Archive of Our Own ^beta

i. the fix up.

The end of summer means the beginning of a new school year, and Raven’s final first day walking down the crowded hallways of Ark High. Her final days of summer vacation had been wasted away thinking about this moment, and really, it’s kind of a letdown.

It’s the same old stuff with the same old people. The spectacular showings of a final first day serving up every stereotype in the book: from the screams and giggles that accompany reunited friends, to the cries of delight because ‘senior year is going to be the best year ever.’

God, she can’t wait to get out of here.

As Raven finally reaches her locker she lets out a sigh of gratitude, thankful that her leg isn’t too burdened by the new brace that she’d built over the summer. She spies Monty and Miller cruising towards her confidently, living a senior year fairy tale. It makes her stomach twist, causing her to frown in annoyance. She’s not upset with them, so why does she suddenly feel like this?                                                   

But before she has a chance to unpack her feelings, Monty and Miller are there, flanking her on either side of her locker. Immediately Raven can see something is up. Miller won’t stop bouncing from one foot to another, and Monty is looking cagey as hell. She takes her time slipping the second hand textbooks for AP Chemistry and Physics away before eying the antique copy of Wuthering Heights (dog-eared to death with sticky tabs filled with questions), with scorn.  

“I see you read the book.” Monty says slowly, basically anticipating the harsh glare he receives from Raven as she turns to face him. He knows her well.

“Read the book, yes. Understood? Not one iota.” Raven can hear the snarl in her voice, and knows that it’s not Monty’s fault she didn’t understand the archaic English ‘classic’. She winces into a small smile, which he returns, and for the umpteenth time in her life, Raven is glad that she found Monty way back when they were elementary school kids with nothing better to do after school than go to the library to just read.

And generally she’s even happier that Monty found Miller, except for maybe right now, because the bouncing has stopped and he’s currently smirking at her, looking suspiciously like the Joker in every creepy comic ever.

“What?” Raven sighs finally, drawing her hair into a messy bun to pull it from her neck. It’s still hot, despite the fact summer is supposed to be fading from sight, but she supposes that’s one of the many crappy things about living further south than most sensible people. “Sinister is not a good look for you.”

For a moment he seems put off, pouting a little as he replies, “I don’t look sinister,” but Raven doesn’t have time for his crap. “Spit it out.”

“We found you a boy toy.” Miller declares finally, and Raven just glares at Monty, who shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“What Nathan means to say is, he has, he’s um, there is a guy transferring to Ark, and we were kind of hoping you’d let us set you up. On a date. With him” Admittedly, his voice is softer than Millers, and she knows Monty will have weighed the pros and cons of each way to approach this with Raven, and that in spite of his best efforts Miller will have ignored all of his advice.

“Nope. Not happening.” Her reply is decisive, her voice firm. “Don’t need a boy or a toy. Don’t need a date.”

“But you’re perfect for each other.” Miller moans against her locker, and Raven holds her breath slightly longer than necessary to make sure she doesn’t jam his fingers as she slams her locker shut before turning to look pointedly at Monty, who offers a shrug. “According to Nathan, he broods. And I mean brooding is definitely in your top five skills.”

She smirks at him, and he smirks back, only to wince as her fist connects teasingly with his arm.

“Raven, you seriously need to get laid.” Miller howls into his hands, as Monty rubs the arm she punched. Oh yeah, it will definitely bruise.

“Or, you know, a night out before you start planning every moment of your time for the year.” Monty says very gently, which is a testament to their friendship because of course he knows that’s she’s planning on organising her schedule the minute she’s through the front door this afternoon.

Raven turns to scowl but they stay rooted to the spot, Miller smirking slightly, Monty nodding sheepishly. While she’s well aware of her lack of romantic life, Raven remains confident in the knowledge that she doesn’t need any of the things Miller (and Monty) assumes she does. She’s a fully rounded individual, with dreams, goals, friends and a life. There is nothing else she needs, nothing else she wants.

Except she knows, based on past experiences, that Miller won’t give up until she gives in, and the last thing she needs is an overly excited Miller in her business when she’s trying to focus on school, on homework, on getting the fuck out of this place.

“Fiiiine.” She agrees, and braces herself for the inevitable tackle that Miller throws her into.

“You won’t regret it Raven,” Miller laughs, and she just shakes her head as Monty gives her an apologietic expression. “Sparks are going to fly.”

Which Raven seriously doubts, because she’s already planning the end scenario of the set up. She’ll put on her best face, she’ll go on the date, and once it’s over and done with, she can tell them there was no spark and be done and dusted with the whole thing, ready to focus on her future.

--

Her resolution to suck it up and behave on the date doesn’t last long.

“This is ridiculous.” Raven groans as she slips into the dimly lit booth. Miller crowds in next to her on one side, and Monty flocks to the other, because apparently this double blind date comes with a security blanket. She exhales sharply with a slight huff, and catches the look Miller shoots Monty through her lashes that screams lord have mercy on our souls.

It’s frustrating that she feels this nervous. After she passes on the boy tonight she plans to make it clear to Monty and Miller that in no way, shape or form is she to be set up again, but that doesn’t stop her from fiddling anxiously with the edge of the paper napkins housed at the table. Monty elbows her softly and gives her a small smile, and it helps a little to unknot the tension from her shoulders.

Seconds turn into minutes ticking by, and soon its seventeen minutes past the official ‘start of date’ time and Raven is officially fed up, not to mention hungry. As if on cue her stomach growls loudly and just as she begins to tell Monty and Miller that she’s done waiting because food now please, a shadow falls over the table, and a boy is slipping into the empty seat across from her.

She glances towards the stranger, eyes slowly flicking from the leather jacket (patched and faded) to the five o’clock shadow shading his dark cheeks to the mop of what could be curls hidden underneath a black beanie that basically covers his eyes.

“Bellamy,” Miller says, obviously relieved. “Glad you could make it.” His words are more upbeat than usual, an obvious attempt to break the awkward silence that has immediately settled over the table. Raven waits expectantly for an apology, because when you show up for a date almost half an hour late the word sorry should ideally be the first from your mouth.

Only it never actually makes an appearance.

Instead Bellamy shrugs, his lips turning upward into a small smirk. “No problem man. It’s not like I had anything better to do, and it’s always nice to make new friends.”

Raven feels her mouth drop open at the same time Monty’s elbow digs into her waist. She forces a cough to cover the groan of pain, then turns to stare at Monty, eyes narrowing in irritation. Monty just shakes his head, motioning to draw her attention back to Bellamy, who is watching the exchange closely, eyes dancing brightly, shit-eating grin plastered on his lips, obviously enjoying the show.

What an ass.

“I’m Bellamy.” His hand extends across the table, and Raven reaches out to shake it with a firm grip. She’s about to reply with a polite introduction, but as her eyes meet his he winks almost salaciously and she pulls her hand back so fast she elbows the edge of the booth. Monty and Miller share a grimace while Bellamy openly laughs, earning him a special glare from a thoroughly unimpressed Raven who bites her lip and wishes away the sting.

“Drinks?” Monty squeaks from next to Raven.

“Definitely.” Miller agrees, scrambling from his seat, and just like that the traitors have deserted Raven on this sinking ship.

Now she’s stuck, all alone with the guy who she feels, at this stage, probably would’ve recovered better if he’d just decided to stand her up.

The silence is overwhelming, and Raven thinks maybe he’s waiting for her to say or do something because that’s just the kind of guy he is. So she meets his eyes, cocks her head to the side and matches his smirk in an attempt to look challenging.

Only his smirk turns into a wide smile and then he’s sliding around the booth and pushing himself into her personal space bubble that few have dared enter and survive. She’s too stunned by his move to react, which seems to incite him further, because then he’s pressing closer until their legs are flush against each other, and his arm rests gently behind her back.

Raven’s breath is shallow, and she hates the way her neck begins to colour because in spite of everything, she’s willing to admit that Bellamy’s jaw could be cut from marble and, if she’s being completely honest, the scruffy homeless look he’s owning is making her feel some things she hasn’t felt in a while.

Which, just, crap.

After several more moments of excruciating silence she blurts “So you’re transferring to Ark High?” at the same time he announces “Miller mentioned you were in desperate need of a good time,” and the words come out in half-mumbled phrases over the top of each other. Bellamy, undeterred, nods his head, but Raven feels like she’s been sucker punched in the gut, the triviality of her question overshadowed by his egotistical statement.

“I highly doubt you could do anything to show me a ‘good time’.” Raven responds instantly, impressed with how well she maintains an even tone when on the inside she’s fuming. She flicks her eyes back to his; steeled against his gaze, which dances lightly back at her because apparently he's just enjoying the game.

“Drinks!” Miller proclaims excitedly, placing the tray down on the table with a little too much enthusiasm, causing liquid to slosh over the sides.

“Fantastic.” Bellamy grins, reaching for a drink and chugging half in two quick gulps. Raven however, has turned to glare at the returning duo, with one eyebrow arched perfectly. “You said I was in desperate need for a good time?” She repeats, crossing her arms across her chest and waiting for an answer.

Monty groans. Miller gasps. “I said we were desperate for you to have a good time.” He exclaims, motioning between himself and Monty quickly, before turning to Bellamy, “We were desperate for Raven to have a good time.”

But all he does is smile his fucking smile, like he knew that from the start, and was just trying to get a rise out of Raven, because of course he was; what else would this be except a game that she never wanted to play.

“I’m out.” She says (rather calmly, all things considered), shuffling her way out of the booth.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Bellamy laughs over his drink. She should just keep walking. Deep down, Raven knows that’s the only course of action that leads to this being completely and utterly done. But then he just has to go and make it worse.

“We should definitely do it again some time, maybe without the chaperones?”

Raven doesn’t know what’s worse: that he thinks she’d do this again with him, that he thinks Miller and Monty were the problem, or the fucking sincerity he manages to force into his words.

So she turns, snatches her drink from the tray, and leans in close. “Not if you were the last hobo hipster on earth.” As she pulls back she tips the drink over his head and smiles, really smiles, for the first time that night. “See you at school boys,” She laughs, strutting from the restaurant like she doesn’t have a damn care in the world.

As Raven rounds the corner to the exit she peeks back at the mess she’s left behind. Watching on, she sees Monty sigh as Miller whines, but Bellamy just laughs, unfazed. “Told you we should’ve gone bowling.”

--

ii. the great debate.

Typically, Raven doesn’t do fiction. She has little interest in fantasy or fairy tales, fables written as warnings to keep a child safe at night, romances carefully constructed to warm a woman’s heart.

She’s always been more comfortable with the clinical. Where there is absolute truth. Where she can solve for x and use that to find y.

So when Kane suggested AP Lit as her final course credit at the end of junior year, she’d lost it. There was ranting involved, and quite a few expletives that he’d taken on the chin patiently, sitting back in his cheap chair, in his small office with the Guidance Counsellor sign on its last legs. 

He’d been here a while. Raven knew he’d seen worse.

“Variety is the spice of life, Miss Reyes.” He’d said when she finally fell into the dingy chair reserved for students who push too much (like her) or those who cared too little. “You’ve stacked your course load with highly academic but technical subjects.”

“Because I plan on going to MIT, graduating with honors, and then land my dream job at NASA as an engineer.” She’d interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “Those technical subjects are the necessary requirements to, you know; get into MIT which is basically a prerequisite of my landing my dream job at NASA as an engineer?”

“Yes, but given your, well, light extracurricular activity schedule, I really think it’s in your best interest to showcase that you can do something else. Something more.” He said lightly, looking over her transcript like he hadn’t memorized the fucking thing in advance for this exact moment.

And when she hadn’t bitten back immediately, Kane had smirked, and Raven had frowned because he definitely shouldn’t have been so smug that his little plan had worked.

“Look. I can place you into Lincoln’s class. It essentially doubles as extra credit due to the unique structure we are trialling. Please consider it, Miss Reyes. I do believe it’s in your best interests to do this.”

And she knew, when it came down to it, that Kane was right. It couldn’t hurt to show that she was more than numbers and explosions. It couldn’t hurt to push her mind in a different direction, to achieve in a different way, which is what she planned to do, because she was Raven Reyes, and she could do anything she put her mind to.  

Except it hadn’t worked out that way, not really. She read over the summer. More than she probably needed to. A whole host of books that were assigned, and more that weren’t. Because when the first didn’t make sense, she figured she just needed to try more out, like when the first equation doesn’t end up how you thought, but you try again and again and eventually the formula makes sense?

It hadn’t. And that had frustrated her even further, because the books all diverged from the get-go and never reconverged with a single thread of similarity. Well, except for the general awfulness of humankind, and while Raven feels that’s potentially somewhere to start, it’s also the end, as far as she can tell, to her understanding of these stories.

And she’ll probably need more than that to pass the damned course.

--

Monty practically has to force her into their first Lit class of the semester. “Words are the worst.” She moans, and he grins, because he’s a little shit like that, and occasionally takes pleasure in her pain.

“No, words are our saving grace, and they are mastered they can be pure magic.” He replies, steering her through the door and towards a seat, which she slumps into dramatically. “You just haven’t found the right words that resonate with you, is all, the words that will tip you from cynic to believer.”

“And I probably never will.” She sounds pathetic; defeated before the class has even begun. It’s a rare state for Raven to exist within, and it makes her skin crawl in frustration because she avoids things that make her uncomfortable, and here she is, beginning her final year facing down the barrel of quite possibly the most distressing thing she’s ever done.

(Now she knows she’s being dramatic, but that’s the thing with fiction right? When in Rome, and all that jazz.)

Then, just as she thinks things couldn’t possibly get worse: they get worse.

Bellamy cruises through the doorway, leather jacket in hand, hair smuggled safely under a beanie. He smiles as he catches Monty’s eye, giving him a quick wave, though it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes light with mischief when Raven looks directly at him, refusing to hold back her grimace.

“This just keeps getting better and better.” She mutters, sliding further down into her seat as he saunters (yeah, literally saunters) over.

Of course he’d be taking a course where most of the male protagonists are tortured souls with fucking daddy issues. If their brief interaction had told her anything, it was that he was lacking in a strong male role model to demonstrate basic manners, politeness and well, common decency.  

“Monty, Raven.” He says, nodding his head, sliding into the empty seat across from her. She hears Monty scrape through his bag for his phone, no doubt desperate to share this happy coincidence with Miller. “I’m surprised to see you here,” Bellamy continues, “Didn’t really take you for someone who appreciates a good wordsmith.”

Raven grits her teeth and exhales loudly. The last time she’d seen Bellamy he was soaking wet with the lemonade she’d poured over his head. It hadn’t been her finest moment, but in her defense he’d been a complete jerk and Raven’s had her fill of those for a lifetime.

Except now he’s here in her class, which was on rocky ground to begin with, right in her space, and added assholery is something she doesn’t need.

So, instead of cowering she stands tall, pushes herself straight in her chair, and turns to Monty with a determined look. “I’m going to crush him.” Her voice is steel, but Monty apparently can’t take the whole scene seriously and just rolls his eyes. “Definitely ready to find my words now.”

“I'm pleased to hear that.” A soft voice calls from the doorway. It's sure, certain, and shocks them into attention without demand, a skill that most adults in their school lack.

For a teacher Lincoln is younger than most though, and, if rumors are correct, comes to Ark with a unique educational background. Raven has heard whispers that he skipped school altogether, just went straight to college based on skill alone, which is fucking ridiculous, but she supposes rumors begin somewhere.

Whatever the case, he's a new breed of teacher citing a new way of learning, preaching open ended education for a generation of children too skittish to focus, too distracted to care.

And then there’s the whole calling him by his first name to foster an ‘adult learning environment’, which Raven isn’t sure she likes, but seeing as Lincoln is an enigma and has never actually had a last name (like Cher, Miller had whispered dramatically when he’d been introduced at a school assembly), she’s just running with it.

“It’s good that you’re looking to find your words, because that’s what I’ll expect from each of you in this course. I don’t want to hear regurgitation of someone else’s words. I don’t want essays filled with quotes and references from sources who think they know better than you, I want originality. I want you to bend the paradigm, hell; I want you to break it completely.” He smiles, and it reaches his eyes and Raven swears it makes half the class sigh in unison, including Monty, who she offers a shrewd look, and receives only a sly look and a shrug in return.

“And then he’ll expect us to stand on our desks and proclaim ‘Oh Captain my Captain!” She whispers sarcastically, but glares as Monty shushes her, eyes trained to the front of the room.

Lincoln has made his way to the desk, and is currently sitting against the edge. It’s effortless, really, the way he oozes cool, and has all the kids in their class already leaning forward in their desks, waiting for his next word. Well, almost everyone.

Raven feels a little put out at his relaxed behavior. By now Sinclair would have fired five quick questions at them at a rapid rate, and people would be scrambling to mark the correct answers down. Except this isn’t Chemistry, and Lincoln isn’t Sinclair, so she supposes she should come to terms with that fact quickly if she’s to succeed in this class.

From the corner of her eye she sees that Bellamy has remained slouched in his seat, his eyes drifting to the book in front of him. Would it be too hasty to consider that they have something in common? That, like her, Bellamy doesn’t appreciate the teaching method?

His hand shoots up.

Apparently not.

The movement causes Lincoln to raise his eyebrows, because apparently formality doesn’t have a place in this learning environment either. He motions for Bellamy to continue with the question.

“So, you’re giving us an open discourse. To discuss whatever we want, no matter the implications, as long as it relates contextually to the course material?”

It’s a challenge. Raven knows it’s a challenge. She’s issued more than her fair share in the past. His voice is calculating. He’s eyeing Lincoln carefully with strong consideration. Most teachers would break here. Take back the freedom they’d offered too liberally. Direct them to textbooks with tried and true answers, have them prattle off responses they expect to hear, responses they like to hear.

But Lincoln isn’t like most teachers, and this isn’t like most classes.

“Exactly.” Lincoln smiles warmly.

Bellamy’s smile borders on macabre. “Excellent.” Then he swivels to face Raven, and fuck, she really should have anticipated this. “Why don’t you start the discourse, seeing as you’re desperate to find your words?”

Asshole.

Raven feels her entire face flush, as twenty sets of eyes converge on her. She scrutinizes Lincoln at the front of the room, because it’s highly irregular for students to lead the class discussions, but then, what isn’t irregular in this situation?

Finally, he nods, and she sucks in a deep breath. “Let’s start with what you thought about the assigned readings. Nothing too specific. Nothing too detailed. Just let the thoughts come.”

Her eyes flick back to meet Bellamy’s smirk. The urge to just wipe it from his face washes over her, and she thinks fiercely, you are going down.

“Aside from the general observation that they are old and somewhat outdated to a generation of kids who are basically raised on the internet?” She smiles, breathing through the attempted joke as she finds her place of comfort.

Stick to what you know.

“I guess it’s that people suck. Most people do awful things. Humanity is doomed to repeat mistakes over and over because in spite of adults always telling us to learn from the past, we never do.” She’s on a roll now, her eyes trained on Bellamy, glaring mercilessly at the smirk that refuses to fade. “We are going to be stuck in this cycle until the sun burns up, or until we figure out a way to jettison ourselves from this world and into the galaxy. And even then, it will be the people with the power, with the money, with the influence that get the privilege of escape, and the whole shameless cycle will continue onwards through the stars.”

She takes a breath to regain composure, surprised at how angry she actually felt as the words had spilled from her. And Bellamy is looking at her with a new level of interest, peaked, she supposes, because maybe he hadn’t expected that from her.

Then, without warning, Bellamy’s face shifts into seriousness and he launches a reply. “Except there’s always hope. Sometimes it’s futile, sometimes it doesn’t work, but hope exists to ensure we are able to look to the future, look to that eventuality when we can escape to the stars. And by then, society may have learned, because underneath it all there is the desire to do so, to be better than those who came before us, and to educate those who will come after to be better, to do better than we were able to.”

“And that is the crux of humanity.” Lincoln interrupts; his smile wide. “The balance of the scales, an imbalance between two opposing but not always opposite forces; often searching for the same ideal but with vastly different consequences. Except when they are, and ignorance leads pride down a destructive past and the result is--”

“Near total annihilation of the human race. War, conflict, savage destruction; that which we call history.” Monty says quietly.

“Terror made me cruel…” Bellamy mutters into the silence, and Raven notices as she glances around the room a class of students too lost in their own thoughts to notice the quiver in his voice.

(But Raven does. And she makes a mental note that not only can Bellamy quote Wuthering Heights like some kind of literature nerd, but that, you know, deep down somewhere he might actually have something that resembles a heart.)

“Raise the standard of your words, raise the standard of the conversation. Change the conversation, change the world.” Lincoln breaks the quiet, his voice strong, and the words echoing around the room.  

But what if we can’t be heard? Raven thinks, but the bell sounds in the distance, and like that the spell is broken, and she realises she has to sit through many, many more classes just like this.

“That class was lit.” Monty says, as they pass through the doorway into a growing sea of teens. “And yes Raven,” He smiles, catching the look she gives him. “Pun absolutely intended.”

“I don’t know.” She replies slowly. Her head still feels a little messed up from everything she’s taken from it, from the verbal spar match with Bellamy, to the way Lincoln feels comfortable running the class.  

“It’s going to be a minefield, sure--” Raven begins, not sure where she wants the sentence to go. Monty nods, and waits for her to continue. “But if I get to beat Bellamy at his own game, then maybe it’s okay?” She shrugs, poking Monty when he rolls his eyes. “Really, all I know is fuck Emily Brontë,” She says forcefully. “What does she know anyway?”

--

iii. the self-combusting essay.

Raven blames Sinclair for what happens in AP Chemistry, which is more than a little unfair, given that until five minutes ago she had been a fan of his ‘rotate partners every five weeks to challenge the soul and avoid coasting on others brains’ stipulation.

Because, well, she was normally the partner people coasted with (too concerned with acing the course to really concern herself with teamwork), so it was always a bonus when she ended up with a partner who shared her skill for Chemistry; someone who actually helped, rather than hindered, with everything they were expected to accomplish.

For the last five weeks it had been Monty, and they had become a force to be reckoned with. Raven had even attempted to sway her favorite teacher into keeping the pair together, because obviously that way the others in the class would be forced to keep up with them, and really, it would do wonders for their marks sir, but alas, he stood firm and hard, and shooed her away with a look that said I expected better from you.

(Which is silly, because really, surely he should have known better by now?)

So instead of feeling excited, Raven sits glumly in her assigned seat, waving Monty on with a sad smile to his next partner, waiting boredly for the next coaster to join her.

“Raven Reyes and--” Sinclair squints at his writing (yeah, it's pretty unreadable) “Bellamy Blake.” He says finally, and Raven has to cover a gasp with a faux coughing fit that approximately no one believes.

“No, why.” Comes the soft cry as she senses a body dip into the chair next to her. She begins placing her equipment meticulously onto the table, taking her time to avoid meeting the gaze she can feel staring at her. Finally, with a deep sigh, she turns to face him.

Bellamy is smirking (what else is new?) with a pencil jammed behind his ear. “Hi partner,” he teases, and laughs when Raven mutters a reminder to breathe through the annoyance. “What fun we shall have.”

She throws him an exasperated look, because while chemistry can be fun, it shouldn't be when they are working towards final marks that are likely to define which colleges will even consider glancing at their application. But then she remembers that this is Bellamy Blake, a boy probably without a plan, so of course he thinks chemistry will be fun.

Still. He had to have some smarts to be accepted into Sinclair’s class. Maybe today is the day he finally surprises her?

“Let me know when you want me to hold shit, or something.” He plucks the pencil from his ear and pulls from his bag a piece of paper filled with messy writing and red ink. Raven catches a glimpse of the title, ‘Ancient Myth in a Modern Landscape: We’re All Narcissus in the End.’, but then Bellamy has hunkered down over the paper, scribbling furiously, their assignment for the class all but forgotten.

Apparently not.

Whatever, Raven thinks, looking at the board and beginning to copy down the instructions, it’s not like she hasn't done it by herself before.

Half way through the experiment, Bellamy asks for a bathroom pass, and leaves the room looking disgruntled.

What happens next is not intentional, she will swear if she's ever asked, but he's left his work on the top of the bench, red crosses and strikes throughout, and, well, she's curious. He's been wrapped up in whatever he was writing for half an hour, barely looking sideways, even when Monty's partner almost set him on fire. Raven seriously wants to know what has the usually calm, unflappable Bellamy Blake all up in a tizzy.

With one final cautious glance to the open door, she slides across into his seat and picks up the paper. After a quick read through, her best guess it's a proposal for something history related. Raven knows there's an advanced History course that allows seniors to do a research project so she assumes this is his submission. Except it's a mess; paragraphs half edited half erased, all the critical citations with none of the impact to make you go wow, and at the top, a gaping hole where an actual proposal statement would be.

“Had enough time to take it all in, Reyes?” A gruff voice asks from behind her, and Raven is so startled she slams into the bench as she attempts to turn. Bellamy reaches to snatch the paper from her as Raven pushes it into his hands, and the force between them causes the pages to fly carelessly towards the open flame of the Bunsen.

Raven lunges for the paper and Bellamy pushes toward the gas, and their hands become entangled in a mess of movement as his paper flickers alight with the flame then burns into ash.

“Shit.” They moan in unison, and Raven looks up to meet Bellamy's furious eyes.

“Bellamy, I didn't mean--” She begins with a splutter, because even though the first thing should have been sorry, some indignant part of her wants to place the blame squarely onto him.

His hand pushes up in front of her face, the universal signal to stop, “Don’t, Raven, just don't.” She snaps her mouth shut and nods, because yeah, okay, she’d probably make it worse if she continued to speak.

Bellamy bumps past her, grabs his backpack and storms from the room. It says enough of the state about the rest of the class that no one notices (Monty has moved as far away from his partner as humanly possible while Sinclair attempts to rescue beakers away from a flame that just won’t die), and Raven falls into her chair with a huff.

Worst. Class. Ever.

--

Raven finds him sitting beneath his locker, head in his hands, looking more than a little pathetic. She approaches him cautiously, nudging his foot. “Look, I’m usually not one to apologize when I didn’t actually do anything wrong but I’m sorry.”

Bellamy groans, and Raven sighs in exasperation and turns to leave (she’s apologized, and that’s more than most people get from her) but his next words cause her stop in her tracks and turn back slowly.

“Thanks.” He pauses, and then exhales deeply. “But it’s not really you I’m pissed about. The proposal wasn’t good anyway.”

He sounds defeated; something Raven didn’t think was possible. Bellamy still isn’t looking up, so she figures she could just retreat and ignore this ever happened, but -- god, he just sounds woeful. It’s sad, really.

Instead she shuffles awkwardly down next to him, her braced leg extending straight towards the hallway, her good leg bent under it. “I may have caught a quick glimpse of it,” She admits slowly, and can’t help but laugh when Bellamy turns to her, eyebrows arched as if to say, ‘Yeah I know’. “And to be honest, it didn’t seem that bad. Just really clinical, I guess.” When Bellamy doesn’t respond Raven takes it as a sign to keep going. “Which is fine, clinical can work? Except--”

“Except Indra expects more.” He sighs finally, and Raven nods emphatically because yeah, Indra expects more.

Once again, Raven could escape. She’s done her time here, talked out the obvious inadequacy Bellamy is feeling. And if it were any other day, she might. But dammit, she still feels bad that between the two of them they somehow completely obliterated his work, and apparently his confidence.

So instead of leaving, she decides (against her better judgement) to do the right thing.  

“Come on,” Raven says, grabbing Bellamy’s hand, attempting to pull him to his feet. Of course, even with her entire weight behind her, he barely budges. “Jesus, what are you made of, stone?” She mutters under her breath, earning a laugh from Bellamy. “Seriously Bellamy, I have an idea.”

Ten minutes later they are on their way home. Well, to her home, at least.  

“Anya did her graduate degree with Indra, and the two are like, best friends. If anyone is going to be able to help with this, it’s her.” She explains quickly, attempting to sound more confident in her plan than she actually is. Because Raven figures at some stage in their journey she’s probably going to have to address why she lives with a person called Anya who she is not related to in any way, shape or form, but hopes it can probably wait for another day (or, you know, never) when she isn’t saving Bellamy’s ass.

It’s not like she’s ashamed of any part of the story. There was an accident, when she was younger, at the beginning of freshman year. Her dad had died, and she’d basically lost the use of one of her legs. It had been hard on her, but harder on her mom, who had turned to other vices to cope, then gotten sick, and died a couple of months before sophomore year.

Anya, one of the few foster mothers in the local area willing to foster teens, took her in. None of it is Raven’s fault. She knows that. Anya has made sure Raven knows that. But it’s still hard for her to talk about, even with the people she loves.

Bellamy, who until now has been sitting quietly in the passenger seat of her car, stays silent on the subject. Until he finally asks, “Why are you helping me? Don’t you hate me?”

She feels her body flood with relief, so much so that she laughs brightly before replying. “I’m glad you asked. Yes I do. But if you’re sad and miserable, you’re no fun to pick on. And I enjoy that.” She smiles widely when Bellamy rolls his eyes. She takes one hand from the wheel and quickly pokes him in the side. “Besides, after this, you’re going to owe me. And I like it when people owe me things.”

This earns her a short laugh, and she takes an odd pride in it, then begins to analyse why she enjoys making Bellamy laugh and before she knows it they’ve driven the rest of the way in a comfortable silence and the best explanation she has is that she likes being funny, and she could have made anyone laugh and she would have had the same sense of pride.

(It’s also a blatant lie. But she chooses to ignore that because all other potential reasons don’t resonate with her at all.)

“So, this is home.” It’s curt, short. An attempt to ensure he doesn’t ask any questions. Which, thankfully he doesn’t. Something they have in common, she guesses, putting the car in park and maneuvering herself from the seat.

Silence follows them as they walk to the door, a silence which Raven breaks as she pushes it open, enjoying the familiar creak of the hinges that Anya refuses to have fixed.

“Wait here.” She says, watching to make sure Bellamy nods in agreement before dropping her bag onto the door and walking quickly down the hall. She can hear noises in the kitchen, and sure enough she finds Anya (and a mess) as she steps into the room.

“Oh good, Raven, just so you know, this is not all my mess. Well, I mean, it is, but I’ve been challenged to make something for your sisters cheerleading bake sale and well, you know how it goes with me and baking, plus I am convinced the last time I sent something it was just hidden away in the back and then ‘accidentally’ knocked over so there’s that I have to contend with, but we shall see. This time I am going to visit to make sure--”

This could go on, Raven knows, for hours, but just as she’s about to jump right in to avoid any further complications, she hears Emori yell. “Raven, there’s an awkward looking boy in the hallway who says he’s with you.”

She cringes as Anya looks up at her with a smirk. “A boy?” She begins, as Raven says “It’s not what you think.”

And yet, the smirk remains, and Anya moves to glance down the hallway. “Hmm. Tall and brooding. Kinda cute. Not sure about the beanie though. But it’s not what I think?”

Without providing too much information, Raven covers the destruction of the essay, and the need of Anya’s assistance in order to gain the biggest favor ever, the best kind of high school currency.

Anya looks at Raven wryly, but gives in when she basically pleads for him. “You should’ve seen him, Anya. He looked like a little lost puppy. It was pitiful.”

“Fine.” She says, turning to head down the hall towards Bellamy, who has slouched awkwardly to avoid the piercing gaze that Emori is giving him. “But in return, you are tasked to make that amazing Mars Bar Slice for me, because if the parents are going to judge me, then I am going to make their kids fat.”

Raven nods fervently, but rolls her eyes when Anya cackles, and Bellamy looks on wide eyed as he’s embraced into a giant hug then dragged into the living room.

Sometimes she wonders if one day, long after her death, she will be deified as a Saint. She likes to think that yes, yes she will be.

--

iv. the dance cliché.

With her first semester of senior year is done and dusted, Raven finds herself staring down her final six months at Ark High before she can pull her escape act from Arkadia and disappear forever.

Of course it means she’s doubled down on her efforts in class and at home. Trying her best to help Anya out wherever possible so when she goes halfway across the country she won’t worry too much, trying her absolute hardest in class so she can go halfway across the country to the college of her dreams. 

She’s even put aside her differences with Bellamy, whom she affectionately now refers to as that Blake kid to avoid further disruptions. It’s a tentative ceasefire, which comes with light teasing every so often, and a feeling in the pit of her stomach that, if it were anyone else in the world, she might be tempted to call appreciation.

It’s Bellamy though, so she knows it can’t possibly be that.

Raven’s mulling it over as she and Monty stumble into the warm spring sunlight towards the tables for lunch.

“So,” Monty says quietly, “you and Bellamy, you’re kind of friends now, right?”

Raven whips her head to meet him, eyes narrowed, because there was definitely caution in his tone. “Bellamy said we were friends?”

There’s a list of interactions she goes through that could have led to his belief that they were friends. But inadvertently helping him with his proposal (which Indra happened to have loved) doesn’t mean they are friends. And just because they survived five weeks of Chemistry together doesn’t mean they are friends.

Sure, there hadn’t been any more combusting assignments. And maybe he even managed to make her laugh. Once. Or twice. But whatever. Ceasefire or not, they aren’t friends. And he still owes her a favor.

“Kind of friends,” Monty emphasizes, slipping into the empty seat next to Raven at the table. She huffs quietly next to him, but doesn’t openly dispute the claim, which Monty takes as a sign to continue. “Well, Nathan and I thought, because you know, I’m the closest thing your cold soul will find to a best friend, and he and Bellamy are super totes besties…”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Raven interrupts, mid-bite of her ridiculously over-priced salad. “We tried this, remember. It involved implications that I don’t have ‘good times’ and drinks being poured over heads.”

“Oh, I remember. I wish I had the forethought to take my camera to document the whole disaster,” Monty smirks, and Raven scrunches her nose in irritation. “No but seriously. The Spring Formal is coming up. It’s mandatory for seniors to attend, which is outrageous and just their attempt to control us for a little bit longer, I swear they get kicks out of these stupid power plays--”

“Monty?” Raven asks; flinging her hands out to say, get to the point please.

“Right. Well, Nathan and I thought we could all go together, to make it bearable.”

“Sure, a threesome with my favorite boys, count me in.” Raven replies, and its Monty’s turn to roll his eyes because they are both well aware she’s just pretending to miss the point completely.

“More like a foursome.” Miller adds, slipping in next to Monty, giving him a quick kiss.  “Just without the perks.” He adds with a smirk.

Between Miller’s pleading eyes, and Monty’s desperate look, Raven can hardly say no. And besides, having Bellamy Blake at the dance might make it a little bit enjoyable. They’ve got to have a delinquent on hand to spike the punch.

“Just no dresses, alright? I fucking hate dresses.”

--

She ends up wearing a goddamn dress, because Anya had been beyond excited that Raven was even going to the dance (Raven had promised to will her body into sickness for this one night for weeks in advance) and because Anya has been so good to Raven, she didn't have the heart to say no.

So, dress it is. It's not half bad, really. It's long and flows, and doesn't catch on her brace which is always an added bonus. Monty offers to pick her up, but she doesn't want to give Anya more ammunition than she already has, so she says she’ll just meet them there.

When she arrives, she realizes pretty quickly it's a tactical error on her part. Raven has never fussed about her looks, never really cared what other people saw when they looked at her. She was comfortable in her skin, bum leg and all, and seeing as that was what most guidance counsellors want adolescents to achieve, well, kudos to her.

But sitting in the car, watching the boys as they wait for her in front of the school, passing what she assumes is a flask between themselves, she can't help but tug self-consciously on her dress.

It feels like a grand entrance to the ball, and boy does it irk her.

Her stomach tightens as she steps out of the car and walks towards them, her eyes downcast to avoid meeting their immediate gaze. She's met with stunned silence, and she uses the opportunity to snatch the flask from Miller’s hand and take a long drink.

Monty and Miller share a look, which Raven knows well. Don't comment and she won't kick our asses. It makes her smile, because it follows with a knowing look that tells her she looks ridiculous (in a good way) and she's not going to lie, it feels a little good.

When she turns to meet Bellamy’s gaze she arches an eyebrow, openly daring him to comment. He dramatically allows his eyes to rake over her dress, lingering on her chest, but Raven holds steady. Their eyes lock and then Bellamy is wolf-whistling and Raven is giving him the finger and everything goes back to normal.

“Shall we?” Monty says, offering Raven his arm, which she accepts with the smallest roll of her eyes. She laughs as Bellamy does the same for Miller, and then they are off towards the gates of hell for a minimum two hours of cheesy pop songs and awkward attempts of dry humping on the dance floor.

Fun times.

--

A Spring Formal implies dancing, which Raven guesses should be involved to some degree. Only she hates dancing (her brace makes it awkward and frustrating and she doesn't cope with either of those emotions) and Monty refuses to dance on various principles, none of which she fully understands.

Except there's a moment about half an hour in where Miller practically forces Monty onto the floor, because if they don't share one dance they won't have any stories to tell their grandchildren in the distant future, and Bellamy (who Raven must admit looks damn fine in a tailored shirt and clean jeans; sans beanie and jacket) extends his hand to Raven, then jerks his head towards the dance floor.

“Come on, Reyes,” He says, stepping closer, invading her space. He smells like aftershave and smoke and Bellamy, and she wonders for a second if she ever really hated that at all. “Live a little.” He whispers, sliding his hand into hers and tugging her towards the floor.

She could say no. She could reason with herself that dancing is ridiculous for average people, but for her it’s a fucking pain. But in that moment with the music pulsing through her feet, surrounded by the smoky haze she’s too high on his smell, too strung out by his touch to try.

The realization shocks her, causing her breath to catch in her throat and her heart to pound faster in her chest. She considers dragging herself far away from his arms, from the dance, from this boy who she’s never really sure how to connect with.  

But instead of fleeing Raven allows Bellamy to tug her to him, let’s her hands wrap wrapped delicately around his neck while his wander across her waist, fingers dancing gently against the small of her back and locking into place.

Raven sighs, and Bellamy pulls her closer, the steady beat of the song thumping through her feet into her chest matching the rhythmic beatings of her heart. In this moment, she’s just a girl, and he’s just a boy, and it’s just a dance. It’s fleeting though, and as she finally relaxes the beat of the music fades to some electric pop mess, and Bellamy draws back, his face flushed, his smile shy.

He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to be smooth, only as he does his elbow connects roughly with an innocent passer-by whose punch is thrown from their cup directly onto Raven’s dress, which stains red instantly. Bellamy moves to assure the kid that there was no ill-intent behind the action, before rushing to get a host of serviettes, smattering them gently against Raven’s chest in an attempt to clean her up.

Only then it turns into him kind of feeling her up, and she feels her face redden and steps backward hotly, just as Monty and Miller arrive, breathless, from some activity that Raven doesn’t even want to imagine.

“See,” Monty says, elbowing Miller. “I told you we would be missing all the fun. Raven’s finally gotten to second base.”

And she knows she should be mad at Bellamy for somehow once again, ruining her life, and mad at Monty because he always knows the wrong thing to say at the worst possible time, but instead she just gives up, laughs, and snatches the serviettes from Bellamy, and snarks, “Oh and as if I’m not the only one who has gotten to second base tonight.”

Bellamy bites back a laugh, covering it with a grin, and Monty has the good grace to shut up quickly, and then decide to offer to try and help her clean up.

“Awesome, and while you do that,” Miller says from his position of shamelessly bopping next to Bellamy. “We can go dance!”

And together they run into the crowd, lanky limbs falling everywhere, moving gracelessly amongst the masses.

“At least they have spirit.” Raven says with a light smile, shaking her head at their ridiculous moves.

Monty laughs, nudging her gently. “He has you smiling. Admit it. You like him.”

And maybe she could, but in her current state she can’t promise she won’t swear black and blue that it’s actually loathing disguised as affection she’s showing Bellamy, so instead Raven just drops her head onto Monty’s shoulder, smiling as he wraps his arm around her carefully.

“I’m just glad he ruined my dress.” She finally responds, which earns her a soft laugh of agreement as Monty envelopes her into a half hug. “Come on,” Raven says as she shrugs him off, “Let’s go spike the punch. This dance could do with a bit of a shake up anyway.”

--

By the end of the night she’s slightly tipsy and definitely exhausted, and she doesn’t need to think twice when Bellamy eventually offers to drive her home. He fiddles with the radio and sets it to a ridiculous station that’s currently playing some cheesy Love Songs Dedication hour, and Raven feels like she’s living the rite of passage followed by every teen queen ever. Except she hasn’t had a makeover montage, wasn’t named Spring Queen and at the end of the night she’ll still be a pumpkin in a sea of princesses.

Which is actually very much okay with her.

Her eyes flutter closed as they drive through the night, the air unseasonably warm for early spring, and it lulls her into a haze of happiness. Bellamy is humming along with the country twang that’s been requested, and Raven’s surprised to find (probably due to alcohol dulled senses) it’s nowhere near as annoying as it could be. She might even call it pleasant, if she were so inclined.

(She isn’t, not just yet, but she bottles the memory and tucks it close just in case.)

The car jolts to a stop soon after, and Raven feels Bellamy tap her shoulder gently. She twists lazily in her seat, eyes flitting open to meet his. She notices then how different he looks, shaded by the pale moonlight; younger, softer, a little bit scared. His tongue darts out to wet his lips (cracked dry, from too much dancing and not enough water she imagines) and she swallows deeply, because she’s just seen the specks of amber filtered through his deep brown eyes, and it’s enough to make her stomach flip.

Then he’s reaching towards her, his hands slipping to cup her face, and without thinking she leans into the touch. The motion is eerily familiar; something comfortable they could have done a thousand times if it weren’t for the goose bumps prickling under her skin as her heart knots tightly. He leans in and she whispers, “Wait-” and the space between them stills in silence.

“What are you so afraid of, Raven Reyes?” Bellamy murmurs.

Their eyes meet despite the low light, his curious, hers concerned. Somehow she’s allowed herself to pull closer towards Bellamy, close enough that she can count the constellation of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. She can feel his shaky breath on her lips; see his Adam’s apple bob as he leans forward, seemingly swallowing his nerves.

But then a horn blares in the distance, tyres screech around a corner, and lights flash before her eyes, and it shakes her from the moment like waking from a dream. She withdraws first, but even then the movements slow, her body warring with her mind; one begging to remain, the other desperate to bolt.

Maybe she does have some form of affection for Bellamy Blake. Maybe she does like him. But given everything that’s happened, who’s to say he’d want her back in the way she deserves to be wanted?

Who’s to say this isn’t still a game to him?

As she forces the door open, she glances back and meets Bellamy’s gaze.

Her answer falls from her lips as little more than a whisper. “Inevitable disappointment.”

--

v. the study buddy.

Just like that it’s time for finals, and there are mere weeks left in Raven’s high school career.

Somehow she and Bellamy have ended up as, for lack of a better term, study buddies, during this challenging time. Maybe it’s because they both tend to study early into the morning, then crash during the day. Maybe it’s because they shared half a schedule together, and therefore half their classes (and notes) overlap.

Bellamy claims it’s because Raven is a taskmaster, and he needs one of those on his side if he’s going to make up for the fact he rarely attended half his classes this year.

(He’s joking, she knows but it still concerns her a little because she took painstaking notes during her classes but isn’t sure just how detailed his own were, and she doesn’t want him slouching off her this close to the end.)

Raven states it’s because she has to work twice as hard at studying to keep the bothersome noise that is his voice out of her mind.

(She’s lying of course. But she doesn’t want to give it away that when she needs a distraction it’s nice to be able to scan his face, counting the freckles that appear with more and more time spent in the sun.)

The reason continues to be hotly debated at lunch time, because sometimes it’s easier to blow off steam by yelling at someone then doing anything else. Raven finishes off her rant about having her own reasons and it being no one else’s business, and Bellamy throws his hands up in mock defeat, patting her shoulders gently as if to pacify her, which pisses her off more. She turns her glare to Monty and Miller, daring them to interject, but they just give each other a knowing look, that Raven can tell by now means ‘We’ll just let them burn themselves out’.

“Ugh, you all suck.” She shouts, scrambling from the table and marching away, vowing to never study with Bellamy again.

But she does, because it just works. Between the two of them there’s genius to spare, and even though she doesn’t like to admit it, Bellamy actually challenges Raven to be a better thinker, to move outside the box and become creative with her answers, rather than expected. And obviously she pushes him as well. Otherwise why would he bother?

Suddenly summer hits early with a god awful heatwave. The days become longer (endless, almost) as the sun blazes slowly across the sky. The heat of the day hangs thick and heavy in southern the air, lingering too long into the night. Occasionally a soft breeze whips up a reprieve from the swelter, but most days it’s palpable, warmth shimmering from the pavements into nothing.

They’ve got one exam left (AP Lit, which ugh why?) and all Raven wants to do is curl up into a ball and ride out the heatwave in the coolest place she can possibly find. Only Bellamy won’t let her because even if they’ve both achieved ‘acceptable’ (his word, not hers) marks until now he, for some godforsaken reason, really wants to ace this final.

The problem is Lincoln has been super cagey about the format of their final. A man of few words (which Raven still finds ridiculous for fucking Literature teacher), he’s told them to expect the unexpected, which has Bellamy up in arms because apparently you can’t prepare for the unexpected when you don’t have any inclination as to what it could be.

For what could possibly be the first time in her life, Raven is actually the chill one. They are sitting first and second in the course anyhow, with close to full marks, and well, one of them knows the material backwards and forwards, and the other feels comfortable with what she imagines her contribution and effort in the final will be.

Unfortunately, despite pep talks and words of praise that she never thought she’d use to describe Bellamy’s character, it’s still not enough.

Currently Raven is supposed to be writing quick fire responses to these ridiculously detailed questions Bellamy has created about the story and the themes and the characters of Wuthering Heights, as well as its modern day implications, bullet pointing as succinctly as possible techniques and quotes that can be expanded on for more formal essays should that be the exam they are thrown.

(And wouldn't that be the best joke of all?)

Instead she’s been watching the way Bellamy hunches his body when he writes, as if he wants to shield his response from the world until it’s absolutely ready to be viewed. She’s been following his hand as it scrawls furiously word after word, sentence after sentence, page after page, pencil gripped between his fingers like a lifeline to the finish line. She’s been considering the way he can concentrate on this and nothing else, as beads of sweat form on his forehead only to glide down his cheeks and along his neck. She’s been contemplating, ever so cautiously, reaching out and tracing the lines they leave on his flushed skin, just to see what it feels like under her fingers.

And she’s not even going to address the fact that somehow, in the midst of this, her legs have ended up crossed on his lap, and every so often he will reach down and press against the arch of her foot which is, quite frankly, driving her out of her freaking mind.

Raven has been so wrapped up in observing all the little things Bellamy does that she yelps a little as the timer sounds and breaks the silence. His eyes dart towards her with concern as she feels a blush creep over her cheeks. Glancing down at the blank pages in front of her, she groans and runs a hand through her hair nervously.

“What’d you get down?” He asks, biting his lip in focus, and it’s enough to make her stomach flip.

“I managed to get absolutely nothing at all, because it’s a million degrees in here!” The words fall out harshly, and yet his hand stays gently attached to her foot, and she swears he presses down gently as she takes a slow breath to calm herself down. “It’s too hot to concentrate, Bellamy.” She whines eventually, and then she’s met with a humorless stare, because he really doesn’t mess around when it comes to his quick fire responses. “Seriously, I am hot and gross and we’ve been at this for hours and I think my ability to string words together into an intelligent well rounded response has disappeared completely.”

There’s a moment where he looks like he might cave. Might go. Might stop torturing her with his accidental foot rubs, as well as the whole making sweat look fucking good situation. The moment doesn’t last long.

“Come on,” he says, pushing her feet from his lap and standing, pulling her with up after him, “We’re going on a field trip.”

“You are the worst.” She mutters in frustration, attempting to desperately ignore the way he ever so casually slips her hand into his.

But of course she follows him, because really, what else is she going to do?

--

They drive through darkness towards the outskirts of town, where buildings are crumbling into their foundations allowing wilderness to creep in. It’s luxuriant yet untamed and so very Bellamy; and Raven eyes him with consideration as he pulls up into a clearing next to a field, waiting for him to reveal the big secret of this place.

Only he doesn’t offer much beyond a smile, and a small shrug of his head towards the hood of the car. Not long ago she might have been annoyed the fact he keeps secrets, but she’s come to realize she doesn’t have any right to be, because he lets her keep too many of her own 

Raven climbs from the passenger seat and manoeuvres her body onto the hood, which is surprisingly cool against her back. A soft breeze teases her skin, soothing her immediately, and she revels in the feeling until Bellamy ungraciously clambers onto the car next to her and pokes her side. “Major themes in Wuthering Heights, go.”

“You are relentless.” Raven moans into her hands, her annoyance heightened when she hears him cackle next to her. “Can we just chill out and take a break, for ten minutes?” There’s a shade of desperation in her voice, which she regrets instantly. Normally Bellamy would ridicule her mercilessly for showing weakness, so when she’s met with silence she turns to see him staring at her.

It’s an odd look, his features folded into something she can’t quite recognize, part appreciation, part consideration, eyes shining with some form of quiet realization.

“What?” She says uneasily, unable to shake the intensity of his gaze. But Bellamy just bows his head and looks away. “Nothing Reyes. Let’s chill, as the cool kids say.” He teases, and Raven smiles, jabbing his ribs gently.  

The motion eases her slightly, but Raven can’t shake the feeling she’s missed some pivotal moment between them. But then Bellamy’s fiddling with the station in her car, looking for his awful country rock hour that he listens to faithfully (seriously, why does she even know that), so Raven allows her body to relax completely.

Only the peace lasts for all of a minute, because there’s a sudden silence where corny lyrics and acoustic guitars should be. It’s incredibly disconcerting. She opens an eye and looks to her left, and sees Bellamy sitting up with a sheet paper in his hand.

It could be any piece of paper. There are several scattered in her car; old exams and tests, shopping or to-do lists. But she can tell from the sharp intake of breath that it’s the single sheet she kind of wishes he hadn’t found.

Her acceptance letter to MIT.

Because Raven hasn’t told a soul since she’d received it a week ago, although she couldn’t exactly say why.

Perhaps it was because of the thrill that came with reading the first sentence over and over (We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology) because yeah, she’d done it. She’d been accepted to the one college she wanted desperately to go.

Maybe it was due to the burning sensation that came as she gulped back tears, because even though she was finally leaving this shitty town behind, she was, you know, leaving this shitty town, and everything and everyone that came with it, behind.

Probably it’s because she has all of these feelings floating around in her head all at once, and needs to work through them herself, behind closed doors, without prying eyes, before she could work through them with other people.

“Something you want to share with the class?” Bellamy finally asks with a smirk; breaking the silence with his classic Blake charm.

“Jerk.” Raven replies, shoving him playfully, thankful for his light tone. “The least you could say is congratulations.”

As the words leave her lips she feels her body being tugged across the car; enveloped into his arms into a crushing hug. She breathes him in, comforted in the fact that, after all this time, he still smells faintly of smoke and aftershave, still smells like him; relieved that some things will always stay the same.

“Congratulations.” He mutters into her hair.

“Thanks,” Her reply is muffled by his arm, and the word comes out as fanks, but she knows he gets the picture. “It’s just, really, really--” she begins, only without the right word to fill the space.

“Scary?” He suggests. “Amazing. Terrifying. Unreal?” He continues, and she nods at every one, eventually pulling back from the hug to face him.

“Yeah. All those things,” Raven sniffs, surprised at the tears that are attempting to spring from her eyes. She hadn’t guessed this response, crying in front of Bellamy Blake, not in a million years, but in this moment she’s relieved that it’s him who found out first. Bellamy who has less ties to Arkadia than she does (and she can count the people she’ll miss on one hand), Bellamy who seems to float in and out of lives leaving footprints that fade and not much else.

She’s a little envious. If she could flit through life in the same way it might not be so monumental to leave it all behind.

(Only he’s tracked heavily into this town, she thinks later, stepping into the hearts of Miller and Monty and even herself. And those prints will take far longer to fade, if they disappear at all.)

“I guess I just wasn’t ready.” She admits eventually, shrugging back further without pushing him away, their hands a tangled mess. “For summer, for the end of this year, for any of it.”

She watches as he takes in her words and allows them to ruminate as if he’s carefully plucking the right phrase to respond.

“Even if you don’t think you’re ready, I happen to know you are. Someday you’re going to rule the world, Raven.” He settles on, and the awe in his words catches in her chest and settles in her heart and warms her even though the breeze has picked up into a wind (likely carrying a storm to the horizon that will finally break the heat).  

“Well obviously.” Raven replies with a smile.

As she slides onto her back and looks to the sky, she finally smiles, as Bellamy has his hand on hers, his finger tracing gentle patterns on her palm; she lets herself be happy. 

“Symbolism in Wuthering Heights.” He murmurs, and Raven feels her body shake with laughter.  

Maybe Emily Brontë had had one thing right. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

--

i. the soft epilogue.  

Hours after she’s walked across a stage, gotten her diploma and thrown her hat in the air with a senior class of people she’ll probably never speak to again, Raven lets Bellamy pick her up from her house for Monty and Miller’s ‘FUCK YES NO MORE SCHOOL’ party.

“It’s a date.” Anya smirks across her coffee at Raven, who is fiddling with her shirt and throwing various shades of glares at Anya in the mirror.

“It’s not a date.” Raven replies, tugging the shirt off and tossing it into an ever-growing pile of rejects. “It’s me making him designated driver. It’s me calling in my favor. It’s--” She begins, her words muffled slightly as she pulls another shirt over her head.

(It can’t be a date, not when almost kisses and holding hands while staring at the stars are catalogued then carefully disregarded as seemingly inconsequential singularities, rather than a chain of events that are forever affecting the ever changing nature of their relationship.)

“It’s a date!” Anya laughs brightly, and then ducks when Raven throws the latest shirt at her.

If it were any other day, any other moment, Raven wouldn’t let Anya’s teasing get to her. And she knows, deep down, that this light-hearted joking is just that, light-hearted. Not meant to wound or harm.

Except that it still stings a little, because maybe, somewhere deep, deep down, in a tiny little crevice of her heart, Raven does wish she and Bellamy could be something more than what they are. Maybe if they had done this whole meeting thing in reverse, if the first time she’d ever met him she’d been high on MIT acceptance then everything that had come before wouldn’t have mattered as much. Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal.  

Raven doesn’t like not being in control. In fact, it’s definitely in her top five things she hates with the fire of a thousand suns. Chaos had controlled her childhood. Her freshman through junior years could only be described as mayhem. Senior year was her chance to control things. She’d controlled her schedule, her study patterns, her sleep cycle, even her allotted leisure time. She’d had it sorted.

But Bellamy Blake had breezed in with his ridiculous beanie and leather jacket combo and had shaken things up. And every fucking interaction, every response she’d had with him after that initial meeting had Raven trying to steady the ground.

Yet her world hadn’t ended in explosions or earthquakes. She’d survived; a stronger soul than before.

Only after, or in between, she realized that maybe he wasn’t all bad, maybe there was something beyond arrogance and pride that she could cling to. Someone who was fearful but still bold and daring and grand; someone like the person she sees glimpses of in her reflection in the mirror.

(Two pieces from the same puzzle, Anya mused after she’d first met Bellamy. Only Raven hadn’t understood then what it meant, not like she does now.)

And then there were those weighted moments that she couldn’t seem to shake; heavy with intent, light on execution, and the real reason she’s throwing on shirt over shirt while pretending not to give a crap about her appearance. Because how truly fucking frustrating is it that the cause of her current insanity is Bellamy Blake?

She sighs, and Anya makes her way into her space. It crowds her, and Raven thinks back to a time when it used to make her uncomfortable (too used to fending for herself); now it just feels like home.

“What do you do,” Raven pauses, searching for the right words to explain this complex equation, “when you want something, but you’re not sure what, and the thing that you want might be out of reach anyway because everything that led to you wanting it can’t be buried or erased for the sake of a happy ending?”

“Oh my darling girl,” Anya sighs, wrapping her tightly into a hug. “Sometimes it’s okay to just say fuck it, let’s have a new beginning.”

“Raven, your dates here!” Raven hears Emori yell down the hall, and she can’t help but smile when she hears Bellamy sigh. “It’s not a date.”

--

Raven doesn’t intend to ditch Bellamy when they arrive, but the drive over had been awkward silence punctured with futile attempts to start conversation with the twisting of her stomach growing ever more present, so she figures if she has a drink it might help her relax just enough to say -- well, that’s the other thing, she has no idea what she actually wants to say.

‘Hey Bellamy, I’d really like if it we could date now please,’ or ‘Hey Bellamy can we please suck face?’ just don’t have the grand poetic overtones she imagined she’d have in this epilogue of her high school story.

And yeah, she absolutely knows how ironic it is that she’s so concerned with words when they are his specialty. So don’t even go there.

Instead, she gets herself a stiff drink and plonks herself onto a couch, attempting to catch Bellamy’s eye as he stands across from her, then looking away when she does. It’s an awkward dance they continue for who knows how long, until it becomes too much and she turns to the boy next to her and starts a conversation about nothing in particular.

She’s discussing (okay, arguing) quietly (well, rowdily) something outlandish with the boy, who looks vaguely familiar (Wells, a voice tells her, he was in your Lit class) when she feels a firm grip on her shoulder. Turning, she find a rather cross looking Monty falling into the seat, and she gives him her biggest smile because he definitely shouldn’t be cross, he should be drinking merrily like she has chosen to because it’s the end of the year, senior year no less, and how is that not a cause for celebration?

“Monty,” Raven laughs, tugging him into a tight hug. “Monty, Monty, Monty. Why aren’t you smiling? We finished! We are official High School graduates. With diplomas and everything. Isn’t that just amazing?” The words fall from her lips ungraciously, mumbled messily together; she’s definitely feeling the buzz from the small amount of alcohol she’s consumed, her cheeks flushed pink, her limbs languid and warm.

He slips closer to her, whatshisface already forgotten, and laughs as Raven runs her fingers through his hair. “I’m definitely a little tipsy,” She admits with a giggle (because one drink will do that to the girl who drinks so rarely for so many reasons) “But you, my handsome friend, are definitely sober.” Her finger squishes against the tip of his nose with a boop, and he swats it away, stilling her hands gently in his.

“I am.” He confirms, attempting and failing to not smile. “Someone has to make sure you and Nathan make sensible choices later tonight.”

“Oh, but Bellamy is here to make sensible choices for me!” She sighs happily, searching the room for her designated -- person, and pouting when she can’t find him. “Only I can’t seem to find him. I hope he hasn’t left already.”

Monty pats her head and suppresses a laugh. “He’s watching Nathan for me because watching you with Wells was, well, he just needed some air. And you, princess, you need some water.”

“Fiiiine.” Raven says, pushing herself up from against him. “But I’ll have you know,” A pause, as she adjusts her top and fixes her shoes. “I’m not that drunk. Just freaking confused.”

It’s sobering to admit, and Raven feels her body sag as the words slip out. She inches past Monty, who grabs her hand at the last minute and rubs her fingers quickly, a show of solidarity and understanding. As she lets go and moves towards the kitchen she thinks she hears him mutter “He’s confused too,” but it could just be a trick of the noise surrounding her, the whisper she wishes she could hear.

By the time she reaches the kitchen both the words and her buzz have faded to nothing. “Water.” She reminds herself, reaching for a plastic cup and moving towards the sink. She’s gulping down her second glass when she hears an almighty yell from the lounge, followed by thunderous steps through the house.

Monty appears first, through the doorway. “Nathan, no.” He warns, as Miller skids into the kitchen with Bellamy dragged behind him.

Raven realises with a jolt it’s the first time she’s seen him since they stopped playing chicken with their gaze. He’s frowning behind Miller, refusing to catch her eye as she looks hopefully in his direction, which does nothing to help improve her mood.

“Nathan, yes!” Miller screams when he sees Raven, racing to grab her hand before proclaiming. “Let’s play Seven Minutes in Heaven. You two are up first.”

It’s not lost on Raven that the audience Miller is playing consists of the four of them, or that the last time she’d played this game she was fourteen and had no experience what-so-ever and the boy she’d ended up with was - well, it’s been a while. But Bellamy looks fucking shell-shocked, clearly wishing he could shrink himself from this situation completely, which no, that’s not happening. They are going to sort their shit out, once and for all.

“Okay.” She says, and three sets of eyes converge on her in varying states of shock. Monty sighs, Miller grins and Bellamy groans.

“Raven we don’t -” He begins, but Raven holds up her hand and shakes her head. “Oh no Bellamy, believe me, we definitely do.”

Miller fist pumps in the air and then pulls them quickly to the back of the house, shielded from the more enthusiastic party goers. He wrenches open a door, flicks on a light, then steps aside and smirks, “Have fun. Make good choices.”

“Please don’t break anything,” Monty adds from behind him with a sigh, “or each other.”

“I’ll do my best.” Raven responds sarcastically, stepping through into the small space. She pushes herself as far back as she can, attempting to put as much room between them as she can, then hears Bellamy tentatively (read: being shoved) follow behind her. The door clicks shut and she immediately realises with silent horror just what she’s done.

“Shit.” She moans, looking to the ceiling and taking a deep breath, attempting to compose herself as she turns around. Bellamy is standing across from her, back against the door, hands in pockets, eyes downcast because apparently the last thing he can do tonight is actually look her in the eye.

It makes her want to explode in anger. An almighty sigh leaves her lips. It’s dramatic, she knows. But seriously, do all boys suck this much at intimacy?

“Look, I uh, I know we got off on the wrong foot. And I know that was partially my fault,” Raven pauses as he scoffs, and desperately fights the urge to connect her foot to his shin, instead giving him a sharp glare, hoping he will sense her exasperation. “But I just want to say this has, uh, been nice, spending time with you this year. As friends or whatever.”

She’s scraping for the words, desperate for him to cut in and declare his undying adoration for her to shut her up. But he doesn’t. Typical fucking male.

“Fuck it.” Raven swears, which finally causes him to look up. “I want a new beginning!” It comes out strained, and she throws her hands up in frustration because Bellamy is looking at her like she’s part siren, part crazy cat lady, and really, has she mentioned words aren’t her thing?

After a moment, Bellamy finally responds. “Just as friends or whatever?” and she hears the venom in his words, because apparently he abhors the ideas of being just friends as much as she does, but is making absolutely no move to seem interested in anything else.

This is it, the climax to her story; heart brutally smashed by a boy in the dark.

“I’m sure Wells would be more than happy to be just friends with you.” Bellamy says sullenly, and Raven just shakes her head because who the hell is he fucking talking about? The confusion must read on her face, because it causes Bellamy to puff up in annoyance. “That kid you were fighting with out there. Why don’t you go be his best friend?”

It dawns on her, slowly. Bellamy wasn’t pissed she wanted a new beginning, or that she’d thrown the phrase ‘just friends’ into the conversation, it was that she’d ended up arguing with some random guy whose name and face she’d already forgotten, because really, he just wants to be the only person she argues with. “You were jealous.” She says finally, and Bellamy has the good grace to look down sheepishly.

The whole thing is ridiculous and sweet and just so Bellamy that Raven can’t help it; she leaps forward and presses her lips to his, lightly, waiting for confirmation that yeah, this is what he wants. There’s a moment where his body freezes in shock, but then the thinking stops, and his tongue darts out and licks against her lip and she’s folding into him and opening her mouth and gasping as his hands roam from her waist to her ass to pull her against him.

After a moment he draws back, and she mews at the loss of his touch. It would be embarrassing, except he’s a truly exceptional kisser, and she’s shamelessly desperate for more.

“Yeah,” He finally breathes against her lips, because Raven refuses to pull any further back, instead training her eyes on him. He smiles, certain and clear (and she bottles that too). “Maybe I was jealous.” And even though she’d figured it out, the admission catches her off-guard, and she feels her body lighten immediately in his grip. Her lips form a mirrored smile against his and for a moment they are still. But then he drags his teeth against her lower lip and she feels herself drawn back in.

--  

They fall apart when someone bangs loudly against the door. “Time’s up, Blake,” Miller shouts; but Bellamy’s fast, and before Raven knows it the lock has been flicked and she’s been lifted against the door, her body flush against his.

“Going to need seven more minutes buddy,” He mumbles against her neck, peppering it with small kisses until he reaches her collarbone and goes in for the kill, intent on leaving a permanent mark.

“Finally!” Raven hears Miller cheer at the same time as Monty screams “You guys are the worst!”

Bellamy laughs against her neck, hot and heavy, and it sends tingles down her spine. He pulls back, and leans his forehead against hers, and for a moment she thinks it’s all a little too much, the intense way he looks at her like she’s the only girl in the world, except then he’s drawing small circles against the small of her back and they are moving slowly to some soppy love song in the distance, slow dancing in a dimly lit closet and she knows, they deserve this chance.

“You’re nothing like I thought you were, Bellamy Blake.” She sighs into his shoulder.

“Aw, babe.” He jokes, drawing back and smooshing his face to hers; lazily kissing her temple. She shoves him away lightly, but he catches her arm and pulls her back against him. His laughter is gone, replaced with a sober look that catches in her throat. “You’re everything I knew you’d be, Raven Reyes.”