tale sign of strength. But she looks too clean, too immaculate.
The music room is actually in the basement of the school – a lot of the extracurricular clubs are. Bellamy passed the ballet studio on the way here, where Octavia usually hangs out, and the AV club that Miller’s boyfriend, Monty, runs. The electronics department is where Raven emerged from when he was wandering down the hall, too. As the room is in the basement, and basically the worst location in the entire school, Kane’s rant stops when the sound of a toilet flushing fills the room. The plumbing goes directly over the ceiling and Bellamy’s pretty used to the sound, but this just gets to Kane even more.
“You know what?” He stops, cutting off his own sentence. “I am going to go right over to Jaha’s office and tell him that there are plenty of classrooms upstairs that’ll do just fine for the music room, like the one that was designed to be it!” Kane had been having his own little war against Jaha for as long as anyone could remember. The old music room upstairs had been turned into an ICT room, the same as the Design Technology department. “You all sit here, and I’ll be back once I’ve had a talk with Jaha.”
Kane leaves the room, and for a moment, they are silent.
Octavia is the first to break it.
“So, Reyes,” she starts, leaning back in her chair to look around Bellamy. “A birdy told me that you’re pretty badass on the drums.” Raven smirks and stretches her arms, interlacing her fingers and cracking them.
“I’m not half bad,” she replies, pushing herself away from the desk. The girl at the front – the blonde with the perfect clothes – watches them curiously.
“Prove it,” Octavia grins. Her smile has always been feral; dangerous – it’s what the Blake twins have in common, among other things.
Raven saunters over to the drum set and settles herself behind them. She hits the base drum a few times, twirling the drumsticks in her fingers. Then after a moment, she settles herself into a beat; her sticks hitting the drums loudly and precisely. It shakes the walls, almost, and Bellamy smiles. Even the blonde ahead is interested now.
Bellamy gets up next partly because the blonde is cute and watching, and partly because he can’t resist. He moves over to the drum set, and looks around the various instruments that surround it. He picks up a bass and pulls the strap over his head. Raven shots him a grin, lowering the volume of her drumming just slightly. Bellamy plugs the cord from the amp into the bass, and listens for the eight beat, before joining in – nothing difficult, a simple beat that Octavia follows, when she joins them, picking up an electric guitar.
He and his sister were born into music – their parents had both been musicians at one point or another, even if their father had upped and left to go on the road with his shitty deadbeat band. It was in their blood to play, and even if they were only allowed one instrument each, they played it with everything they head. They were naturals, their mother had told them.
Octavia joins in on the melody with a simple chord progression. The two of them have never played with Raven before – just Miller, who is joining them and slinging a guitar strap over his shoulders. The three of them had tried before, but without the drumbeat it fell flat. Now, as Miller joins in, his guitar harmonising with Octavia’s, it’s like the pieces fall into place. The world spins a little slower, so they can live in the moment for just that much longer.
“Come on, Clarke!” Raven calls. The blonde – Clarke, apparently - is still sitting at her desk, scrunching up her nose now. Raven stops drumming and the others follow suit.
“Kane said we should stay seated,” Clarke argues weakly. Even Bellamy can see that she wants to join in – he doesn’t know her, and she looks a little stuck up, but he wants her to join in anyway.
“Come on Princess,” he smirks, the nickname falling off his lips. Clarke frowns at him. “Kane’s a music teacher, if anything, he’ll appreciate this.” She looks a little reluctant still, but slips out of her chair anyway.
“He teaches History, too,” is her only response, making her way over to the group. She moves over to the microphone and Bellamy raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t comment, just nods to Raven.
The drumbeat starts up and Bellamy joins in on the bass. It’s almost seamless; like they were born to play together. Miller and Octavia join in, and Clarke looks about them, moving in time to the music and laughing with each other. No one is taking it seriously; they feel the fun in the music, the enjoyment that each musician is radiating. Clarke grins along with them, slipping the mic from its stand.
When she starts to sing, it feels like magic. “Take a look around/who would’ve thought we’d all be here…” Clarke’s voice is almost husky; but it’s also inexplicably light and clear. It reminds him of crystal in a way; fancy glasses half shattered and sharp at the edges.
He doesn’t know the words to the song – she’s probably improvising, but the lyrics are great, they’re thought out and they work. He wonders if she has a gift, or if she’s reusing her old lyrics to this new tune. Either way, it works, it’s perfect, it’s something he didn’t think could ever happen, and he believes whole-heartedly in the power of music.
By the second chorus, he’s got the lyrics down, and he joins in on the harmonising – much to Clarke’s surprise.
“Let the music groove you/let the melody move you/feel the beat and just let go/get the rhythm into your soul,” they sing, and their voices blend together like rivers reaching the ocean. Octavia has never been one for singing, and neither is Miller, but they join in anyway, Raven laughing along with them.
“Come on, come on, turn up the music!” It’s lighter than his tastes – not the punk rock he has blaring in the car, but it’s good and he enjoys it. “It’s all we’ve got/we’re gonna’ use it!” They’re light rock at most, but he can’t find himself caring. Clarke’s smile is infectious, and they fade out the music on their last notes, before bursting into laughter.
Raven bangs her drums a few times in celebration, and Bellamy wraps an arm around Miller’s shoulders. Octavia hugs Clarke and the cheer for themselves, because it worked, because they sounded good, because they’ve never managed to play so well with anyone before.
“That was amazing!” Octavia grins.
“Clarke,” Raven says. “You’re so good.”
“Your voice is impressive,” a new voice agrees. The group turns around, their celebrations dying. Kane stands in the room, arms crossed, and Clarke smile fades. Bellamy watches as she rushes back to her seat, mumbling an apology. The others follow suit, albeit slower, moving back to their chairs. “It was all impressive – really, you guys have a gift. How long have you been a band?”
“Oh, we’re not-“
“We’re aren’t-“
“We’re not a band,” Bellamy says, louder than the others.
“Yeah, I don’t even know half of them,” Raven agrees. “We’re strangers.”
“You can’t be strangers and make music like that,” Kane replies. “What you have, it’s like destiny. It’s meant to be.” He looks at them all, but he only receives blank stares.
Bellamy has always wanted to be in a band, and even he knows that they sound good. But-
“I can’t be in a band,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “I have too many commitments for that.” Kane raises an unamused eyebrow.
“You can’t throw that away though,” he tries again.
“I take literally all the AP classes, and I’m in six different clubs,” Clarke replies.
“Think about it,” Kane implores. “You could show Jaha that he’s throwing away the music program, the arts-“ he looks at Raven, “the electronics club-“ Octavia, “ballet. He’s throwing away your talents because they’re not sports and he’s not letting them bring in sponsors. You can show him otherwise.”
Bellamy knows Octavia’s expression, and she’s almost agreeing. When her ballet classes were stuck in the basement she almost rioted, stomping around the house complaining that Jaha couldn’t see the beauty of the dance, couldn’t see how much effort went into it, couldn’t see that it’s a fucking sport, thank you very much. But, just as she opens her mouth, Raven speaks.
“It’s a nice dream,” she says. “But it’s not happening. Clarke’s right – I have a load of grades to maintain, and we’re not a band anyway, we barely know each other.” Bellamy is going to fight that point – he knows Octavia and Miller very well, but it isn’t worth it. “People don’t get recording contracts, anyway, so it’ll be fun, but won’t amount to anything.”
Kane looks disappointed in her, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I’m just not really the performing type,” Miller adds. “Playing guitar is fun and all, but I’ve got hockey practice that I can’t miss.” No one mentions that he’s missing it now for detention. Kane looks at Bellamy.
He doesn’t really have any excuses – he loves music, loves playing, loves how that sounded when they were together.
“It would just be me and O,” he replies simply. “We’ve been doing that all our lives – found that we should have more members to that band. So I’m out.” It physically pains him to say it. Octavia frowns.
“Can’t be a one man band,” she says. And that seems like it’s going to be the end of it – the end of the band that never really started, just had one jam session and rocked the hell out of a song that none of them had heard before. They assume that as they leave as a group, but splinter off; Miller to the AV room to find his boyfriend, Octavia into the ballet studio to practice, Raven into the electronics lab. He leaves the basement with Clarke, and they pause, looking at each other for a moment, before turning their separate ways. That’s the end of it, Bellamy assumes.
But they’re wrong – because Kane was right when he said it was destiny, meant to be. It’s not the end of it, it’s just the beginning.
-
That evening, Aurora Blake is rushing around the house as Bellamy and Octavia eat dinner. He had cooked for them, and like always put his mother’s portion in a Tupperware box for her to take to work with her. The siblings sat silently as they ate, only their mother’s footsteps around the house making any sounds.
As they near the end of the meal, she comes down the stairs. Aurora Blake presses a kiss to the temples of each of her children.
“Be good, I’ll be home before you go to school tomorrow, get your homework done, okay?” The twins nod along before she’s rushing out of the house again, locking the door behind her. Octavia and Bellamy look at each other for a moment before his sister speaks.
“So, about detention today,” she starts, and Bellamy sighs, knowing this was coming. “No, don’t sigh,” O complains. “I’m serious, we were good, Bell. You heard it as well as I did – we sounded good as a band. And you know as well as I do that we haven’t found anyone to play with like that, ever. What if that was our one shot?”
“O, we’re going to have more than one shot,” he replies, stacking the plates. Bellamy doesn’t stand up just yet though, his sister’s gaze keeping him seated.
“Was it just me who felt it?” She asks, lowering her voice and leaning forward. “When we were playing, it felt – it felt-“
“Like magic?” Bellamy supplied. Octavia smiles, relieved.
“Like magic,” she agrees. “We can’t just let that pass us by, Bell. We should talk to them, persuade them into joining an actual band. You know Miller would.” Bellamy nods. Miller has always been up for playing with them, but they just never had the backing beat before. Bellamy was a good singer, yeah, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Clarke (even if she did seem to be from the richer side of Ark and therefore not the type of person Bellamy has ever attempted to hang out with in his life).
“What about Raven?” He asks. Octavia’s smile brightens even more, like she knows she’s winning him over.
“Raven may be busy but she loves drumming – I heard it from Wick the other day that she’s always drumming with the tools and humming tunes. We could persuade her, I’m sure.”
“And Clarke?” Octavia shrugs.
“She’ll be more work,” she nods. They’re quiet for a moment, letting the situation drape over them. They’re going to try and finally form a band. That’s huge. Octavia’s hand reaches out and grips at his for just a moment, their minds in tune with one another like they always have been.
“I’ll text Miller,” he decides at last. “You text Raven and get Clarke’s number. Tell them to meet us at The Drop Ship tomorrow at four.”
-
The Drop Ship is a pizza place just down the road from the Blakes’ house. Bellamy and Octavia have known the owners for as long as they can remember, having made friends with their daughter, Zoe Monroe, when they were six. Monroe smiles at them when they walk in, and the twins claim a table big enough for everyone.
Miller comes in next and sits down with them, raising an eyebrow.
“What’s this about?” he asks, leaning on the red and white checked table cloth.
“You know exactly what it’s about,” Bellamy replies. Miller sighs, telling them they should at least get pepperoni on the pizza to make it worth his while.
Raven and Clarke enter together and sit down, completing the circle. They order their pizza and drinks, Monroe taking their orders, before they get down to business.
“This is about the band, isn’t it?” Raven asks pointedly. The siblings nod in unison.
“I don’t know about you guys, but making music like that isn’t common,” Bellamy says. “Being so in sync without even trying is almost impossible, and Clarke, did you write that song before yesterday?” She nods. “Exactly. Having a song already written that only one person in the band knows, and making it work so well? That’s not something that ever happens, guys.”
“Bell’s right,” Octavia chimes in. “We’ve been playing all our lives and we’ve never had that. We can’t just forget it happened.” The table’s silent for a second when Miller shrugs.
“Sure, whatever,” he agrees. “Move rehearsal time around the times I have hockey and we’re good.” Bellamy shoots a smile at his best friend – he knew he could count on him.
Raven’s a little more difficult to crack, she leans back in her seat and the pizza is served. Monroe comes back with the drinks, too. They all take their slices and eat in silence for a minute.
“Like I said yesterday,” Raven says, breaking the silence. “Bands don’t just get recording contracts.”
“Bands like we were yesterday do,” Octavia replies easily. “Besides, haven’t you ever thought about being a musician?”
“Drumming is a hobby,” Raven retorts, like it’s been drilled into her mind. “I don’t live with my head in the clouds, I know that I need to get an actual job.”
“That sounds more like your mother talking than what you want,” Clarke tells her. Raven glares at her friend for a moment, before looking back to her meal.
“Either way, I’m going to be a mechanic, not a drummer.”
“Who says you can’t be both?” Bellamy asks. Raven’s quiet then. “Music isn’t about the safe option, Reyes,” he continues. “It’s not about getting the job as a mechanic, which will give you a steady income. It’s about loving what you do; empowering yourself and others; being creative in a way that resonates with thousands of different people for thousands of different reasons.”
It’s as if Bellamy can see when Raven changes her mind; like there’s a different glow in her eyes, or her jaw relaxes. He’s not sure, but it’s there all the same.
“You should remember that,” she tells him. “You’ll be able to say it in an interview one day.”
When Clarke agrees to join the band, it’s on the decision that they have one practice, and if it doesn’t work, she’s out. Bellamy’s pretty sure they could be a decent band without her, and him singing instead, but he doesn’t want that in the slightest. He wants Clarke singing, with her voice that sounds like liquid gold, and he wants to finally pull out all the songs he’s been writing and show them to someone who could sing them like he wants them to be sung.
-
At first, they’re not a good band.
It’s as if, when they’re trying, they don’t work as well. Bellamy’s a fan of punk rock and he suggests going a little heavier when they’re trying to figure out their sound. Clarke scrunches her nose up at the idea, which would be adorable if she weren’t shooting down his idea. Octavia’s into all sorts of music, so she suggests they go for light rock or just see where the music takes them, and that’s fine at first, but their simple chord progressions they’re playing aren’t matching up.
“It’s not difficult, Reyes,” Bellamy grouses. He shows her what he’s playing again, saying the notes out loud. Raven glares at him, but listens to him play it through again, before trying to get the same beat. She’s a great drummer, but for some reason, it just isn’t working.
Miller and Octavia are trying to explain to Clarke the melody, playing it through again, and it just sounds like a wreck. Clarke’s humming along to the tune the best she can; probably sorting out the lyrics that she has on a sheet of paper in her hand, but she’s going up octaves when it would be better to go down and it’s a mess.
They are a mess.
“Let’s try it from the top?” Miller suggests, and the others nod. He starts them off with the introduction and the others follow in, but it’s not right. They’re all on different rhythms.
Clarke enters the song anyway, starts singing the lyrics she’d shown them earlier on. “Can you see me?/‘Cause I’m right here.” Her voice is getting drowned out and it’s not in time to the rest of them.
Bellamy sighs and stops playing. He runs a hand through his hair. This could really be going better.
Raven stops too, throwing him an annoyed look, and the rest of the song falls apart, as if it hadn’t been already.
“This isn’t working,” Raven announces. “I think we’ve shown that it was a fluke before and we’ve been at this for almost an hour.” She rests the sticks back on the drum set and stands, shaking her head. “I’m out.”
“What?” Octavia hisses. “You can’t be out already.”
“She’s right, guys,” Clarke shrugs, running a hand through her hair. It’s loose in golden waves today and Bellamy has been supressing the urge to reach out and touch it since he saw her at the beginning of rehearsal. “This isn’t working, and the deal was that if it’s not working, I’m not doing it.” She moves away from the microphone, heading for her bag with Raven.
“I can’t believe you!” Octavia complains. Miller groans, sitting on one of the amps. “You’re quitting already? You’re quitters!”
“Shut up, O,” Bellamy mutters. Octavia sends him a quick glare but turns it back to the others. Her glares have always been deadly.
“You guys felt how great it was playing before, and you’re just going to pass that up? What, afraid of a little hard work?” Both Clarke and Raven glare back, and Bellamy knows that was the wrong thing to say. After asking around, Bellamy had found out that Raven and Clarke have the best grades in the year, possibly the school. They’re both dedicated people to anything they do – just, not the band, he supposes.
“It was a one-time thing!” Raven insists, shouting. “We’re not playing well together, so we’re out. Get used to it.”
They turn away again and there’s silence for a moment before Bellamy looks over. They’ve almost reached the door.
“Come on,” he says loudly. “We don’t get to play like that every day – bands have issues at first! We’ll figure them out. Clarke.” She slows down a little, and her head turns to look back at him. “Your songs are good, great even. We can play them – and I know you want to be a part of it.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she replies, not coldly, just stating the fact. Bellamy nods.
“Not yet,” he admits. “But I’ll learn, we all will. You can’t say you don’t want to be in a band, playing music, getting your songs heard – because I’m looking at you and you want that. I know it.” He can see the change in her eyes, and Bellamy just wants to reach out and take her hand, pulling her back over to them.
Raven’s looking a bit more apprehensive, but Clarke sends her a look. Raven groans, dropping her bag.
Before anyone has to say anything else, Miller starts up the song again. He plays like he has been all of his life; he’s strong and steady – not a showman like Octavia and Bellamy, but just enjoying the music. Raven moves back behind the drums, coming in with the beat, and the rest follow.
Clarke is at the microphone, and she enters at the right time, her voice wavering a little from unsureness, but it gets stronger as she continues.
“Can you see me/‘Cause I’m right here/Can you listen?/‘Cause I’ve been trying to make you notice/what it would mean to me/to feel like somebody-“ Clarke smiles, then, the music actually sounding good and they can all hear it. “We’ve been on our way to nowhere/tried so hard to get there.” Her voice gets louder and this time when she comes in with the chorus, Bellamy joins in with the backing. It sounds better than he’d hoped.
“And I say, Oh!/ We’re gonna let it show!/ We’re gonna just let go of everything/ holding back our dreams-” Bellamy sends a grin over at Octavia, who’s already looking back, her fingers playing the guitar by memory. It’s working – they’re actually working.
“And try!/To make it come alive!/C’mon let it shine so they can see/We were meant to be—somebody!” Bellamy comes in with another ‘somebody’, just after, and Clarke looks back as she sings, her face lit up.
They play through the song and it’s like it was before, it’s like magic. When it ends, they look at one another for a moment, before Clarke laughs.
“Maybe this will work out,” she admits. Bellamy forgets his qualms and moves forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a one armed hug. Octavia cheers, hugging Miller excitedly. Raven bangs away at her drums happily.
-
Raven has her own drum kit and set up in her garage, so they meet there on the Saturday, each toting their instruments. Clarke’s already there when they arrive, and is the one to greet them out on the driveway.
“Come on,” she nods, heading back into the garage. On one wall there’s a work bench and lots of equipment that Bellamy wouldn’t touch in a million years. There are the bare bones of a robot on the bench and some schematics taped up on the wall. Raven’s sitting behind her drum kit, trying to balance a stick on the back of her hand just by the end of it, and stops when they come in.
The drum stick clatters to the floor.
“Hey,” she greets, nodding them over. They brought their own amplifiers and the three of them plug everything in.
“So, official band business,” Clarke starts, when the three guitarists are sitting on their amps and Clarke’s commandeered the office chair from the work bench. “We need a name.”
They’re all silent for a moment, before they start suggesting every name that comes to mind. Bellamy’s are all shot down, as are Miller’s and Clarke’s. Raven groans when no one wants to be called ‘The Anarchists’.
“How about, Octavia,” his sister suggests, and the others raise a pointed eyebrow at her.
“Are you kidding,” Bellamy says, deadpan.
“It’s like the one name thing,” she replies. “Like Bon Jovi, or Cher.”
“We’re not having your name for the band name,” Raven tells her.
“I agree, I’m vetoing it.” Octavia sends a pleading look to Bellamy and Miller, but they both shake their heads.
“Not happening,” Miller replies.
“Sorry O, it’s out.”
It’s that moment that a figure appears in the doorway of the garage. Kyle Wick waves, ducking under the partially closed garage door.
“Hey,” he says. Raven groans.
“What are you doing here?” She asks.
“I was walking past,” Wick shrugs. Bellamy sends a smile over – Wick isn’t anything bad, really, but they don’t know each other all that well. All Bellamy knows is that Wick helped him pass Chemistry last year, and that’s all he needs. “What are you guys all doing here?” He asks the Blakes.
“We’re in a band together,” Octavia replies. Wick quirks an eyebrow.
“Do you guys even know each other?” He questions. “Last time I checked, Clarke’s only friends are me and Raven, and Raven’s are the electronics club.”
“Shut up, Wick,” Clarke and Raven say in unison.
“See?” Wick continues. “They even have that down.”
“Well we’re in a band together now,” Raven adds. “So get out, this is official band business.” Wick holds his hands up in surrender.
“Sure, whatever,” he agrees. He half hugs Clarke goodbye, and Clarke doesn’t seem to mind – so maybe they are actually friends. “Just never thought I’d see the day when Clarke Griffin, goodie two shoes, would be hanging out with delinquents like them.”
Clarke rolls her eyes, pushing Wick away. Wick laughs and heads out of the garage, whilst Bellamy straightens. Octavia starts to say something when Bellamy interrupts her.
“Delinquents,” he says. Octavia glares at him.
“What?”
“The Delinquents,” he repeats. Octavia pauses before a slow smile spreads across her face.
“I like it,” she replies. Bellamy turns to Miller, on his right, who nods. He doesn’t smile, because Miller rarely smiles, but a nod is the equivalent of him jumping up and down.
Clarke and Raven are exchanging glances, before Raven smiles – she has two smiles, Bellamy has noticed. One is happy and carefree, and the other is feral, like the world better watch out because she’s alive and kicking. This smile is the second one.
“The Delinquents,” Raven says approvingly.
That’s how they get their name.
-
Bellamy has never really wanted to be a part of a revolution, but that’s just what happens. Octavia was born for fighting against injustice, and so when it begins she’s happy to help him lead their riot – lead guitarist, show woman, fighter.
The revolution starts at the Halloween Bash – six months after they start their band. Before then, they play every now and again at different places. At the Drop Ship, Monroe’s parents are happy to let them play some of their lighter stuff, not their ones about fighting the patriarchy and crushing stereotypes. They don’t really mind though, because it’s practice, they’re getting paid in pizza, and they’re playing in front of an audience.
Raven’s the one who gets them a gig at Grounders, a local bar, and that becomes a semi-regular deal too. People know of them now. It’s not like they matter all that much just yet, but they’re known of and they’re best friends, which was to be expected, but still a surprise when it comes about.
The revolution starts with a single idea – as do they all.
It starts in Clarke’s living room, just him and her, working on his song idea. Clarke’s songs tend to be about friendship, finding yourself, loving music. Bellamy’s are about standing up for yourself, empowerment, changing the world – together, they make kick ass music.
He’s probably sitting a little too close to her on the floor next to the coffee table, but that can’t be blamed. They’ve been friends for six months and Bellamy’s interest in her has turned into an all-out crush so big that even Octavia can see it (and she tends to turn a blind eye to his love life).
“How was detention?” She asks as she pencils in a sheet of music, copying over Bellamy’s scribbles on the back of his debit card statement onto an actual page.
“Like always – Kane going on about Jaha, inequality, being better than anyone thinks you can be. That sort of stuff.”
“Sounds riveting,” she replies absently. Bellamy pulls a second sheet out of his bag; they’re lyrics that he wrote during detention, on the back of a page of Maths homework.
“I got inspired by it,” he informs her. The song, itself, isn’t half bad – but it needs a little work. It’s about people standing up and fighting the authority that holds them down. Clarke stops writing the notes and takes the sheet, reading through it – it’s louder than what they’ve done before, with shouting and changing singers, but it’s still in her tone and style, still something Clarke would be able to sing perfectly (as if there was a type of music she wouldn’t be able to sing perfectly).
“This is really good,” she tells him, the corners of her lips rising. Bellamy wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t, because they’re friends and kissing her is just a bad idea. He focuses on the song instead.
“Think we could play it at the Bash?” A week before, Jaha had agreed to let their band play at the dance. Bellamy could see the look on his face; proud as if he was finally getting through to his problem student.
“I think we could,” Clarke replies. The idea that Kane has embedded in Bellamy after so long of detention, inspires the song.
The song inspires the revolution.
-
The band loves ‘Here We Go’, as Clarke named it. They decide to play it second, playing one of their more dance-songs first, to get the audience on their side. They don’t plan for a political revolution against the authority of Principle Jaha, but it happens anyway.
The Halloween Bash is in the gym; blacked out with lights every now and again, a smoke machine on the stage, themed props lying around. Everyone’s dressed up apart from them – they decided not to in the hopes that their message might be heard a little clearer. (It’s heard plenty clear, they don’t need to worry.)
When they get on stage, there’s applause. People in the school have heard them before, but they haven’t heard this.
Their first song starts slower, and quieter; Clarke’s crystal voice heard over the speakers before the lighter flicker and the music comes in. The Delinquents are loud, they’re good, they’re fun. Their music is fun and happy, even if they didn’t mean it to be. (Bellamy will always wonder, and sometimes express in the future, why their music tends to be so enjoyably upbeat, even when their topics aren’t, even when their lives aren’t.)
As the song winds down, the audience cheers. Clarke grins directly at him before speaking.
“We’re The Delinquents, and before we go into our next song, our lead guitarist, Octavia Blake, and our bassist, Bellamy Blake have some words for you all.” O takes the mic and Clarke stands back. They don’t know they’re about to make a change – they just want to make a point.
“We are tired of this school caring about one group more than another,” she announces, and people cheer again. “The arts are just as important as sports are, and we feel like the school should act like it!” She looks back at Bellamy, and nods him over – Bellamy’s always been better at speeches.
She passes him the mic and the audience waits for him.
“This school treats the athletes like they’re better than the rest of us,” he announces. “We want to tell you that they shouldn’t, that they should know that the school newspaper matters-“ There’s a cheer. “That the drama club-“ Cheer. “The dancers-“ Applause. “The arts, writers, electronics-“ The audience screams. “They all matter. Ladies and gentlemen-“ the music is swelling behind him and Bellamy’s voice is getting louder. Apparently the school agrees with them that their classes shouldn’t just be stuck in the basement to make way for sports – something even Miller, the captain of the hockey team, agrees. “You do matter!”
The song starts; the group chanting “Be heard, be strong, be proud!” and Clarke coming in with her lines in between each round.
“You gotta hear me now/You gotta hear me now!” She sings. People love it, Bellamy notices. They love it when their lyrics speak the truth. When he sings, “we reserve the right to fight”, people begin to sing along even when they don’t know the words.
The revolution starts at a school dance, because of a song that Bellamy writes. The student body loves the music, loves the message, and they want more of The Delinquents. They want to see them again, they want to have their message shown to other people. The arts matter, people matter. It’s not crushing the patriarchy, but it’s something – they’re making a difference and for once, Bellamy feels like he’s using his deviant energy to start something good.
As they play, he can feel it in his bones. It’s not just what he feels usually when they’re making music – that magic, that happiness – it’s something more. Like he knows that he’s making a difference, like he can tell that this is the starting point that they need. Six months of hard work has taken them to a school dance, that’ll change something.
It’s teenage rebellion at its finest. Bellamy finds that it doesn’t have to come in the form of punk music and vandalism, but can be seated in a song that people dance to, people sing to, that they’ll play on the radio-
Because that’s exactly what they do. After Jaha shuts down their music, gives them detention again (during which Kane leaves and the band gets in another rehearsal, this time with a bit of an audience with a few other students) and the posters start going up around the school – ‘Be heard, be strong, be proud’, ‘bring back The Delinquents’, ‘we reserve the right to fight’ – he’s approached by Monty.
Bellamy doesn’t know why Monty didn’t go to Miller – because they’re dating, and that would be the logical thing to do – but Monty approaches him, instead. Bellamy and he get along fine, and they’ve hung out enough times. Still, it’s odd when he comes up to him on his own, in the middle of lunch when Bellamy’s sitting in the canteen, trying to finish the homework he hadn’t bothered to do until the last minute.
Monty sits opposite him and slides him a CD.
“What’s this?” Bellamy asks, even though the cover clear says ‘The Delinquents, live at the bash’.
“It’s you – your band,” Monty replies. “A lot of kids have been asking for them, so I’ve been selling them for like a tenner each.” Monty’s head of the AV club, and Bellamy studies him for a second. He’s innocently nice; possibly the nicest person Bellamy’s ever met, and he can’t actually think a bad thought against him. Monty nods to the CD. “I was thinking, AV club takes thirty percent, you guys have the rest?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Bellamy nods. Monty smiles, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket, perfectly lined up and folded together. Bellamy rolls the elastic band off of the notes, and flicks through them. There’s almost a hundred quid there, and he looks back to Monty, who nods sagely. No one has ever wanted CDs of their music before – but suddenly their music is reaching people.
“I’ll give you more when I get it,” Monty says, before saying goodbye. Bellamy watches as he heads back over to Miller, a few tables away. They kiss as a hello and settle back into lunch. Bellamy turns back to his homework, but his mind is on the money, on the CDS, on the people liking their message.
Bellamy’s the one who copies the disk and sends it to the local Ark radio station. Jaha bans them from playing in school, and so they organise a few more sessions at The Drop Ship and Grounders. Their music plays on the radio. People are hearing them for the first time. More posters go up around school and someone starts selling t-shirts. A week after Bellamy spots the first ‘The Delinquents’ shirt, he’s approached by Monroe’s girlfriend, Harper, who hands him a couple hundred pounds.
“What’s this for?” He asks, eyes widening at the money. Next to him, Clarke raises her eyebrows, too.
“The merchandise,” Harper replies. “Monroe and I have been making them – Monty said you guys got seventy percent for the CDs?” Bellamy nods, his eyes still on the money in his hand. He doesn’t remember a time in his life when he’s held this much money before. “Yeah, well she claimed childhood friendship, so there’s sixty percent of it.” Bellamy doesn’t even care that it’s ten percent less – people like them enough to buy merchandise.
He thanks her and Harper smiles before heading off. Bellamy turns to Clarke, who’s looking at him equally surprised.
“We could hire out a place and play,” she tells him, pushing his hand down. Bellamy gets the gist and pockets the money, pushing the tingling on his skin where she touched it from his mind.
“We could do a lot of stuff with this, Princess,” he tells her. Clarke nods, not even frowning at the nickname that he’d been calling her since the first day.
“Where did you put the money Monty gave you?”
“It’s in a box under my bed right now,” he replies. She nods.
“We’ll start saving up.”
-
Bellamy didn’t know that revolutions cost so much, but he knows now, and the money in the box under his bed is getting even fuller as the weeks go by. Harper and Monty deliver money to them every few weeks at first, and the band finds more places to play. They know it’s their last year at school, so their rehearsals are cut down a little, and they only introduce new songs when there’s a big enough crowd.
But they’re popular in Ark. Their hometown, twenty thousand people wide, loves them. As their exams start to loom, Clarke books some gigs in Mount Weather, the next town over.
“I figure we could take this one town at a time,” she tells them, and they do, because they don’t have a better plan.
Monty tags along as their sound guy, and the six of them make their own little group. It becomes seven when Jasper complains that their social media presence isn’t strong enough, and Raven says “well why don’t you fucking do it then?” and he does.
The revolution is big – bigger than they thought it would be. They watch as protests start at school after Halloween, after the posters are put back up when they’re torn down, that when the t-shirts are banned, Harper starts selling wristbands and Monroe designs more subtle t-shirts. They watch as the sports teams stop, one by one, from following Jaha’s lead. Suddenly, instead of supporting Jaha’s sponsorship deal, they complain and fight against it. The teams conduct their own practices, outside of school, instead of at the time it’s supposed to happen with their coaches. People start knowing their worth and wanting Jaha and the school board to see it, too.
Bellamy doesn’t know what exactly they started, but he likes it.
-
He figures he’s going to marry Clarke one day. There’s a lot of reasons to think it – she’s his perfect person, she’s not at all as stuck up as he expected from someone from the rich part of town, she can give as much as she takes in an argument and Bellamy’s been dying for a new sparring partner.
They don’t fight very much, but when they do it’s over the inane things one of them are bugged by, and it causes a bit of a spiral. Still, she’s perfect for him.
They write all of their songs together, show their ideas to one another before anyone else. She’s round his house a lot of the time. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out in a mansion – because he kind of does, and when he’s there the fridge is always full and he can eat basically anything he wants. But Clarke chooses to hang out in the Blakes’ tiny home with dirty windows and possibly rats.
Octavia sits in the arm chair, guitar on her lap, strumming randomly, whilst Bellamy and Clarke are on the sofa, scribbling out lines and rewriting them.
Every now and again they’ll sing them aloud, to see how they sound – but Bellamy does it more because he knows Clarke will do it if he does, and he loves hearing her sing. They’re working on a slow, acoustic song, because Clarke had flipped through his songs and thought it would work better without the electric guitars, and well – she’s right.
“You want to start it from the top?” Bellamy asks. Clarke nods, and looks over to O, who sits up. The sheet is in front of her, but Octavia has always had a knack of learning sheet music quickly. She starts strumming and they’re quiet for a moment, then Clarke starts.
“I can’t pretend to know you feel/but know that I’m here/know that I’m real.” Bellamy takes over.
“Say what you want or don’t talk at all.” They sing together for the next line, before Clarke takes over again.
“I’m not gonna let you fall – reach for my hand ‘cause it’s held out for you/my shoulders are small but you can cry on them too/everything changes but one thing is true, understand.” Clarke locks eyes with Bellamy as she sings. “We’ll always be more than a band.”
During this song, as they go through it from start to finish – it’s the first time Bellamy gets the feeling that Clarke definitely likes him in the way he likes her. Sometimes he guesses that she might, but he’s never sure of it. Now, though, there’s something in her eyes as they sing to each other.
It gets to the last lines, and Bellamy sings solo, but slower than before. He wonders if she can tell what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, but he also doubts it.
“Reach for my hand ‘cause it’s held out for you/my shoulders are strong but you can cry on them too/everything changes but one thing is true, understand/We’ll always be more than… a band.” The three of them grin at each other, and Octavia nods approvingly.
“When did you write that, Bell?” She asks. Bellamy finds Clarke looking at her and he shrugs.
“Not too long ago,” he replies.
“You know, if we play this for Raven, she’s going to call it too sappy, right?” Clarke asks. Bellamy smiles, looking away.
“Yeah, but I like it anyway – and Raven calls fist fights too sappy.” Clarke laughs and it sounds like the type of music they play.
-
They’re almost a year into the band and their songs are playing most days on the local radio station. They produce an EP using the money they get from the t-shirts, and their songs are being heard by thousands of people. They’re not huge, but they’re not small by any means.
That’s when they get the phone call.
It’s as they’re eating dinner, Aurora rushing around the house and Octavia reading over the lyrics in front of her. She scrunches her nose up at something, and Clarke, who’d come over for dinner, asks what bit she’s at. Octavia reads out the lines and the phone rings.
It stops quite abruptly, and Aurora is walking down the stairs.
“Yes,” Bellamy’s mother says. “I can pass you over.” She hands out the phone for him, and Bellamy swallows the food in his mouth before answering.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Bellamy Blake?” The voice asks.
“Yeah,” he replies.
“My name is Anya Woods, I work for Arcadia Records?” He chokes a little and his sister looks over, concerned.
“Oh, oh yeah?” Bellamy asks, coughing.
“Yes, and I would like to talk to you about the possibility of signing ‘The Delinquents’ onto this record label.” He stands up, nodding and saying that they could do that. Aurora kisses his cheek goodbye and is out the door. Octavia and Clarke are watching him carefully out of the corner of their eyes as they go over the music.
Bellamy walks into the kitchen to finish the call.
Five minutes later, he emerges and the girls look up.
“What was that?” Octavia asks. Bellamy looks at the phone in his hand, dumbfounded.
“Anya Woods, Arcadia Records,” he replies. Their eyes widen and slowly, the girls stand.
“What did she want?” Clarke questions.
“She wanted to arrange a meeting with us to talk about signing the band.” Immediately, the room is filled with screaming and laughing; the girls jumping onto one another in a hug, and then rushing Bellamy in the same way. Bellamy phones Miller and Octavia calls Raven, and they’re saying the same thing and putting them on speaker phone and suddenly the Blake house is filled with more happiness than Bellamy can remember it ever being.
The entire time, Clarke is slotted into his side, her arms wrapped around him and one of his across his shoulder.
“We’re going to get signed,” she says quietly. Bellamy kisses the top of her head and refuses to feel embarrassed.
“We are,” he agrees.
-
It’s their first major concert when Bellamy decides to get up the nerve to tell Clarke how he feels. It’s because Raven tells him that they’re starting a new chapter in their lives, and he doesn’t want to leave Clarke in the old one.
The sky is darkening, and there’s a few thousand people waiting for the show in the stadium. They’re hundreds of miles away from home and at the first concert of their tour, Revolution, which is the same name as their album, too (Bellamy thought it was particularly fitting). All acceptances into university have been deferred for another year, but Bellamy doubts anyone’s going to end up going – not if this pans out.
“Hey, Reyes!” he calls as they’re ushered towards the stage. She’s up ahead and looks back at him.
“What, Blake?”
“What was that about people not getting recording contracts?” Bellamy cracked a grin. “About it not amounting to anything?” His friends laugh and Raven shoots a playful grin back at him.
“Screw you, Blake!”
They’re led to the stage, and stand on the outskirts of it, out of sight. The stage itself is darkened, but Bellamy can still see the flag they have pinned up as a back drop. Monroe and Harper had designed their logo back at Halloween, and none of them had the heart to change it.
“You can go get ready,” someone says. They have a headset on and are holding a clipboard, pointing out to the stage. Raven nods.
“One second,” she tells them, and turns back to the group. They form a circle, looking around at each other.
“I’m not one for speeches,” Raven says. “But I want to say thanks for persuading me to join, for not letting this opportunity pass us by.” Bellamy smiles, and Octavia grips his hand. Bellamy uses his other to take Clarke’s, on the other side of him, and a moment later the entire circle is joined. “Now, we’re gonna go out there and kick some ass!” The team laugh. “Blake?”
Bellamy nods. They don’t have a leader in the band, but he’s noticed over time that people seem to turn to him anyway – that the money is handed to and kept with him, that Anya called him instead of any of the others. He smiles around the group, looking at them all one by one.
His sister, his best friend, Raven fucking Reyes, the girl he kind of wants to marry. They mean the world to him in this moment – they mean everything.
“We’re a family,” he starts. “We’re kind of messed up, and we each only have one parent, and we’re each a different race, but we’re a family.” Octavia grins at him, and she leans forward, resting her head on his shoulder. “O and I, we’ve always been on our own, especially with our music. We’ve been waiting for this moment since we started playing and I’m so grateful that it’s with you guys.” Miller cracks a rare smile and Bellamy is thankful for his best friend. He’s thankful for them all.
“We’re going to go out there tonight, and we’re going to play for thousands of people, because we made it, because our first album is coming out in a matter of weeks, because they like us. I’m so proud of you guys, I’m so proud that Clarke – you and Raven, you turned back in that first rehearsal, you joined us, and Miller – you totally could have quit at any time and known that we wouldn’t have held any grudges, and O – I’m so proud of you, always.” Octavia smiles up at him, and he guesses that the sheen in her eyes is more than just because of their big break.
“I love you, Bell,” she tells him. “I love all of you guys.” They all murmur the same thing back, and Bellamy nods.
“Now let’s go and show the world that we’re the best thing to ever happen to it.” The group grins, and their hands slip out from one another’s, wrapping around each other as they form a group hug. For one moment, they stay like that, then Raven pulls back, cheers and turns towards the stage.
Bellamy watches as she steps out, Miller and Octavia hot on her heels, and the crowd definitely notices. As Clarke follows, Bellamy reaches out, snatching her hand. She turns towards him, confused.
“Yeah, Bell?” She asks. Bellamy smiles, it’s now or never, he supposes.
“I’ve never been one for public declarations of love,” he tells her, and watches her eyes widen a little, and the way she straightens. “But semi-public is good enough for me.” Clarke smiles then, and the nervousness that he feels drains away. “I know we’ve got to go out there, but Clarke, I’m crazy about you.”
“I’m glad,” she tells him, nodding. There isn’t a run up to it, or some sort of drumroll – one moment they’re standing apart and the next they’re kissing one another for all they’re worth. Clarke tastes like everything he thought she would; like new beginnings and crystal that sharpened and cracked, like liquid gold and the magic he feels when their voices harmonise.
They only pull back when Octavia calls them. “Come on already!” Clarke and Bellamy trade grins, and he nods her towards the stage. They walk out and the crowd cheers again, but only when the lights turn on as Bellamy lifts the guitar strap over his head does the crowd go wild.
It’s everything he dreamed it would be; he can’t hear his own thoughts and the lights burn his skin. He lifts his mic stand and moves it nearer to the front, to Clarke, and she grins over at him. They turn to look at their bandmates, their best friends, their family, who are all grinning – even Miller – in that feral, dangerous way, like the world better watch it’s back.
The Delinquents are coming for it.
Raven bangs her drum sticks together a few times and starts the beat. Bellamy follows her in, then Miller and Octavia start with the guitars. The audience is with them, every step of the way, feeling the vibrations, the music, the power that surges through them.
Clarke turns to the microphone, and leans in. When she sings, the lights brighten, the crowd becomes louder and Bellamy’s transported back to that first day in detention, when the world finally felt right.
It’s like that now, too.
-
“The theme of your music goes from loving yourself to fighting authority,” Maya Vie, Rolling Stone reporter asks. Bellamy nods, leaning back in his seat a little. “With the latter of these themes, what pushed you to create this music?”
Bellamy smiles, looking over to Clarke who’s leaning on him with his arm wrapped around her shoulder.
“It’s pretty simple, really,” he replies. “Who doesn’t love a bit of teenage revolution?”