"I'm sorry he hit you," Clarke said softly as she dabbed a cold flannel at Wells's jaw. It was a day old bruise and it was turning a purple-black beneath the boy's dark skin. It probably didn't need attention anymore, but Clarke felt she needed to compensate. The wound was her fault, Bellamy's doing, but because of her. Her gut clenched and she shook her head lightly.
"Thanks for coming over," Wells looked at her when she removed her hand from his cheek.
"Its fine," Her voice sounded strained, tired, but Wells didn't seem to pick up on it. The pair were sat in Wells's huge kitchen, it was bigger even than Clarke's and was filled with expensive gadgets and a pristine looking fruit bowl was perched on the surface. It looked more like a prop than actual food, Clarke thought it ridiculous.
They were sat awkwardly as Clarke apologised extensively and tended to Wells's bruise, Wells barely said anything but stared at her as if she were a ghost. She didn't blame him; she had been so distant with him ever since...well, for a long time. More than distant, she had outwardly despised him, even going so far as to attack him herself. But now that he had been hurt by someone else, because of her, her nurturing instincts had kicked in, that and a whirling guilt complex. And thus she found herself in his kitchen, where she had once spent so much of her time and which now felt foreign to her.
"I mean it Clarke," Wells put his hand over hers and she flinched automatically, casting a weary frown to his face. "You know I -" He paused and sighed, Clarke could tell he was itching to reach for her hand again. "You know how much I miss you," He finally settled on and he let his dark eyes meet hers. Clarke could see herself in them, like always. She looked pale and removed.
"Missed me," She half snorted and half sighed, the result was a quiet, pained sound.
"I did," Wells insisted. He was very close, Clarke thought, too close. His head was leaned in close to hers, bent down so as to meet her hunched frame.
"Wells, don't" She whispered, but his lips met hers anyway and he pulled her to him with desperation and longing. Clarke put her hands on his chest and pushed hard. Tears were springing to her eyes and she stood up sharply.
"I said don't," Her voice shook with the tears she was choking down and Wells looked up at her with surprise and sorrow mingled on his face. "I'm going to go now. I should never have come," Clarke's voice cracked and she slapped at her eye hastily before a tear could squeeze its way out.
"It's because of him, isn't it?" Wells said with a low voice, "Bellamy,"
Bellamy. Bellamy. He had been running through her mind all day. From the moment she had seen the bruise on Wells's cheek, she had known it was him. There was no going back after that and her day had been a dream-like, Bellamy filled haze.
Her mind drifted back to the lunch hour when she had seen him there. She knew where she would find him; he was always at that table with the other sports hunks and their collection of groupies. But what she had not expected was that his eyes would be fixed upon her as soon as she entered the room. Those spectacular eyes, hazel with spots of green and brown, so warm and whole and innocent looking, when their owner was anything but.
She had been so angry with him, the way he had thought it his right, some sort of sick duty, to hurt Wells on her behalf and the crude taunts and jests that he had made to her. And yet he had made her anger disappear with a bat of those long eyelashes and his hands, oh his hands! On her waist and hips, warm and strong against her, she could feel a tingling on her skin where he touched through her clothes. She sighed, she was in deep.
"Yes," She said quietly to Wells, "It's him," His face, his voice, his whole being. He was all encompassing. It was unhealthy, Clarke was sure, but it was too late, she was deeply infatuated with him. It was like she was submerged in a dream and it would take something drastic to wake her.
She was about to turn back to Wells, to tell him that there was more, it wasn't just another boy. It was everything that had happened, everything Wells had done and Clarke had said. They had left too many wounds on each other, too deep to be sewn up. But he spoke before she had the chance.
"He's not good for you, Clarke," Clarke's eyes narrowed in a newfound anger, all thoughts of an apology or an explanation forgotten.
"Not good for me, like you were?" Her voice was surprisingly measured, but there was an underlying tremble, her anger threatening to spill over at any second.
"Clarke," Wells's tone was stern but Clarke ignored it.
"No, Wells. Tell me more about how you were the perfect boyfriend, go on," She urged him, crossing her arms.
"Just go, Clarke," He spat back and she gritted her teeth. She resisted the urge to push him further until they both snapped and had a full blown argument; Wells had seen enough anger this week, though God knew he was asking for it. Clarke didn't look at him as she left. She let the door slam on the way out.
The rest of the week had dragged on lazily, time ticking at half speed after his rebuff from Clarke and when Bellamy finally found himself in his Friday afternoon Biology class, he could've sworn a month had passed since he had seen her, not three days.
Of course he had seen her. He saw her everywhere, he couldn't help it. He saw her at the water fountain, her lips parted and her hair wild around her face; he saw her in the halls with her bag slung over her shoulder and a stack of books in her arms; he saw her out the window of his law class when she would sit on the field with Octavia in their free; he saw her everywhere, sometimes she looked at him, but he could never quite gauge her expression. Yes, he saw her, but he didn't talk to her, and it made his head hurt trying to untangle his mess of feelings and understand what was going on behind those stormy, sea –blue eyes.
The frog he was supposed to be dissecting held no interest for him and instead Bellamy was lost in a daydream.
"Bellamy," Until his lab partner decided to wake him of course. "Bellamy," She repeated dumbly, "Are you going to help me with the dissection or not?" Bellamy let his eyes narrow as he turned to the girl, to unleash the full extent of his irritation on her. The girl frowned at his expression. She was a freckly girl with a mane of red hair. Lucy, he thought her name was, or was it Louise? Something like that.
"Not," He grumbled to the girl, pushing the foil tray away with his finger. The red-headed girl rolled her eyes.
"You know it goes toward your autumn grade, right?" She smirked at him when he moaned and pulled the tray back toward him. He pulled it too hard and the frog corpse almost hopped out onto his lap, but the girl pinned it down with a rubber-gloved hand.
"Thanks," Bellamy smiled, "Hey, what was your name again?" He tried to sound polite but the girl just looked at him incredulously.
"Bellamy, we've been lab partners for two months,"
"Month and a half," He winked, and thankfully, the girl laughed.
"It's Lily. Now come on, let's tear apart some frog,"
The lesson passed a lot quicker when he was actually paying attention and he surprised himself by enjoying his time with Lily. She was funny, and much better at biology than him. She had full lips that looked pretty when she smiled but when she touched his arm and laughed too hard at a joke he had told, Bellamy flinched away. He pretended to be tousling his hair, but the girl noticed anyway.
She was fun and pretty, but she wasn't Clarke, and she was the only girl whose absentminded touches he craved. He left the class in a hurry when the bell rang, having hastily cleared his bench before Lily could even throw away her rubber gloves. He didn't bother saying goodbye, let her think I'm in a hurry because it's last period on a Friday, he thought to himself. She didn't need to know that her subtle touches made him feel awkward.
Octavia was waiting for him when he got to the car park, leaning against the side of his car, twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger.
"Hey, O," Bellamy smiled and pulled her in for a hug when he reached her, he was always glad to see Octavia at the end of the day, she was the only person who really understood him. And while she was annoying as hell most of the time, she had her good qualities.
"Hey Bells," She squeezed him before letting go and climbing into the passenger seat. "So, you know it's my party in two weeks," She wasted no time, bringing it up as soon as he had buckled his seat belt.
"Yeah, in October half-term," He replied automatically, the party plans having been drilled into him since college term had started.
"I need you to buy us alcohol," Bellamy had known this was coming. He had turned eighteen the first week of September and Octavia seemed to think it was his duty as a big brother to provide her with all things she wasn't allowed.
"Not my fault you're underage, O," Bellamy teased and Octavia groaned.
"Come on Bells," She whined. "You'll get some for yourself anyway, I'll just steal yours if you don't get me my own," She had him there; Octavia wasn't one for taking the moral high ground and believed strongly in the "What's yours is mine" mantra when it came to Bellamy.
"Fine, but tell your friends they have to bring their own, I'm not made of money, I can't afford to pay for all the underage kids' binge drinking," He said dryly, but his lips were curled in a smile. Octavia clapped her hands together with glee.
"Thanks, Bells, you're the best!" She leant over to kiss his cheek, "And Mum's definitely visiting Grandma that night?"
"Yep, you're under my charge," Bellamy had to admit he was looking forward to Octavia's party. She thought bigger was better, so his friends were allowed to come too and he figured he wouldn't have to do too much looking after of the other kids. He hoped not, because he planned on getting very, very drunk.
"Oh, by the way," Octavia smiled sweetly, "Clarke's sleeping over tomorrow," Bellamy almost crashed the car. It shouldn't have disarmed him so; Clarke had slept around hundreds of times over the years. But he had never noticed her properly before, this time he would be restraining himself from taking her into his own bed and doing the sorts of things he didn't think girls did at their slumber parties. Maybe they would have a little slumber party of their own.
Stupid, he told himself. He hadn't spoken to her after she had rejected him; she probably despised him and would spend the whole time at their house trying to keep away from him. Or maybe, a little optimistic voice piped up in his mind, maybe she was just embarrassed, confused. Maybe she wants to kiss you after all. Bellamy wasn't sure about that, but still, he had never turned down a challenge before, especially not when the prize was so tantalisingly sweet.
A/N Party time soon! Are you excited? I am ;) Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review :) - J x