A/N: The resolution of Lexagate? Warning; This chapter is WAY too fucking long at 8.4k words. I am sorry, but totally not. Forgive me?
Sleepless last night, Bellamy was up early the next morning eager to stay productive. He wanted to keep his body moving so his mind didn't have time for idle thought. He cooked Octavia and Lincoln a nice hearty meal before they would leave. The couple had to attend a conference sort of class day out of town and would be gone for the next three to four days. He saw them off with a kiss to his sister's head and a handshake from Lincoln before retreating to his little room. Being the smallest room in the house, it seemed to be his favorite. He spent the better part of the morning on his computer sorting emails and other work-related things he could get done at home. Just before noon, Bellamy was getting antsy and his brain was working overtime again. He kept his curtains drawn since last night, and he couldn't deny wanting to look. He wanted to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling. But he preoccupied himself instead. A workout seemed to fit the bill for a distraction perfectly, so clad in only basketball shorts as per his work out uniform, he went through his routine. Once he completed the full cycle though, he didn't stop. He continued. He was working out beyond what he likely should have been, but it was really the best distraction. Counting reps, watching his form, and keeping his muscles aligned in certain activities. It provided the escape he needed from his own mind. All was well, his body tired and glistening, but he carried on. Hand on the pull bar, he hoisted his muscular body up over and over until suddenly the bar gave way from the door jamb and crashed down on top of him as he had crashed down on the floor. A searing pain went through his head and leg, mingling somewhere in the middle to amplify his overall soreness from overexerting himself. A bit hazy, his view was blurred and his hand instinctively went to the back of his head. A hot liquid coated his fingers and he pulled them away to bear witness to what it was: Blood.
"Shit." He mumbled, speaking hurt his brain. Giving himself a moment, he looked for the nearest fabric and it was in the form of a crumpled up t-shirt. He balled it up and gently pressed it against the source of his blood. With one last bit of effort, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, turning to lean himself against the desk on his left. This is when he finally got to see the rest of the damage. It was his knee, the cap was off-center, sitting where it most certainly shouldn't be. He grimaced at the sight but imagined it wasn't broken. Nothing else seemed amiss aside from the molding that had once surrounded the door jamb. It had given away under his reps and allowed the bar to unlock from the door frame. Irritated, he thought to call out for help but remembered he was alone. The t-shirt staunching his wound was a mid-tone gray before collecting the blood it was now holding. He pulled it off long enough to gauge his blood loss before pressing it back to the searing wound. This is when he knew he needed help because it dawned on him he couldn't walk, probably needed stitches, and likely had a concussion. The only thing he could think to do was call for help, so he fumbled above him to find his phone on the desk and quickly hit the speed dial.
"Hey, what's up?" Octavia answered on the second ring and was clearly confused as to why he was calling.
"Hey." His voice was strained and sounded outside his body. Octavia instantly knew something was wrong, she didn't let him say anything before asking.
"What's wrong?" She had an urgency to her tone.
"So uh…" He paced his words. He had to think it through but both thinking and speaking hurt. His head was like a hollow ball with a million percussive noisemakers going off in it. "The pull bar fell off the door."
"What? Are you okay? Did it hit you?" She demanded more information and Lincoln told her to pull over in the background.
"Uhm." He blinked out a blur. "Yeah, I was on it."
"Bellamy, are you okay?" She demanded an answer.
"I have a little cut on my head and my knee looks fucked up, but yeah, I'm okay." He explained, trying to lessen the reality of blood coming from his skull.
"What? A little cut? You're head is bleeding? Where? Can you walk? Do you need to call 911?"
He grumbled at her string of speech but let her get it out.
"Yes, a little cut on my head and I'm not sure I can drive right now. I think I need to go in but I don't think it's worth an ambulance." He was honest.
"Well shit." She sighed. "We're like 5 hours out, we wouldn't get to you for a while if I turn around now. Maybe you need to call 911."
"No, O. I'm not calling 911."
"Okay, then I'm calling the girls." She expressed frustration but a solution. A feeling took over him when he realized she meant their neighbors.
"No, I'll be fine. Don't bother them." He softly pleaded with no energy.
"Bellamy, if YOU think you need to go in, then I know you're not telling me everything. I'm calling Clarke." She hung up before he could fight her on it and in reality, he had no energy. The pain, the confusion, it was a lot to handle right now. Talk about a distraction. He closed his eyes and rest his head on the side of the desk, putting pressure on the wound. It felt like seconds when Octavia called back.
"Hey, you there?" He didn't say anything when he answered, so she was concerned.
"Yeah. I'm here." He said.
"Clarke is coming over, she's going to keep me informed. Do you want me to come home?" Octavia asked point-blank, despite knowing he'd say no.
"No, I'll be fine." As expected, he denied her.
"Well if Clarke tells me anything that makes me think otherwise, we're turning around."
"I'm sure." He groaned.
"I love you, big brother." She sounded sad and worried.
"Love you too." They hung up and he waited. He would be worried about seeing Clarke again after yesterday, but he couldn't manage it right now. He couldn't manage anything other than trying to consciously fight the agony of pain he was in. His whole body felt run over, likely from working out. It was exhausting and his body wanted to drift to unconsciousness, so it did.
Hunched over at her desk, Clarke was enveloped in loud upbeat music with a slew of paint pens, markers, and liner pens set out beside her. She had a pair of white canvas sneakers beside her and what looked to be three or four pairs in front of her on the desk. She had been customizing them, as per orders on her Etsy had requested. She was on the second to last pair when her phone ringing literally had her jump out of her skin for a moment. Fumbling the pen cap, she clicked it on and set it down. Her dirty hands picked up her phone, paused the music, and answered the call.
"Hello?" She asked, not having read the caller ID.
"Hey Clarke, it's Octavia."
"Oh, hey. What's up?" She asked.
"I really hope you're home, or able to be right now."
"Yeah, I am home. Is everything okay?" Clarke sat upright in her chair, concerned that her friend sounded so stressed out.
"It's Bell, he was working out and injured himself. He's not telling me everything but he doesn't think he can walk and needs to go to the hospital. Lincoln and I are five hours out of town and can't get to him." She rattled off an explanation very quickly but Clarke caught every word. Her maternal instinct took over any other feelings she shared with the man and she was concerned.
"Is he at home?" She asked.
"Yeah, little bedroom. If the door is locked, we keep a spare under the far-right planter, in the rocks."
"Uh." She looked around, she was a mess.
"He said his head is bleeding, Clarke. I need to know if he's okay." Octavia pleaded the urgency of the matter and that settled Clarke's actions for her.
"Okay, I'm going now. Let me get him sorted and I'll text or call you okay?"
"Yes, thank you. Thanks so much." Octavia sounded relieved that someone was going to be there and that she'd be able to know what is going on. They hung up without any other pleasantries and Clarke quickly scrubbed the paint from her hands before briskly walking out her front door, shoeless. She had her wallet, keys and phone. It was all she thought she needed at the moment, not knowing how bad it was. At their front door, it was locked. She found the key exactly where Octavia said it was and that is when the anxiety of their encounter yesterday hit her. Like an uncomfortable warmth, it just filled her gut with so much stress. She swallowed, as if that helped anything, and pushed open the big door.
"Bellamy?" She called out. No reply. She let the screen door smack shit before her and she dropped her belongings on the floor right beside the door before climbing the stairs with a hasty but not fervent pace. She rounded the little half wall and saw him through the open door. He was propped up against the desk, limp and his eyes closed. She very carefully but quickly moved into the room and to his right side. One hand on his shoulder, she gently shook him.
With a snort of air, he woke up and looked dazed. His face was red and deepened more as his glossy brown eyes found her own.
"Hey." She said quietly. "Want to tell me what happened?"
"Huh?" He woke up a bit more. "Oh, pull bar fell, I went with it. Smacked my head on the floor and it fell on my knee." He pointed with a blood-stained hand. She traced that arm up to see the t-shirt behind his head, between it and the desk.
"Okay, can you lean forward a bit for me?" He did as he was asked, albeit sluggishly. With a very gentle touch, she peeled the blood-soaked t-shirt from his head and looked at the wound. Barely touching the blood-matted black hair to investigate more, she found the source. It wasn't gushing blood and it looks fairly small. Of course, she was no doctor but she did have some training and experience. She gently tipped his head back against the t-shirt and let him lean back before she looked over his leg. His left knee looked swollen but she could clearly see the cap was out of place. She knew she could resolve that herself and allow him to walk, so she decided that was their first step.
"I need you to trust me, okay?" She climbed back over him very gently and now sat on his left side, just inside the doorway. She moved the pull bar out into the hallway and the molding that had come with it.
"What, why?" He asked more alert now.
"I'm going to reset your knee cap for you really quickly. I don't know if anything is broken, but you'll be able to walk. It will feel weird." She warned.
"Are you sure you should-"
"Bellamy, we need to get you to the hospital and I can't carry you by myself."
"Okay." He agreed with her quietly, no contest.
"I'm going to straighten out your leg, I can't say it won't hurt but it will feel very weird." She looked at him for approval and he gave a nod of approval, bracing himself. She turned him into the room a bit so his leg could straighten out completely but he could still sit upright against the desk. Once she had him where his knee was relaxed, the cap moved a bit on its own. One hand was on top of the knee, the other under it. On one swift motion, she pushed the knee down, straightening it out and pushing the cap back in place. They both felt the pop of it finding its place, but it was still a gross sensation. He had a grimace on his face, but he didn't make a sound of pain or the like.
"That was gross." He mumbled out and Clarke couldn't help but chuckle with a crooked nod.
"Okay, do you think you can walk now?" She asked, and he made the move to bend his knee. It worked how it should, albeit uncomfortable, so he nodded.
"Yeah."
"Okay, I want you to use the desk to push against and I'm going to pull you up. I don't want you on your knee or leaning down." She explained, knowing that could do more damage for both his knee and the wound in his head.
"How are you-" He began asking how she was going to lift him up when she bear-hugged his torso, her shoulder coming down just below his armpits.
"On three." She said, muffled by their embrace. "One… Two… Three" She hoisted and he pushed against the desk, allowing himself to be lifted by her. It worked. When they were both upright, they both wobbled a little.
"You're heavier than I thought." She joked, a little winded.
"Did you just call me fat?" He asked tiredly, with a weak smile. She let him have that and just rolled her eyes.
"Where do you keep your clothes?" He leaned against the wall as she asked, looking around. It would seem she forgot which room they were in. He pointed out the door and around the corner. She walked into his bedroom, a clean, organized place.
"Second drawer." He called out, guiding her to a drawer full of t-shirts. She plucked one out of the folded collection and his smell wafted out with it. It made something in her flip or dance.
"Here." She pulled the t-shirt off he was holding off his head gingerly, taking it to the bathroom sink. She returned to him and helped him into a black t-shirt, also handing him a hand towel she had plucked from the little linen closet next to the bathroom door.
"Let's get you to the hospital." She was in mom-mode or healer mode. He couldn't tell, and nor could she. With him on her shoulder and her arm around his middle, they walked down the stairs. He tried his best to not put weight on her but he had a little limp and he was very dizzy. At the landing before the front door, she gathered her stuff. "Keys?"
"Uh, probably upstairs." He suggested, feeling bad. She darted back up the stairs and returned moments later with them in hand. She found them at his desk, which was the first place she looked so that was convenient.
"I'm going to pull your jeep up." She said, having him sit on the back of the couch.
"What, into the grass?" He was confused.
"Yep." She gave no fucks about the manicured lawns at the moment, and that was clear. She left the front door and went down to his jeep. She wasn't that short, or so she thought, but climbing into the driver seat of his jeep made her feel tiny. She couldn't see out of any of the mirrors and the seat was way too far back. She crudely adjusted everything so she could safely drive before turning the key and setting the car into reverse. She had to back out of the lot to get to the grass. Sure, she could have driven over the lot bumper in a jeep, but she didn't think of that. She's used to driving a very old, delicate, and low car. Parking in front of his stoop, she dropped out of the jeep to hear him laugh.
"Didn't want blood in your fancy car?" He asked, realizing she was in his jeep.
"You need to be able to get in and out easily, not try to squeeze in and out of a small vintage." She reasoned, having already thought it out. It wasn't about the blood, or how sweaty and gross he was. It was about his comfort, and he even looked surprised by that realization.
"Shoes?" He asked, having slipped on flip flops. She looked at his feet, confused. He had shoes on. Then she looked down at hers.
"Oh." She looked back up and shrugged.
Bellamy waved a limp hand over to the little alcove under the stairs. "O has some shit under there. Also, what about Madi?" He suddenly remembered her daughter.
Clarke rolled her eyes, not needing shoes. It was a formality and right now they needed to get him to the hospital. "She's with my mom, and she's 12, not 5." To appease him though, she quickly went over to the little white door and pulled it open. She found a pair of flip flops and slipped them on. They were maybe one size too big but they would work.
"Okay, let's go." She walked him outside and to the passenger side. Pulling the heavy door open, she pushed the seat back as far as it would go and let him get himself into the car, her hands guiding him to he wouldn't fall. Once he was set, she locked up and put the key back where she found it before climbing back into the Jeep herself. He had a smile on his face that looked stupid, drunk even.
"Shut up," was all she said to his grin.
"Just take me over to the one down the road." He offered. She knew what he was talking about. It was a very small hospital, very new and very fancy looking. What she didn't know was that it was a part of the same hospital network she used, so that was convenient to find out should she ever have a medical emergency. They pulled up and he tried to get out, but she scolded him.
"Sit." She left him there and went inside only to return with a woman and a wheelchair in front of her. They wheeled Bellamy in and allowed Clarke to park. When she came back in, she was guided to the triage room they had already put him in. They were transferring him to the bed as another nurse asked questions. Clarke was ready, having grabbed his wallet before they left. She was armed with his ID and insurance card, ready to field everything on his behalf and he looked not only surprised but relieved. They hooked him up to an IV for pain management while a doctor came in and looked at his head wound and tested him for a concussion. Luckily, it was fairly small like Clarke had thought. For Clarke, every moment was recorded in her brain while Bellamy just existed in a blur. He watched people come in and out and he felt pain here and there as he was checked out. He wasn't paying mind to anyone or anything though, except for her. He watched her. He watched Clarke politely handle everything, and her eyes flicked back over him often, as if she was supervising everything they did. It snapped out of it though when he was staring at her and she spoke to him.
"Bellamy?" She waved her hand.
"Yeah?" He woke to the noises around him.
"Metal, do you have any metal on your clothing?"
"What?" He looked confused and toward a nurse.
"You need X Rays," Clarke explained, and the nurse looked on sweetly.
"Oh, no. No metal." He looked at the nurse, speaking to her.
"Alright sweety, we're going to whisk you away." She smiled before looking back at him. "We'll bring your boyfriend right back, I promise."
Clarke went to correct her but didn't. It wasn't the time or place, she cared more about them fixing her neighbor and making sure he was okay. Bellamy didn't look like he noticed what was said, so she let it go. It was about twenty minutes later that they wheeled him back into the room.
"We just need to wait for the results for your head and knee before we do anything else. I'm going to wrap your head for you and the IV should kick in shortly for your pain." The nurse explained to Bellamy who nodded. Clarke sat quietly in the corner watching his head be wrapped with a pad of gauze over the wound. The t-shirt was placed in a plastic hazard bag and given to Clarke. The nurse made sure he knew how to use the call button before leaving them to dimmed lights and a muted TV.
He laid back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling for what felt like a million years. When he looked down over to her though, she looked away casually only to look back when she felt it was safe. They say in this silent awkwardness for an eternity of ten minutes before their eyes eventually met. She thought it was safe to look back, but it wasn't. He was staring at her and she was caught.
"How do you feel?" She tried to make small talk, but she could tell by the look on his face that he had other thoughts on his mind.
He appeased her by replying. "Tired."
"How is your pain?" She looked to the IV drip they had injected morphine into a while ago.
He paused as if he could answer that in more than one way before looking away from her. "It's fine." He looked said with contempt.
She didn't press him, because she felt like something else was on his mind and she didn't want to find out because she had an idea and anxiety about what it was. They were thrown into this situation after a very heated interaction just yesterday.
The silence was loud, so Clarke put her focus to the muted TV which was playing CNN with subtitles. At least she could distract herself by reading it, but it would seem Bellamy wouldn't let that happen.
"Clarke." He softly said. She hesitated to turn her attention to him, but she did. "Thank you."
She was relieved, thinking that was all he wanted to say. "Of course." She turned back to the TV but he wasn't done.
"And I'm sorry." He added.
Looking back to him, he looked full of shame. "For?" She asked, hoping it was about this and not yesterday.
He looked down at his hands that sat clasped over his lower abdomen. She knew what was coming when he looked back up at her.
"Yesterday, I shouldn't ha-" He was cut off.
"Bellamy, we shouldn't do this right now, here." She cocked her head, trying to reason. This was uncomfortable.
He looked grumpily at her. "Why not now? We're stuck here."
She almost protested that, the thought of leaving him playing on her tongue but she knew she couldn't and wouldn't do that. So she knew there was no avoiding this and she sighed a bit louder than she intended.
"I was wrong for what I did yesterday." He came out with it, only to follow up with "and what I said." He looked at her, reading her.
Not wanting to do this right now, she bit back anything she wanted to say and just agreed. "It's fine."
"No, Clarke, it's not." He sat up.
"Bellamy, not no-"
"Yes now. I am sorry, I am. I'm sorry for how I acted and what I said." He explained, very focused on her. It made her uncomfortable but she let him have this, given that they were sitting in the ER right now. She didn't know what to say or how to respond, so he continued.
"I was pissed, and hurt." He started. "You and I both know you put on a display for me the other night, and I can't figure out why you did it other than to get under my skin and God be damned if it didn't work. You got under my skin. You have been for a long time, before the basement, before the other night and before yesterday." He ranted. "Not to mention seeing you with someone else…" he stopped himself from finishing that thought and looked away, almost embarrassed. She felt guilt wash over her, among other things.
She felt conflicted by his words. Part of her was angry that he behaved the way he did because of what he just said. The other part of her had her heart being pulled at in different ways. She had been avoiding him and the reality of what happened between them. It wasn't just the sex, it was what he said before it. She specifically remembers his words and the kiss he gave her before he said anything.
"The drawing, your passion, you. You drive me crazy."
What followed that is what has haunted them both since, and caused them both to do some pretty stupid shit.
"Clarke?" He asked. She looked back at him, pulling herself out of the memory and her eyes were glassy. She felt like an idiot, overwhelmed, confused, and on the spot all at once.
"It's fine, Bellamy." She repeated herself. He looked defeated that she wouldn't participate, and that made her feel worse. "I'll be right back." She left the room and the hospital, pacing outside the exit. She felt like breaking down and she couldn't figure out why exactly other than being overwhelmed. It was one of those emotional storms that made you want to scream because you didn't know how else to handle it, but she composed herself enough to not do that. Screaming in front of a hospital probably wasn't a rare thing, but she didn't find it appropriate for her. A few minutes later, she walked back into the hospital and was let back into the back, to his room, hesitating at his door. She pushed it open and clicked it behind her, taking her seat back in that dim corner. His eyes were on her every moment, she was being studied and she knew that.
"Say something, please." He pleaded and she sighed.
"I am sorry too." It was quiet, but he heard it and he didn't respond but she heard a faint sigh.
Before either of them could delve into the conversation any more than they already had, which wasn't enough, the nurse tapped on the door and walked in. Clarke averted her eyes to clear them from the water that threatened the brim in a quick gesture.
"Has the Doctor come through yet?" She asked, coming to his bedside.
"No," Bellamy answered.
"Oh, she should be here in a moment than to go over your x rays. Would you like anything to drink?" She asked Bellamy who instantly looked to Clarke, sharing the question. She shook her head no, and so did he.
"Alright, shouldn't be a few more minutes." She suggested, disappearing again with the sound of the door clicking the room filled back up with awkward tension.
They said nothing, neither of them. It felt like the wrong time now that they knew someone would come back in at any moment. But she could tell he had things to say or wanted her to say something. It was tense, it was quiet, it was awkward. Luckily another five minutes passed before they were saved by the doctor and a nurse entering the room.
"Mr. Blake, how do you feel?" She asked, sidling up to his bedside and lifting the gauze wrapped around his head to check the wound.
"A lot better, tired though." He explained.
"Well, the good news is nothing is broken and by looking at this, you need a few stitches. You more than likely have a concussion, which isn't a big deal unless your symptoms get worse in the next twenty-four hours. Which if they do, you'll be right back here and we will go from there. When we send you home, we will give you a nice little list of symptoms to watch out for. For now, we're going to go ahead and clean and stitch you up now that the bleeding has stopped. We're also going to wrap your knee up. Limit your exercise, which I imagine you don't want to do now anyway." The doctor joked, given how he ended up here. It made them all smile.
"Any questions or concerns?" She asked, looking to both of them.
"If I have a concussion-" He started asking but the doctor smiled.
"Yes, you can sleep. You should sleep. You need to rest, a lot, and be monitored for symptom changes. It's not like in the movies where you can't sleep and have to stay awake for a day." She chuckled.
"Sleep, I can do. As for monitoring…" the doctor looked over to Clarke.
"I'm sure your girlfriend here can make sure you're okay." She suggested.
"Oh, we're not-"
"A couple, but I will make sure he's okay." Clarke finished his sentence.
"My apologies. Anyways, let's get you cleaned up so you can get a head start on resting and healing. No pun intended." She changed the topic and left, letting the nurses get to work and they did just that. Two nurses flushed the wound and got a better look at it, even taking photos of it. They applied a local anesthetic for his comfort before giving him three stitches and redressing it with gauze while another nurse wrapped his knee.
"Alright. The doctor is going to get your discharge paperwork ready and then you should be able to go home." The nurse explained that just as another came back in the room, seeking a private conversation with his nurse. They stepped into the hall for a minute before coming back in.
"The doctor just got a critical patient, so it may be a little while before we can get you discharged if that's alright." She asked, not really giving them any other options.
"I understand." He nodded.
"I'll send in some water and hopefully it won't be too long before you get to go home." She bid them a sweet smile and the door clicked again. Only minutes passed before a much younger nurse came in with two unopened water bottles. She handed each of them one before politely leaving, and then it was just them again and the anxiety sat back in. Clarke distracted herself with the water bottle in her hands, wringing it like it owed her something. The silence lasted a fair while before Bellamy broke it.
"Hey." He tried to get her attention, or see if she'd bite. She did. She looked away from the unmuted TV and over to him, silently. The room was still dimly lit.
He tilted his head, studying her silence. "What now?"
Her intake of breath lasted longer than normal and she looked away. She knew he wasn't asking about them being in the ER or his injuries. He was asking about them, what had happened between them.
"Look, Bellamy." She started, quietly. "What has happened between us never should have." It was a blanket statement, meant to cover every base and he didn't like that by the look on his face.
"I should have never even drawn you, if we're being honest."
"No, don't say that." He stopped her. "That piece is amazing and I don't care that you didn't ask me. Like you said, it's your masterpiece. Be proud of that. Don't make it a bad thing for what has happened since."
She turned in her chair, looking at him. "How could I not?" Her face contorted. "It led to the gallery fucking basement, which was so wrong."
He looked hurt. "How things went down, I can agree wasn't the best. But the fact that something happened between us, how is that bad? I meant what I said in that basement, Clarke."
"You drive me crazy." Replayed in her mind now that he said that. She still felt so much shame. It was a mutual situation, not something one of them forced upon the other. They shared something in that basement, but her vulnerability that night and now cast a veil over all of it. She suddenly felt overwhelmed again, and couldn't look at him.
"I am so, so fucking sorry for what I said yesterday, but I'm not sorry for how I feel."
She heard him and felt the need to man up, so to speak, at that moment and face the facts. She nodded, her eyes finally meeting his again. "I know you are, and so am I. I was wrong for... Well, everything." She stammered to admit, but it was a truth they both knew.
"Just don't be sorry about the drawing, please." He begged, she only nodded in response.
"You're right, I can't be. But I am sorry for what happened in the basement, and how I've been acting since." She paused, not wanting to get into her own feelings, but she had to. "I was ashamed of what… happened. And I'm ashamed of the display you… saw." Bellamy looked uneasy, like he wanted to get up, but fought the idea of doing that.
"We have both been a little terrible to one another." He tried to ease her embarrassment as best he could and she appreciated that. The weight in the room was lessened, but not completely dissipated.
"So I ask again, now what?" He posed the question again.
"We pretend none of that ever happened and move on?" She suggested, hopefully. However, her words must have hurt him because his face fell from curious to reserved with a tinge of pain in the background.
"Is that really what you want?" He asked pointedly, hoping she would know what he was implying. She hesitated and fumbled with the bottle in her hand.
"I don't know." She whispered. "Bellamy, I'm not good at this, okay?" She met his gaze, his hopeful, and boyish gaze.
"What, talking? I could have told you that." He joked, but it was lost on her.
"No, relationships. People."
"I find that hard to believe, considering." His suggestion stung because she thought it was about her night with Lexa. He must have caught on because he elaborated. "I meant because of Madi, your volunteering, Raven, your clients and the gallery. You are a people person."
"None of that is the same as…" she gestured between them but stopped herself. "I don't date," was her resolve for that line of thought and it didn't sit right with either of them.
"Then what was-"
"Lexa. Her name is Lexa and that is something I never have to think about. It just exists, casually, and for one purpose. Am I proud of that? No. But it's what I've grown used to." she admits, not looking at him.
"I've been there, don't feel ashamed." He says softly, offering her support.
"How can I not?" She laughed sadly. That is when he gave up on not wanting to get up, he tried to but she quickly stood and stopped him.
"Don't. Your IV cord isn't long enough." She went from wallowing to caregiver in a split second and it made him smile.
Frustrated by his restriction and how this conversation was going, he let it out a little bit. "Damnit Clarke, then why not? Is it me or what? I want to know because right now I just feel like you're rejecting me out of embarrassment." His candid statement made her a bit angry, but she understood where it came from and sat back down.
She hadn't thought about dating Bellamy, per say. She had thought about him, plenty and in many, many ways. None of them specifically attuned to the idea of 'dating' him, so to speak. So she couldn't just spit out a string of random things about him that made them incompatible, as they didn't exist. This meant she had to be honest, which was the worse option for her.
"I just don't, okay? I haven't since Madi." She blurted out.
Something clicked in his head and his face changed but she couldn't quite tell what he was thinking now.
"Okay" was all he said. A quiet, simple, and enigmatic agreement. The lack of anything there irritated her like he had figured out a huge puzzle and wouldn't share the solution with her.
"That's it?" She pressed, annoyed by him dropping it.
"Yep. That's it." He grabbed the remote and turned the TV back up a little. The simple action put fire in her gut. She stood up and muted the TV, dropping the remote back down on the table beside his bed.
"No, you don't get to do that." She stood beside him, angrily close. "You don't get to press me to talk about this shit and then just end it with a cavalier 'okay'.
He chuckled. "I'm the cavalier one here?" That took her off guard. "Clarke, I told you how I feel about you and you can't even tell me why you won't give it a chance. Fuck the other shit, fuck the basement, and the window bullshit or our fight yesterday. You won't even respond to it, knowing I want you."
Her breath left her body hearing him say it out loud. Yes, he had said it before, but not in such direct words. It pulled the fibers of her heart and made her stomach flip like an acrobat.
"Bellamy-"
"It's fine, I'll leave it alone. You want us to pretend nothing happened and move on, so we will Clarke." He looked so sure, not like he was settling but like he was firm in his stance. She didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't. She stood there awkwardly one second too long before quietly excusing herself from the room. The remainder of their time there she would spend in the waiting room. It was more comfortable for both of them, or so she told herself. During this time, she called Octavia and filled her in. She was found by a nurse when it was time to discharge Bellamy, and was brought back into his room. They went over the instructions and what to look for in his concussion, should it get worse, before having him sign some paperwork. Clarke pulled his Jeep up to the front again, and he was escorted to it by wheelchair. The drive home was silent, the radio only emitting some ambient noise to mask the painful silence. Once she pulled in and parked the Jeep where it belongs, he moved to get out on his own. She pushed everything she was feeling aside and was at his side before he could get out. He allowed her to help him into the house and she helped him onto the couch.
"I'll call a friend to come check on me, you can go back to your day." He said politely, too politely.
"I'm not leaving."
"Clarke-"
"Why would you have someone drive out here to check on you when I live right next door and have already been here for you for hours?" She asked, almost sounding annoyed.
"I don't want to take up any more of your time." He reasoned.
"Bellamy, I could have left you there and come home." She crossed her arms.
"You mean, you would have stolen my car? Didn't take you for the type." He prodded her with a smile. Unfortunately for her, he had her there and the defeat showed on her face which must have amused him because he was smiling even more.
"Shut up." She mumbled before disappearing into his kitchen. She rummaged his pantry and fridge without consent, him sitting silently in the other room. She appeared with a plate and on it was a stack of crackers, a sprig of green grapes, and some slices of cheese and summer sausage. In her other hand, she had a bottle of Gatorade. She set them down on the coffee table and pulled it closer, nearly falling back on him as she did so.
"Whoa." He caught her with a hand nearly on her ass.
"That would have sucked for you." She snarked, correcting her stance and moving away from him defensively.
"Probably." He agreed, thinking of his knee.
"Do you guys have any cleaning supply, like a brush?" She asked, not wanting to flip the whole house for simple tools.
"Yeah, why?" He asked, popping a grape into his mouth.
"Well, smartypants, someone has to clean the murder scene in your room." She mentioned, gesturing to the ceiling above her. He instantly sat up a bit more and shook his head.
"No, Clarke. I can't ask you to do that." He looked serious.
"And you didn't, now where is this brush you speak of?"
"Seriously, Clarke-" He felt bad, she could tell. She wasn't having it though.
"Okay, I'll go get mine." She moved for the door.
"Damnit, under the sink." He was annoyed but conceded if only to keep her from wasting her time by running between the houses. She was determined, and now she had won. In the kitchen, she could feel his eyes on her and it made her uneasy but in a different way than earlier in the day. She grabbed a pair of kitchen gloves, a scrubbing brush and a bucket from under the sink. She then found some vinegar and baking soda.
"You have a shop vac around here, don't you.?" She asked, seeing him relaxed a bit into the couch.
"Under the stairs." He said defeatedly. She grabbed that too and tossed everything in it, lugging the vacuum up the stairs. Once she was upstairs, she got to work cleaning up the mess he had made when he fell. The blood had dried up a bit since they left, but she soaked the carpet and sucked out most of it and the extra water with the shop vac. The baking soda and vinegar did most of the work after that and eventually, it was nothing more than a damp patch of carpet. She cleaned up around the door before cleaning the shop vac in his bathtub. She left it there to dry before she began rinsing the shirt he used on his wound out. It was fairly saturated, so she opted to run it through the washer instead. As she padded down the stairs, she was about to ask if he had anything that needed to be washed when she saw him fast asleep, nestled into the back of the couch. Unwilling to wake him, she quietly grabbed a notepad she saw in the kitchen and wrote him a note.
' Stay put! Door is locked, floor is clean, Octavia has been updated. I'll be by every hour, and I'll bring you dinner later. Bellamy, don't be stupid and think you're fine.'
Leaving that on the coffee table, she took the blood soiled items, her stuff, his keys, and quietly snuck out of the house, locking the door behind her. Back in her own home, she now had to face the fact that she had a lot of shit to process, as she wouldn't be taking care of him at that moment. She found enough stuff to run a load through the washer and as it rumbled to life in the kitchen, she got done washing her own hands and falling into the couch. The rest of the night, she did as she said she would, checking on him every hour. They spoke very little, but that was mostly due to him sleeping almost every time she came over other than when she came by to feed him dinner. She cooked up something simple, some chicken and rice which he happily devoured. She stayed and watched a movie with him as they ate, only he fell asleep not long after he ate. Sat in a chair next to him, she let him rest and quietly watched TV. A few hours later, he woke up with a start.
"You okay?" She said quietly, surprising him that she was still there.
"Wh- I have to pee so bad." He said blankly. She helped him up, even if he didn't need it, and went to do what he needed only to come out of the bathroom looking hilariously relieved. He checked the clock on the wall to see it was near ten in the evening and he looked over at her, sitting on the edge of the recliner.
"Have you been here since dinner?" He asked. She simply nodded.
"Why?" He asked bravely.
"I was feeling lazy, stuck around." At least she was being honest. Today felt long, for both of them.
"You should go home, get some sleep." He suggested, ruffing up his hair. He grimaced when his hand slid over the gauze and he was reminded of what had happened today.
"Yeah, don't touch that." She rolled her eyes and stood up, instinctively wanting to check on it. He let her and all was well.
"Seriously, go home. You've done more than enough." He turned a bit, facing her.
"How do you feel right now?" She asked, looking intently at his pupils. His eyelids fluttered a little, dreamily almost, until he realized she was studying him for health purposes. It made him stiffen up in posture.
"I'm tired, still but fine. I don't feel dizzy, I clearly wake up fine and can walk." He explained, trying to appease her need to make sure he was okay. "I just want to get in bed and forget about today." He sighed. Clarke instantly thought that meant so many things, but she put her own feelings aside.
"Okay, let's get you in bed."
"Clarke, I can get to bed on my own, please." He said as she went to shut off the entertainment system and clean up the coffee table.
"Suit yourself." She said, crossing her arms. He indulged her and went to the bottom of the steps. Looking up at them must have felt more daunting because is pupils widened. His hand found the banister and he took a step up, using the wrong leg. He winced and leveled back out on the bottom landing.
"That's what I thought." She snarked, moving around the couch and to his side. She put herself under his arm with a little hesitation from him but together they got up the stairs with less strain on him. She saw him notice the doorway and lack of stain in the little room, even with the lights out. Once in his room, she went ahead of him to his bed and set his phone down, finding the plug that belonged to it and plugging it in. She felt eerily comfortable with being in his house.
"I'll come over first thing and if you need me for whatever Bellamy, call me." She stated, turning back to him. He had pulled his shirt off and it was a surprise when she turned around to see his bare chest. Sure, that is how they started this day but at the time it wasn't something she could admire. Now, it was the only thing she could see. His chiseled chest, freckled and very sparsely peppered with black hair. Any moisture in her mouth somehow evaporated in an instant, so she looked back up to see him staring at her. He almost looked like he was smirking.
"I'll be fine, go home." He said, moving past her. He left his shorts on, for obvious reasons and she watched him sit down on the edge of the bed.
"Unless you tell me you'll call me if you need me, I'm not leaving." She proposed a threat, and he rolled his eyes which he clearly regretted after because she read the pain on his face that pulled her heartstrings.
"I will call you if I need you, Clarke. Now go home, please."
"Okay." Now it was her turn for a complacent agreeance and it clearly annoyed him, which pleased her. She went for the door and killed the lights after he pulled the cord on the lamp by the bed. The glow went from a bright white to a soft yellow in the room.
"Thank you." He said just before she was out of his view. She stopped at the words but said nothing. Hoping he couldn't see the soft smile on her face, she continued on and went home. By the time she was inside her own room, she looked out to see her neighbor's windows all blackened. Comforted by the idea that he was likely already sleeping, she allowed herself to finally relax, finding comfort in her bed and a long-deserved sleep of her own.