CHAPTER 4: C.G.
04/02/2019
"Harper has a cousin?" Miller repeated, astonished.
"I know right? I've never heard of her before."
Bellamy was seated on his best friend's couch, watching him playing a video game Bellamy didn't really understand.
"I didn't even know she had a cousin," Miller added, half focused on the conversation and half focused on the game.
"Yeah, me neither. Her name's Claire."
Or so I've been told, Bellamy wanted to add. He was hoping Miller would know her, but he obviously didn't. Which was weird because he didn't have amnesia. He couldn't have forgotten about her. Yet, Bellamy couldn't shake the feeling that they knew each other. So, Claire had only met half of their friends, including Bellamy? But when could they have met? Why did she react so weirdly when she saw him? Did he do something to her in the past? Did she hate him and was hoping she would never have to talk to him again?
So many questions, and no one to give him the answers he was looking for.
"Did you ask O and Murphy?" Miller asked him.
"O didn't know about her either. She assumed she would be at the wedding anyway, which would make sense. Murphy isn't answering his phone."
"Yeah, well, she's not wrong. We'll probably see her there."
"Yeah."
But Bellamy was not convinced. Something was telling them that if he wanted some answers, he shouldn't wait until the wedding. He had to go straight to the source.
He was going back to see the blond girl.
05/02/2019
Clarke had refused to talk about what happened with anyone. Not with Jasper, not with Monty, not with Harper, and certainly not with Raven. She'd said that she just didn't want to think about it, but the truth was she didn't have the guts to tell Raven she'd completely failed in hiding from Bellamy Blake. It was even worse knowing she saw him the very same day she arrived in town. She was hating her dumb self enough already, she didn't need her friend to tell her 'I told you so.'
Jasper and Monty had tried to reassure her—'it's fine, he doesn't know who you are'—but they didn't know how she had reacted when she saw him. She wasn't prepared for it. She let her emotions take control of her. It was overwhelming: the shock, the pain, the panic. She even felt some relief, because she had seen his face again. It was like her heart had been broken and put back together at the same time. Now all she could think about was him. Bellamy. Bellamy. Bellamy.
She could still hear him ask her 'Do we know each other?' She'd forgotten how deep his voice was. How much his eyes came to life when he talked. He'd asked her, and a part of her wanted to tell him 'I wish we didn't' and the other part wanted to scream 'Of course we fucking do!' But she didn't say any of that, and as always, she ran away.
He'd asked, though. So, she kept thinking: What if? What if he knew who she was? What if he remembered everything that happened three years ago and hated her for it? What if he remembered only glimpses of her?
Clarke shook her head. She had to stop. He didn't remember her. It was all her imagination. She was not going to see him again. Or at least she hoped not.
She focused on the painting in front of her. It was a portrait of Monty and Harper—her wedding gift for them. It was based on a picture of them the day Monty proposed, another day she missed. She hoped they would like it. It was the only thing she'd been able to paint in the last two years.
They'd welcomed her into their home for the week, so she'd waited for them to go out to get her gift out of her suitcase. She wanted to surprise them. She wasn't going to be there for them on the biggest day of their lives, so it was the least she could do.
She'd laid the painted portrait on the small coffee table in the living room. Now she was waiting for them to return.
The doorbell rang.
Clarke got on her feet, impatient for her friends to discover their gift. She picked up the spare key they left her, just in case she needed to go out. Just as she was heading for the door, it occurred to her that Monty and Harper wouldn't ring since, well, it's their house.
She cursed herself when she opened the door. Of course.
Her heart dropped.
"Hi," Bellamy said, seemingly surprised to see her.
Her whole body tensed. She was so close, so fucking close to losing it again. Clarke couldn't look directly at him. This was getting ridiculous. Why him? Why now? She felt his eyes fixed on her. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest she was convinced it was going to explode.
"Hi," she forced herself to say.
This time, she had to stay calm. She couldn't let shock take control of her body. Breathe. Stay cool. She raised her eyes, just a second. Just enough time to see Bellamy looking past her, into the house. He was searching for something, or someone.
"Monty and Harper aren't home?" he asked her.
It wasn't a question, really. It sounded more like disbelief, as if he hadn't at all expected to find Clarke here, alone. At least she wasn't the only one taken by surprise.
"No."
She cleared her throat, hoping her voice would stop sounding so tight. She was still avoiding looking at him. Why did he come? She waited for him to leave or at least to say something, but he just stood there, silent. After a few minutes, she wondered if she was imagining him or if he had decided not to talk anymore. She took a deep breath and finally mustered the courage to look at his face.
She both regretted and blessed the decision. She noticed every detail, every freckle, every wrinkle. She'd been too shocked to do that four days ago, so now she couldn't help herself. His black curls were all over the place, just like the first time they had met. Exceptthis time, a little smile appeared on his lips and his eyes were warm.
"Anyway," he said, "I just wanted to apologize for bumping into you, I guess."
She was so focused on his face that she didn't immediately realize he'd spoken. When she did though, she immediately felt ridiculous.
"Oh, yeah. No, it's fine. I mean, I am sorry. I bumped into you. So, you shouldn't. Apologize, I mean," she stammered, looking away.
God, what would he think of her? She kept acting weird. One day she was cold and pushing him away, the next she was staring at him as if she'd never met a human being before. She couldn't even say one full sentence correctly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his smile grow bigger.
"It's okay. It was nothing, really. It's just uh… The way you reacted, it seemed like y—"
He stopped in mid-sentence, for no reason. Clarke looked up, intrigued. He was looking past her, once again. He was frowning.
"You paint?" he calmly asked her.
That caught her off guard. She turned around. From there she could see Monty and Harper's coffee table, with her painting on it.
"Uh… yeah."
It was weird, reminding him of that. There used to be a time when he would spend the entire day watching her paint, as he wrote down some notes for his book. Good times.
"Can I come in?"
His sudden interest in the portrait surprised her. She wasn't sure how to react. She wanted to say no, because this was already too much to handle. But it was the second time she was seeing him in five days, and at this point she didn't have anything to lose. She stepped aside.
"Yeah, sure."
He walked past her and Clarke held her breath. She could almost feel his touch. A week ago, she'd thought she would never, ever see him again. Now here he was, right in front of her, and she didn't know how to feel.
Bellamy leaned in, observing the painting, barely touching it. His fingers stopped at the very bottom of the portrait, on the left. She realized it wasn't the picture itself that interested him, but two letters. Her signature. C.G.
"What's your name again?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the initials.
"Um, Claire," she said, both intrigued and worried.
She silently thanked Harper for telling her about her unofficial name.
"Your last name, I mean," Bellamy said.
Shit. Clarke had to find an answer, and quickly. He knew she'd painted the portrait, so her name had to start with a G. Think, Clarke!
"Graham! Um, Claire Graham," she blurted.
Bellamy straightened up, still frowning.
"I see."
He seemed to be lost in his thoughts. What was going on? Did he remember something?
"Are you coming to the wedding?" he asked her out of nowhere.
He focused his attention back on her, looking at her straight in the eyes. A chill went down Clarke's spine.
"No. I'm leaving in three days."
"Why? Aren't you Harper's cousin?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah. But I've got work to do, so…"
"Oh."
He looked disappointed. It was so strange, him asking her about things he should've already known. Him looking at her as if she were a mystery, when three years ago he basically knew everything about her. He knew her real name. He knew she painted. He knew about her past. He knew about her friends. He knew so much and now she was just a stranger called Claire Graham, and she was Harper's cousin.
He was still looking at her, but his eyes were unfocused. She could see him think. About what? She couldn't say. He seemed to be about to say something, but he hesitated. Meanwhile, Clarke didn't move, waiting. After a moment of awkward silence, he shook his head, clenched his fist and walked back to the door.
"Anyway, I'm just going to leave then," he said.
At first, Clarke just felt relieved. Being careful about everything she did and said was exhausting. His presence was exhausting. She was constantly afraid to make a mistake. But as he walked past her to leave, her heart broke a little. She had to go through all of this again. She had to let him go. 'Think about was is best for him,' they would tell her.
She was about to say goodbye, when he suddenly declared:
"I'm writing a book."
"Oh."
She almost told him 'Yeah, I know,' but held herself back at the last moment. She'd wondered if he'd continued writing after the accident. Now she had her answer. She waited for him to continue, wondering what his point was. He started playing with his hair, looking down.
"It's uh… about Greek gods. In our world. It's complicated but…"
He took a deep breath.
"I was just wondering if maybe you could help me illustrate it. I uh, I'd love that. I don't know anyone who can paint, and I'm really shitty at all of that, so you know…"
Illustrate it? He'd never talk about that before the accident. Clarke was pretty sure he'd never even thought about this kind of project. But years had passed; he had probably changed. And she would never get to know this new Bellamy.
"I'm sorry, I can't do that."
He looked up, disappointed again. But she didn't have a choice.
"I'm leaving in a few days. And I've got work to do, as I told you. It would be too complicated."
"No, it's okay. I understand."
He clenched his jaw.
"Goodbye, Claire," he said, his voice low.
He was gone before she even had the time to say anything. For once, she wasn't the one leaving. But it hurt all the same.
