Hot, liquid anger had flooded her body, poisoning every cell and turning her mind into an irrational, cold-blooded war general. She tried to push it away, but she knew it wouldn't help. She had pushed it away for too many days now. The issue wasn't major, by no means, but she couldn't concentrate on anything else and she desperately needed to send it off for good. She needed to blow off some steam, scream, release the tension. She needed to do something.

She put on her shoes. She'd go to Raven. She'd be the right person to vent to, she'd look at her unimpressed and solve the whole issue with one sentence.

She slammed the door behind her, with a loud noise which made her cringe. It wasn't as relieving as she thought it would be.

On her way down, she stopped. She couldn't go to Raven. She was with Shaw-something tonight and she had made it very clear that she didn't want to be disturbed in any way. Plus, she probably was too close to her mother to be truly neutral anyway. Clarke winced. Jasper and Monty were probably free but they'd either be high on jokes or be worried forever that she would never be on right terms with her mum again.

No, she needed someone who would forget about the argument soon, who wouldn't take it too seriously and, basically, just let her rage. She grinned to herself. How ridiculous, that she hadn't thought of Octavia sooner.

Walking to the Blakes helped. Buildings and trees stood dark against the grey sky, slight gusts of wind blew through the streets. People scurried home from work. Not too long and it would turn dark. It felt invigorating – she had a plan, she had somewhere to go to.

The apartment of the Blake siblings was something like the group's base. They met there often, for film nights, birthday parties or games. Octavia lived together with her older brother, they had a nice place and people liked to be there.

Clarke wondered whether Octavia was home anyway, she usually had late classes on Tuesdays. Bellamy might be home. Clarke shrugged – at this point, she just wanted to talk to anyone, really.

She smiled. She hadn't liked Bellamy at first, she actually hated him. They had first met at Octavia's birthday party two years ago and immediately had a huge fight over a minor organisation detail. After that, they couldn't quite stand each other and be in the same room without fighting, always taking opposite sides. Months had passed until each of them realised that the other just wanted the best for everyone as well. They actually started to respect and rely on each other and even hugged after Christmas break – something which Octavia thought "I'd never see". To be honest ... at this point, Clarke couldn't really imagine a life without him.

Come think of it, Bellamy might even help her more than anyone else.

It was him who opened the door. He stood in the frame, filled it out completely and small Clarke had to take a step back. Damn, he looked good. He probably came right out of the shower, his hair lied in wet curls on his head and he had that smirking grin on his face.

"Hi, Clarke."

And he questioningly looked at her and suddenly she realised why she was there and all the raging electricity was back. She took a breath, got into anger-mode and pushed past him.

"Hi. My mother – I need to vent my anger, can I talk to Octavia?" She looked at him expectantly.

Bellamy closed the door.

"Nah, O isn't here."

Clarke kicked off her shoes and her leather jacket, made an impatient noise and went into the kitchen. "Do you have something to drink?"

"Sure," Bellamy said and followed her. She had already opened the fridge and he said, overly permissive: "Help yourself."

She found a bottle which looked like alcohol, filled two little glasses with the liquid and gave one to Bellamy. She took a shot and groaned.

"Everything all right?", Bellamy asked and emptied his glass.

"Obviously not", she said dryly and looked out of the window. She felt the alcohol burning through her body, absorbing the majority of the icy war she sensed in her blood. She took a calm breath. She felt him watching her behind her. Her breathing evened out and the tension in her shoulders steadily vanished. She cleared her throat. "My mother is running wild again."

"Want to tell me about it?"

She winced, she had forgotten how hoarse he could sound like. She turned around while he continued to speak. "I mean, I know I'm not Octavia but I'm sure I'm able to listen just like her."

"I actually just need someone to scream to."

He laughed. "I can sure do that as well."

In the end, she didn't really scream. Most of the heat was gone after the walk, the drink and after seeing him. They sat down on the couch in his room – his room was bigger (and tidier) than O's and had this wonderfully comfortable couch, which is why it was something like a living room and usually became the centre of their meetings pretty fast, so it was super, super natural for two friends to sit next to each other on a cosy couch, right? And making use of the space, being so spread out that their knees were close to touching, right? … Right?

Clarke told Bellamy the story in a calm way and with few words, while he looked intently and with a small line between his eyebrows at her. She summarised how her mother and her had exchanged numerous e-mails during the last days which became more and more passive-aggressive. Basically, her mother wanted her to take different classes, to talk to professors about her progress, to dilly-dally less and work harder. Clarke tried to tell her that she was doing what she could, that she liked her classes and already worked well. It went back and forth and ended with an e-mail an hour ago. Her mother had made a job appointment for her at the local hospital.

"I mean, I don't even WANT to work at the hospital!", Clarke burst out. "I have enough other stuff to do! And, besides, why does she want me to do that, anyway? Sh-"

"She cares for you, Clarke", Bellamy said softly.

Clarke looked at him. His eyes were really soft and caring and it confused her a lot, so she looked away and across the room.

"But she doesn't have to!", she mumbled faintly. "I moved here months ago and I'm doing pretty fine." She took a deep breath and stared out of the window. "I really don't know why she can't trust me I'm doing things well."

A moment passed. Then another. Bellamy shifted and put his arm on the backrest. "Want to hear my opinion on that?"

His eyes were more … concentrated now. After a short nod by Clarke, he continued: "You once told me to use not only my heart, but also my head – I know you were half joking back then, but it was honestly good advice nevertheless. And this is the advice I'm giving you."

She remembered her comment, but she couldn't really follow him.

"Look ..." He shifted again. "You obviously love each other a lot. But this might be better solved with a bit of head as well. Tell her to let it be-"

"I did!"

"No, like, really. Dunno, call her tomorrow, say you thought about it, in a calm way, and that you will do it your way now. Make your own mistakes. Stuff like that. And let it be and leave her alone with it."

Clarke's eyes ran over his features. Estimating. He had nice laugher lines around his eyes.

After a while, she looked away, rolled her lips and cleared her throat. "Yeah, that might be a good idea."

They exchanged a silent mischievous smile and looked out of the window together. Wind brushed through the trees in front of it, making the empty branches perform rhythmic dances against the cloudy sky. It looked like it might rain soon.

"Thanks, Bellamy. I feel better now."

"You're welcome, Clarke."

She shifted, let her eyes sparkle and looked at him expectantly. "So, what's going on in your life?"

"Not much."

Clarke looked at him with a risen eyebrow. There were always things going on in Bellamy's life. He worked in the security department of a shopping centre and Clarke didn't know what girl in his life was relevant right now (or if there even was one).

"Work's shitty at the moment. Something got stolen in one of the shops – luckily it wasn't during my shift. The boss is totally pissed off about it."

"Did he fire anyone?"

"Not yet. Happened yesterday, so no-one really knows who's to blame yet."

"That doesn't sound very good."

"Nah, it doesn't." He paused. "O's with her boyfriend all the time, so when I'm home, I don't see her very often." He sounded sad.

Clarke let that sink in. It surprised her that Bellamy actually shared his sorrows with her because she hadn't really noticed him doing that before. It flattered her that he actually thought she would able to help him, that he took her seriously like that. But one of her off-hand comments without much afterthoughts had indeed made him feel better once apparently, right? So maybe her opinions were important to him. And today, he released her tension and maybe all these unintentional admittances and comments which let to them supporting each other – today, on this couch … Maybe it was the beginning of something new. And she knew it was something she wanted to cherish, protect. Honour.

It caused her to say seriously: "She sounds happy whenever I talk to her, though."

"I don't like him."

She laughed. "You liked none of her boyfriends, Bellamy! Seriously, Lincoln's cool. He's very friendly, and strong, and he's steady where Octavia is not. He's her rock. They fit together pretty well."

Bellamy snorted. He wore that firm expression, jaw tightened, puckered brows. Clarke scanned his face and realised where the problem was. She swallowed. He wanted Octavia's rock to be him.

"You know she will always love you?", she asked quietly. "She will always rely on you and she'll never stop come to you."

Bellamy still didn't look very convinced. He winced. "I don't believe he's really good for her. Do you know where he grew up?"

"Gosh, Bellamy, yes, I know where he comes from!", Clarke groaned. "But that doesn't really mean anything about his values, strength or weaknesses, does it? … It's like you growing up poor and still becoming that awesome dude that you are."

Bellamy looked at her like she was a discovery he tried to figure out. Then he snorted and moved away, but still in thought. Clarke hid a smile. He knew she was right.

The silence between them stretched, but it was a comfortable silence with both of them in their respective thoughts. Then Bellamy looked at the clock and pulled a face. "I have to be at work in half an hour."

"Let me just collect my stuff quickly, then I'll leave you alone." Clarke stood up. "Night's shift?"

Bellamy nodded, then accompanied her to the door.

"Thanks for listening", she said.

"Well, I thank you."

They grinned at it each other and it was dangerously devoted. Hastily, she got dressed. "Now I'll just have to brace myself for that talk with my mum."

"I'm sure you'll be fine."

She glanced at him. He looked like he really meant it and suddenly, she was really happy she talked to him and not to anyone else. She swallowed. "See you on Friday? It's film night."

"I know, my room will be occupied with hungry and noisy people", he grinned and opened the door. She smiled and touched his arm for a good-bye, stepped through the door and pressed the elevator button.

When she looked back, Bellamy was still standing in his door, but he looked deep in thought. His expression suddenly worried, he looked as if he was about to kick the wall. "You know what, Clarke? You can be happy you still have a mother at all."

A wave of freezing outrage went through her, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She knew what Bellamy was aiming for but she wouldn't let him go there. "I am. I know how it feels, Bellamy. I lost a parent, too."

She wasn't sure if she was able to kick him out of his guilt trip, but his next remark sounded more deliberating than depressed. "Maybe that's the problem. She probably doesn't want to loose you as well."

The elevator door opened with a ding. "See you on Friday, Princess", he said, gave her a last, dismissive smile and all Clarke could do was to smile back and step into the elevator.

Bellamy's door was shut down before the elevator's doors were fully closed.