Clarke got up early, too early, according to the twinge in her head. It wasn't a pounding, so much as an uncomfortable pulsing, and she chocked that up to a win as far as guzzling water the night before. She didn't want to see Bellamy. He had a problem, obviously, and though she suspected it wasn't with her, she didn't think she was up to dealing with his anger. Not after the way his words the night before had sliced just deep enough to draw blood.

But there was a lot to do, she still had to plan the party, he was Octavia's brother after all. So she slipped out of the house while it was still dark, deciding to go for a run for the first time in what felt like ages.

It was late enough in the year that the street lamps were still lit when she left, just after seven. Her breath puffed out in little clouds in front of her, and the cold air wicked at the sweat that beaded on her forehead. She'd been in better shape, but the burning in her lungs wasn't unbearable, so she pressed on when her legs began to tingle.

She didn't know what Bellamy's problem was. Something had clearly upset him, and it was also clear that whatever it was, he didn't want to talk about it. And he was right, maybe, in that she overstepped her bounds sometimes, but there was a reason she'd agreed to go to medical school, and among other things that included a deep desire to help people. She wasn't always good at it. And sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, it was unsolicited.

Clarke remembered the way he'd looked at her, that maybe we're friends. She felt used, and stupid, and angry. His life was his life, and he would leave soon, and she would go back to eating takeout every night and picking up people at bars. It had worked fine for her before. She even had her painting to focus on now, something she'd wanted since she was a kid. She didn't need him.

But she wanted him. Even after last night. She wanted him to stay.

Coming to a stop, she rested her hands on her knees, panting. She'd gone farther than she'd meant to, subconsciously putting as much distance between her and her problems as her body could manage. Somehow, she'd made it all the way to the water, the crash of waves punctuated by the sound of gulls overhead. The water was grey, like most other days, and she leaned against a tree, watching it while she caught her breath. On the beach, an older couple walked hand in hand, tufts of white hair fluttering in the breeze.

Clarke had wanted that, once upon a time. And then her father had died, and it turned out her mother betrayed him, and the man that she tried to use to patch herself back together after all that decided she wasn't enough for him.

So it probably wasn't in the cards for her, the whole growing old with someone thing. She would just have to settle for painting and partying, and live her whole life off the high of proving her mother wrong. It could be worse.

She turned back, legs already complaining at the thought of running the miles back to her apartment. But despite what her mother might say, Clarke was not a quitter, and she shuffled back into a jogging pace, just hoping to make it back before the others were awake so she could shower in peace.

The sun was almost up by the time she got there, and in the middle of October she knew that meant it was close to ten. Surprisingly, the place was still quiet, and she managed to slip into the shower without waking Octavia, who was still passed out on the couch.

As she stepped out of the shower, she realized she hadn't brought a change of clothes. Hoping the others were still asleep, she slid the door open, and ran straight into Bellamy. He reached out automatically to steady her, hand clamped around her arm. As she straightened up, his eyes slid down to where the towel barely wrapped around her chest. She shook off his hand, annoyed. It reminded her too much of the last time this had happened, and how different things had been between them.

"See something you like?" She snapped, taking a step back. He blinked, the sleepy confusion on his face quickly turning to irritation.

"Nothing I haven't seen before." He said, shrugging. Clarke sucked in a breath, sad, but unsurprised, to find that his attitude hadn't changed from the night before. She clutched the towel a little more tightly around herself, hating the way he made her feel raw and soft and exposed just by looking at her. It hadn't been as much of a problem when he wasn't using that as a weapon against her. But he was now, and it was effective.

She had to physically bite her tongue to keep from replying, but it wouldn't get them anywhere. He was angry and bitter about something, and Clarke was quickly finding just how contagious those two things could be. Stepping around him, she padded toward her bedroom. She waited to hear him close the door, to start the shower, but nearly five minutes passed before she finally heard the water run. It sounded like he had just been standing there.

She flopped down on her bed, naked, and groaned when her phone started buzzing. She picked it up without looking at the screen.

"Hello?" She mumbled, voice partially muffled into her comforter.

"Um, Clarke, hi, is this a bad time?" The voice on the other end was female, and vaguely familiar, and Clarke turned her face just enough to check the caller ID.

"Oh." She murmured, sitting up and pulling the blanket over her chest, even though no one could see her. "No, Monroe, hi. What's up?" Sitting there, she suddenly noticed a bruise on her shin. She didn't remember getting it, and poked at it with her toe. It throbbed enough to be new.

"I was just wondering if we were doing gifts, you know, tomorrow night? It would be awkward if only half of us did…" Monroe trailed off. Clarke pressed the heel of her palm against her eye, watching spots dance behind it.

"I don't know." She said tiredly. "I'm sure Octavia will, and I guess I probably should too. I'm not even sure how many people are coming. If O invites people who don't know him that well, they probably won't."

It had occurred to her that Octavia might invite the crew, Monty and Jasper and the whole crowd. Bellamy would probably get along well with Miller, as long as Miller kept his mouth shut about certain things. With the mood the eldest Blake was currently in, Clarke wasn't sure that was a good idea. Then again, so far he seemed to be reserving his mood swings specifically for her.

"What are you getting him?" Monroe asked, pulling her back to the moment. Clarke fought the urge to groan.

"I'm not actually sure yet. I haven't known him that long, you know. I don't really know him." I thought I did, though.

"He's a huge history nerd." Monroe mused. "Anything Roman is usually good, or just like historical figures and stuff. He's actually pretty easy to please."

Something in her voice tipped Clarke off to what she had begun to suspect last night. The two of them had definitely been more than coworkers at some point. She sighed.

"Thanks. I'll figure something out. You're coming at seven, right?"

They spoke for a little while longer, hammering out some of the details. Monroe was bringing at least twelve other people, ones who'd worked with and liked Bellamy. It probably wasn't going to be a big party, but at least it wouldn't be Octavia and Clarke standing in a room, the latter pretending she didn't want to punch the birthday boy all night.

Eventually, Bellamy left to go meet up with Finn, and Clarke dragged herself out into the living room, collapsing on top of an unconscious Octavia.

"Wake up." She muttered, bouncing a little on top of her friend. Octavia groaned.

"You're the worst. I hate you. I hope you die."

The death threats were par for the course, generally, and Clarke smiled. It wasn't too often that she was the first one up out of the two of them.

"I need to talk to you about your brother's birthday before he gets back." She insisted.

Octavia rolled over with a sigh, opening one eye irritably.

"What?" She asked flatly, looking entirely unamused at the wake up call.

"Who are you inviting?"

"Um, probably the guys. Lincoln is flying out so if he can make it on time he'll be there."

Clarke raised an eyebrow at that. The last time he'd been in town Bellamy had just gotten here as well, but as far as she knew, they'd never met. Octavia caught the look on her face and rolled her eyes.

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Oh really?" Clarke grinned. "How many of the guys you've dated have actually met your brother?"

Octavia thought about it for a moment. Clarke rolled her eyes.

"I'm guessing that means none. It's okay to be excited about it, you know."

But Octavia was too cool for that, so she just shrugged. Clarke ran through her to-do list for the day.

"Okay, you need to get the cake, and the booze, I'll get the rest of the food." Clarke started ticking things off on her fingers. "Make sure people know to be here by seven, or to wait until like eight if they're going to be late, just in case."

Octavia nodded, falling back asleep.

"And don't you have a client in like, twenty minutes?" Clarke wondered. Some pushy businessman had paid O significantly above her usual fee in order to get a standing training session every Saturday at noon. Beneath her, her friend groaned.

Just then, Bellamy walked back through the door, taking in his roommate sitting on his sister with barely a raised brow. Clarke ignored him, but climbed off the couch.

"Get going." Clarke muttered, prodding Octavia. The lump on the couch got up with a sigh, shooting her a reproachful glance as it retreated for the door. A few minutes later, the tell-tale roar of a motorcycle announced her departure. Clarke turned to Bellamy, evaluating him. He didn't look openly hostile, but she wasn't sure that meant anything. He was watching her back, arms crossed.

"I'm not going to be here tomorrow night." He told her, and she understood that it was just a courtesy. She also wondered if he was digging to find out whether she'd remembered his birthday.

"I know." She said, meeting his stare. It felt like a standoff, and it also felt stupid. She dropped her shoulders with a sigh. "Octavia said she's taking you out to dinner."

He just nodded. The energy between them wasn't awkward, exactly, but things had been so easy before all this that they could both feel acutely the shift in the dynamic.

"Okay." Clarke shrugged, turning on her heel. She had food to arrange, and still needed to figure out a gift for him. Even if he was an asshole. "I'm going out."

Once upon a time she would have told him where, and a couple days ago he probably would have asked if she didn't. But that wasn't where they were anymore.

"Okay."

.

Later, Clarke sat in the corner of Caffe Artigiano, ticking things off her mental list. She was in the middle of trying to remember whether or not Bellamy had said he liked spicy food, or that he loathed it, when suddenly Raven dropped into the seat across from her.

"Hey." Clarke blinked. Liked, she decided. She was pretty sure Bellamy liked spicy food.

"Hi." Raven sipped at a mug of what Clarke was sure was black coffee. The girl was too healthy for her own good. Then again, this place had some of the best coffee in the city. Raven peered curiously at the near mountain of bags heaped at the base of the table. "What's all this stuff?"

"It's for-" Clarke suddenly cut off, slapping a hand to her forehead. "God I'm such an idiot. What are you doing tomorrow?"

Raven eyed her suspiciously.

"I don't think anything. Are you having a party or something?" She took another look at the bags, two of which were from a party store. Clarke winced.

"Yeah, it's Bellamy's birthday, I don't know why I didn't think to invite you." She muttered. Raven just took another gulp of coffee, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe because I don't know him?"

"Well," Clarke took out her phone, shooting off a quick text to Octavia. "You know him better than everyone else Octavia is bringing."

Raven raised an eyebrow.

"The whole gang? Why?"

"He doesn't know a ton of people here. And a party of two people is kind of pathetic." She said, starting to wish that they had just done that anyways. "But I ran into someone he used to work with here, and she's going to bring some of his old coworkers, so it should be fine."

When she looked up from her phone, Raven was staring intently at her.

"What?" Her hand went to her cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

"No." Raven shook her head. "Something's up with you. What's wrong?"

They hadn't been friends for a particularly long time, but then again most of Clarke's closest friends were recent ones, as her med school buddies hadn't been her favourite people to be around. They say no one has an ego like a surgeon, and Clarke now personally knew that to be true. But Raven was looking at her like she knew, and in the barely five minutes they'd been talking, she'd already picked up on Clarke's bad mood.

"Just suddenly remembering why having a roommate is a pain in the ass." She muttered. Raven leaned back in her seat.

"Ah, yes. Especially male ones." She said knowingly. Raven often complained to Clarke about her own roommate, a mouthy engineer who had a name none of them could be bothered to correctly pronounce. They just called him Wick.

"Especially surly males whose pants we would like to get into." Clarke agreed. Raven looked affronted.

"I do not want to get into Wick's pants." She replied, sticking out her bottom lip. Clarke laughed.

"Yes, you do. Not that I can blame you. He's very pretty."

Raven looked for a moment as though she were debating sticking out her tongue.

"So is Bellamy." She eventually retorted. Clarke shrugged.

"Yeah, but I admitted I had a thing for him already. You're still in denial."

Raven suddenly perked up.

"Had a thing? As in you don't anymore? It's only been a few days." When Clarke didn't answer the brunette grew thoughtful. "Did he do something gross? Did you see him naked or something?" She wondered aloud. A stricken expression clouded her face. "Was it, you know…disappointing? Small?"

Though the innuendo was not lost on Clarke, she chose to ignore it.

"He's just being an asshole, that's all. It's probably for the best anyways. It's not like it could go anywhere. I don't do long-term relationships, let alone long distance. Besides, apparently he hates my guts, so." She shrugged again.

"Hmm." Raven drained her mug, watching Clarke. "So what time's this party?"