Things were going great in my life. Fucking perfect, in fact.
But you know the thing about perfection?
It just doesn't last.
So here I am, standing in front of Octavia's door at 4 a.m with everything I own piled into my car. You know, because that's what mature adults who have their shit together clearly spend their time doing.
I shoot O a text to let her know I'm here, since her boyfriend has work early in the morning and the last thing I want to do is be the cause of a grumpy Lincoln.
The door swings open almost immediately and there she stands, her dark hair a disheveled mess, but her eyes are alert and I know that she's been up waiting for me.
"Oh, sweetie."
Those two words undo the facade of okay-ness that I had carefully crafted on the hour long drive to her. I don't cry, but I feel my eyes stretch as wide as they can go and panic begins to rise within me. "Octavia, I don't know what I'm going to do. Fucking Finn ju-"
In one stride she's outside with me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as if the extra support will keep me from literally falling to pieces on her doorstep. "I know, I know. We don't have to talk about it right now. Come inside, Clarke."
I don't have the strength to argue, and maybe I don't want to. Maybe I want to pretend like the last 24 hours didn't occur, like everything is hunky-fucking-dory and I didn't just lose my job and my fiance. I nod numbly into the crook of her neck as she ushers me inside.
She makes me take a shower, which seems ridiculous at first, but once I'm directly under the stream of scalding water I realize just how much I need it. I need to cleanse my body and soul and function like a normal person. Routine is comfort.
Octavia sits on the bathroom counter and talks to me while I lather my hair, telling me about Lincoln's new promotion and how the renovations are coming. I hear the unspoken offer in her words; if I haven't found a place by the time they finish with the guest room, I can stay with her. But I know they have other things to focus on, like the master bathroom and the kitchen and literally everything that is far more important than the guest bedroom.
When I turn off the shower, her arm pops through the curtain with a wonderfully fluffy towel. And crazy enough, this lovely little object of luxury makes me want to cry. I laugh bitterly at the thought; after everything that happened, it's a freaking towel that almost brings me to tears.
I stay up for a few hours, sitting in front of Octavia on the couch. First she combs through my hair, her fingers deft and gentle among my outrageous tangles, and then she braids it. When she finishes with that, we sit in silence for a while, her hands scratching lazy circles on my upper back. That sensation is the last thing I'm aware of before I doze off.
Three days pass, and I delve into a new sense of normalcy. I wake up at 5 am with Lincoln and we share a mug of coffee in companionable silence. He leaves for work, and I work on the house. I'm not the most handy of people so I'm not incredibly helpful, but I do what I can. Which is mostly painting. Eventually the day comes to a close and Octavia forces me to stop working, but I'm too wound up to relax. I spend the rest of each night looking for affordable rooms, but I put most of the money I saved into the apartment with Finn and I'm hesitant to tie myself to anything else without a stable job.
On the fourth night, Octavia comes to sit beside me at the kitchen counter.
"Clarke, I think I have somewhere for you to stay."
This gets my attention, and I look at her expectantly.
"You're not going to love it, but it's a hell of a lot cheaper than anything else you'll find." She takes a deep breath as if she's steeling herself, and that makes me worry. "My brother's roommate moved out."
This wasn't awesome news for me. I had never even met Octavia's brother. "No, Octavia you know I can't..." I trail off. My initial vehement opposition wears off rather quickly when I realize that I don't exactly have many other choices. "Rent?," I ask suspiciously, slowly shutting the lid of my laptop.
"Murphy had already paid for the next two months and he's rolling in cash now so he didn't bother asking for it back. You'll have that time to find a job and figure stuff out. Hell, by then you might even be ready to move out." One of those brilliant Octavia-smiles flashed across her face, both triumphant and excited.
I lift a palm to shake my fingers through my hair, a typical stress tick of mine and one O knows well. It means I've given in. "Okay. Alright. When can I move in?" My voice sounds tired in my own ears, and I feel like in the last few days alone I've devolved into an old lady.
Octavia pulls me into an excited hug, pressing her cheek against mine. "Any time this week. And I'll go with you and introduce you to him and whatnot, just to diffuse the awkwardness."
Right. That. I groaned a bit at the reminder. Even though I didn't personally know Bellamy, he was far from being a stranger. I had heard several stories from Octavia, sure, but they had been somewhat diffused since the two are related. It was the stories from the 4 or 5 of my friends who had slept with him that made it weird.
"Let's go tomorrow. I don't want to be a thorn in your guys's side anymore, and besides, maybe a step in the right direction will make everything else fall into place."
My words were far more hopeful than me.