AN: Happy Friday!Thank you for waiting for the update! THIS IS THE END. I'm mentioning it in the hopes that the chapter reads as a conclusion and comes to a suitable ending. This story was meant to be an extended one-shot, if one can call it that.
For those of you who started reading on May 5, and to those who just started today and made it this far, and to everyone in-between: THANK YOU SO MUCH! It's a nice complement to know you are enjoying the story, I certainly enjoyed writing it.
Back in his old rickety Jeep, or vintage rickety Jeep as Bellamy liked to call it, they drove through town, heading for the bar. Bellamy was laid back in the driver's seat with one hand on the wheel, thrumming his fingers to the music, the other arm resting on the consol. Clarke on the other hand, was hugging her arms around her legs, bare feet on the seat, knees pulled up to her chest with her head buried in-between; appearing to Bellamy like a boulder, once fierce and charging down a cliffside with reckless abandon, and now at the bottom of a canyon, worn and weathered by the debris along the way, stoic and unassuming on the landscape.
They arrived at the bar and Bellamy got out the car and shut the door, leaving Clarke inside with the key in the ignition. He walked up to the entrance and pulled the heavy door open.
"It's a bit early to start drinkin'," a voice called from inside. Bellamy turned his head to see a man behind the bar wiping the surface with a rag. He came up to the counter and the man asked gruffly, "What'll you have?"
"Ah no, I'm not here to drink," Bellamy frowned, "I'm here to see if there was a pair of missing keys found last night."
"I can check in the back for you, but I doubt it," the man replied, "drunk people aren't exactly known for being reliable. The kind of stuff that winds up in our lost 'n found is cheap jewelry and fake IDs, a few wedding rings every now and then, if you know what I'm sayin'."
Bellamy waited at the bar while the man disappeared to wonder about the keys, but he came back emptyhanded and Clarke was unfortunately out of luck.
...
"Sorry, Princess," he said, getting back in the car, "no keys." Clarke groaned and Bellamy continued, "Plan B kinda sucks, but what choice do we have?"
He drove around intersections as Clarke gave him directions, and Bellamy put the radio on to try and ease her anxiety, but it didn't seem to be helping.
They reached their destination, a small apartment complex next to a business center, and Bellamy stepped out, leaving Clarke to wait restlessly in the car.
He took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked down the hall till he found the apartment number Clarke gave him. He knocked on the door and waited. Like always, he wasn't feeling very patient, so he knocked again, the flimsy door rattling as he banged his fist against the chipped green paint. And then he heard the sound of the deadbolt being flipped and he wondered about the odds that it would be Finn answering the door – it was 50/50 he gathered, considering there was his roommate Murphy, and assuming that Raven, or anyone else, wasn't visiting.
It was Murphy, but Bellamy wondered if he, the so-called 'rat bastard', was really the better outcome. As he stood waiting to be invited inside, Murphy just looked at him, like he was assessing what kind of opponent he was up against. His eyes narrowed and he leaned his arm against the doorframe, blocking Bellamy's view of the interior.
"What?" he asked impatiently.
"Did Clarke leave her keys here last night?" Bellamy figured it was best to be straightforward with this guy.
"Don't know," he clipped dryly.
"Well," Bellamy said, trying to sound pleasant even though he was feeling anything but that, "can you look around for them?"
"I don't know," Murphy repeated sharply, "and I also don't care."
Bellamy squared his shoulders and faced off with the little rat in the doorway, rising to his full height so he could tower over Murphy, and moving his feet into a defensive stance. He stood strong and sturdy, and surged forward suddenly, managing to startle Murphy and shove him aside as he crossed over the threshold.
"Well, if you don't care, then you won't mind if I look around for them," he countered.
Murphy huffed and sauntered through the living room, disappearing into the hallway. Bellamy looked around the kitchen, seeing if Clarke left them on the counter, but no luck there. Wondering where someone would most likely lose their keys, he went to check in-between the couch cushions – jackpot. She must've just tossed them on the arm carelessly as she squared off with Finn. He grinned, twirling the keys on his finger triumphantly, happy to be the one to have found Clarke's belongings and be rewarded with a bright smile upon returning them to her. But first, he smirked, Bellamy had a different plan in mind.
...
He got into the car, closed the door, and buckled his seat belt before turning to face Clarke and sighing dramatically.
"Well…" he started but left the word hanging in the air. She looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, leaning forward slightly in anticipation. He left her waiting anxiously, eyes wide and body tense, for a while longer before he gave her a wicked smile and reached in his pocket, raising the keys to jangle before her.
"Tease," she grumbled, snatching the keys from him.
He smirked and started up the engine. Putting the car in drive, he turned to her and said, "ready to go, Princess?"
"Yeah," she sighed, leaning her head on the window, more at ease now that she had her keys secured in her hands.
...
The sun was just starting to set as they made their way down Henley Rd, shining brightly through the misty, transparent layer of cirrostratus clouds, whisping through the air as the wind stretched them apart - separating like cotton bolls being pulled into amorphous blobs of softness - thinning and blending together into a sheet composed of microscopic ice-crystals. A rich gradient of orange, pink, and yellow hues transformed the ozone-polluted troposphere into a sublime skyscape - a rare occurrence that effortlessly displayed the glory of nature, eliciting powerful emotions of awe and apprehension towards the enormity of it all. Long shadows emerged from the trees bordering the road and little pockets of light appeared between the leaves, dancing along with the shifting leaves as the wind whistled through them.
They had gone back to the bar to collect her car and Bellamy somehow managed to convince Clarke to let him follow her home in his Jeep. They arrived at her building sooner than he'd expected and he found himself wishing they could spend more time together before they separated to continue on with their usual lives. He reluctantly cut the engine and stepped out of the Jeep to walk her up to her room. They walked in hesitant silence, their hands brushing against each other. Clarke stalled at the door as she slowly unlocked the knob and flipped the deadbolt. Once she had it open, Bellamy figured it was time for him to leave. He stepped back, but before he could turn around she called out after him, "wait!" He turned his head and met her timid gaze with a similar expression.
"Don't you want your clothes back?" she asked, gesturing at her baggy attire.
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, "nah, don't worry about it. The shirt's old and the pants don't even fit."
"Oh, okay," she nodded, still fidgeting in the doorway. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a light embrace, and he reflexively hugged her back. She was soft and warm, and her hair tickled his nose when he turned to smell her head.
"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder.
She pulled back and Bellamy felt as if she was tugging away a piece of himself. He wracked his brain trying to think of reasons not to say goodbye. She turned back to the door and pushed it open. He took a quick breath before calling after her softly, "do you want me to stay?"
"No, I'm ok," she answered quickly.
"Sure?" he raised his eyebrows even though she couldn't see his expression.
"Yeah," she sighed and turned over her shoulder to give him a reassuring smile.
"Alright" he said as she stepped through the threshold.
"Bye, Bellamy," she said closing the door behind her.
...
So he made his way back down the hall to the elevators and wondered what the time was. His conscience on the other hand, was wondering if she really would be okay on her own and whether or not he should leave. Bingo, he tried to stifle the giddy smile that appeared on his face when he suddenly had an idea. He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen 'till he hit call.
After a few rings, Octavia's voice sounded through the phone, "Hey, Bell, what's up?"
"O, what are you doing tonight?"
"Hmmm… nothing really," she said.
"Get some movies and nail polish- whatever other stuff you do at a sleepover and come over to Clarke's," He said.
"Okay?" she wondered, dragging the word out in confusion, "but why are you telling me this and not Clarke?"
"Because she doesn't know," he explained, "Just go, O, she needs a friend, she needs you."
"Alright," she sounded hesitant and concerned, "what's going on Bell? Is she ok?"
"She's fine….," Bellamy paused in thought and corrected himself, "well, relatively fine, and it's not my story to tell."
"Wow, Bellamy being considerate," she teased, "there's something I thought I'd never see."
...
So Bellamy went back to his Jeep and headed home, trying to wrap his mind around the events of the past 24 hours that had completely wrecked his idea of having a normal weekend. He walked up to his door and went inside. He immediately noticed the table covered with mismatched plates and coffee cups from their breakfast and he turned to the kitchen to see a pile of dishes in the sink, waiting to be washed. He figured he'd get a drink and lounge on the couch for a while before he found something for dinner, but he went to his room first to grab his reading glasses. He glanced over at his bedside table, where he usually left them, before walked up to his desk and found the frames sitting next to a pile of partially graded mid-term essays. He groaned and rolled his neck to relieve the tension in his joints. Here we go, he thought, now this is a typical weekend, a Saturday night and you're alone in your room grading papers, that's the life of a graduate student.
So he gathered up the papers and sank down onto his bed, figuring he could get through the rest within the next three hours, and then be done with it. Then, he would spend his Sunday doing absolutely nothing; that is until he got hungry and realized that he had no clean cutlery and he desperately needed to do the dishes.
His eyes scanned over the essay in front of him as he settled back onto his pillow. But soon after, he paused, having the vaguest notion that something felt…off. A crease formed between his eyebrows as he concentrated, trying to find just what was different. He breathed deeply and realized that the air smelt like flowers. He breathed in again and found that the aroma he was so captivated by was coming from the pillow beneath him. It was the one that Clarke had slept on last night, so the blossomy scent that permeated his senses and numbed his brain must've been her perfume. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply - the scent surrounding him in a blanket of soft, heady desire, his heart surging with longing, his muscles twitching with lust. He caught himself, eyes widening and body tensing as he rushed to sit up. What was he doing? No, Bellamy was not going soft. He was not going to snuggle up with his pillow and spend the night pining over his sister's best friend. Bellamy Blake did not get distracted by perfume, and he certainly wasn't going to pine after Clarke Griffin. He wasn't desperate, and it was up to Clarke to decide what she wanted, so he was content to be patient and wait for her to make the first move. Finn kind of snuck up on him, but after meeting him and sizing him up Bellamy snickered, realizing that this guy wasn't a threat. And just as he predicted, soon enough, Finn screwed up, big time. Of course Bellamy was upset that Clarke had to get hurt, but it wouldn't've been right for him to interfere, that would just push her further away. Clarke was independent and stubborn enough to accept the consequences of her actions, and fierce enough to deal with the lousy cards that life dealt her.
He sank back on the pillow and forced his mind to focus on the words of the essay he was reading and to not be distracted by the smell of Clarke around him. He had to reread the page a few times before he understood what he was reading, but finally he got it graded and flipped over to the next one. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out. He smiled, seeing that it was a text message from Clarke.
C: Thanks
B: For what? He smirked and feigned confusion, even though they both knew that Bellamy already knew the answer to his own question.
C: Octavia
B: No problem, have fun. He smiled knowing she was being comforted by just the person she needed.
Sighing deeply, he turned back to the essay in his hand. He read and reread the introduction, but the words weren't forming any coherent messages in his brain. Bellamy glared angrily at the paper, line after line, paragraph after paragraph of black text on stark white paper. Another typical college essay arguing for a new perspective on an ancient text that's been debated for centuries. He paused and considered the consequences of giving up on grading papers for the night. Now consequences, Bellamy smirked, have a negative connotation, but in actuality, a consequence can be any result, effect, outcome, or option – whether good or bad. He could quickly think of a few bad consequences, but he spent some time brainstorming the positive outcomes of his procrastination, a.k.a. - what he'd rather be doing instead. Choices… choices. He deliberated and upon making up his mind, flung the papers on the floor, they were now tomorrow's problem. He scooted down the bed to get under the covers and lay down, tossing his limbs around until he was comfy. Then he reached above his head to grab the pillow and pulled it to his chest, holding it close with his arms wrapped around the middle. Resting his cheek on the downy surface, he turned his nose into the pillow and breathed deeply and sighed. He figured he might as well make the most of it while her scent was still there to indulge in.
A few minutes later, his phone lit up with another text notification.
C: Night
B: Night He smiled and yawned, placing his phone on the bedside table and settled down to fall into a restful sleep.
AN: THANKS READERS, FOLLOWERS, FAVORITES, AND TO ALL WHO REVIEWED, IT WAS QUITE A JOURNEY.
(I do have plans for another story)