Chapter 1: just every time I run, I keep on falling on you

Bellamy's day had been going relatively normal. So yeah, there was a pandemic which had gotten pretty wild, but he had been doing everything the resourceful and trusting outlets told him. He only went out when needed. Definitely didn't go to eat anywhere and didn't stock up on toilet paper like some people did.

He was excited for these few weeks of being off work and taking a long, nice vacation except for grading papers until they got a handle on how they were going to go about teaching his students. Though his mom tended to grate at times, it was what he got for moving back home. All in all, he didn't really have much to worry about when it came to getting sick. His family had always been a healthy bunch and so the odds of anyone—

Bellamy's phone lights up from his spot in his office—which was just the basement of his mom's house. He had been gone for a few days at his girlfriend's place and had only just gotten home to start his not at work-work.

"Hello?"

"Bellamy, are you home?" His mom asks, and Bellamy believes he hears a slight worry in his mom's tone. But with everything going around, Bellamy takes it more as the air of panic than anything else.

"Yeah, just got here about ten minutes ago." Bellamy switches the phone to speaker and sits on his desk so he can continue working on his most recent batch of essays his students had sent over.

"Damn, I was hoping to catch you in time." Bellamy hears rustling distant—somewhere behind his mom and his mom mumbling to someone.

"For what?" He asked, eyes still reading over an essay with a title: Hide yo kids, hide yo wife cause war is coming. Extra points for creativity.

"Well, I have it." Bellamy's fingers pause. It. As in like the disease tearing across the world.

For his mom, it will probably not get worse than a cold. She will be stuck in the hospital for two weeks—precaution mostly. The only problem is they have started to implement houses being on lockdown for fourteen days. No one in or out—and then you get tested yourself.

And with it being able to stay in the air for 24 hours and his mom leaving just this morning, if someone were to even walk through the door in the next day—they'd be stuck to.

"Fuck." Bellamy muttered wanting to bang his head against the computer.

It is one thing to be told—as a suggestion—to stay in your house. It is completely different to be stuck in it by yourself for two weeks.

"My sentiments exactly." Bellamy's mom's tone mimicked his own. "I already talked to Octavia and she is going to stay at Clarke's instead of coming here."

He forgot Octavia was coming in from New York today, taking one of the last flights able. They had not yet grounded every plane, but there were definite extra precautions in flying and Octavia wanted to be closer to family before it got worse.

Yet, he and Octavia both knew she wasn't going to Clarke's to be closer to her but instead Lincoln —Clarke's adopted brother who had just recently moved into Clarke's. O and Lincoln had been together for as long as Bellamy can remember and most likely would end up married if they ever decided to.

"So, I am just stuck here?" He asked wishing his mom would say just kidding or tell him to run now when no one is looking.

But his mom would probably kill him if he tried to leave and possibly infect others.

"Unfortunately, yes. Just really make sure no one comes in." And as if God himself was playing a silly game, Bellamy hears the door creak open.

"Got it, feel better." He is staring at the newcomer as he hangs up, not believing his fucking luck.

"Hey, Bell." Clarke Griffin smiled at him leaning against the door frame, completely oblivious to her surroundings.

She was still in her pink scrubs, probably just getting off from her night shift—not that he knew her shifts, just basing it off being about 8:30 in the morning—and had a bright smile on her face that someone who just worked twelve hours should never have.

"How long have you been here?" He asked, saving his essays, knowing there was no way he was going to get any of it done.

"Just walked in. Octavia is supposed to get here in a few minutes and then we are heading to my place."

"Yeah, she isn't coming." Bellamy said slowly, closing his laptop and walking past Clarke, knowing full well she will follow him back up the stairs.

"Why?" He can hear her pout, years of seeing the way her down turned lips and furrowed brows caused her tone to become lower and annunciate more.

"Because my mom just called, and she is sick." Bellamy told her matter of fact over his shoulder and still feeling slightly panicked from the thought, "O has been told to go to your apartment because the house is on lock down."

"Meaning, I am on lock down." She filled in the blanks rather quickly, but he really should expect nothing less from a seasoned nurse such as she. She plopped down on her bar stool.

(Because yes, it is her barstool and it had been her barstool since the first time she came over when she was six. He met her as she sat beside Raven, smashing her ice cream until it resembled more of a bowl of milk and talking excitedly about her newly adopted brother. Bellamy was eight and was impressed by the competitive nature of the small Clarke Griffin that caused her to win every game they played that night.)

"Since you decided to waltz on in, yes, you are." He didn't mean to sound frustrated at her. He really didn't.

Clarke had always been a constant in his life, ever since they were kids and she showed up for a birthday party and seemingly never left. Clarke was just always there, and he got used to her being included in family decisions, and vacations. She and Lincoln weren't close to their own parents—especially after their dad died and so it just made sense for them to stick together and form bonds with anyone that paid attention.

It only made sense for Lincoln and Octavia to come together romantically after years of following each other around because of Clarke.

The same couldn't be said for Bellamy and Clarke. Sure, his mind occasionally wandered and there was a time where he was probably halfway in love with her, but she never felt the same. And after she got into a long-term relationship, he settled on just being the best friend's brother and nothing more. He didn't even care that much anymore, and he didn't feel spasms of pain when she talked about her boyfriend and he didn't feel the need to step out of the room whenever Finn got brought up. And he had a girlfriend of course. Not like he forgot.

But two weeks with her just sounded like complete torture.

"I didn't just waltz in. Octavia and I had a plan to meet here. It isn't my fault she didn't find it important-" Bellamy had watched as Clarke ranted while going to her phone and Clarke must have found something important because she was now frowning at the screen.

"She text me two minutes ago. See-" She turns the phone toward him as though he can read it, "Not my fault."

"Either way, princess—we are stuck together for fourteen days."

Clarke didn't cringe when he said it, but she felt a chill run the length of her body like he just whispered the words to her. Fourteen days with Bellamy sounded like torture. Like a game of Saw—being taunted with an option you can never have and settling for cutting your ankle off. Okay, so that is a stretch but still.

Princess used to aggravate her so much. During those years of preteen hood where she thought Bellamy was the greatest thing she had ever seen and Bellamy spat princess at her like he was just an angry commoner. Stupid really, but as they grew princess became more of a term of endearment and she kept safe and tucked away. Finn tried to call her princess once and the words fell off his tongue and wrapped around Clarke and she felt like she was being choked.

She had gotten so good at not thinking about Bellamy or catching his eyes first when she told a joke to see if he found her funny. She didn't stay a few extra minutes at the Blake household just to see him make an appearance. Sure, her palms still got sweaty when she saw him, and yes, her heart stayed tachycardic when he spoke, but that didn't mean anything.

"Super." She didn't hide her dissatisfaction because it wasn't like he was. His attitude made it perfectly clear he would rather be with any number of people before her.

Probably even Anya. And he hated Anya.

He had been like this with her ever since she started college. Before, he was cordial and kind to her and after he became short and walked out of any room she stepped into. It was like she had a disease he was terrified of catching and would rather listen to his mother's rants of home decorating than her.

Of course, there was moments where he slipped—right back to the way he was. Teasing her on her favorite baseball teams, laughing as she told a ridiculous story about twin telepathy—even though she and Lincoln were neither twins nor related, but then his face turned sour and he went back to being an ass.

"I need to shower if I am staying here." She mumbles sliding off her stool, already trying to figure out what she is going to be wearing for the next fourteen days. It was possible for Octavia to drop off clothes on the front steps, but she wasn't particularly sure if it was worth it. The only thing she will be in dire need of is undergarments.

She had to have left clothes around somewhere.

"You'll probably need clothes," Bellamy seemingly reads her mind, but she doesn't look into it.

Instead she nods and follows him up the stairs to Octavia's old room that has since been converted into a guest room.

Clarke feels awkward in his presence, even though she has been in this house not much more than he has if you count the years he moved away, and she stayed. But being alone with him as he rummages through the closet makes her feel like she is in a patient's room preparing them for birth.

"There's some leggings, that's pretty much it." He tosses the different colored leggings on the bed, stepping passed her and Clarke held her breath as he did.

It is reflex, she tells herself, because she doesn't want to breathe in his cologne because she is allergic. That's all. Not because of the fact when they were in high school, she woke up after staying up too late with Octavia and finding Bellamy's comforter on top of her. His whole damn comforter. She couldn't help snuggling into it deeper and loving how his smell lingered on her clothes. She tried not to think about who put it on her the night before.

She stays where she is, looking in a lone drawer and silently screaming jackpot at the underwear with tags. They weren't the cutest in the world, but she can always count on mama Blake to buy things solely because of the sale. The only thing was that meant there had to be extra shirts somewhere.

She goes to look but all she can find are nice blazers and work clothes—none of which were her size, but all with tags. She isn't sure why she was looking where Bellamy already looked, but she needed something to do, something to take her mind off being in close proximity with him for actual days.

"Mom cleaned out like all of the extra clothes she had laying around, so this is all I can find." His voice filters into the room before she seems him, stepping out of the closet to where he is holding t-shirts from their high school and a sweatshirt, she knows is probably an old one of his. In fact, all of these are probably his.

"Thanks," She takes them from him, careful not to touch him.

"I figured you wouldn't want to be wearing my mom's clothes and O took everything with her—obviously." He was rambling, she noticed, and she tried to not find it endearing. Everything Bellamy did was like the new and improved version of everyone else.

Bellamy could probably sneeze, and she would it charming.

Bellamy had his flaws, they all did, but she always just seemed to gloss over them when it came to him. He could be a right dick to Octavia, especially when they were all in high school, but Clarke always found a reason to defend him to her best friend and brother, tried to find understanding in him.

And how he was an adult, shaping the minds in the same halls they walked, and she was a nurse at the local hospital. They each grew up and yet, her want for him never waned.

"I'll be downstairs, trying to get some work done."

She only nodded, tired of talking and keeping the breathlessness and shaky tremors out of her tone.

And then he was gone, and she was off to a few minutes of peace in the shower.

Bellamy heard the thrum of the shower and felt like he was releasing the first breath he had taken since she walked in. It was like a pressure in the room whenever she was around, pushing down on them until they both died from lack of oxygen.

It was easier when there were others. It was best when his girlfriend was there. He cared about Echo and the treacherous feelings for Clarke lessened when Echo was in his sights. In reality, that sounded terrible and he really shouldn't be thinking about his girlfriend of four years, but it was the truth.

As long as he didn't see Clarke, or hear Clarke, or think about Clarke, he was fine. Honestly.

Yet now, here he was in a house with her, giving her his clothes and he knows it is stupid. He easily could have handed her something of his moms. Or even the one of Miller, his best friend who leaves his shit everywhere. But he couldn't, he wanted it to be his clothes. Wanted to see the way they fell around her and her short and small frame.

He was going to hell.

That was for sure.

God, it could have been anyone else. He would have taken anyone else. Even Anya, and he despised Anya.

Okay, maybe not Anya.

He would rather deal with his sexual and overwhelming want of Clarke over fucking Anya. Why Octavia and Clarke were friends with her, he would never understand.

His phones lights up again, O showing on his screen. He glares at it, deciding all of this is her fault, but answers, nevertheless.

"I hate you." He grumbled into her ear as he starts back towards the downstairs and her laugh pissed him off more.

"Oh, yes Bell. This was all my master plan to get you and Clarke to fuck. You figured me out." He cringes at her crass tone, never comfortable discussing his sex life with his baby sister.

"You couldn't have text her five minutes earlier?"

He had long given up hiding his slight feelings for Clarke from his sister. He always thought he had them clear under wraps because he didn't like her that much, but Octavia got him drunk one night a few years back and it might have slipped that she wasn't the only Blake to find a Griffin attractive.

She kept his secret, shockingly, not telling either Griffin sibling, but it never stopped her from wanting to lock them in a room and just see what happens.

"Look, I get you want Clarke and I to be like you and Lincoln, but we aren't. I am with Echo and that's that." He wasn't convincing himself. No way. He just didn't want to be locked up with her.

"I believe you. Just be nice, please?" She asks, a serious tone in her voice.

"I am always nice, O."

She makes a noise similar to huff, "Yeah, we all have emotional wounds from your moods, so I beg to differ."

"I will keep you updated." He tells her, ignoring her rude ass comment, "Try not to get pregnant."

"Ditto."

He rolls his eyes, dropping his phone on the couch and fully giving up on grading essays. Today is not the day. Instead he begins flipping through the channels, hating they cancelled all sports until further notice.

It doesn't feel like enough time before he hears her padding down the stairs, mumbling about how much she hates stairs in general and he can't help the small grin. He always tried to keep a distance from her. The feelings of jealousy that popped into his mind when she talked about Finn. So maybe that caused him to be a little short with her because it made it easier. But then there were moments, those quick moments where he can't control his emotions quick enough.

Twenty-six years old and he can't fucking handle a girl who is literally five feet and like three inches on a tall day.

"Bellamy!" She calls out.

"Living room," He responds, muting the television to hear her speak.

She steps into the living room with the clothes he gave her, and he wants to smack himself for the feeling that runs through him. It is primitive, the way his mouth dries and the pride he feels of her wearing his clothes. But he can't help it. His shirt is too big and falls on her just how he expected it to. Not that he thought about it that often and he would feel the same way if Echo were to walk in wearing his shirt. But with Clarke, he allows that moment to accept it will always be different with her.

"We need a plan," She tells him as she sits on the arm of the sofa facing him, hands clasped together excited for what she thought about in the shower, never noticing the overwhelming panic running through Bellamy.

Her long hair is wet, still has drops falling off the cotton candy blue ends. Clarke never stayed one color long, but she had been blue for quite some time. Long enough for her to grow out her roots enough to look like she chose to have half blonde and half blue. On anyone else, he would probably find it messy. On her, it just seemed natural.

Because cotton candy blue is a natural color.

"A plan?"

"We are here for fourteen days and okay, you probably could ride and grab something, but you got stuck with a nurse, so you are definitely not leaving." She tells him with a finger pointed in his direction, "I am sure we have enough food, but we need to practice keeping our distance from each other,"

"Not a problem." He meant that because why would they be close to each other, but the quick downturn of her lips told him he hurt her feelings.

So maybe he is a little bit of an ass. Probably for the best.

"Also, we should just try to pass the time as quickly as possible." She pauses looking around the room, "So like movies, and board games and card games. And no over sleeping."

"Alright, Clarke. We can do whatever you want." He tells her, enjoying the pleased smile she emits.

Maybe just letting himself talk to her the way he used to might be easier than keeping up the appearance of nonchalance and not caring.

"Also, I am so hungry. I haven't eaten since like four this morning. And I probably should sleep a few hours." She is making mental check lists. He can almost see it in her eyes the way she nods to herself, hopping off the couch to make herself breakfast most likely.

The rest of the day goes by unspectacularly. After her breakfast, Clarke heads upstairs to sleep and doesn't come backout until mid-day. He finally got through two essays and watched a movie before she came back, telling him all the different things about her shift that had happened the night before.

He hadn't asked her, but he assumed this is what she did. Her way to handle the bad things that came with a nurse was to talk about it. Usually, that meant talking to Lincoln or Octavia if she was around—but for today, it was just him.

A lady had come in high and in labor and Bellamy could see the sadness in her eyes, in her tone as told the story of the still born that had been delivered. This was her daily life, taking care of people who were going through—for the most part—a happy time in their lives but for others—possibly the worse.

She wore it with a grace he didn't know until then. He just knew she was a nurse, he never thought about the emotions she went through because of it.

"Stillborns are always hard," She finishes, a wetness in her tone that wasn't there before, and he almost thinks about reaching out to hold her hand.

Almost.

His hand looks like a spasm—the quick flinch for her. His mind not quite caught up to his heart—wanting to reach out to her. Wanting to just comfort her for just a second. But that wasn't who they were. She had people that could comfort her. Bellamy wasn't of them, so he settled for:

"I didn't think that was common." Was all he knew to say, and she shrugged in response.

"They say about 1 in 200 births. But I haven't seen that many and I have helped with more than 200. But you never get over it. Even after that first one." She sighs, "It is easier when you can prepare the parents because you already know from ultrasound. The worst is when you don't know."

He doesn't know what to say. Does Lincoln —in his usual wise manner—talk about the silver lining? Or is it more like Octavia—where they just go back and forth about the horror before moving on to something else?

He doesn't' know how to talk to her. Years of staying away from her and getting to know her caused him to feel like a stranger to her. How did he let it get to that point? Was his pride so large he forgot how to talk to someone he has known for more than half his life?

"Are you hungry?" She asks abruptly, making the decision for him.

Did she know he was having an inner panic? Could she see the tension rising in his body and the worry because he didn't know how to talk to her? Or was this just what she did? Say what was on her mind, what she was struggling with and then move on to the next topic.

"Uh—I could eat." He nodded.

"Cool, I will see what we have. Look for something to watch while I cook."

"I can cook." He tells her and she scoffs at him.

"No offense, Bell, but I have had what you consider cooking and I am not trying to die." She giggles at what must be an offended look on his face.

"I have gotten better."

"And we can test that theory after the pandemic," She patted his head as she walks behind the sofa, and he only shakes his head at her.

It is so easy for her to create easy conversation between the two which probably stemmed from the fact where he had more than platonic feelings for her at one time in their lives and she didn't.

Clarke had to move away from him. Away from his smell and his concerned looks and his almost words that almost come out. Bellamy always looked like there was something else he wanted to say or to do and it killed her every time when he stayed silent. How many times had she watched his body sway towards her when she hugged Aurora goodbye—hesitating in the final moments and saying goodbye with a huff and nothing more. His almost words stuck with her more than anything else he did with her.

And she just couldn't do it. She stayed in Octavia's old room much longer than her nap was. She just wanted a few hours where she was away from him and felt like she could breathe without him pushing down on her lungs.

He always made it look so easy, and she felt like she was insane for the feelings that wouldn't go away and the need to move herself closer to him, like a cord wrapped so tight no one else could get in even if they tried. She couldn't understand how it was possible for her to feel so unstable around him, so on edge and so anxious and for him to not feel anything back.

But he didn't. And she had gotten used to watching girlfriend after girlfriend, some that she would even consider friends be brought around. When he moved away from Arkadia she felt like she could finally move on and then he came back rushing in, staying with his mom in the last year until she was back on her feet from losing her job. All of those feelings she thought she had a tight handle on came sweeping back in and shoving her back into the pit of despair. She clawed her way out of it the first time but now she tired and had no idea how she supposed to do this anymore.

But she enjoyed his company. She always had reveled in their quiet conversations when Octavia had stepped out of the room. She enjoyed the way he chuckled at his jokes or smiled behind his hands when she told a ridiculous story. She didn't like being away from him and that feeling had terrified since they were young. Because she didn't really know him other than what came out over the last almost twenty years. But she didn't know him enough to be heartbroken when he wasn't around.

She just had to get through fourteen days and then he would be gone again. So maybe she just needed to take what she could get. Even if it would kill her later.