[A/N: So, after about a year of not writing, I finally decided to join the fandom world again! I'm very excited to share this story with you all, and I hope you enjoy it! I'm happy to be entering this new fandom, you all seem very wonderful. This is very AU but I hope I keep the characters you know and love the same. The title is taken from a song by The Album Leaf called Tied Knots. Anyway, please do let me know what you think! Sorry for the repost, had some beginning errors!]
Disclaimer: I do not own The 100.
He dreamed he was falling.
Falling down with such speed that the air in his lungs got stuck in his throat. His limbs hung still at his sides and his mouth split open without a single sound escaping.
He continued to fall and fall without ever seeing a beginning or end.
He woke up gasping. His voice stuck in his throat. A word stuck on the end of his tongue but lost along the way from his head to his lips. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he wondered if he was going to wake up the slender body next to him tangled in navy blue sheets.
He took a moment, composed himself and quickly threw his legs over the side of the bed. He wasn't sure when he fell asleep or exactly how. He remembered clutching the tan thigh behind him as he drove her into oblivion with a smirk on his face.
He rarely if ever fell asleep after going home with a woman.
He would lay with them until they fell asleep and then he would see himself out. So the fact he fell asleep caused him to feel completely vertigo.
As he stood from the bed and stretched causally in his naked form, the feeling of falling struck him. He clenched his eyes and allowed whatever was left in his body to escape. He dream bright as day in his mind.
He wondered what brought the dream on. He wondered what caused him to fall asleep.
If he had stopped drinking lagers with Monty Green when he had reached his limit (which was hard to reach at times), he would have been completely fine.
He squinted in the dimly lit room and reached for his gray t-shirt strung over the small dresser in the room before tugging up his jeans. He patted his phone in his pocket, along with his keys and his wallet before he headed for the door.
"Aren't you going to ask for my name?"
He cursed under his breath.
His fingers circled the doorknob. He didn't really care what her name was. He didn't have time for names. He didn't have time for feelings. He didn't care for them and they surely never cared for him in return.
He turned and watched her sit up in the bed. He would have smirked at the fact that she sat exposed with a grin on her face but he was annoyed for falling asleep and even more annoyed for being caught leaving.
He shrugged and turned back toward the door. He smirked when he heard her call him and asshole as he made his way out.
…
It was just about six-thirty in the morning when he got back into his car. He patted his face and shook the sleep in his eyes as he pushed the key into the ignition. It was Friday, which meant he had to work at the country club later in the day.
He didn't feel like being around rich snobs and he surely didn't feel like wearing a tux but a job was a job and he had bills to pay.
He drove toward the small convenient store five miles away from his apartment. He picked up a small coffee and a box of the donuts Octavia liked.
The thought of his sister caused a small frown to make it's way toward his face.
If there was anyone in the world who could make him feel something, it was Octavia Blake. She was tough as nails with just the right touch of softness. She kept all of his secrets and in return loved him for all his faults. However, she had been shutting him out for the past week. He wasn't entirely sure why, well that was a lie but he wasn't sure why she was still ignoring him.
It wasn't his fault that he lost his temper on her stupid boyfriend (although it kind of was).
He felt the lack of sleep in his bones as his climbed up the stairs toward his apartment. It wasn't much of anything but he was proud of himself for being able to afford it. It was barely enough room for one person but they made it work.
They always made it work. They had to work.
He jammed the key into the lock and listened for his sister. The light sound of the television caught his ear and he cleared his throat as he shut the door softly behind him. He put the box of donuts on the small makeshift table as he saw the familiar braid held up with red ribbon seated on the couch.
"I -." He coughed and cleared some of the hoarseness from his voice as he spoke to the back of her head. "I got some breakfast."
Silence.
He liked to consider himself a patient man. He patiently helped Octavia over the years. He helped her with math homework when she struggled in middle school. He helped her buy the things she always wanted but never could have growing up. He helped get her back to sleep when nigh-terrors would strike her in the middle of night. He however wasn't patient when it came to his sister ignoring him.
"Octavia." His voice came out in a soft grunt. He was irritated. He missed her skipping toward the door to greet him or when she would play her music in the bathroom while she got ready.
They grew up having to be silent. Silence was loud and he hated every ounce of it.
She turned her head toward him and he sighed at the face that looked like his own. Her green eyes focused on him for a minute before they rolled away in annoyance.
It irritated him more than he already was. The only person he really talked to was his sister and the feeling that she hated him was continuing to eat away at him. He couldn't have her hate him. They were a team. They were the perfect pair.
To keep himself from saying the wrong thing, he huffed and walked the small space of the hallway toward his bedroom. He passed out on top of his bed fully clothed. When he woke up and got ready for work, he knew he was alone.
The box of donuts was empty.
…
The thing about working for a country club is that you either pretend to be someone you're not or you stay completely and utterly silent. Invisible even.
He often chose the second option. Mostly because he couldn't stand people who would flock around their money and throw it away for a stupid dinner or a round of golf.
It was his twenty-second Friday working at The Ark. People came dressed to the nine's. As if appealing to their snobby friends was a personal success.
He tugged on the collar of his white dress shirt. They had to wear it buttoned all the way up and sometimes it felt more like a collar than anything else. He tightly smiled at the right people and stood in the dining room as still as possible.
That part wasn't hard for him. He grew up having to be quiet. Having to be still.
The part that got to him was the fact that he stood among people that treated him as if they owned him. It might have been pride or maybe even envy that caused him to hate everyone in the entire dining room as they sipped on their hundred-dollar wine.
Looking around the room was what caused him to spot her.
He wasn't sure he would have noticed her on the streets or in a stupid bar his friends dragged him to but he certainly noticed her now.
Her blonde hair was swept up in and intricate design. Her blue eyes dancing around the table with the guests that sat around her. He didn't notice them and he wasn't sure she did either. Though she smiled, it reminded him of the one he wore. It was empty and almost flat.
Her eyes lifted toward his and he quickly averted his gaze and stared down at the ground.
…
Smoking would kill him.
Octavia always told him that after he brought a new pack and he would tell her that there are far worse things he could die from besides tobacco.
He came close to death when he was younger because of his stupid father and his absent-minded mother. He came close to death when his friends dragged him to a bar last summer and he had more alcohol than ever before. He came close to death last week with Octavia's boyfriend.
He ran a hand through his hair as he brought the small stick between his teeth and took a hit. The crisp spring air struck him with warmth and a bit of a breeze. That was life in North Carolina though.
The harsh noise of the backdoor opening caused him to almost drop his cigarette.
She came running out the backdoor, slightly out of breath. She ran toward the railing and breathed shakily before mumbling something to herself. He stared at her.
He would wonder years from now that if he wasn't in this exact spot at this exact time, if he would have even met her.
She must have felt his gaze again because she lifted her head and spun it toward him. She jumped and clutched a hand toward her black dress.
She was smaller up close. Her features were more delicate. He wanted to punch himself for thinking such things. "You scared me."
He continued staring at her. Hating himself for warming up to the voice of someone who was just stating a fact. Maybe the lack of conversation with Octavia was bothering him more than he thought. "You lost, princess?"
Her eyes hardened a bit at the name he gave her. Her lips no longer in the fake smile but now set in a firm line. "No." She bit out as she crossed her arms. He noticed goose bumps pop from her skin. It might have been colder than he had thought. "I just needed-." Her words halted and she shook her head. "Why am I even telling you this?"
This angered him. He glanced at her perfect dress, one he was sure Octavia would stop and stare at but make up an excuse to why she didn't like it (even though he knew she did) in envy. This girl probably never had to work for anything a day in her life. She didn't understand the fear of late payments or checks that bounced. She probably went to some rich Ivy League and had a perfect life set out for her.
He glared at her before flicking his cigarette to the ground and turning to make his way back inside.
"Wait! I didn't -." He turned toward her to see the wind blowing through the fallen hairs around her face. "I didn't mean anything bad by what I said. I just meant that I shouldn't be throwing my problems onto anyone." The line seemed rehearsed. Like she had been told that over and over again.
He stood still.
"It's just so claustrophobic in there." She continued as she chewed on her bottom lip. "I felt like I couldn't breathe."
He didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything at all. He merely listened to her voice. How it came out like a whisper but louder than a secret.
"I just couldn't put up with it all again." She looked down at the ground before she turned her head to look out toward the golf course. The setting sun hit her hair perfectly. Making her light up like a Van Gogh painting.
"So don't."
She turned her head toward him. Looked at him as if his voice startled her even though she knew he was there. She got a small smile on her face as she shook her head. "It's not that easy."
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave a weak shrug himself. He wasn't good at words really. Sure he had his moments of clarity but otherwise he felt like he just spoke to an empty room. Maybe he had. "Life isn't easy, princess."
She locked her eyes with his. "I guess you're right." She was about to open her mouth again (he knew this because he found himself staring at it) when the doors opened up beside him once again.
A boy with long sluggish hair walked out. He glanced at the crisp suit in envy before he casted his eyes toward the ground. He didn't raise them until he felt two pairs of eyes on him.
"This guy bothering you, Clarke?"
He glanced at the girl before him. Clarke. The name fit her in a way. It was elegant and simple.
Her name swirled around in his head like a mantra.
Clarke. Clarke. Clarke.
"No." Her voice was in a soft whisper once again.
He glanced at the boy beside her and narrowed his eyes as he possessively wrapped his arm around Clarke's waist. He didn't have time for this. He headed toward the doors but stopped when he heard her voice call out again asking him for his name.
"Bellamy." His voice wasn't soft. It was harsh and loud and it came out in a grunt more than anything else. He thought about the difference in their voices. His was hard and crisp. Hers was soft and velvet. Like night and day or a harsh winter compared to a spring morning.
He glanced at her once more before he turned his back. It didn't matter. He wasn't ever going to see her again.
…
Until he did, two days later.