Ok, I may super regret posting before I have enough chapters laid out but I'm too excited! I can't sit on this one any longer and I'm hoping y'all can help me get motivated to write! So, here is my newest BELLARKE chapter fic! Hope y'all enjoy! :D
Chapter 1
"Clarke this is literally the stupidest thing you've ever done," Raven grumbled as she lugged the final box up the stairs to her friend's dingy little two-bedroom apartment.
"You sound just like my mom," Clarke muttered, trying to balance her box and open the door.
It stuck, and she had to use a bit more force to get the old wooden door to open. The white paint was peeling, sloughing off to embed in the ragged carpet at her feet.
The hallway smelled like death and water damage, but thankfully her apartment only wreaked of dust and peeling plaster. The floors were scarred hardwood, no shine or luster to be found.
The walls were a sad grey that Clarke imagined was once a pristine white. She wasn't allowed to paint, so they would remain as they were. Her furniture consisted of an old dilapidated leather couch, one crooked coffee table, and a rickety dinette set. She'd bought an air mattress since she couldn't afford a bedroom suit, and she would just have to live out of her suitcases and boxes for the time being.
"This is a dump," Raven said, crossing her arms and scrunching her nose.
Wick stumbled through the door then, his arms filled with an easel and several blank canvases.
"Just set those in the corner by the window," Clarke instructed, surveying the sad little hovel she now called home.
"You can't stay here," Raven continued on her rant, "I won't allow it!"
"Now you really do sound like my mother," Clarke replied darkly.
Clarke wasn't really that fond of her mother at the moment. Her father had been killed only two months ago, yet she'd found out that her mother had pretty much pulled the trigger.
After that little revelation she realized that she couldn't be around her mother without thinking of her father, and it was just too painful. So, she'd picked up and moved out.
Now here she was, living in this roach infested fleapit and working at the café that Raven and Wick owned. She'd sold two paintings to one of the smaller galleries in town since she'd moved, and despite her current living conditions, she hadn't felt this right in a long while.
"I know it's bad now, but as soon as I can find a second job I'll move to a better part of town," Clarke said as she began to unpack the meager kitchen supplies she owned- a dented sauce pan and a heavy cast iron skillet, both from a small thrift store down the road.
"I don't see why you couldn't just keep living with me," Raven pouted, arranging the plastic plates and cutlery in one of the cabinets.
Clarke looked up at her with a raised brow, "You're newly weds, Rae! You don't need a houseguest right now- especially one who has no idea what to do with her life. No, believe me, this is for the best."
"You're impossible," Raven said with a roll of her eyes, "Tell her it would be fine Kyle!"
Wick stared at his wife of exactly two weeks, knowing that when she used his first name it meant serious business.
"We'd love for you to stay with us Clarke, it really wouldn't be any trouble," Wick said sweetly, genuinely.
"Thank you both, but I have to do this," Clarke said, breaking down the cardboard box in her hands to start a pile for the ones that would inevitably follow.
"Fine," Raven huffed, "But so help me Clarke, if anyone here tries to hurt you call me and I'll send Wick."
Clarke wanted to laugh at the look her statement brought to Wick's face. Granted he was a very fit man, but he wasn't a fighter. He used his brains, not his fists.
"I'll be fine, Rae," Clarke said, shoving her friends out the door, "I'll see you tomorrow at work."
After the door was firmly shut behind them, Clarke went back to her unpacking. It was a long and arduous chore, and she couldn't imagine what it would have been like if she'd had more stuff. As it was, her meager belongings were put away well before midnight.
She then turned her attention to the air mattress, hoping and praying that it came with an electric pump. She opened the box, pulling out the large plastic blow up, and to her utter delight a small black compressor.
It took about five minutes to get the mattress blown up, the plastic squeaking as she put her sheets on. She arranged her comforter and pillows then went in search of her box of nightclothes and undergarments.
When she found them, Clarke took out a pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt. She did some more rummaging before she found the towels, heading to take a shower in the one small bathroom settled between the two bedrooms.
The warm water soothed her aching muscles, rinsing away the stress of the day. After she was finished, she dried off and got dressed. That's when the singing started- a high pitched warbling that dipped and rose with the trills of a badly performed Ave Maria.
Clarke stood in the narrow hall just outside her bedroom, resisting the urge to put her fingers in her ears. She decided against calling the police, knowing she couldn't get away with saying she "thought someone was being murdered…" So instead, she dug out her Bluetooth speakers.
She'd just gotten it hooked up in her bedroom, the soft lilting notes of a blues melody drowning out the pitiful Ave Maria that filtered through the ceiling, when a knock sounded at her door.
Clarke pulled on a pair of shorts, her damp towel wrapped around her blonde curls to form a terry turban. She padded on bare feet to the door, wishing for a peephole as she unbolted the lock.
She opened the door a crack, peaking out to stare at the man standing at her doorstep. He was short and balding, wisps of dark blonde hair combed over in an attempt to cover his shining scalp.
His clothes were rumpled; greasy food stains marring his shirtfront. His lips twitched in a leering smile, beady eyes set in a round face, his formidable girth causing the buttons of his shirt to gap.
"Hello," he said, extending a hand with wriggling sausage fingers, "I'm Earl."
Clarke stared at the man, "Hi."
"And you are," the man asked, his bushy eyebrows waggling suggestively.
"Tired," Clarke said as she slammed the door in the man's face.
"Nice to meet you," Earl yelled.
Clarke quickly locked the door, stepping back to stare at the closed portal.
"What was that," she muttered to herself before shaking her head and making her way back to her bedroom.
She plopped down on her air mattress, her eyes glued to the ceiling. There were noises all around her- the strange yodeling of the woman above her, some kind of power tool across the hall, and it sounded like the couple below her was about to come to blows.
She rolled over with a huff, folding her pillow over her head in an attempt to muffle the sound. She knew that with time she would get used to them, but for right now they seemed deafening.
The next morning Clarke got dressed in a rush, forgetting breakfast all together. She opened her door to find the tenant across the hall, a man who looked to be in his early sixties, standing in the doorway of his apartment watching her.
"Good morning," Clarke said hesitantly, before she hurriedly locked her door and headed for the stairs.
On her way to work, Clarke tallied how much money she was going to need that month. She kept coming up short. Thanks to her Dad, her college had been paid for so she had little to no debt. However, she didn't have enough money coming in to cover her current living arrangements- meager as they were.
By the time she reached Grounder's she was still mulling over her dilemma. She'd been working at the coffee shop for a few months, so she knew what she'd bring in. She also knew what her rent and utilities would be every month, and after doing the math things just weren't adding up in her favor.
"You look well rested this morning," Raven said dryly, taking in Clarke's tangled curls piled in a messy bun and her wrinkled clothing.
Clarke just rolled her eyes, tying on her apron, "It was my first night, it'll get easier."
"Yep," Raven replied, suddenly finding her nails very interesting.
"I do have one problem though," Clarke admitted as she began to clean the glass case that housed their famous crescents and sticky buns.
"Does it include living in a freak show apartment in a dangerous neighborhood? If so, I totally agree… You've got a problem," Raven mocked.
"Oh hush, that's not it. I think I need a roommate," Clarke told her friend.
"You've lived there for twenty-four hours Clarke, and you're already coming to this conclusion," Raven said with a sad shake of her head, "I'm sorry, but the minute any sane person sees the address they're going to run for the hills."
Clarke hated to admit it, but Raven was right.
"I've still gotta try, Rae," Clarke said as she leaned against the counter, "I can't go back to Arkadia."
At this, Raven's features softened, "We'll make sure that doesn't happen. You and I will find the perfect roommate."
"Thanks Rae," Clarke said as she hugged her friend, newfound confidence soaring in her chest.
"Yeah, yeah… You're welcome, now let's get to work."
That afternoon Clarke stood behind Raven where she sat at the computer in the coffee shop's small office. Her nimble fingers flew across the keys as she typed out Clarke's flyer which read- Seeking roommate. Must be clean, mannerly, and sane. Only decent human beings need apply…
"We'll put your phone number at the bottom so people can just tear it off," Raven explained as she began to print off a stack of the flyers.
"Are you sure about this? It doesn't make me look too desperate, does it," Clarke asked, still unsure.
"It'll be fine! I've known plenty of people who've done this and it all worked out. Just trust me," Raven said as she handed Clarke the stack.
"I trust you," the blonde said, hugging the papers to her chest.
"Good girl. Now get home before it gets dark," Raven said with a shiver and a grimace.
"I'll be fine, Rae," Clarke said with a placating smile, waving at Wick working at the front counter as she left.
Thankfully Earl was nowhere to be found when she reached the third floor. The creepy old dude from across the hall opened his door a crack as she stopped at her door. She didn't bother to turn around, just bolted into her apartment and locked the door.
Clarke dropped the flyers on her dining table, watching as it quivered slightly in response to the added weight.
"I've got to get that fixed," she mumbled as she made her way to her freezer and pulled out a Mexican TV dinner.
When the microwave dinged, she took her meal and moved to the couch. It was a bit lumpy, and a few springs poked her in the back but it could have been worse.
The TV crackled to life, a sitcom about four nerdy scientists marching across the screen. As she watched, she wished her life were that easy. A job she loved, surrounded by friends she adored, and living in a decent apartment- even if the elevator was broken.
She had her job at the coffee shop, and Raven and Wick, so that was enough. Her apartment was terrible, but she could only go up from here right?
She threw away what remained of her charred enchiladas, the mush too hard to chew. She made her way to her bedroom, changing into her pj's before crawling into bed.
Tomorrow was a brand new day, the day she might possibly find a roommate. The prospects both frightened and excited her. She hadn't really had great luck in the people department, those she loved either leaving her in death or betraying her in some unforgiveable way.
"It's all going to work out," Clarke whispered to her dark, empty bedroom, "Something good is going to come out of this…"
Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think and if you want more! I'm hoping reviews will get me back in a writing mood, so anything would be appreciated! :)