Before we begin, I want to make things clear: this isn't a romantic Bellarke fanfic. As in, they are not going to fall in love in that fic, but I do believe there is more to life that love so those two are in it for a deep connection anyway, falling somewhere between platonic soulmates and fuck buddies.
This fic will also contain, among other things: Clarke being openly bisexual, Princess Mechanic, Clarke x Raven x Bellamy ot3, ace!Monty, trans!Miller, Minty, Linctavia, some Clexa. Among other things. Tags will get updated as we go along, as well as the rating.
For everyone who kept reading despite the first paragraph, I hope you enjoy what I have to offer.
She takes a deep breath before looking at her reflexion in the rearview mirror, wiping her fingers under her eyes to get rid of the smears of eyeliner. Her eyes are red and swollen, her make-up ruined, and she looks like a rightful mess. Nothing Clarke can do about this at the moment, though, so she takes another deep breath and gathers the little courage she has left before she exists her car.
She slips into the building when two students, obviously already drunk despite the early hour, badge in, and decides for the stairs instead of the elevator – there's a huge mirror in there and she refuses to look at her reflexion if she doesn't have to, refuses to acknowledge her appearance as of right now, tears in her eyes and wrinkled clothes and messy hair.
No, she'd rather bury her head in the sand.
Or, rather, in alcohol. That's part of the reason why she's knocking on Octavia's door after all, because she knows the brunette always keeps a bottle of vodka for emergency – and it's a 911 call if Clarke has ever seen one.
The other, most important, part is that she has nowhere else to go, not with Wells living halfway across the country and all her high school friends – actually, Wells was her high school friend and there's that. So Octavia is it, because Octavia is discreet and nice and a bit rough around the edges too, so she will – if not understand, at least she will be kind about it.
So Clarke heads for the second floor, relieved that the hallways are empty – she can hear the buzz of the common room down the hall and music coming from rooms, but doesn't meet a soul – as she reaches the third door to the left. She hesitates, if only for a second, before she knocks.
The paddle of feet on floor grows louder (Octavia has never been a quiet one in any aspect of her life) before the door opens slightly, the brunette peeking out through the gap.
"Clarke?" She opens the door all the way, ushers Clarke inside. It doesn't take a genius to notice her state of disarray, so it doesn't come as a surprise when the next words in Octavia's mouth are, "What happened?"
Clarke sniffs pitifully, fighting against the telltale prickle behind her eyes as she takes a deep breath, letting the air out through her nose. It doesn't quite work the way she had hoped, though, because a sob gets stuck at the back of her throat when she tries to speak. "I'm sorry – I didn't have anywhere else to go."
Octavia Blake is many things – fierce, loud, impulsive – yet Clarke would have never thought 'tender' could have made it to the list. But she softly pushes Clarke toward her small dorm bed, invites her to sit with a rub of hand against arm, and Clarke finds herself thinking she actually doesn't know much about her friend beside what shows on the surface.
She is about to explain, or at least try to, when she's startled by the sound of the toilet being flushed in the bathroom. Her eyes open wide as she realises they might not be as alone as she thought they were, and at the same moment the door to the bathroom opens and –
"I should go now if I – oh."
His eyes are just as wide as her as the guy takes her in, and the surprise Clarke reads in them is soon replaced by sheer panic. No doubt because he's a guy and she's a girl crying, and those two things never work well together. He glances at Octavia, a silent question hanging between them.
"Bell, this is Clarke. Clarke, Bellamy, my brother."
Clarke nods in acknowledgment, while Bellamy stares at her once more, a frown appearing on his forehead. "You okay?"
She knows of him, of course – the infamously protective older brother. It must be nice, she thinks, to have someone watching your back. Something she will never know, as an only child – still, a girl can dream. And she sees that protectiveness in his eyes now, as they remain on her, one eyebrow quirked as he seems to wait for an answer and – right, he'd asked a question.
"I'm fine."
Because, for all intends and purposes, Bellamy is a stranger to her. Her friend's brother, but still a stranger, and the last thing she wants is to vent about her problems to him when she came here to vent about her problems to Octavia. But the guy just folds his arms on his chest, obviously unimpressed, while his sister softly nudges Clarke's arm. "It's your mother, right?"
The knots in her stomach are back with a vengeance as she finally breaks the stare-down contest she was having with Bellamy to look at Octavia, who starts rubbing her back immediately. Clarke fights again a new wave of tears as she puts the beginning of en explanation into words. "I dropped out of pre-med. My mother didn't like it – we fought – she kinda kicked me out. Or I left, I'm not sure I –" She swallows down yet another sob. She's been doing that a lot tonight. "Can I sleep here? Just tonight, I have –"
"Nowhere else to go," Octavia finishes for her, and so Clarke nods.
They stare at each other then, some kind of understanding and agreement between them in that one look alone. Octavia's roommate is never there for the weekends anyway, so it's not as if they will annoy her, and Clarke really hopes she will find a more permanent solution tomorrow so she doesn't have to crash on Octavia's floor two nights in a row.
She isn't all that confident about that, though.
"You can come live with me."
That's the second time Bellamy startles her in so many minutes. And, okay, truth is she had forgotten about him, what with being lost in her own thoughts and everything but – but nothing compares to the look she throws his way then, taken aback by his proposition, and the way he just shrugs casually in reply.
"Miller just moved out so I have a spare room if you like. It's out of town but it's not like you'll need to come on campus anyway."
Clarke elects to ignore the small doses of sarcasm he manages to pour in his words even as he's playing the Good Samaritan. She's yelled and screamed enough as it is today to want to do the exact same thing with Octavia's brother just because he so happens to be ruffling her feathers a bit.
"You don't even know me," is the only things she finds to reply instead.
He leans against the wall, shrugs some more. "Well truth is, you look like a rightful mess right now… But if Octavia likes you, it means you're our type of rightful mess, so you'll fit in just fine. And I don't have to look for a new roommate that way, so everybody wins."
"I can't pay the rent."
"I never said there was a rent." He has the audacity of rolling his eyes. Douchebag.
Still, she has nowhere else to go. It might be a mistake – it is the textbook definition of a mistake, let's be real for a second there – but she literally has nowhere else to go.
Clarke accepts.
…
She crashes on Octavia's bed after all, and Octavia on her roommate's bed, after they share the bottle of vodka and watch cartoons on Netflix. It's late – or early in the morning, depending on the point of view – when Clarke finally falls asleep, mind buzzing with alcohol and tears she forces herself not to cry. She feels like she wakes up the moment her head touches the pillow, but the sun is bright in the sky and her headache strong between her eyes and someone is knocking on the door.
A very familiar, very early rising someone.
(Gosh please, tell her he's not always that early a riser because she won't tolerate that if she has to live with him.)
Bellamy has the decency of waiting for her to take a shower before he drags her out of the dorm and down the stairs – something about having papers to grade and she vaguely remembers Octavia telling her about his doctorate in Ancient history and his job as a TA in – not their university, actually. She has no idea where he lives but, if she had to take a guess, it would be closer to Mount Weather U than to Ark College.
She guesses she'll find out soon enough anyway.
And that's basically how Clarke finds herself following his car through the Saturday morning traffic. Thankfully it is not that long a journey, and soon she finds herself pulling over in front of an old building – the kind her mother always complains about, because it's not all new and shiny, and so not occupied by the kind of people they should mix with. As if Clarke cares about that kind of things.
Bellamy jogs towards her car when she opens her truck, and he quirks an eyebrow as how packed the entire car is. (It's a miracle she could use her rearview mirror at all.)
"That all?" he says in a laugh as he grabs the first box.
She wants to tell him it indeed is not, because all her books still are at her mother's and she only had time to grab her clothes and art supplies, but – but Clarke thinks better of it after a few seconds, when she understands he's only teasing. Huh. She'll probably have to get used to that, too.
He leads the way inside the building then up to the third floor, second apartment to the right. Clarke barely has time to take in her surroundings before they go down again, then up, and down, until her car is empty and her boxes and bags in the bedroom.
Her head spins a little.
"Are you sure?" she can help asking, because it feels too much too fast.
"You're the kind of girl who eats her veggies raw and puts quinoa in everything?" She snorts, shakes her head. "Then we're good."
And then he winks – actually winks at her – before he gives her a tour of the apartment. Just two bedrooms, more than enough for the both of them. The place is small though, smaller than she's used to, but Clarkes guesses her life as the Dean's daughter is over now and she just have to learn to live with what is given to her. And that, that is more than she ever hoped she would get after she slammed the door to her childhood's home behind her.
"O and I own the place so there's no rent," Bellamy explains as he grabs two beers in the fridge, hands her one. It's barely eleven in the morning, but a beer sounds perfect as of right now. "Just help with the bills would be nice like, electricity and stuff."
She nods as she takes a sip, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I saw a dinner around the corner, I'll check if they're hiring people. I'll find something."
She needs a job anyway, if she wants to pay for her art supplies and for basically everything else she'll need from now on.
Bellamy stares at her for long seconds, seemingly trying to read her soul, before he goes on. "I didn't ask yesterday but… You're the Griffin girl, aren't you?"
Her spine straightens. "Yeah."
"Welcome to the real world, princess."
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