CHAPTER 6 : WHITE TULIPS
10/02/2019
Bellamy smiled as he watched Monty and Harper dance for the first time as a married couple. Their happiness was radiating off them. They didn't talk, just looked at each other—their eyes full of love. The moment was so intimate it made everyone look away.
They were all reunited in one of Lincoln's friends' small restaurant. Luna had kindly accepted to let them host their wedding reception here, for a rather small price. The entire room was beautifully decorated with flowers—Maya's gift for them. Somehow, everyone had participated in a way or another. Bellamy had helped Jasper write his speech as Monty's best man. He wished he hadn't spent so much time on it though. Jasper burst into tears halfway through it and didn't calm down until he had an empty glass of wine in his hands. Now, seated at the bar on the other side of the room, he was beaming like an idiot.
As the song came to an end and another started, Miller got up with his new boyfriend, Jackson, and joined the newlyweds on the dance floor. Emori then dragged a reluctant Murphy with her, and soon enough a dozen of people surrounded Harper and Monty, dancing with them.
Bellamy wasn't in a mood to dance. He had nobody to dance with anyway, so instead he remained seated at one of the round tables scattered around the room, lost in his thoughts. He'd been trying to stop thinking about Claire, at least during the wedding, but he couldn't help it. He got the drawing out of his wallet, and stared for the millionth time at the two letters: C.G.
For the last few days, he'd been thinking about their last conversation, frustrated with the way it ended. When he saw the letters on the painting, it took every ounce of his energy for him to stay calm. He hesitated for so long, his hand hitching to take his wallet out of his pocket. It had to be her. But maybe it wasn't. Maybe he should've shown her the drawing. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
So, in the end he was too scared to do anything, and his coward ass came up with another stupid idea. He didn't really have the time to think. He actually hadn't written anything since the accident, let alone thought about illustrating the story. One day, he'd found drafts of the book he was writing on his old computer—words he didn't remember typing—and ignored them ever since. She'd said no anyway, and she wasn't in town anymore. Now Bellamy was torn between finding a way to contact her or just moving on.
"Having fun yet?" a voice suddenly asked him.
Bellamy startled. He quickly folded the drawing and put it back in his pocket, hoping Octavia hadn't seen it. She came to sit beside him, out of breath. Dancing with Lincoln required a lot of energy, especially as a pregnant woman.
"Dance isn't really my thing," Bellamy shrugged.
"Yeah, I know," Octavia laughed.
It's not that he didn't like dancing, he just wasn't very good at it.
"Gina could make you dance," she said.
Bellamy could hear the melancholy in her voice. Octavia truly cared for Gina, in a way she never did for any of Bellamy's other girlfriends. It was easy to love Gina, he remembered that. She was kind, patient, generous. He probably didn't deserve her.
"Yeah, I bet," he said, because he didn't have a clear memory of them dancing.
They stayed silent for a while, Octavia watching Lincoln dance with Luna, and Bellamy lost in his thoughts once again. His friends had told him he kept having these 'blackouts' since the accident. He would just create his own bubble, cutting himself from the rest of the world without even realizing it. According to his psychologist, this was perfectly normal. He just needed time.
"Harper's cousin didn't come?" Octavia asked him.
Bellamy looked at her, surprised. He didn't except her to remember that. He'd only mention her once, and Octavia had never heard of her. She also didn't seem to care about it.
"Uh, no."
He suddenly was very aware of the drawing hidden in his pocket, as if Octavia could see through it. It was stupid, really. When he first found the portrait, he was barely recovering. He ignored it, because it didn't matter at the time. Then, he would just keep it with him for no reason at all. He always thought 'I need to ask them about the drawing.' But he had so much to ask already. What happened the night of the accident? Where were he and Gina heading to? When did Murphy meet Emori? What Christmas gifts did he get for Octavia?
It felt like his own life didn't belong to him anymore. He depended on the others all the time. He didn't even know how to be himself. So, when the time came to talk about the portrait, he didn't. Because it was his own little secret. It belonged to him and the person who'd drawn him. Whoever it was.
"Oh, look! Those are mom's favorite flowers," his sister said, pointing at the little bouquet in the middle of the table.
Bellamy looked up. White tulips. When he was old enough to work, he would always insist on buying his mom a gift for her birthday. She always refused at first, but since he kept insisting, she would end up asking for a bunch of white tulips. Sometimes, he only bought one tulip. But it didn't matter, Aurora was the happiest woman alive. When Bellamy had his accident, Octavia would bring those same flowers almost every time she would come to visit him at the hospital. It was the only beautiful thing to look at in his white, bland room. He'd spent hours and hours staring at them, lying in this bed, half conscious of what was happening to him. Sometimes Miller and Murphy came too. The nurses would often check on him, asking him questions, making sure he was doing fine. One day, a girl busted into his room. He remembers that, because she seemed so lost. He was high on painkillers, so he didn't immediately realize someone was in the room. Then he heard the nurse asking the girl to leave, and he looked up.
"You're not allowed to be here, Miss."
"I'm sorry… I-I'm sorry..."
As she was leaving, she cast one last glance at him. That's when he locked eyes with her. Hers were so blue, full of sadness. Her blond hair circled her face.
Bellamy froze.
Blond hair. Blue eyes.
He kept seeing her face, again and again. Unbelievable.
He was such an idiot.
Bellamy suddenly got up. Octavia asked where he was going, but he didn't answer. He had to talk to Jasper. He walked towards him, determined to get the answers he wanted. He almost bumped into Murphy, but he dodged him at the last moment. He kept moving.
He wasn't crazy. He wasn't making things up. She was there. Her hair was longer, she had dark circles under her eyes, but there was no doubt in his mind.
Bellamy finally reached the counter where Jasper was seated. When his friend saw him, his smile grew even bigger. He opened his arms, as if to embrace him.
"Bellamyyyy! Oh my god, look at you! Looking good as hell…"
"We need to talk," Bellamy stated.
Jasper was obviously drunk, which could either be very inconvenient or very useful. Bellamy was praying it would be the latter.
"Oh wow, so serious!"
Jasper dropped his arms to his side, disappointed by his friend's lack of response to his display of affection. Bellamy didn't waste any more time, impatient to get answers.
"I know where I've seen Claire before."
"Claire?"
Bellamy frowned. Did Jasper forget her name? He was even more drunk than he looked, then, which wasn't great.
"Yeah, Harper's cousin. Short, blond hair. Blue eyes…"
"Oooooooh!"
Jasper's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Realization seemed to suddenly hit him.
"You remember?" he asked, his voice suddenly very high.
"Yeah," Bellamy said. "She came to see me at the hospital, after the accident. She came into the room and left. She didn't say anything, at least not to me, but she was there. It was her, I'm sure of it."
Jasper hadn't moved an inch, still gaping at Bellamy. He blinked a few times, processing everything he'd just heard. He finally closed his mouth and frowned, lost in his thoughts—which probably weren't making a lot of sense.
"Uh. Wow," is all he said.
Bellamy waited for him to confirm or deny everything, or at least to say something. But his friend kept blinking as if it would help him understand what was going on. He was way too drunk for this. Bellamy sighed and brought a hand up to his head, playing with his hair. A bad habit he had when he was stressed.
"Listen, Jas. I just need, uh… I just need to talk to her."
Jasper eyes widened even more, in horror this time. He pointed a finger a Bellamy.
"This…" he said, poking Bellamy's torso, "… is not a great idea."
"Come on…"
"Nope. Nope. No. This is forbidden by law."
Jasper slapped his hand against the counter, as if to show how serious his words were.
"What law?" Bellamy asked frowning.
"Our law," Jasper answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Bellamy shook his head. Nothing Jasper said made sense anyway.
"Please. This is important to me."
"Can't."
"Just her number."
"Nope."
"If she doesn't want to talk to me then I won't try to contact her ever again."
"Liar."
"I won't tell her it was you who gave me her number."
Jasper side eyed Bellamy, suspicious.
"She'll guess."
Bellamy closed his eyes, discouraged. Even drunk, Jasper could be stubborn as fuck.
"Well then If I can't speak with her, then you tell me the truth," he told Jasper, in an accusing tone.
He was sick of all these secrets.
"Oh no," Jasper said.
"Here's the thing. I won't stop until I have some answers," Bellamy said firmly, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I will ask everyone in this room if I have to. So, you either tell me everything now, or you give me that damn number."
Jasper looked around him, watching everyone dancing, talking, drinking. Suddenly, he seemed more serious, thinking. Bellamy didn't know what exactly, but something had made Jasper consider his request.
"Once," Jasper conceded.
Bellamy extended his hand. Jasper stared at it for a moment, then shook it.
"Once, I swear."
Weirdly, Jasper refused to show the number on his phone. Instead, he wrote it on a napkin. He thought it was funny—people would think he was hitting on Bellamy. Bellamy smiled as he handed him the number.
He had one chance. He couldn't allow himself to ruin it.
