CHAPTER 14 : Puzzle

24/11/2015

Clarke was almost running, her eyes fixed on Bellamy's back. He didn't know she was following him. She'd been looking for him the entire morning. She'd finally spotted his black curls two minutes ago. As got closer to his car, she sped up.
He probably heard her coming, because he turned around just as she put her arms around his waist. She wanted to surprise him, and now it looked like she wanted a hug. Well, there was nothing wrong with that.

"Happy birthday!" she chanted.

Bellamy, still in shock, didn't react at first.

"What the fuck," he just said, his arms hanging in the air.

She laughed, not moving. But he didn't hug her back, even after a few seconds.
'Oh. Okay.' she thought.
Clarke stepped away from him, frowning. No touching, then.

"You're welcome," she said, offended.

At least that made him laugh.

"I'm sorry. You just scared me."

Clarke rolled her eyes, because it had actually been the point. It wouldn't have been funny otherwise. Bellamy smiled as he got closer.

"Thank you," he whispered, and he put his arms around her shoulders.

A real hug, this time. Clarke sighed, relieved. He wasn't rejecting physical touch. Everything was fine. She could feel Bellamy's body heat through his clothes. It was… comfortable. She wouldn't mind staying there for a little while.
But the moment didn't last long, unfortunately. Clarke felt cold as soon as Bellamy was a few feet away from her. She put her hands in her pockets, resisting the urge to catch his shirt and bring him back to where he had been. She looked down, ashamed of feeling that way.
'It's fine. It's normal.' she told herself.

"Twenty-eight, huh? It's worth celebrating," she said.

Bellamy shrugged.

"Yeah… I'm not gonna do a big thing," he said, which wasn't surprising at all.

"What are you gonna do, then?"

He brought a hand to his hair and started playing with it.

"Just, you know, a birthday cake."

Clarke waited for a few seconds before she realized he was done talking.

"Wait, that's all?" she asked him.

"Yeah."

He shrugged. Again.

"Okay," she said. "A birthday cake. When is that?"

She watched as his eyes widened and his mouth was slowly opening, as if he'd just found realized something.

"Uh… Tonight. But it's just a small thing, you know. Me, my sister, her boyfriend and Gina. Maybe Miller, too," he explained.

Clarke didn't understand why he seemed so embarrassed, until the realization hit her.
She wasn't invited.
She fought very hard against her own body to not show her disappointment. She forced herself to keep smiling, as if it was nothing at all. And it was. No big deal.

"Oh. Of course. It's totally fine. I understand," she blurted out.

She felt stupid. She should've known. It made sense.

"I'm sorry," Bellamy said, and it pissed her off because he knew her too well already.

"It's fine," she repeated.

"Gina's leaving in a month…" he started explaining

"Bellamy," Clarke cut him off. "It's fine. I get it."

He sighed, his eyes full of compassion. She didn't want it. She looked away.

"Just… come by the workshop when you can, okay?" she told him before turning her back on him, heading for the school.


22/02/2019

The headlights. So close. Too close.

"Gina, behind you!"

Too fast.

"Listen. Why won't you listen?" she was telling him.

"Gina! The car!"

"Why won't you listen Bellamy? Listen to me! Listen!"

Bellamy woke up, breathing heavily. He was sweating, just like the other night.

"Again."

That nightmare. The same car, the same words, the same panic. 'Listen'. What the hell was he supposed to listen to? It was all she could say. 'Listen. Listen. Listen.'
He was tired of listening. For almost three years that was all he'd been doing. He would listen to his sister, to Miller, to Murphy. He would accept their explanations and their answers, because they wouldn't lie to him. He trusted them.
But not anymore.

He knew they were lying. They could be lying about so many things. They could make him believe in anything.
Claire was lying, too. But it didn't hurt so as much, because it wasn't a shock to him. She'd been keeping secrets from him from day one. He just needed to give her time.

It was different for Miller. He knew Claire, and he never, ever mentioned her. She was Bellamy's friend, and nobody told him so. Bellamy was only hoping his sister didn't know much, that she wasn't hiding things from him on purpose, just like Murphy. But he was afraid of what he'd discover.
While on the subject, he was supposed to have lunch at his sister's. Lincoln, Miller and his new boyfriend would be there.
'How convenient' he thought.

~oOo~

"Here it is!" Lincoln said, putting a dish of green beans on the table, where everyone was already seated at. "Bon appétit!"

Octavia hummed loudly, putting a hand on her husband's cheeks, her eyes full of love. She was in a good mood, apparently, contrary to her brother.

Everybody started filling their plate, handing the different dishes to the person next to them. Bellamy was seated just in front of Miller, and beside Jackson. From what Bellamy had seen of him, he was nice and very chatty. Bellamy probably shouldn't be so cold, but he found it hard to act as if everything was normal. Of course, none of friends knew what was going on, which earned him a few confused looks.

"This looks really good, Lincoln," Miller said.

"Thanks."

For a minute, none of them talked. You could only hear knives and forks clinking together. Miller, felling a bit uncomfortable, cleared his throat. Bellamy was completely aware of the fact it was his fault, but he decided that he didn't care. His sister glared at him, frustrated.
This awkward silence could've last forever, if not for Jackson.

"So! I can't believe Nathan only told me his first name yesterday."

Miller rolled his eyes.

"And now you keep calling me like this even though you know I hate it."

"It's my way of punishing you for hiding it from me," Jackson said, smirking.

"Yeah. Miller's good at hiding things from people," Bellamy said.

Silence, again. Except this time the atmosphere was very tense, and everyone was staring at Bellamy. Bellamy was only staring at Miller.

"Oh yeah?" Miller said, as if he was daring Bellamy to repeat what he'd just said.

"Yeah, apparently."

"What is that supposed to mean?" his friend straightened, frowning.

Bellamy shrugged.

"I don't know. You tell me."

Octavia put down the drink she was holding with a loud boom.

"What's your problem, Bell?" she exclaimed, staring accusingly at him.

Bellamy crossed his arms. He was fighting against the urge to shout at all of them, to tell them how betrayed he felt. But he remained calm, focusing on his breath. He kept staring at Miller, hoping to make him understand he knew. 'You're lying to me, and I want you to admit it' he was thinking. But his friend only shook his head, as if he couldn't possibly understand what was going on. Bellamy thought about the picture with him and Claire – it was real, he hadn't made that up. So why is it that she'd never been mentioned in almost three years?
Even Octavia would've known about her.

"Did you ever lie to me about my memories?" he suddenly asked her.

He was hoping she'd deny it right away. But she didn't. First, she gaped at Bellamy, her eyes widening. Then, she denied.

"No! Why would you think that?"

But he knew her too well. And he knew she'd hesitated.

"Really?" he insisted. "Never? So you told me everything?"

"Why are you asking this?" she replied, raising her voice.

"Why aren't you answering?"

Her sister became very pale, and Bellamy suddenly forgot about his anger. He was only worried about her. He put his hand on her arm, in a way to reassure her, but she took it away.

"O…" he said.

"I told you what you needed to know," she said coldly.

Lincoln helped her to get up from her chair, frowning at Bellamy. He wasn't sure what she'd meant, but he didn't want to argue with her anymore. So, he turned his attention back to Miller, who looked furious but determined. He wouldn't tell him anything.
Bellamy sighed. He felt like shit.

"I'm just gonna leave," he said.

Nobody insisted that he stay.

~oOo~

Claire had barely opened the door before Bellamy declared:

"I need to talk to you."

Even if those six words made her instantly worried, she didn't question him, didn't object. She just nodded and stepped aside. She noticed the small box he was holding as he came in, wondering what it was. He caught her looking at it.

"I'll explain," he said.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, as she closed the door behind him.

"Yeah," he said but it didn't sound true at all, which worried her even more.

He went straight to the living room, and she followed closely behind. She couldn't help but admire his face as he took his coat off, even if he seemed so serious.

"Do you want some tea or something?" she offered, mostly because she needed to mentally prepare for what he had to say to her.

He started shaking his head, as if he was going to refuse, but then he locked eyes with her. His face suddenly relaxed a bit. He even smiled a little.

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay," she said, relieved, before heading to the kitchen.

It gave her about five minutes. She concentrated on her breathing as she was waiting for the water to boil. Her mind was racing. Was it because of the drawings? What if he knew everything? No, he would be much angrier than that. Maybe he'd told someone about her? Octavia? Did she tell him something?
'Calm down, calm down' she told herself.
She was so preoccupied by the prospect of this conversation that she didn't even ask him what he wanted. She just picked whatever tea bag she found.
When she came back to the living room, Bellamy had moved a chair in order to sit in front of the couch. He wanted to face her while talking. This couldn't be good.
Bellamy was playing nervously with his hands, as she put the mugs down on the table, beside the box he'd brought with him.

"Thanks," he said.

She sat, facing him. She clenched her fists. Now all she could do his wait.
He took a breath before he started talking.

"So, here's the thing."

He seemed to hesitate, biting his lips. Then he straightened to look at her. Clarke's heart missed a beat.

"I'm completely lost. I'm not even sure why I came here in the first place," he said, his voice low.

Clarke didn't know what to say – it wasn't what she expected. She didn't know where this was going.

"I've been living a life that doesn't feel like mine for two years and a half now. I don't even who I am, or… who I'm supposed to be. I thought I knew, but I don't. I just accepted whatever explanation people gave me and convinced myself it was the truth. Cause why wouldn't it be?"

She noticed his jaw clenching, his eyes searching hers. But she didn't know how to react. What was the point of all of this?

"But… I think I always knew something was missing."

He did something she didn't expect he would do - he took her hand in his. The feeling of his skin touching hers made her startle. But she didn't take it away. It was so warm.

"It was you," he murmured.

Hearing those words felt like both a blessing and a curse. Clarke wanted to smile and cry at the same time. It had been said with so much honesty and kindness she couldn't think straight. She couldn't breathe properly. She looked down, refusing to look at him.
He sighed, then let go of her hand. She wished he hadn't.

"I want you to understand me. As if… the me of today," he said.

Because she only understood past Bellamy. The Bellamy that she knew. He didn't say it, but he clearly meant it.
He was right, but it still hurt.
He took the box beside him, opened it, and emptied its content on the table. Clarke found herself staring at a pile of puzzle pieces.

"This is what my life feels like," he declared.

He laid out it all out, then started picking up all the blue pieces. Clarke took a look at the picture on the box – the puzzle was supposed to represent a landscape. As Bellamy put them together, she realized it was the sky.

"You've got the parts of my life that I remember. My past. My story. I'm Bellamy Blake. I was born on November 24th, 1987. I've got a sister. I write. That kind of thing."

He put the blue pieces aside and picked up others. Orange ones.

"Then you've got the obvious parts, the ones I don't need to remember to know they're true."

The pieces formed the leaves of a tree during fall.

"Like, I was a History teacher. Gina and I lived together."

Clarke winced when she heard Gina's name, but Bellamy didn't notice. Once again, he put the pieces aside and picked up new ones. This time, they were green. The grass, Clarke guessed. Those seemed much more complicated to put together.

"These are the parts I've been told about. The ones I believed not so long ago, but now I'm not so sure."

He didn't even try to finish what he started before he put it all away. Now there was only a few pieces left, completely out of order. Bellamy took the small pile in his hand.

"That, is the reason I can't sleep at night. It's the reason why I can't be at peace. They are the parts that are missing, but only in my head, and not in my heart."

Clarke swallowed hard. She couldn't move. What was he saying?
He leaned on the table, his face getting closer to her, but not too close.

"You were a part of my life, of me. I can feel it. And I need you, because I need to fill the holes. I need the puzzle to be complete."

He pushed the pile of puzzle pieces towards her.

"And you're the only one that can give me that."


28/11/2015

Clarke didn't expect the knock on the trapdoor of her workshop. She was fully committed to her painting; she didn't even check her phone to see if someone wanted to come by. By 'someone', she meant Bellamy, of course.
She'd forgiven him for the birthday party she wasn't invited to. But there was nothing to forgive, really. It was just her being stupid.

"Coming!" she said, washing her paint covered hands first.

It could also be Jasper or Monty. They'd come by a few times already, and usually without a warning. But she opened the door, the first thing she spotted was black, messy curls.

"Hi," Bellamy said, a hesitant smile on his lips.

They hadn't talked a lot since his birthday. Even if she didn't hold a grudge against him, they seemed awkward for some reason. From what he'd told her, the birthday cake tasted good. They didn't talk more about it.

"Oh," she said, suddenly thinking about something.

She looked up, scanning the room. Yep, she needed to put some things in order.

"Can you wait for a minute?" she asked, before closing the door, not even waiting for his answer.

She had to be quick. She picked up things she'd left on the floor, cleaned up the table, put some things back where they belonged. She was done within a few minutes. She took the time to take a look around before letting Bellamy in. It had to look good.
It did.

"Come in!" she said, opening the door again.

He was frowning, but didn't say anything as he stepped into the room. Clarke didn't move, smiling, her hands joined in front of her. She was trying her best not to show him how both anxious and excited she was. 'Please don't let this drop!' she thought.
Bellamy smiled back.

"I, uh… I'm sorry I didn't text you before I got here," he told her.

"Oh, no, no! It's fine."

'Come on,' she thought.

Bellamy shrugged, completely oblivious to Clarke's current state of mind.

"I didn't have the time to come by aft-" he said, as he turned around.

And spotted the desk.
It wasn't the only thing new. It had blank sheets of paper carefully stacked in a pile, with pens beside it, and notebooks, and a dictionary, and a lamp. All of this, waiting for him.

"Happy birthday," she chimed, getting closer.

Because it wasn't just a desk with lots of things on it. It was his own corner, his own little space to write. He would be facing the view. She would be painting on the other side of the room. She'd decided to get rid off her two crappy chairs, the ones that Bellamy had been writing in. He never complained, but she knew very well it wasn't very comfortable.

Clarke impatiently waited for him to say or do something, anything. But he just stared and stared, frozen.
Fuck. Did he hate it and was afraid to admit it? Maybe it was too much. She should've asked him first. Maybe now he'd feel obligated to come by since she'd bought all this stuff…

"Thank you," he said, and his voice was tight.

He looked at her then. Clarke had expected many things, she'd imagined this scene many times, but she never thought he would be so moved by the gesture. His eyes were red, but he wasn't crying. On the contrary, he was grinning like an idiot.

"So, you like it?" she said, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

He was holding her in his arms a second later, his hands so soft on her back.

"Thank you," he repeated.

He didn't pull away this time. They stayed like this for a moment, her head on his shoulder. She took a breath in, smelling his cologne. It felt so good, being in his arms. But Clarke would never admit it, at least not out loud. So instead, she clung to him as if it was the last time she could ever touch him. Because she knew she would never have anything more than that, and that she shouldn't wish for it.