[A/N: Enjoy! I can't believe I'm starting a new WIP but I am! I hope you enjoy it and get ready for what I have in store! Let me know what you think on Tumblr: augustusblakee]
...
Two Years Before
Clarke Griffin exhausted.
Her bones are absolutely aching but she continued to run side by side with the boy beside her. The sun was beginning to rise and she could think of plenty of other things she would rather be doing than running this early in the morning. Number one of these things is to be in bed asleep.
But she made a promise to best friend and she intends to keep it (and to be honest, she knew more than anyone that Wells Jaha would drag her out of bed even if she continued to lay there).
They were running along the coast so the light breeze was enough to keep her cool but not enough to get her to stride faster.
Her headphones were blaring in her ears and she would swear to anyone that David Bowie was actually helping her run along the pavement even if it didn't look that way.
She sighed in relief when Wells started to slow down next to her. She took in his form and rolled her eyes. He didn't even look like he had broken a sweat and she knew without looking in the mirror that her face was red and her hair was even more frizzy than usual.
She hastily pulled out her headphones when they finally started walking.
She followed him toward the small bench overlooking the water and happily collapsed onto it.
Wells laughed and he stretched his arms above his head. "You're going to cramp up."
She waved him off and continued to take harsh breaths from her spot. "Why do I do this?"
Wells continued to laugh but it was the kind of laugh that was light and filled with compassion. "You're the one who wanted to be on the cross country team with me next fall."
"I'm beginning to regret this." She stretched her legs out and rolled her ankles out with another huff. She grumbled as Wells took a seat beside her. "You're going to cramp up." She mocked with a slight smile.
Wells hit her arm with his elbow as he looked out to see the sun slowly but surely making its way up in the sky. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
She took in the morning colors. The blues and violets sitting against the soft yellow in the sky. It made her fingers itch for pastels and it made her breathing coming out softer. "Yeah, it's something."
Wells was quiet and from his headphones she could hear the soft piano of whatever classical piece he was listening too. She always thought that it was so strange how he listened to music that had no words when he ran but sitting here alongside him and watching the sunrise, she couldn't picture anything else that would better suit the moment.
She turned her head and realized the expression on his face. She elbowed his arm. "What's that look for?"
Wells smiled a smile that was real and full of wonder. "It's just nice." He gestured around them. "Sitting here and taking it all in."
His words weren't poetic or something that would change mountains but it made her sit still for another moment. She heard birds chirping, cars moving and waves crashing. It truly was amazing all in its own way.
But in typical Clarke Griffin style, she rolled her eyes and elbowed him as she slowly stood up. "If I'm going to finish this mile we better get going, Jesse Owens."
His laughter filled her ears and before long, they were falling in stride together as they finished the last mile of their run.
With harsh breaths and shaky legs, she found herself walking up the driveway of Well's home. It was the biggest house in the neighborhood but knowing his parents like she did, she didn't expect anything less from a family involved completely in politics.
She followed Wells into the kitchen and looked for the picture she knew would be attached to a cheap New York, New York magnet. It was of the two of them from so long ago. Her hair was in two braids instead of one and her smile was wide as she pushed her face against Well's. They were young and small but even then they knew they would be best friends for life.
She took a seat at the kitchen table and mumbled her thanks when Wells placed a purple gatorade before her. Purple gatorade's were the best ones.
As she took a lingering sip of the refreshing liquid, she realized she we alone in the spacious kitchen. She finished half of her gatorade by the time Wells made his way back into this kitchen. He made his way to the seat across from her and slid over whatever he had gotten upstairs.
She tilted her head and took in the envelope addressed to her and the book that lay underneath it. Of Mice and Men.
"What's this for?" She didn't wait for a response as she flipped the envelope over. There was a red seal of his family's crest sealing the letter and a small note that said, 'love always, w'. She gently pulled open the letter and pulled the neatly folded note out.
Wells still didn't say anything as she took in the small letter and his perfect handwriting.
Clarke's Epic Summer List
- Swim during the sunrise
- Read every Steinbeck book (there will be a test on this later)
- Become a better runner!
- Call at least three people "Lassie"
- Be a tourist for a day
- Eat the weirdest flavor ice cream at Grounders
- Learn to ride a bike (honestly what fifteen year old can't ride a bike, Griffin)
- Make Jake bake (see what I did there?)
Try not to miss me too much.
W
She looked back at him. "What's this?"
Wells shrugged and smiled at her. It was a smile that would make a politician jealous and also a smile that would make any girl in their grade fall in love with him more than they already were. "You're spending an entire summer away from me. I couldn't let you go without something to do."
She rolled her eyes but felt a smile make its way toward her face. Leave it to Wells Jaha to make the fact that she had to spend her entire summer away with her father something more than an epic reminder of her parents failed relationship.
She glanced back at the list and smirked. "Every Steinbeck book or just the good ones?"
Wells laughed but then turned very serious. "Every Steinbeck book is a good book."
She shook her head but clutched the letter and the book toward her.
...
Now
She was wearing a black dress that itched no matter how she sat or stood.
The dress was new. It still smelled like the department store her mother had picked it up from. She never needed a formal black dress before.
Her eyes burned from how many times she cried but the more she found herself crying, the more she found herself falling away from feeling anything at all.
Death. The word itself was cunning.
As she stared at the coffin as it was lowered into the ground, she found herself thinking of long division problems. As she recited the steps in her head maybe the situation she was in would be nothing but a math problem she couldn't solve.
As the Jaha's took their last glance, she realized this wasn't the case.
It took her a few moments before she actually felt her mother's hand on her arm. She turned to her suddenly and tried not to take in the look her mother was giving her. It was a look that everyone seemed to give her.
"Everyone is going to the house." Her mother paused. "Or would you just want to go home?"
She shrugged because she didn't know what she wanted to do. She wanted to scream and she also wanted to text Wells and have him respond. She wanted the constant pain to go away. She wanted a lot of things.
"Clarke?" She turned her head the same time as her mother did as Thelonious Jaha made his way toward them. His suite we entirely black making his skin look even darker than usual. His face was coated in a light beard and she couldn't think of a single memory that involved him having one.
She wondered what she looked like. Did she still look the same or did she look like someone whose best friend was dead.
She crossed her arms and nodded toward Thelonious. She felt her pulse racing. Was he going to confirm her thoughts? Was he going to curse the day she was born? Her hands shook as she dug her nails into her skin.
Thelonious gave a nod back before her turned toward her mother. "Abigail, can you give us a minute?"
Her mother took a moment before she nodded. "Sure, that should be alright." She turned her head and widened her eyes at her mother. Her mother didn't say anything at the look she was giving her. "I'll be in the car, Clarke."
She watched her mother go before she turned toward Thelonious. She offered him a small smile but it didn't feel right on her face. She bet it showed.
"How are you doing?" Thelonious asked. His voice was strong and she thought about his press conference two nights ago when he talked about the loss of his son. The conference itself of was blur to her until they showed a few pictures on the screen. More than half of the photos had her placed right beside him. Her favorite picture of them wasn't shown though. And for that she was grateful. She wanted a piece of him that wasn't shown on nation wide television.
"I'm alright." She found herself saying quickly with a nod of the head. "How are – how are you?" She glanced at the ground.
"We're doing alright." He shoved his hands into his pockets but quickly pulled out the letter that was folded into it.
She felt her breath hitch.
"We found this yesterday." He said softly as he placed the small envelope into her palm. She shakily turned it over and saw the familiar red seal and the same handwriting he always left on the back of his cards, 'love always, w'.
She didn't look up as she nodded her head. She flipped it over a few times in her hands before she looked up. "Thank you."
Thelonious nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaving them there. "I hope you know how much he loved you."
It stung. The words. The thought. All of it. She held the letter in her hands and found herself stopping from crumbling it in her hands. "I know." He was her best friend. He was her person. And now he was gone.
"Very well." Thelonious said as she straightened up. She watched as his face transformed right before her. He no longer looked like the vulnerable man who had just buried his son, instead he looked like the politician he was born to be, the politician he was. "Don't be a stranger, Clarke."
She nodded even though she knew right then and there, she would never step foot into the Jaha's home ever again.
She looked down at the letter in her hands as she walked toward the red Jeep her mother was currently sitting in. She took a breath and lightly walked on the window.
Her mother smiled softly as she rolled down the window. She could feel the air conditioning against her skin. "You alright?"
She clutched the letter in her hands. She toed off her shoes and held them toward her mother. "I'm going to run home."
She watched her mother's face and saw the familiar concerned glance make its way back onto her face but she still asked, "You sure?"
She nodded and watched her mother place the small heels on the empty passenger seat. She didn't offer more before she turned and ran away from the cemetery.
Away from all of it.
...
The letter lay on her desk, unopened.
She towel dried her hair as she stared at it. She dropped the blue towel and made her way toward her desk. She ran her finger over the wax seal and felt the crest press into her palm. She felt her throat close up as she lifted it.
But she quickly dropped it at the light knocking on her door.
She took a deep breath. "Yeah?"
There was a still moment before the door popped open and her mother's face was in view. "Hey sweetie." She paused. "Lexa's downstairs." Her stomach twisted in the worst way at the name. Her mother noticed. "Do you want me to tell her to leave?"
She let out a breath. "No." She tucked a piece of wet hair behind her ear. "I'll be down in a minute." She smiled what she hoped to be reassuring as her mother gently shut the door. She took a moment and glanced at the empty spaces on the cork-board above her desk. Pictures where Lexa Woods used to be.
She made her way downstairs and took in Lexa's appearance. The familiar ripped black tank, jeans shorts and black vans.
She crossed her arms as she made her way before the petite brunette. "What are you doing here?"
Lexa let out a breath and crossed her own arms. An onlooker would think they were preparing for battle and maybe they were. "I wanted to see how you were doing."
She scoffed at that. "Well, I'm fucking fantastic so you can leave."
Lexa didn't falter and turn away. She thought back to the first time she had seen the curly haired beauty. She thought about the first time their lips touched. Now it just felt like something she could only compare to a dementor's kiss. "Clarke. Come on." Lexa's voice was surprisingly low. "I care about you."
If she wasn't so sad she might have laughed at the statement. "No. Wells cared about me." She paused. And now he's dead because of me, she thought.
Lexa took a breath. "I didn't know, alright? No one could have known what was going to happen to him. I'm sorry he's gone. I'm sorry Wells-."
"You don't get to talk about him." She spat out. "You don't get to say him name. Ever."
Lexa nodded, her lips forming a slight heart. "I'm sorry, Clarke."
She felt her hands shake. "Saying sorry doesn't bring him back."
"Fair enough." She stood still as Lexa took a deep breath. And just like she had done not even a week ago, she turned and left her alone.
It didn't make the pain in her chest lessen.
She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs just as her mother was walking down. Her mother glanced at the door and empty foyer before she spoke. "I have some lasagna in the oven."
"I'm not hungry." She mumbled as she looked up toward her door. "I'm going to go lay down if that's alright."
"Of course." Her mother said lightly as she reached and patted the side of her head. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."
She nodded and made her way up toward her room. She glanced at the letter that still lay unopened on her desk. She took a breath and turned away, falling onto her bed instead.
...
"You sure you still want to do this?"
She glanced up toward her mother as she reached for her book-bag. She tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear as she looked around the crowded terminal. "I kind of have too, don't I?" She gripped the strap of her book-bag. "It's required by law."
Her mother lightly rolled her eyes. "Your dad would understand if you wanted to stay home for the summer."
She had thought about it but for the past week she hadn't set much of a foot outside of her room, let alone her house. Going to Alexandria, Virginia didn't sound that bad the more she thought about it. Sure, she might be in her room there the entire time but at least she would be away from the small hell she have placed herself into.
"I'll be fine."
Her mother looked unsure but nodded anyway. "Alright. I told your dad to text me when your plane lands but he'll probably forget." She rolled her eyes. "So, text me alright? And remember to call me-."
"Every Friday." She supplied with a small smile. "This isn't the first summer I've spent with dad, mom."
"I know." Her mother said softly. It sounded like there was more she wanted to say but instead she reached in and kissed her forehead before she said her goodbye.
As she passed through security, she saw her mother still rooted in the same spot. She shook her head and offered a lame wave as she walked toward her gate.
She pulled out her headphones and placed them into her phone jack. She scrolled her fingers through a few playlists before she landed on one at the bottom. A playlist she didn't make herself. 'Wells'
She tapped the screen and before she knew it, classical music filled her ears. She felt tears well up in her eyes. She stopped walking and hastily closed out of the playlist and tapped one she used for running. The Jackson 5 soon jumped into her ears and she felt her heart slow down at the song.
She took a deep breath as she continued her journey toward her gate.
The plane was delayed, like the mostly are, but four hours later, she was walking in the Reagan National Airport in search of her father. She peered over heads and jumped up and down until she spotted the familiar sandy blonde hair.
She felt her legs break out into a run as soon she slammed her body into the side of her father's. He laughed a bit under his breath before he circled his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head and didn't let go for what seemed like a small eternity.
"Hey, kiddo." His voice was soft and it made her clutch around him harder. His laughter was gone and she felt him squeeze her back. He didn't need to say anything.
And for that she was grateful.
He just knew.
…
The house was bright yellow.
It had always been bright yellow and it was the main reason she loved her father's house. She still remembered the day she came for the summer to a fresh painted yellow house. The neighbors next door had complained every which way but her father refused to change it.
The bright color almost hurt to look at now.
She kicked at the rocks leading toward the front porch and was about to walk toward it before she felt a tug on her book-bag. She turned and saw her father with both of her duffel bags strung across his shoulders. There was a weird look on his face.
"What's up?" She asked softly as she narrowed her eyes in curiosity.
Her father took a breath, it made her nerves grow. "I haven't had the time to really tell you but I met someone."
Her breath hitched slightly because in an ideal world, she always imagined her parents getting back together. She knew it wasn't likely but she still dreamed about it, even as a seventeen-year-old girl. She knew why her parent's didn't work and she was grateful that they still maintained a respectful relationship but she had always just accepted that they would fall back together eventually.
Instead of voicing this she said, "Oh, well, that's great. Yeah?"
Her father's tense look didn't fade. "Yeah but Clarke. She uh-."
"Your back!"
She turned her head and watched as a tanned woman with dark hair make her way toward them. She was in a pair of ripped jean capris and a pink tank top that made her skin glow against the color of the house.
"We're back." Her father said with a strange tone.
She gripped her book-bag straps and narrowed her eyes; it didn't falter the woman before her. "I'm Anya. I've heard so much about you, Clarke. Your father has pretty much been counting down the days until you got here."
There was laughter around her. She felt herself nod. She didn't know what to say but she watched as her father and Anya exchanged a look. She swallowed and turned toward her father. "I'm kind of tired. I'm going to go lay down if that's alright."
"Sure." Her father said quickly. " You remember which room is yours?"
She nodded and didn't laugh at the attempted joke as she reached for her duffel bags. She glanced at Anya and felt strained smile come across her face. "It was nice meeting you."
"You too." Anya said more softly this time. The overexcited eager dried from her voice.
She nodded and felt a bit bad for the brush off but she couldn't handle anything else new today. She made her way up the deck and into the house. It was different everywhere she turned, obviously a woman's work but it wasn't that bad. She was grateful though that her room was the same.
She shut the door and dropped her bags as she took in the familiar walls. She had prints of her favorite paintings scattered across the walls. Her favorite was the wall her father had painted for her two summers ago; it was an exact replica of Van Gogh's Starry Night.
She went toward the wall and ran her fingers against the paint before she collapsed onto her bed. She could hear movement downstairs but she couldn't bring it in herself to get up.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded envelope. She twirled it around in her hands before she stared at the unopened seal. She took a deep breath before she peeled it open.
Clarke's Epic Summer List
- Eat in front of the Lincoln Monument
- Hug someone named Nathan
- 59 Ave. Ask for Octavia
- Dance until you fall over
- Learn how to ride a bike (honestly why is this my third time writing this?)
- Jump into the water
- Learn a new language
- Share some secrets in the dark
- Apply to your dream school.
- Sing in front of strangers
- Sleep under the stars
Try not to miss me too much. Until we meet again,
W
She didn't realize she was crying until the writing got hard to read.
...