CHAPTER 23 : Hurt
16/03/2019
"Ma'am?"
Clarke startled, suddenly coming back to reality. She'd been staring out the window, her head full of thoughts and images she wished she could forget for a second but wouldn't leave her alone, feeling the anxiety growing inside her chest.
She looked at the driver, a little ashamed.
"Yes?" she asked, after clearing her throat.
"It's over there, just across the street," he replied, a hint of frustration in his voice.
Clarke automatically looked out the window again, spotting the place where she was supposed to go, and bit her lip. She didn't even know when the car had stopped, she was too lost in her own thoughts to notice. The driver must've been patiently waiting for her to get out, and she was taking too long.
"Oh," she said. "Sorry."
She picked up her bag, searching for her credit card to pay him. Clarke did her best to focus on what she was doing instead of going back in her mental bubble.
"Thank you," she told him, wincing, hoping he could see she truly was sorry about the wait.
She got out of the car, relieved to finally be alone. She watched the Uber drive away until she couldn't see it anymore. She started walking, taking her time, looking around the empty street. She spotted the gates, a few steps away from her, and a bench on her right. She sat down, feeling nervous. She'd been thinking about this ever since she was back in Arkadia. That idea was always there, in the back of her head. But she never thought she would actually do it, until Bellamy showed up at the hotel and told her…
She felt her heart sink, closing her eyes.
He'd told her so much. Much, much more than she ever thought, or hoped, he would say.
She took a deep breath, remembering his words.
'I loved you then, and I love you now.'
The memory took her breath away.
The heartbreak she felt wasn't the worst part. Nor the pain in Bellamy's eyes when she told him to leave. Nor the moment she had to tell him Gina died because of her. Nor knowing that she'd lost him once again, and that soon someone would tell him the truth, taking him away from her forever.
No.
The worst part was remembering the incontrollable, overwhelming, thrilling joy she felt as he told her he loved her.
It was so powerful, she couldn't hold the tears invading her eyes, and she sobbed in his arms. This man, this wonderful, beautiful man, wiping off her tears oblivious to the real effect his words had on her.
Because she never thought she would hear him say it.
'I love you.'
How many of her nights had been filled with dreams in which he would whisper these exact words in her ear, in a world where they would be free to be in love without fearing the consequences?
And yet, she never dared to hope it would actually happen. Especially after the accident, and all those years.
Then, after the joy, came the shame.
Because the woman Bellamy should love was dead. Because of her. Because Clarke loved him too much.
She came into their lives, uninvited, and left with one of them dead and the other an amnesic. It didn't seem fair that her heart was still beating and the man she was in love with loved her back, when she was the one who least deserved it.
It was Raven who suggested the idea, once she was back from the bar and found Clarke silently crying, curled up on her bed. She didn't even ask what happened.
'Enough!' she told Clarke. 'This had to end. You can't expect him to forgive you if you're incapable of doing it yourself. So, find a way to do it.'
And there she was.
Maybe it wouldn't help at all. Maybe it would hurt more than it would relieve her.
What did she have to lose anyway?
She just had to do something first. To have a chance at forgiving herself, she had to be fully honest.
Her hands were shaking as she was rummaging through her bag, searching for a phone. When she found it, she stared at it for a long time, struggling to find the courage to go through her plan.
She took a long, deep breath, and unlocked the phone. She didn't allow herself to hesitate.
Her jaw clenching, she brought the device to her ear.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Don't pick up," she whispered. "Please, don't pick up."
She didn't want to hear the pain, the anger in his voice.
She just wanted him to know.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-
"The number you have reached is currently…"
Clarke sighed, relieved.
He would only have to listen then, if he wanted to. It was better this way.
"Bellamy," she murmured, it hurt to say his name.
She cleared her throat.
"You probably don't want to have anything to do with me. I'm not blaming you."
She paused, feeling a lump in her throat already.
"I'm not calling to rub it in. I just, uh…" she sighed, closing her eyes. "I need to you to… I need to explain why I pushed you away. I'm not expecting you to forgive me, but maybe… maybe you'll understand."
She took a shaky breath. She would try her best not to cry, but she was already close to give in.
"I never wanted to hurt you. Fuck, I never wanted any of this. But what you said, yesterday… You turned my world upside down. Everything is so much more complicated than I thought, because-"
There, a tear fell down her cheek. The first of many to come.
"You know, I can't even look at myself in the mirror," she choked up. "I wish I could go back. I wish I could stop the car, I wish Gina…"
Saying her name felt like a slap in her face.
"Sometimes I even wish we'd never met," she whispered.
It took her a few seconds before she could find her voice again. She hesitated a few times, and then, finally she spoke.
"But… Bellamy, I love you. I always have. And I always will, even if it kills me," she sobbed. "But you should know you… you chose her. Not me. And if Gina was still alive…"
She bit her lip hard as the memories invaded her mind, forcing her to stop.
"I was selfish," she continued, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "I made a mistake. I couldn't let you go, and it cost her life and your memory. If you knew how much I hate myself for this, sometimes I can't even breathe. God! It's like… there's no way out. Whatever happens, I won't be okay. I won't have a happy ending. But you will. I have to believe that you will, because it can't end like this. I can't…" her voice broke.
She tried to breathe more evenly, overwhelmed with conflicted emotions. In a way, she felt relieved. The words she'd been on the verge of saying for so long finally came out. But the pain in her chest only seemed to expand even more.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, at last, before hanging up.
She turned the phone off, or else she wouldn't be able not to think about Bellamy calling her back. She needed to be alone.
She stayed on that bench, crying, for a long time. Hours, maybe. At some point, someone asked her if she needed help. It motivated her to calm down, and to find the strength to go through with her plan. She came here for a reason, and she wouldn't leave until it was done. It was a small thing, but it mattered more than anything else, at the moment.
She got up, noticing the sun slowly descending in the sky. She had to hurry.
16/04/2016
Everything went black.
She heard puffs and hushes. Giggles.
She rolled her eyes, waiting.
And then, on her right, tiny flames appeared. It seemed like they were moving in the air, towards her.
"Haaappy birthday to yooouu!" they all started to sing.
Clarke smiled. Harper put the cake on the coffee table on front of her, her face illuminated by the candles.
"Haaapy birthday to yooouu! Haaappy birthday to yooouu, Clarke! Haaappy birthday tooo yoooouuu!"
She told them: no song.
Of course, they didn't listen.
Clarke leaned in.
"Make a wish!" Jasper shouted.
Clarke frowned. She knew exactly what she wanted to wish for.
But was it worth trying, when there was no hope for it to happen?
She closed her eyes anyway, pretending. She tried her hardest not to think about him, but his face appeared behind her lids. She opened her eyes again.
She blew out all the candles in one go. At the same time, the flash of someone's phone blinded her.
They all clapped and cheered.
Someone turned the lights back on, and suddenly everyone was around her – congratulating her, hugging her, taking more pictures with her. Jasper, Monty and Harper were there, of course, including other friends they sometimes hanged out with like Atom, Luna, Bree or Fox. Even Miller and his boyfriend, Bryan, had come.
It was everything she needed. She asked her three best friends to bring as many people as they could – the more the merrier. She was planning on getting drunk and forgetting about the one and only person she actually wanted to be there.
He didn't even call.
Clarke smiled harder as Harper was taking a selfie. She decided she wouldn't be miserable for him. Not tonight.
Miller was suddenly next to her, putting a drink in her hand. Clarke looked up, surprised.
"Cheers!" he told her, winking. "It's your night!"
Clarke grinned as their glasses clinked. It was her third one, already. She swallowed its content in a few gulps.
Then, Jasper caught her arm, a wide smile on his face.
"Now, gifts!" he exclaimed, jumping around.
He seemed more excited than her. Clarke sighed – of course they bought her gifts. Jasper reached out for all the bags stacked in a corner of the living room and carried them all to the couch. He then rummaged through one of them to hand her a small, floppy package.
Clarke raised her eyebrow.
"From Monty and I!" he claimed proudly.
Clarke snorted. She didn't know what to expect, Jasper and Monty loved to offer unexpected, stupid gifts.
Monty got right beside Clarke as she unpacked what seemed to a piece of clothing. She locked eyes with him for a second, and Monty smiled a half smile.
She knew Monty could see right through her, in the way he acted with her. One of his hands rested on her back, as if to reassure her. Clarke thought she was doing a pretty good job at pretending she was fine and happy, but Monty was too observant. He was silently watching her, making sure she was feeling okay.
As for Jasper and Harper, they were helping Clarke by being themselves – funny and joyful.
"Ah!" Clarke smirked.
She was right, it was a shirt. She heard Jasper giggling.
She unfolded it and burst out laughing.
"You're kidding me!"
"You know you love it!" Jasper beamed.
Clarke had tears in her eyes, but for once it wasn't because she felt empty inside. The shirt was simple, entirely white, aside from a big square in the middle. It was a picture of the three of them – Clarke, Jasper and Monty – during one of their nights out. The faces they were making were hilarious, it was one of those pictures Clarke hoped would never end up on social media.
"I am never gonna wear that," she told them, even though she was still laughing.
"We're gonna make you!" Monty replied.
"No way!"
It felt great, being around people, she laughed. Drinking, joking, dancing. She didn't have to worry about anything.
She unpacked the gifts one by one, thanking everyone again and again. She wasn't expecting anything really, so it was warming her heart to see most of them had taken the time to bring something for her.
Someone turned the volume of the music up, and Clarke let herself be carried with the others as she jumped around the room and screamed. Fuck the neighbors, she'd been a good girl ever since she moved in. She had the right to have fun from time to time.
She kept drinking. It was fine, she wasn't going anywhere. She was already at her place.
Time flew by so fast. She was feeling great, perfect even.
Even if her heart was beating too fast in her chest, and the world seemed to going around and around under her feet, she didn't stop.
Everything was a blur.
Hours past, but Clarke didn't slow down.
She didn't want to.
The excitement was still there, invading every part of her body, and she wouldn't let it go.
Harper grabbed Clarke's shirt and they laughed as they danced against each other, even though they were way too drunk for it to be remotely sexy.
At some point, somewhere, a door slammed. Clarke barely heard it over the loud music. She couldn't care less if someone was throwing up in her bathroom or if people were having sex in her bed. Nothing mattered.
Clarke wanted to shout some more, but she was losing her voice and her throat hurt – because of the screams or the alcohol, that she wasn't sure. She turned around, Harper did the same, and Clarke giggled as they leaned their backs against each other, swinging awkwardly. Clarke closed her eyes, raising a drink she'd forgotten was even in her hand in the air.
She sang to herself, knowing nobody could hear her anyway.
"…anna just can't hide it!"
She shook her head with enthusiasm.
"Mmmh about'n lose control anna think I like it…. AM SO EXCITED!" she shouted. "Anna just can't hide it!"
She raised both of her hands in the air, a huge smile on her face, her eyes still closed.
"Anna know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I kn-want you, I WANT YOU!" she burst out laughing, knowing she messed up the lyrics.
She opened her eyes, then.
And everything fell silent.
She stopped feeling anything altogether. It felt like she was out of her body, floating around.
Maybe she was just too drunk. Yet her mind couldn't be fooled, because it was showing her exactly what she wanted, even though she was doing everything she could to deny it.
It mustn't be real. It didn't seem real. It could be a dream. Maybe she was already sleeping.
These were the most conceivable hypothesis she could think of that could explain…
Him.
Standing right there, in front of her, only a few steps away. His eyes, so dark in the dim light of the room, were focused on her. Clarke felt warmth invade her belly, despite being somehow aware of the fact that it was wrong, to feel that way. Clarke had a hard time remembering why, and she wasn't particularly interested in knowing, anyway. The less she remembered, the better.
But she also felt an uncontrollable anger towards this man, who dared to show up at her birthday after what he did. Because she did remember the pain of losing him, and that she wasn't ready to accept.
She wanted to say so many things, she wanted to hit his beautiful face, but all she managed to do was scowl at him.
He took a step forward.
"Hi," Bellamy said, loud enough so she could hear him.
He was forcing himself not to look down. Maybe he felt ashamed. 'Good', she thought, fighting the urge to take him in her arms instead.
He took another step closer. Clarke's heart skipped a beat, so she crossed her arms in defense.
"Happy birthday," he told her, half smiling.
She kept staring at him, narrowing her eyes, refusing to relax.
He was probably a dream. A nightmare, even. A very sweet nightmare.
His curls were all over the place. It reminded her of the first day she'd met him, and it distracted her enough that she couldn't think of anything else.
Which is why it took her a long while to notice he was handing her something, patiently waiting for her to pick it up.
Her eyes went from his face to what seemed to be a box in wrapping paper a few times, before she finally took it off his hands abruptly.
"It's nice of you to show up," she told him as she examined the package, hoping he would hear the sarcasm in her voice.
She watched him, to see his reaction, but he only pursed his lips.
Disappointed, she decided to focus on ripping apart the wrapping paper. But her fingers kept slipping on it, and she couldn't remember how she was supposed to do this thing. She groaned, frustrated with it.
"Stupid paper…"
"Here, let me help," Bellamy offered, his hands already on the package.
Their fingers touched for a second, and Clarke startled.
Bellamy remained calm as he took the box out of her hands and tore the paper. Once again, Clarke's eyes focused on his fingers rather than the object he was holding.
He handed the gift to her, staring intently at her. Clarke realized it wasn't a box, but a book. It looked old and worn out, the spine was damaged. She frowned.
"I…" Bellamy started, clearing his throat. "I tried to think of a gift but… I wasn't satisfied with anything. I didn't seem right to give you something meaningless."
Clarke looked at the title – the Iliad.
"I used to read this to my sister all the time, when we were younger. I've kept this edition with me my whole life."
Clarke remained silent, staring at the book.
"I, uh…" Bellamy stammered, his voice getting closer to her. "I know it doesn't look great… It's just… I guess I hope it'll mean as much to you as it means to me."
His voice seemed to break, so she looked up and almost backed up. She didn't expect his face to be so close to her, he must've leaned in without her noticing.
He seemed to understand the proximity was troubling her, and he took a step back. He smiled, but she could see his eyes were sad, preoccupied.
Clarke felt overwhelmed with contradictory emotions. She wanted to thank him, to hug him, to beg him to stay with her forever.
But she also wanted to scream at him, to push him away, and to tell him to leave without ever coming back.
Her drunkenness wasn't helping.
He opened his mouth to say something, but at this exact moment Jasper ran to them, shouting.
"BELLAMYYYYY!"
Jasper burst out laughing, putting one arm around his friend's shoulder. Bellamy smiled at him, but his eyes weren't leaving Clarke. She had a feeling he could see through her, and she didn't like that.
"How ya doin', bud?" Jasper exclaimed. "Didn't know you were invited!"
Clarke looked down, clenching her hands around the book.
"It's because he wasn't," she murmured, but nobody could hear her.
Bellamy laughed without enthusiasm, then protested when Jasper slammed something to his chest.
"Here! Have a beer!" Jasper told him, beaming.
"Thanks, Jas."
"Miller's over there! I'm gonna call him. HEY, MIL-"
"Stop it! It's fine;" Bellamy sighed, catching his arm. "I think I'm going to go ho-"
"NO!"
Both Jasper and Bellamy turned towards Clarke, their eyes widening. After a second, she realized the shout came from her.
Ugh, she hated being drunk. She couldn't even control her body.
She took a few steps closer, her body only a few inches from Bellamy. She stared at him, determined. He stared back, confused, worried and handsome, and Clarke felt even more frustrated.
"Don't leave."
She sounded like she was begging, when she was trying to sound bossy. She clenched her fists.
"If you wanted to stay home with her, you shouldn't have come at all," she told him through her teeth.
For a second, shock and pain took over his face.
She didn't know if she felt sorry or not. She was angry, heartbroken and desperate.
He shook his head, torn.
Clarke took one of his hands in hers. She held onto it, as if it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. Instinctively, maybe, his fingers tightened around her palm.
"Clarke…" he whispered, but she read her name on his lips.
"Please. Not yet," she told him, choked up.
He could stay just a little bit more.
It wouldn't change anything anyway.
She just had to hope she was drunk enough to forget he even showed up in the first place. Because she couldn't go through the pain again. The pain of realizing he was gone, leaving her behind.
His hand suddenly tensed in hers.
"No, Clarke, please. Don't cry," he trembled, wiping something wet off her cheek.
Clarke realized, with a start, that she was crying.
Fuck. She would never get drunk again.
It was embarrassing. She hated being so vulnerable.
"I'm not crying," she said, rubbing her eyes.
A low, sad chuckle escaped his mouth. His hands were suddenly in her hair, and she wondered what he was doing until the few brands of hair in front of her eyes were gone. He put them behind her ears.
"Breathe," he said. "Fine. I'll stay… for a bit."
She knew it wasn't right. But her heart was constantly fighting with her mind, and well, her mind wasn't clear, at the moment. So she went with the heart, and leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist while she was still holding the book.
Jasper wasn't with them anymore. He must've left at some point, but she didn't notice.
She felt Bellamy's heavy breath on her neck. For a moment, his arms seemed to tighten around her, but then he completely let go of her.
Clarke refused to move, waiting for him to give in and hug her back.
But he didn't.
"Clarke, can you… I need to do something," he told her.
She could sense, by the sound of his voice, that he had something in mind. She looked up, but he was staring intensely at something, or someone behind her, his brows furrowed. He seemed worried. His hands carefully took her arms away from his body, picking up the book at the same time.
"Let me put this somewhere else."
Clarke wanted to protest, but he was already walking past her. She turned around to follow him, then almost stumbled on her feet. The movement made her dizzy.
Once her head had stopped spinning, she searched for Bellamy, her eyes going around the room. He was nowhere to be found.
She tried to ignore the heavy feeling settling in her chest.
He couldn't leave like this, not after he promised to stay.
Standing there, alone, like an idiot, she was suddenly aware of a bathroom emergency. She made her way to it, pushing people around her, demoralized.
It was only once she was done, that she noticed the voices coming from her bedroom. She frowned. She hadn't authorized anyone to go into her room. She was about to snap at the people inside when…
"… more than friendly, Bellamy," the first voice said, firmly.
"You don't know what you saw," Bellamy replied.
"I saw the way you looked at her, that was enough."
Clarke concentrated on the other, familiar voice. Her head hurt, it was difficult to guess who it was.
"I told you. Clarke's my friend," Bellamy grunted.
"Oh, come on! You never looked at Harper like that."
"You're taking this out of proportion."
"I'm not a fucking idiot."
Suddenly, it snapped into place.
It was Miller.
"That would explain a lot of things," Miller continued, irritated. "I know you guys used to hang out. But then Gina came back and you coincidentally stopped. Gina told us you were acting weird rec-"
"This is none of your business!" Bellamy hissed.
"It is when it's hurting my friends!"
They remained silent for so long, Clarke expected them to leave the room at any moment. But Miller spoke again.
"Gina's worried about you. Your sister's worried about you. I'm worried about you, but you refused to talk to us."
"There's nothing to worry about."
"Yes, there is. I know you. You've been acting weird for weeks now! Is it because of her?"
"No! Stop putting this on Clarke!"
"Fuck, Bellamy, look me in the eyes!"
Another pause. Heavy breathings.
"Are you in love with her?"
Clarke waited, her heart beating fast. Everything was confused in her head, she couldn't grasp the meaning of all of their words. She pressed her ear against the door.
Bellamy didn't answer.
"You can't even say it to my face," Miller spit out, disappointed. "Gina deserves better than that."
"Shut up! Don't you think I know this?"
"Apparently you don't!"
"You have no idea of the truth," Bellamy thundered.
"I know you're making a mistake," Miller replied, suddenly much closer.
Clarke barely had the time to back off when the door opened with force.
Her heart dropped.
Suddenly, she found herself face to face with a furious Miller. His eyes focused on her, and his jaw clenched. He was terrifying.
Clarke swallowed with difficulty.
Bellamy appeared behind him, his eyes widened when he spotted Clarke.
"Clarke…?" he said, his voice trailing off.
Miller cast one last, resentful look at Bellamy, then walked past Clarke without a word. Bellamy sighed, defeated.
"Did you hear everything?" he asked Clarke after a moment.
"Uh…"
She couldn't even remember what had been said. It seemed important, but her head was spinning again. Maybe because of the rush of adrenaline she felt when Miller was glaring at her with those angry eyes.
She lost her balance. Bellamy caught her arm.
"Are you okay?" he wondered, worried.
Her heart was beating fast. Too fast. It was all she could hear.
"I don't feel great…" she managed to mumble.
Then she felt her own body fall, unable to control it, and everything went black.
~oOo~
When she woke up, it was silent, and bright.
She struggled to open her eyes, her eyes landing on the familiar nightstand next to her bed. Her alarm clock indicated it was 1:07 pm. She frowned. It was late.
Of course, it made sense that she would wake up there, in her bedroom. Yet, she had a feeling something happened that she couldn't remember.
She straightened up, and as she did she spotted a shape near the bed, making her jump. She put a hand on her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
Her heart was beating fast when she realized that, seated on the floor, his head uncomfortably resting on the mattress, was Bellamy, deeply asleep.
After the shock, came the confusion.
Flashes of the previous suddenly came back to her.
Her birthday party.
She drank a lot… dancing with different people... She cringed, remembering some embarrassing moments. Bellamy had come, uninvited. The book…
She looked around the room, but couldn't find it from her spot. She wondered where he put it.
Her eyes landed on him again, and she pursed her lips.
He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have stayed.
Why was he still here anyway?
Whatever his reasons were, she refused to feel sympathy for him. Her head hurt, and even moving was hard, but her mind was clearer.
And she was angry at him for coming back. Last time, he silently promised he wouldn't, in that same room. It broke her, more than she wanted to admit, but she was getting used to the idea.
Having him back, even for a few hours, meant she was back to zero.
She sighed, slowly moving her legs so they hung over the bed, careful not to touch him. Her feet touched the floor, one by one. She got up, eyeing Bellamy to see if the movement was waking him up. He didn't move an inch.
She tiptoed to the door, holding her breath. She almost stepped in a bucket next to Bellamy's legs. Maybe he'd also been drinking too much and felt too sick to go home. Well, he could've at least slept on the couch.
The door creaked a little, but it didn't disturb him. Clarke closed it behind her and hurried to the bathroom.
She felt… dirty. And she kinda looked like it too. She was wearing her clothes from the previous night, her hair was a mess, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She groaned, picking up her toothbrush. She needed to take a shower, too. And an aspirin.
Since taking a shower meant she had to go back to her room to pick clothes up, she decided to take the aspirin first. She felt so exhausted, she doubted she even had the energy to stand in the shower for too long. At least, her breath smelled great. She didn't puke during the night, or she didn't remember if she did.
She was surprised to see the living room wasn't in such a big mess. There were still empty bottles and empty drinks here and there, but it was better than she imagined. She picked up the box of aspirins, a glass of water, and sat down on one of the booths by the counter. She sighed heavily, after swallowing the pill, waiting for the headache to pass. She took her head in her hands, trying not to think about anything.
She may have been dozing off when she heard noises coming from her bedroom.
She suddenly straightened up, startled.
Fuck.
Here it was, the moment when she had to face him.
She didn't want to. She wished he would leave without a word, even if she knew she would hate it even more.
He wasn't even out of the room when he inquired,
"Clarke?"
She bit her lip.
"Here,"
The door of her room opened and he came out, his hair all over the place, his shirt all wrinkled. He, too, looked like a zombie, and somehow she still thought he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. His eyes locked with her for a second, as his body relaxed. She looked down, frustrated.
'What do you want?' she was close to asking him, but she remained silent.
He came to her, sitting in the booth next to her. He seemed to be about to say something, but she purposely prevented him to do so, knowing she was only buying herself a few seconds.
"Aspirin?" she asked blankly.
It took him a moment to reply.
"Yeah. Thanks."
She pushed to box towards him, still refusing to look at him. She quickly removed her hand from it, to avoid any contact just in case.
They remained silent as he got back up to take a glass of water before coming back to swallow the pill. Even after that, they remained silent.
Once again, she saw Bellamy open his mouth from the corner of her eye, and she spoke before he did.
"There's an unused toothbrush under the sink, in the bathroom, if you want to use that."
She couldn't care less if he brushed his teeth or not. She just didn't want to talk to him. He hesitated. She could feel his eyes burning her face. Then he got up silently and went to the bathroom.
Clarke sighed.
It was hard.
Maybe she didn't have the strength to face him.
Bellamy had something to say, and whatever it was she didn't want to hear it.
The careless, impulsive part of her had insisted for him to stay the previous night. And as she'd predicted, she hated herself for that decision.
She didn't have the time to prepare herself for what was about to come, he was back way too soon. At the very moment he sat back in the booth, Clarke got up to put her glass in the sink and started to wash it. It was absolutely unnecessary – she had a dishwasher. But she needed a distraction.
Bellamy, of course, finally took this opportunity to talk to her.
"How are you feeling?"
She clenched her teeth. Fortunately, she had her back on him. She didn't want him to see the impact any of his words had on her. He didn't deserve it.
"Fine."
"Good."
She didn't ask him the same question back, and so an awkward silence settled again.
Clarke washed the glass a second time.
"I… You passed out in my arms, last night," he explained. "It scared me. I was afraid you wouldn't feel well during the night so I… I decided to stay with you just in case… if you needed someone…" he was struggling to find the words.
That explained him sleeping on the floor next to her, and the bucket beside him. It was for her. She repressed the grateful feeling emerging in her chest.
She didn't answer.
"I cleaned up the apartment a bit once everyone was gone. I went back to check on you and then… I guess I feel asleep."
"You shouldn't have," she finally said.
Both she and he knew it wasn't just about the cleaning. It was about him, coming to see her. Giving her a gift. Hugging her. Sleeping next to her.
She put the glass down with such force she almost broke it, and sighed. Her hands were shaking, so she clenched them into fists.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their breath. Hers was heavy with frustration and desperation.
And then, he said the words she didn't want to hear.
"I'm sorry."
It was just a whisper, but it made her furious. So furious that her eyes were suddenly filled with tears. She turned around abruptly, facing him. She watched him freeze and his eyes widened as he stared at her.
"You're sorry?" she snapped.
She got around the counter to stand right in front of him, her heart beating frantically in her chest. Bellamy got up from the booth, clenching his jaw.
They were just a few inches away from each other, and the electricity between them was palpable. It was hurting her, pulling her towards him. She fought against it.
"You don't have the right to be sorry, Bellamy. You made a choice. You should stick to it!" she hissed.
She knew, deep inside of her, that it wasn't totally fair. It was hard for him, too. She could see the torture, the pain in his eyes. He made the right decision, when he decided he shouldn't see her anymore.
But she hated him for making that choice, and she hated him even more for coming back into her life.
"I know," he only said.
Clarke didn't take his eyes off him, waiting for more. He had to defend himself. It couldn't be it. He seemed to understand she wasn't satisfied with this reply, and he frowned.
"I wanted to tell you… I thought it wouldn't be a problem. With so many people around…" he mumbled.
She gasped.
"A problem? So what, as long as there's a dozen of people standing between us, it's okay to show up at my place? But the rest of the time, you act as if I didn't exist?"
"It's more complicated than that,"
"Is it, Bellamy? Nobody forced you to come. You could've avoided this problem, you could've avoided to rub it in-"
"I wasn't trying to hurt you!" Bellamy roared.
"You're hurting me right now!" she shouted.
Those words were like a cry from the heart. They were out before she could catch them. It should make her feel better, lighter, only the impact of this simple sentence hit Bellamy straight to the heart, and she watched as his face crumbled with pain.
The tears fell down her cheeks.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, his breath getting heavier.
A part of her wanted to apologize for what she just said.
But the other part of her, stronger, louder, wanted him to face the truth. Even if he was hurting as much as she was in the process.
"Does Gina know you're here?" she asked quietly, knowing very well it was a low blow.
His eyes opened at once, fierce, tormented. His lips twitched a few times, attempting to form words he couldn't find. Then he sighed, giving up.
Clarke knew exactly what it meant.
"Why?" she asked him, provoking him. "Are you afraid you're going to hurt her, too? Well, guess what? You already did."
"Stop it."
She took a step closer. Their faces were so close she felt his breath on her wet cheeks.
"But it's not only that," she continued. "We both know that's not the only reason why you're keeping this from her."
Bellamy's lips tightened in a line. He was struggling, she could see it, sense it.
"Admit it, Bellamy," she demanded.
A fire was burning inside of her, and it was taking over all of her thoughts.
"Clarke," he warned.
"Come on!"
But he stared and stared at her, silent.
The fire exploded inside of her.
She was sick of this. Sick of the lies, of the unspoken, of this love that was eating her from the inside. She wanted him to admit it cost him as much as it cost her.
She wanted the fire to burn him too.
And so she took his face in her hands, ignoring the shock freezing his body, and left him no choice as she pressed her lips against his.
For a moment, he was only ice against her.
But then the warmth of the fire seemed to reach him, and he sighed on her lips, wrapping his arms around her.
Suddenly, he was all over her. His hands rummaged through her hair, caressed her face, crushed her against him. She felt his tongue on her lower lip, and she opened her mouth, allowing the kiss to deepen. When she moaned against him, he kissed her even more passionately, so much that they both couldn't breathe. It didn't matter.
They were burning together.
And it was the best feeling Clarke had ever felt.
Even when she had to stop to catch her breath, he only left her a few seconds before he was kissing her again.
It could've lasted forever.
Until it ended, as suddenly as it had started. They remained pressed against each other, only inches separating their faces. But both remained still, breathing hard, staring at each other.
The unbelievable excitement in their eyes was slowly replaced by realization.
"Fuck," Bellamy whispered.
He took a step back. Clarke let her hands fall from his face.
She could already feel the lump in her throat.
Bellamy turned his back on her, a hand on the counter, as if to help him stand.
She waited for the storm. But it was too quiet. She tried to find something to say but couldn't.
It seemed like hours until Bellamy spoke again, his voice breaking on each word.
"Does it make you feel better?"
Clarke was too numb to reply.
He turned around to face her, his eyes red. He was struggling not to cry.
"Huh?" he insisted, choked up. "Did it make it any easier? Is it going to be easier to move on with our lives knowing what we did?"
There was nothing she could say to that.
She'd made a terrible mistake.
Her anger had blinded her. She wanted revenge. Instead, she broken both of their hearts even more.
"No," she whispered.
Bellamy took his head in his hands, swearing. His whole body was shaking.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" he kept repeating.
Clarke was crying quietly.
Her eyes followed him as he picked up his shoes against one of the walls, and sat on the couch to put them on, all the while shaking his head and talking to himself. He looked defeated, crushed. He was careful to avoid her gaze.
He remained on the couch for a while, not moving, lost in his torturing thoughts.
When he got up, he wiped a tear off his cheek. He walked past Clarke to the front door and opened it.
They locked eyes one last time before he disappeared.
