"Clarke," Bellamy breathed, widening his brown eyes, "what the hell are you doing here?"

Clarke laughed bitterly. She almost contemplated telling him as she looked into his eyes. They looked so different from how they usually looked at her, like he actually cared about her.

"Uh, can I stay here for just a little while? Like, maybe a few nights?" She asked hopefully. She practically knew the female Blakes as family but Bellamy was almost a stranger. Invitations were never asked for from them until now. "If it's okay with you," She said quickly.

He nodded then silently gestured for her to come in.

"O isn't going to be here till like, nine, she has a study group-" which was code for hanging out with Lincoln, "but you can take a shower and borrow some of her clothes."

He was avoiding looking at her now, she knew. He looked at the places around her, the couch, the history documentary playing on the TV (or at least she guessed it was), the floor. Anywhere so he wouldn't have to notice her.

"Thank you so much." She almost contemplating hugging him. She really needed one of those right now. Human contact, the kind that wasn't a slap in the face. Warmth. Love. Comfort. She looked over at him once and trailed toward Octavia's bathroom and ran a shower.


How stupid am I? Clarke wondered, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. Running off just because you'd rather do a finger painting than save lives? How pathetic can you get?

She wiped herself off with a spare towel from the closet and did her best to keep her eyes from looking so puffy. Walking down the hall to Octavia's room, she noticed the family portraits she'd seen a million times. You can't stay with them forever. They aren't your real family.

"Who is my family?" She asked out loud, stopping at a particular photo of the three Blakes. They were all grinning from ear to ear. Real smiles, unlike the ones that hung at her house, plastered grins adorning each family photoshoot her mom would spend a fortune on. A door behind her creaked open and she nearly dropped her towel in surprise. "Jesus!"

Bellamy stood behind the door, knitting his eyebrows. "Did you say something?"

Clarke shook her head. "Just talking to myself."

"Weirdo," Bellamy said, smiling.

She flipped him off and turned away, walking again, but she could still feel his look.


Octavia came home and took Clarke in her arms immediately. The familiar crushing of her ribs now felt so much more comforting than usual. She would miss this when she'd have to come home.

"You okay?" Octavia whispered in her ear, still wrapping Clarke in her arms.

Clarke debated lying, but ultimately shook her head. "No."

They released each other, and Octavia turned toward Bellamy. "We'll be in my room. Don't bother us or I swear I'll bite your ear off."

Bellamy stuck his hands up in a surrendering motion. "No worries."


Octavia was sobbing by the time Clarke had finished the story, but Clarke was mostly dry-eyed, only a few tears slipping down her cheeks.

"God Clarke, why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Octavia had her arms around Clarke's neck.

Clarke sighed. "It wasn't this bad until tonight. And I mean, she only slapped me, but she's never been physical, you know?"

But it was bad. The straw that had broken the camel's back had been the physicality that took place that evening, yet it somehow felt minimal compared to what had been going on before. It was constant pushing and Clarke having to muster up the strength she had left to pull away. It was only tonight that she felt that she broke out of her glass castle.

"Only? Come on, Clarke, she hurt you with intention."

"And I'm still going to have to be the one apologizing when I'm forced to come home," Clarke pressed her lips into a line, "it's going to be easier to do that if I stop making myself the victim."

Octavia opened her mouth into an O. "Don't you dare. Stay with us. Please? I know our house isn't as big as yours and we're sort of surviving on my mom's night shifts at the hospital but please stay. You're eighteen, your mother doesn't have custody over you. Just until you go to Chicago or California or somewhere else far from here. Please?"

Clarke shifted awkwardly against the carpet flooring. The offer was awfully tempting. "I don't know, O. Shouldn't you ask your mom about this?"

"Please. You practically live here anyway. She wouldn't even notice."

Clarke snorted. "Maybe. But I'm getting a job. I'm not mooching off of your mom's paycheck."


It was three in the morning when she snuck out of Octavia's room, removing a skinny arm lying across her stomach, and tip-toed down the stairs, wincing whenever she made a sound.

It was the typical nightmare; Wells on the hospital bed, dying. But this time instead of Abby having to perform the surgery to save him, it was Clarke. And she had no idea what she was doing.

The dreams always came suddenly but never out of the blue. Once a week at the least she'd wake up panting in her bed, pooled with sweat; drenched in a nightmare. Sometimes it was her dad, other times it was Wells. But they'd always hit her so fast that she'd wake up on the verge of screaming her lungs out.

She slowly walked her way toward the kitchen but noticed the lights were still on.

Weird, Clarke thought, but walked closer and closer till she saw a familiar figure standing by the island, tall, dark, muscular. Bellamy.

"Can't sleep, Princess?" He asked, a hint of surprise in his groggy voice.

She shook her head. "Never can."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" He asked, then realized the rudeness in his words and corrected himself, "I mean, no offense."

Clarke laughed bitterly. "None taken. Nightmares. No big deal."

"No, I mean, like, why aren't you at home?" Bellamy asked, softer this time. It was almost like he cared. Like he genuinely wanted to know what was going on. But then she remembered that she was trying to get him to like her, not be afraid of her. The last thing she needed was for Bellamy to treat her like they were walking on eggshells.

She sighed. "Mom's being a bit of a bitch. It's whatever."

"What, mom didn't buy you the right dress for the donation gala this weekend?" He asked, this time malice in his voice. "Or did she get you the wrong color iPhone? Which one, Princess?"

Clarke winced at the sudden change in temperature in the room. It felt twenty degrees cooler, like all of a sudden they went from fairly civil back to being complete assholes to each other. She should've expected this after the few days of momentary bliss.

She almost heard her mother's voice in him.

"I didn't choose to be this way. God, do you think you can read me? You can't. If you really thought that low of me, you obviously don't know me at all."

Bellamy rubbed an eye and sighed. "I'm-"

"Goodnight Bellamy."

Neither of them slept well for the rest of the night.


The next morning, the three ate their breakfast in silence.

"How did everyone sleep?" Octavia asked hopefully, her eyes flashing in between the two.

"Fantastic," Bellamy grumbled.

Clarke let out a cold laugh. "Right."

"Is there something I don't know about?" Octavia narrowed her eyes. They both shook her head and that was the end of conversation for the morning.


When Octavia hopped into Clarke's car, she immediately drilled her.

"What the hell happened?" She asked, turning the music to a mute. "I thought you guys were getting close to becoming like, friends or something."

Clarke turned the music back up. "It's nothing. Your brother is an ass, end of story."


Octavia: what did u say to clarke

Bellamy: something i kind of really regret

Octavia: and what exactly is that

Bellamy: kind of called her a spoiled princess

Octavia: jesus bell

do u ever turn off the asshole switch and be nice to people?

Bellamy: i'll say sorry

Octavia: its gonna take more than that u know


The next time he sees her, she's in the library during his aide period where he works.

He feels bad. Like, really bad. She's kind of bossy and a little too fiery for his taste, but she's staying with him and his sister for a few more days and he'd rather not torture the two of them with silence.

She's musing through the art history books when he taps her shoulder, covered by golden hair.

"Excuse me, have you seen Art by Andrew Graham-Dixon? I just need to read it again," He said, giving her a crooked smile.

She looked at him with a grimace. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here for the period, and besides, I think we're having a poetry reading here in a few minutes."

She almost smiled for a moment but then spoke before he could be sure. "You're so…"

"Charming?" He asked, but she's already turning and walking into another aisle, away from him. "Wholesome?" He continued, following her.

She snorted, turning toward him again, whipping her hair. "Unwelcome."

"You know, you aren't as bad as I thought you were, you know that?"

"And you're just as big of an asshole as I always thought you were," She rolled her eyes, scowling. She scanned her eyes toward the big shelf in front of them before drawing a book out and slamming it into his chest.

Art: Over 2,500 Works from Cave to Contemporary by Andrew Graham-Dixon, it read.


Bellamy: ur right she's still pissed

Octavia: told u

besides why do u care? ;)

Bellamy: considering she's staying with us for a few more days i'd like her not to be super pissed at me the entire time

Octavia: few more days? try the rest of high school

Bellamy: WHAT

Octavia: forgot to tell you ha nvm tell you later

anyway, she likes art

if you want her forgiveness do something with that


When Clarke walked to the school parking lot to go back to the Blake's, there was a huge set of oil paints, canvases, and a brand-new copy of Art: Over 2,500 Works from Cave to Contemporary by Andrew Graham-Dixon waiting in the passenger seat, with a piece of paper ripped from a notebook signed -B.

She broke out into a smile.


kinda felt like this chapter was a huge block of dialogue so i apologize for that but hopefully the fifth chapter is a little better? and SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING im a student obviously and updating can be hard w tests and assignments you feel me