A/N:I'm back, bitches.
I've had this idea in my head for a while. I'm not totally sure where it is going but I'm having fun writing it. As a warning, I have only ever been to Maui once and that was when I was, like, nine so I'm not exactly an expert. In the past ten years the only beaches I have been to are along the east coast. I'm pretty much exactly the kind of person Bellamy hates in this story when it comes to my knowledge of all things Hawaii. I apologize to any lucky islanders who read this and wince.
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you
Bellamy broke the surface of the ocean with a gasp trying to catch his breath quickly while clinging to his board.
"Holy shit, dude!" Wick called from where he was paddling a few feet away. "That was an incredible wipe out!"
Bellamy rolled his eyes and pushed himself back up onto his board. "Yes, because a wipe out is exactly what I was going for."
His friend slapped him on the back having finally made his way over. "Hey, sometimes the wipe outs are more fun than riding it in. That applies to life too, my friend."
Rather than reply he just gave the blond and incredulous look. It only earned him more laughter.
Wick had come to the Maui three years ago for what was supposed to be two-week surfing trip. Instead he ended up renting a small shack by the beach and calling it home. He was everything Bellamy usually hated in the surfers that visited the island. All blond hair bleached by the sun matched by a deep tan and teeth that were too white. By all accounts, it was a friendship that never should have worked. Bellamy was aggressively local while Wick was annoyingly Californian. Bellamy was serious and quiet where Wick was immature and loud, but somehow it worked.
"It's nearly nine anyways, man," Wick said, gazing at the waterproof watch on his wrist. I need to head in. My shift starts at nine thirty and Raven will kill me if I'm late again."
"Well you know, a friend once told me that the wipe outs are sometimes better than riding it in."
Wick let out a bark of laughter and punched Bellamy's shoulder causing him to falter slightly on his board. "True, true. But I would rather not wipe out when it comes to Raven."
Having reached an agreement the two men paddled into shore where tourists where already starting to set up their umbrellas and beach towels for the day. The off-season may have started but that didn't mean tourists disappeared from the island.
After dropping off their boards at Bellamy's house just over the dunes, the duo parted way. Wick to his job at a local car repair shop and Bellamy to The Griffin's Roost.
On the other, wealthier side of the beach the cheesily named beach house loomed over its fairly impressive neighbors. The pale green paint and white trim was pristine, the shutters free of wind damage, and metal door handles and touristy beach décor void of any rust from the salty ocean air. Tossing the key up and down in his hand, Bellamy made his way up the grand front steps of the house repressing all the memories that had been touched by the wood. This wasn't the same house it had been before, after all. A new paint job and some interior decorators had made sure of that years ago.
The house was sterile now with generic furniture people from the mainland thought was the typical Hawaiian taste. They seemed to think you could throw a palm leaf, coconut, or hibiscus flower on anything and to make it 'island style.' Once, however, it had been much more of a home.
Years ago Abigail, Jake, and little Clarke Griffin had spent Memorial Day to Labor Day in the house as well as the occasional Christmas trip. Though their taste in furniture had screamed money back then as much as he generic décor did now, it somehow had still felt homier. Not that Bellamy had ever spent much time in the house in those days. Even as a kid Bellamy resented the fact that his mother was a maid for the Griffins. He knew what people like the Griffins thought of women like Aurora, living in a run down beach house in the more poverty stricken area of town with two kids from different fathers, neither present, and barely enough money to put food on the table. They pitied her and they pitied her kids. That's why Jake always offered to take Bellamy fishing (something Bellamy always declined, he didn't need a father thank you very much) and why they let their daughter play with Octavia; why they let Octavia practically live with them during the summer.
Octavia loved it. She and Clarke got along well enough and compared to their home the Griffin's was basically a castle. There was always more than enough to eat, no chipping paint, and no listening to Aurora yell at Bellamy for getting into fights. Aurora didn't mind it either, she always told Bellamy it gave Octavia something to do before adding that he should be thankful for the Griffins. After all, they employed his mother and kept him from having to babysit his little sister. Despite her words, his resentment remained for the family that seemed to have everything his didn't.
Even now, years after the last time he had seen the Griffins, bitterness persisted as he made his rounds through the empty halls. Here was this enormous house that they never even visited. Bellamy couldn't even fathom how that was possible. How someone could spend so much money on something and then just abandon it like it was nothing.
After making sure the water was running fine and wasn't at all salty, he moved on to checking each room for any signs of intruders. The Griffin's Roost, as the enormous beach house was nicknamed, was well known by locals. Nearly everyone knew when a new family was renting the place and similarly knew when each family left. To the less law-abiding teens in town it was a badge of rebellion to spend a night in the house, much to Bellamy's annoyance. In fact, it had become such an issue four years ago that Marcus Kane, a local who was still good friends with the Griffins, originally hired him to check the house in the morning for trespassers. That had turned into checking the pipes and making sure the pool was working fine, which had turned into small repairs and minor construction projects. Four years later his daily rounds at the Griffin's Roost were giving him a nice amount of pocket money to boost the meager amount he made working at Miller's bar and the book store.
The first sign Bellamy noticed that indicated something was awry was the light on in the front hall. He was sure all lights had been off when he left the previous morning. Next he noticed the sandals by the front door and the remains of a burger from Teddy's on the kitchen counter. Someone was definitely in the house and they weren't even trying to hide it. With a growl of frustration Bellamy ran his hand through his hair irritably. There were few things that annoyed him more than shithead teenagers, even if he used to be one himself.
As soon as Bellamy rounded the top of the stairs he knew where the intruder was hidden. The door at the very end of the hall was closed while every other door remained open, as he had left them the morning before. He padded down the hall as quietly as he could. In his experience, nothing worked better on trespassing teenagers than the element of surprise. Being scared awake in the nude often deterred them from returning.
Bellamy was pretty sure this was the room that had been Clarke's years ago. He hadn't started working for the Griffins until after the place had been remodeled and it wasn't like he frequented the upstairs back when the family stayed there. If he entered the house at all it was always just the entryway to pick up Octavia and his mother (or, only during that last summer, Clarke) or the dining room for a very awkward dinner. Even so, he had pretty much figured out whose room was whose in the past couple years. The master had obviously been Jake and Abby's and he was fairly certain this one had been Clarke's. It wasn't the largest of the spare rooms, but it had the best view of the ocean and a small balcony. Both seemed like things she would like.
Pushing the door open quietly he examined the state of the room first. The was one time a couple years back when two drunk teens had totally trashed the place and he lived in dread of it happening again. The room, however, was practically untouched. Even the blinds and curtains were still open. The bed was a disheveled mess with sheets twisted every which way and pillows strewn across the mattress and onto the floor. In the center of the veritable rat's nest was a mess of blonde tangles obscuring the face they belonged too.
Rolling his eyes Bellamy kicked the pale foot dangling off the bed. "Wake up sleeping beauty, before I call the cops."
The girl didn't move.
Heaving a frustrated sigh he moved closer and poked the mystery sleeper on her back. "Wake up. You have five minutes then I'm calling the cops."
"What?" She still didn't move but her rough, sleepy voice proved she was awake. It sounded oddly familiar to Bellamy, like a memory he couldn't quite place.
"I said get up. Now. You're trespassing."
"No I'm not, go away."
Bellamy scoffed. "Oh really, so you own this house then? You didn't break in last night and decide to crash?"
Suddenly the blonde sat up brushing her hair out of her blue eyes before looking up at him wearily. "Shut up, Bellamy. I was on a plane for basically all of yesterday so just let me sleep."
Bellamy was too stunned to reply. "Clarke?"
A much older version of his little sister's childhood friend looked up at him disdainfully. "The one and only. Now leave." She turned and settled back into the comforter while Bellamy looked on in shock. Kane hadn't told him Clarke would be coming. A new renter was suppose to arrive the next day but he was pretty sure Kane would have mentioned if it were Clarke Griffin.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, slowly coming out of shock. His surprise was quickly turning into irritation.
Clarke groaned before flipping dramatically onto her back to glare up at him. She was wearing a small camisole that left little to the imagination. It took true willpower to keep his eyes on her face. The struggle reminded him of when she was fifteen and suddenly had boobs. As a twenty year old that summer he knew his boundaries but it was hard to ignore all the same. "I'm trying to sleep," she replied moodily, dragging his mind off her rack and back to the current situation.
"Okay, smartass. You know what I mean. Kane didn't say anything about you coming and there are renters arriving tomorrow afternoon."
Huffing with annoyance Clarke sat up. Bellamy didn't miss the slouch in her shoulders or the bags under eyes that seemed to be from more than just sleep deprivation. "Shit. Tomorrow, really?" He nodded in affirmation drawing another curse from her rosy lips. He couldn't help but be a little distracted by the familiar mole just above her mouth. "I may not have thought everything through."
"No shit," he scoffed. "Next time call ahead, princess."
She wrinkled her nose at the childhood nickname that had once caused her to punch him when she was nine. "Well this wasn't exactly a super well planned trip. It was more of a slightly nostalgic 'I want to get away from everyone and everything and be ten again' kind of trip."
"Must be nice to take those kinds of trips."
Clarke rolled her eyes. "I see you haven't changed at all in the past six years."
In his opinion he had actually changed a lot, but that wasn't something he felt like sharing at the moment. Instead he gave a huff of annoyance. "Look you can stay here for tonight but you have to be gone tomorrow afternoon."
"Yes, sir," she drawled while saluting him mockingly. Bellamy shot her one more exasperated look before turning to leave. "Bellamy?" Clarke called after him, her voice noticeably softer and somehow more delicate.
"What, princess?"
"Would you mind not telling anyone I'm here?"
Rather than answering he just raised an eyebrow in question.
"I just… I don't want to deal with anyone."
Despite wanting to be frustrated with her, Bellamy understood the sentiment. He nodded and offered her a small smile. "Alright. But you need to be gone by noon tomorrow. Here," he scribbled his number on a painfully kitschy palm tree patterned pad of paper on the bedside table. "In case you need anything."
"Thanks."
"Just make sure you are gone by tomorrow."
She just fell back into bed in response and Bellamy made his way downstairs.
Despite his best efforts his mind was stuck on Clarke throughout the day. He checked his phone regularly, earning questioning looks from both Miller at work and Octavia at home, but Clarke never contacted him. Not that he really expected her to. They hadn't spoken in six years; there really wasn't any reason for her to start talking to him now.
That night he caught himself staring at an old, faded picture that had been shoved into his well-loved copy of The Odyssey. He still remembered the night it was taken. It was the penultimate night of Clarke's final summer on the island and even though nobody knew it would be her last, there was a palpable feeling of finality to it. It was Jasper who had the idea of a bonfire and Monty who convinced Miller and Bellamy to bring beer. Clarke had brought her old polaroid camera because she was insistent on making a scrapbook of that summer. She had been saving everything from movie tickets to a napkin from the Lahaina Ice Cream Parlour. Octavia must have gotten ahold of the camera at some point in the night and taken the picture.
He and Clarke were facing away from the camera, out towards the ocean with the fire roaring beside them. Her head was on his shoulder and his arm was around her waist. O had given it to him a half a year later when they found out the Griffins weren't returning. Shoving the picture back into the torn and earmarked pages, Bellamy flopped back onto his bed willing sleep to come. Instead he lay awake and stared at the dark ceiling for the better part of the night as waves crashed against the shore below.
The next morning, Bellamy pulled up the to the Griffin's in his pick up, salt from his morning in the ocean still in his hair and stinging his skin. For a moment he just sat in the truck silently praying that Clarke would be gone already. That way this whole ordeal could just be a weird experience he would soon forget. It didn't take long for him to discover that his wish had not been granted, though he suddenly couldn't bring himself to be too terribly upset about it.
Clarke was perched on the railing of the back deck that looked out over the water. Her hair was loose, blowing in the gentle breeze coming off the ocean. She was still wearing her sleep shorts, which were really just a pair of hideously ugly taco patterned boxers and an old UVa shirt that kept slipping off her shoulder. As he got closer it become clear that she was sketching.
"Ah my eviction notice is here," she said dryly without looking up as he came to stand next to her, leaning his elbows on the rail and gazing out at the Pacific. "A little early I believe. My landlord told me I have," she checked the phone sitting next to her, "an hour and fifty-eight minutes left."
Bellamy snorted and shook his head. One thing he had always loved about Clarke, especially as she got older, was her ability to match him snark for snark. "I have to work later. This is your two hour warning." He leaned over to look at what she was sketching. To his surprise it wasn't the view. "Who's that?"
Clarke's face suddenly turned a startling shade of red as she realized he was looking at her sketch. "Nobody, just a doodle."
Bellamy raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. The jawline looked suspiciously familiar but she clearly didn't want to discuss it further. A comfortable silence fell over them as they both watched the waves dipping in and out of the sea. There was a boat farther out that made Bellamy think of Jake and his relentless offers to explore the waters around Maui further.
"I'm sorry about your dad," he said quietly without turning his gaze. To be honest he was a little embarrassed he hadn't said anything about Jake's death sooner. From the rumors that had circulated the town, her father's death hadn't been pretty. The car crash that both Clarke and Abby managed to survive had all but torn apart Jake.
"I'm sorry about your mom." Bellamy swallowed hard. He tried not to think too much about his mom. It wasn't that he didn't miss her or didn't love her, that couldn't be farther from the truth. It just hurt still, to think of her without her hair, getting weaker and weaker as each day passed. Practically wasting away before his eyes and leaving him with a seventeen year old sister to take care of all on his own.
A rumble from Clarke's stomach broke the somber mood. "Hungry, princess?" He smirked up at her relishing in the slight blush that broke out across her cheeks. It was a good look on her he decided.
"Well seeing as I was given a time limit on my childhood home I didn't exactly want to leave first thing in the morning."
"Plus you would have to get dressed," Bellamy added while pushing off the railing.
"You know me so well," Clarke replied in a tone that was too sweet to not be sarcastic.
"You are hopeless. Come on, I'll treat you to the island's finest breakfast."
He took her to a McDonald's drive through.
"You know," she said, her mouth full of egg mcmuffin, "I know you took me here to be an asshole but this is actually great. Plus I didn't even have to get dressed."
Bellamy snorted. It wasn't that terrible for him either. Clarke had stretched her long, pale legs out to rest her feet on the dashboard of his truck and was humming some tune that was both familiar and strange all at once. Besides, she insisted on paying for their breakfast.
"Did you go swimming earlier?"
"Surfing. Why?"
Clarke reached up and ruffled his hair nearly causing him to choke on his sausage biscuit. "Your hair is extra fluffy."
"Okay weirdo."
Bellamy couldn't help but realize how easy it was to fall back into their old rhythms. If he didn't know better, he might be convinced it was still that last summer they spent together. She seventeen and desperate to taste rebellion, he twenty-two and wanting nothing more than to escape the island. Octavia, then fifteen, had gotten her first boyfriend that summer and spent more time away from Clarke than with her for the first time since the pair met as little girls. Clarke for her part had decided to latch onto Bellamy as her surrogate best friend. He hadn't complained much, at least not after the first couple of weeks.
"So where are you off to after noon?"
"Jesus Christ, Bell, I get that I have to be gone."
"Hey, I'm not trying to be an ass," he replied, hands up in surrender. "I'm genuinely curious about where you are going."
Clarke sighed and slumped against her seat. "I have no idea. I'll probably go back to the mainland. I guess California. That's where I told my mom I would be so any charges to my credit card in Hawaii would make her ask questions I don't feel like answering. I paid for the plane ticket from LA to here in cash just to avoid her."
"I thought O saw on Facebook you were going to Johns Hopkins for medical school now."
Clarke paused for a long moment, picking at the taco boxers. "Yeah," she finally replied. "I am."
"Now I'm not an expert when it comes to medical school, or college really, but I'm fairly sure that school is in session in mid September."
"Correct."
"So?"
Clarke sighed and looked out her window towards the shopping center across the street. "I'm taking a year off."
"You can do that?"
"Yes, you can do that," she replied shortly. "Now if you are done quizzing me about my personal life can you please just take me home."
Bellamy's eyes widened a little at the sudden defensiveness of her tone. He had clearly hit a nerve. Without answering he pulled out of the McDonald's parking lot and headed back towards the beach.
As soon as he pulled into the gravel drive of the Roost, Clarke swung her door open and hopped out wincing slightly at the gravel digging into her bare feet.
"See you, Bell."
"Clarke wait," he called after her, leaning over the bench seat to roll down the passenger's window.
"For fuck's sake I get it. Noon."
"Would you just wait half a second, princess? If you want somewhere to stay or if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch so…" he trailed off and ran a hand nervously through his tangled, salt stiff curls. Clarke watched him for a minute, her stoic face masking any emotions. He recognized that looked though, she was considering his offer. "You don't need to answer me now. You have my number and I'm still in the same house so you know where to find me. If you just need one night or even if you need a place for a couple months just let me know. I know O would be thrilled to see you again."
He wasn't about to tell her how much the idea of getting to know this older, less familiar Clarke Griffin appealed to him.
Slowly Clarke nodded. "Yeah, I'll think about it. Thanks, Bell."
"No problem, princess."
He watched her in his rearview mirror as he pulled out of the drive. She looked small suddenly, frail and lost and not at all the whirlwind of a girl he remembered. Despite wishing the opposite an hour earlier, Bellamy couldn't help but hope she would take him up on his offer.
It wasn't ten minutes before his phone rang.
"Bellamy?"
"Yeah."
"If you wouldn't mind, it would be nice to stay here for a while."
"Not a problem. I'll swing back by and pick you up then I have to go to work. O should be home around four."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
"No really, thank you, Bellamy."
He smiled, "I'll be there in a minute."
A/N: I hope y'all liked it! As the story goes I plan on weaving more backstory into what is currently going on with the story. I'm getting ready to move back into school in the next week so either I will update soon because I want to procrastinate packing or I won't update for a while. I'm sorry in advance.
Title from Elvis' "Can't Help Falling in Love"
Love you guys as always :)