Chapter Text
“Dude. If she gets this one she’ll be on fire.”
“Oh fuck, she’ll absolutely murder us then.”
“Alright ladies, gentlemen, esteemed people,” Clarke Griffin interrupted the banter with a grin and a wave of her drink towards the crowd of students around the table. “Are you all prepared to be amazed?”
It was Saturday night at Arkadia University, and what a Saturday night it is. Late September brought with it the change of the leaves, cooler nights, bonfires, and football. The Arkadia Explorers were far from being any type of dominant force — in fact, they were arguably one of the worst teams in their conference. But that didn’t stop the student body from turning out in droves to support their small team. Often dubbed “delinquents” from any opposing team’s announcers, they were rowdy and full of school spirit. Especially today, when they had managed to pull off a huge upset against one of their rivals.
Which lead to tonight’s party.
Some of the football seniors lived together in a massive, old house just off of campus — and nearly the entire campus had been invited to come. Students spilled out onto both lawns, the doors swung wide open to allow for easy coming and going. A keg had been dragged onto the back porch and music blasted through multiple speakers, safe from complaints thanks to the house being surrounded by other college students (or alumni who supported the rowdy celebrations in memory of their own time there).
While Clarke was comfortable putting down her fair share of beer, she had turned down the offer to get some tonight and instead had turned towards the concoction in the kitchen. It had taken some maneuvering, one death glare to a handsy senior, three over-the-top hugs to girls she had met during orientation a year ago, before she had eventually, successfully found what she was looking for.
A large plastic, clear tub shoved back onto the counter, already sticky with splashes of the drink as drunk people filled up their cups.
With a deep dive in, the red solo cup had emerged filled with a red, thick liquid.
Just a single sip had shot nearly straight to her head, a classic trait of any Jasper Jordan concoction. It was sickeningly sweet and a quick sweep of her gaze had located the discarded jugs of the ingredients: cheap ass vodka, Hawaiian punch, and the classic orange drink, Sunny D. So in essence, she was drinking practically just sugar and alcohol.
Excellent.
It hadn’t taken long for the buzz to kick in and after a quick shot with one of her roommates, Monroe, she then found herself at the beer pong table.
Across from her were Monty Green and Jasper Jordan, two guys that she had met briefly her freshman year in her required science class. Neither were football players, but their expertise in alcohol and maneuvering the law made them staples of nearly every large party. Her arrival at the table had caused them to jokingly boo and bemoan their impending loss at the classic drinking game, and she couldn’t help but play it up. There wasn’t anything better than beating drunk guys at pong, a feat that wasn’t technically difficult but was all the more exciting the more drinks that were in you.
She hadn’t walked up with a partner though, so Jasper had reached out for the first person he could latch onto, pulling Octavia Blake into the fray.
Octavia and Clarke had lived on the same floor their first year at Arkadia, bonding one night when Clarke had stumbled upon a cramp-stricken Octavia on the floor of their hall bathroom. Intense period pains had kept the girl from joining her friends out a party, whereas Clarke hadn’t yet started her partying phase. They had then curled up in Clarke’s room on her bed, the lights off and a movie playing on her laptop. As the rom-com had blared, the girls had easily split a tub of ice cream between themselves.
Clarke would be hesitant to declare them best friends, but the two of them were still fiercely loyal to each other regardless.
Octavia was drumming up the attention around them and Clarke could feel the thrum of the speakers making her body vibrate. The alcohol in her system was keeping her warm and she thoughtfully dunked the small white pong ball into the cup in front of her.
It was currently two to four, the girls leading as expected. If she made this next shot, she’d be on fire and would the get ping pong ball back to shoot again. She was known for being a clutch pong finisher as well, so the boys had every reason to be worried.
“Bell! Come watch us win!”
Octavia’s shout broke Clarke’s concentration and she glanced up.
Sure enough, a tall figure had shouldered their way into the front of the handful of students watching the spectacle. With floppy black curls and a smirk straight out of the novels Clarke had secretly read in high school, there was nothing remotely surprising about him having a girl under each arm.
There weren’t that many features in common between him and Octavia. They shared cheekbones, but otherwise diverged with her being much paler than the olive-toned, warmth of his skin. His eyes were darker too, staring intently at Clarke as he took in the situation. But there was no mistaking him.
Bellamy Blake.
She’d never actually met him. Only stories from Octavia over the year, usually in passing. Her tone could vary wildly from admiringly, to furiously, to defensively, to exasperatedly. They seemed to have a rollercoaster of a relationship, one that Clarke assumed was somewhat similar to the one she had with her mother. Though from what she gathered from the snippets she had heard, the Blake siblings had a different layer of intensity to them.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected when she eventually got to meet him.
But a cocky attitude and two girls simpering over him seemed almost too on the nose.
She rolled her eyes and pulled her gaze away from his gaze, focusing back on the pong game at hand. There was no way she was going to let him distract her. Especially now that so many people had been drawn in thanks to Octavia.
What could she say? The girl loved an audience, and Clarke couldn’t help but thrive off of it as well.
Placing her drink carefully down on the stool next to the pong table, Clarke did her best to stabilize her balance as she took aim. Her tongue poked out as she concentrated (though she quickly pulled it back in with a flush as she noticed Bellamy still staring at her). Just a small wobble of her ankle but then she was standing still.
Her eyes narrowed, intensely focused now on the red solo cups in front of her.
Her left elbow up, she placed her right hand underneath it. It was an odd technique; she wasn’t even sure how she developed it. But it gave her a sense of structure so she ignored the teasing it always got and stuck with it. Plus being nearly undefeated made it hard for people to be too much of assholes about it.
Hand back, hand forward.
Hand back, hand forward.
Hand back, hand forward.
Practice movements out of the way, Clarke let the pong ball fly.
With a plop, it dropped into the cup.
Everyone erupted around her. Octavia shrieked and was jumping up and down, doing her best to not spill her precariously full cup of beer. Jasper groaned and tossed the ball back towards Clarke before handing the cup to Monty. He knocked it back with a grimace and tossed it aside onto the lumpy couch next to them.
Clarke realized her focus had shifted though, her eyes seeking someone else’s reaction out.
But there was a space in the crowd where she could see Bellamy’s back disappearing into the crowd. He didn’t stand much taller than everyone else, but there was something about him that seemed to draw her gaze directly to him. Where she had rolled up the denim sleeves on her jacket, she could feel the hair on her arm stand up as he paused to talk to someone, giving her a chance to see his profile again.
Something nudged at her brain, trying to figure out why she was bothered by him leaving.
Doing her best to brush it off, she grabbed her drink to chug a little bit more of it, nearly finishing it off. There were too many sensations around her and she was sure it was the alcohol that made her wish for a near-stranger to cheer her on, and then only to be sad that he wasn’t.
As she set her drink down though, Clarke felt a pulsating pain in her wrist.
Checking quickly that no one was watching her, she shifted the bands of bracelets around her wrist up. Pulsing in and out of opacity, almost like a wink, an illustrated star drifted back and forth across her skin.
Her soul mark.
She hadn’t seen it move since… well, ever. A mark that was meant to tell her that somewhere in this world, she had a soulmate waiting for her. It wasn’t something she had ever bothered to concern herself with. And why would she? She didn’t believe in them. And its dormant status her whole life had made it all the easier to ignore it. It had been a pale outline on the inside of her elbow.
Now it was a deep purple that contrasted heavily against her skin and actually moving.
“Hey Clarke, you coming? You need to sink that final shot!” Octavia called over to her from the table, waving the pong ball at her.
Clarke nodded mutely, quickly pulling the bracelets back down over the mark.
However, that didn’t stop the burning feeling where she knew the mark was when a pair of dark eyes flashed in her mind.
Clarke wasn’t sure how she had gone this entire semester so far without seeing Bellamy Blake. Because ever since that party, she couldn’t get away from him. And now it was only more proof about why she soul mark had come to life.
But it didn’t matter how much it would dance on her skin or pulsate trying to get her attention. It didn’t matter that some theoretical force had deemed them fate for each other.
She couldn’t fucking stand the guy.
He and his best friend, a guy named Miller, seemed to suddenly be at every party that she went to. And from there it only went down hill.
It had started with her playing pong with Monty, only to be interrupted by a casual, “Is the princess back at it again with pong?”
For a first time talking with each other, needless to say it didn’t go well.
Clarke had missed her next shot and immediately rounded on Bellamy, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her veins. She had stalked up to him, jabbing her finger into his chest and telling him to fuck off. The jackass had SMIRKED back at her, no doubt enjoying riling her up.
The nickname stung. She couldn’t deny that.
She had figured Octavia had told him about her at some point. But she had assumed it would have been in passing. They didn’t hang out quite enough for them to be close enough to make her a big deal. And she already knew her family was better off than most thank you very much. She tried to always check her privilege and it wasn’t like she was as spoiled as most of the other kids she had grown up with.
But yelling that at a party seemed like a bad idea.
So the name stuck.
Then one time they had bumped into each other in a dining hall, causing both of their trays to go flying. In between scrambling to pick up their respective lunches, Clarke had made a snide comment that he must not be able to see where he’s going since his ego was so huge.
They’d eventually been pulled apart by friends and gone on their way. Poor Jasper had been roped into listening to Clarke rant for the rest of lunch, though he provided enough good imitations of Bellamy to get her to laugh again.
She even dropped into the study hall section of the library one time to meet up with someone who was leaving there and saw Bellamy. He seemed to have been packing up at the time so she hadn’t said anything. Instead, she had ducked behind a pillar and nearly held her breath the entire time until she saw his retreating figure. If she had any patience for him she would have asked what he was doing there. She might not have been able to stand being around him, but she knew that there was no way he was that one needing help in classes.
But that would involve having a conversation with him to ask what he helped with.
So she was just going to let herself be satisfied with the bare minimum.
The worst part was that the longer she went without seeing him, the more her soul mark burned when she did stumble upon him again. It would flare up, along with her temper. Though the aching pulse it gave off when they separated again didn’t feel any better.
“Okay, just put your arm — stop, Octavia — put your arm around my shoulder. Put your drink down. Yep. Just like that, now come on. Arm around me, I’m going to wrap mine around your waist now.”
Escorting Octavia out of a frat house was not how Clarke had seen her Thursday night going.
She’d originally planned on just a casual night drinking in, easing into the end of the school week.
Monroe had invited her friend Harper over and Clarke had FaceTimed Wells so that he could join in on their game of Cards Against Humanity. Clarke had definitely been losing. It turned out that what she thought was funny wasn’t, and she’d suffered her through losses by doing the customary drink after each round. It hadn’t been much though, so she had been fortunately (supposedly) able to notice when she’d gotten a text from Octavia.
And then another one.
And then one more after that.
None of them were exactly coherent, which was a clue to the state she was in. And from what Clarke could decipher, Octavia had decided that her “boy toy,” as she dubbed him, (a senior named Atom) was boring and she couldn’t find Monty or Jasper to bring her home back to her dorm room.
Which had resulted in the piling up of texts that pleaded for Clarke to come get her.
Thank god it wasn’t too far of a walk. The late fall night was chilly, a breeze through the air and rustling the leaves that had managed to hang on. Clarke had shrugged on her old sweatshirt from when she had first started at Arkadia and she was pretty sure it wasn’t enough, even as soft as it was. But she was thankful for the buzz that added a bit of extra warmth, and knew without a doubt that the alcohol was keeping Octavia warm as well. Her standard going-out outfit, ripped skinny jeans with a skin tight black top and boots, certainly looked badass on her athletic body. But Clarke knew there was no way it was going to provide much warmth against November.
They were nearly back, somehow without incident, when Octavia began to fumble in her pocket for something. It threw both of balance and Clarke steadied them both as Octavia triumphantly found what she was looking for.
“Call Bell,” she mumbled, shoving her phone at Clarke.
“I’m capable of taking care of you by myself,” Clarke tried her best to push it away.
“No. I want my brother too. Both of you.”
A stubborn Blake turned out to be a bigger force than she expected, so Clarke relinquished and took the phone from her. He was in her recent calls as “Big Brother,” which seemed so innocently childish that Clarke found her buzzed self giggling a bit at it.
“O, what do you want? I’m trying to work on—”
“Actually it’s me.”
The line went quiet for a second.
“Princess?”
“The one and only,” Clarke muttered more or less to herself, suddenly grouchy now that she was actually talking to him.
“Why do you have my sister’s phone? If you wanted a second one couldn’t you just use your family credit card instead of stealing one?”
“Fuck off Bellamy. Your sister is way too drunk and for some reason she wants to see you. Come help me before she throws up on my shoes,” she snapped back.
“I’m not that drunk,” came a slurred proclamation from the side of her.
Clarke could hear the sigh coming from the other end, indicating that he had definitely heard the false statement Octavia seemed to be insisting on.
“Okay. I’m coming.”
Clarke quickly instructed him to meet them outside their dorm building before hanging up. After struggling to put the phone back in Octavia’s pocket, she reset her grip on the girl and they finished crossing the campus.
Standing outside of the building to greet them, his arms crossed against his chest either of frustration or as protection from the cold, was Bellamy.
Unlike other times though, where he and Clarke immediately jumped into arguing, he was completely in older brother mode. He helped slide under Octavia’s other side, slinging her arm over his shoulder and lifting some of the weight off of Clarke. He was quietly teasing her, and even in her state, Octavia responded to some of them with equal banter. She did however roll her eyes when Bellamy began more direct questioning, drunkenly leaning her head on Clarke’s shoulder and loudly declaring that Bellamy was “the most ridiculous brother to ever exist.”
“He definitely is,” Clarke had agreed, a lack of bite in her words though as she grinned at him.
It was different seeing him in this mode.
It made her wrist tingle and she didn’t want to acknowledge it.
There wasn’t time to dwell on it though because just as Clarke was moving to unlock the door to Octavia’s room, the girl’s eyes widened and her cheeks puffed out. Shaking her head, she pushed off of Bellamy and grabbed the keys from Clarke. Swiftly unlocking it faster than she had been, Octavia plunged into the darkness of her room and straight for the bathroom.
Bellamy and Clarke gave each other one quick glance before running in after, just barely remembering to shut the hall door.
Though an only child, Clarke had her fair share of helping girls get over this shit so she willingly dove in with Bellamy.
It wasn’t a pleasant sight, and Clarke had a brief thought that maybe it wouldn’t be the worst to keep scaling her drinking back next semester. Knowing her, she was going to keep living it up, but it might be worth getting more accurate about her limits. Or a least drinking more water before bed.
Octavia heaved again, her body shuddering under Bellamy’s arm. Clarke scrambled to grab her friend’s hair, pulling the unruly, long brown hair into a hand-held ponytail.
“That’s great Octavia, just keep getting that shit out of you,” Clarke urged.
She turned to Bellamy, expecting a follow up of encouragement. Instead, she found him staring distractedly at her wrist. She could practically see his brain spinning. It only took a small glance down to see what he was seeing. Clarke gulped.
Her soul mark pulsed against her skin, having become visible in her hurry to roll her sleeves up as when they first helped Octavia.
Bellamy’s eyes finally dragged back to hers and he looked shell-shocked.
Clarke furiously shook her head, her lips pursed together. He nodded jerkingly, turning to focus back on his sister. As he finally returned to trying to get her to calm, Clarke’s mind took the opportunity to panic as quietly as she could.
She’d originally had no intentions of ever telling Bellamy that she’d figured out they were soulmates. But it looked like that plan had been shot to hell now.
Resorting to rubbing circles on Octavia’s back, Clarke nervously watched Bellamy out of the corner of her eye. He outwardly seemed fine now for the most part. There was just a subtle clench of his jaw that meant he definitely hadn’t forgotten about it. Which meant they’d have to talk about it.
It continued to be pushed off though as Octavia’s throwing up subsided. Bellamy went to prep her bed while Clarke and her each gargled mouthwash (Clarke mainly to convince Octavia to do it). Then she’d helped pull a giant t-shirt over Octavia’s head and braided her hair back, before ushering her to bed. She’d climbed in, swatting away Bellamy’s hand and sunk deep into the pillows.
“I got you some water, drink it when you wake up.” Bellamy’s instructions were firm.
The hum that came from Octavia sounded vaguely like a confirmation, before it slipped into a steady rhythm of breathing. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear before pulling up the blankets just a bit higher.
Unable to stop rubbing anxiously at her wrist, Clarke stood just behind him as he wrapped up. When it looked like it was going to be safe to leave her in her current state, Bellamy nodded and the two began to quietly work their way across her room. Clarke tried to keep her breathing calm as she made her way towards the door. It was only a few steps away and then she would be out of this awkward mess. She was close to practically lunging for the door when she felt a warm grip on her arm pull her to a halt. She stumbled around and nearly landed in Bellamy’s chest. He didn’t let go and she was pretty sure her skin and her mark were both on fire from the closeness.
It was absurd. All she knew of him was that he was a dick and that they couldn’t stand being around each other. There was no reason for her body to react this way.
“How long have you known?”
Bellamy’s voice was odd, even in its hushed state. Clarke shifted her weight as she weighed her possible response, stealing a look at the sleeping Octavia on the other side of the room.
“I’m not sure I want to talk about it here,” she hissed, nodding towards his sister. “I don’t know how she’d respond to the idea.”
A glance over and then back, before Bellamy nodded in response. He dropped his grip on her as well.
“Tomorrow morning then, let’s meet at Grounders. Does 9:30 work? I have a class at 8:30, I can meet you afterwards.”
Clarke agreed on the time (god why did he have to be an early riser?) and the two silently left Octavia’s room, splitting up once they were out in the hall. As Bellamy made his way back outside, Clarke rubbed at her wrist anxiously. It had all been so formal. Like planning a meeting or a group project.
Not as if they were talking about being soulmates.
“Cute outfit.” Bellamy’s voice floated over her shoulder and Clarke spun around, a blush creeping up on her cheeks.
Sue her, she didn’t like getting up early. So what if she had only thrown on a pair of black leggings and an oversized pullover that had been her dad’s? They already knew they shared soul marks, no reason to bother trying to impress him.
“Whatever, let’s get coffee so I can actually wake up.”
Grounders was the main coffeeshop on campus. It was filled with random knick-knacks and just the right amount of cozy, with enough tables to make it a good spot to relax or work in. Clarke rarely made it here in the morning, more of a 4pm type of iced coffee drinker. It was odd seeing different students in here than her normal crowd, but she felt like she suddenly got why so many people came here in the morning.
She deeply inhaled the smell of the coffee, feeling herself perk up as she did. Bellamy chuckled and walked past her to make his order, gently knocking into Clarke. It didn’t seem spiteful though, and as Clarke followed him, she felt suddenly as if she could see the Bellamy she saw last night. And this time, it almost felt like she was a part of the family.
They ordered and were waiting to grab their coffee, neither of them quite sure of what to say to each other. Luckily they were spared from it being too dragged out by the arrival of Bellamy’s regular coffee that he had ordered. The girl who brought it over, tall with curly brown hair, gave Bellamy a flirtatious smile when she placed it down and Clarke definitely didn’t miss the once-over that she gave him too.
She rolled her eyes once the girl had returned to the cash register. “Are you able to go anywhere without girls drooling all over you?”
Bellamy snorted and shot her a grin.
“Jealous?”
“I have no reason to be jealous,” Clarke huffed. “It’s just annoying that they can’t hold themselves together for a minute. I mean good lord, you’re just getting coffee. You’re not a piece of meat.”
He paused at that, giving her a curious expression before picking up his coffee. He didn’t respond though, instead, hoisting his book bag higher onto his shoulder before making his way towards an open table. Clarke patiently waited a minute more for her drink, grabbing the cup from the girl before following him.
She had barely dropped down into the chair before Bellamy said casually, “You know it’s not just me they’re staring at right?”
Clarke frowned and glanced around.
Sure enough, one of the other baristas was sneaking a glance at her from behind the register. When she realized she was caught, the redheaded girl blushed furiously and ducked her head. It made Clarke grin, but it also reminded her why she was here and who was she was sitting with. So that was enough of a buzzkill to stop her from going up and flirting with the girl.
But when she refocused on Bellamy, she was also reminded to why exactly she hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. Because how do you tell someone you’ve been hiding that you’re soulmates because you don’t want one? The look on his face though was enough to tell her that he was mildly enjoying her distress about the situation. He clearly wasn’t going to say anything first.
“You drink your coffee just black?” Clarke stumbled over her question as she tried to find a way to ease into this.
“Well when you were busy wearing Uggs and trying every fancy Starbucks drink in high school, I was working two jobs and going to class to take care of my mom and sister. So straight black was good enough for me.”
Bellamy’s snarky response made Clarke narrow her eyes.
Clearly he was still an asshole, so maybe this wouldn’t be too hard.
“Whatever Bellamy. Since you’re incapable of having a normal conversation—”
“Me not have a normal conversation? Have you ever heard yourself? You’re so clearly an only child, incapable of letting anyone else—”
“Don’t even try with that. You’re the cockiest asshole I’ve ever met and no mark on my body is going to change that.”
Clarke’s outburst quickly stalled their argument and the two fell silent for a moment.
“Really?” Bellamy seemed surprised but not hurt, which helped ease a worry she hadn’t realized she even had.
“That was pretty much why I wanted us to talk,” she explained. “I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Which to be fair, you weren’t even supposed to know about it.”
“I’m not too interested in soulmates anyway,” he said with a casual shrug.
“Can you not say it so loudly?” Clarke whispered, her head whipping around to see if any of the other students had noticed what she and Bellamy were talking about.
Soulmates weren’t necessarily rare, but they were just uncommon enough that Clarke felt uncomfortable at the idea that people could overhear them talking about it. Especially since they were talking about how they weren’t going to operate as soulmates. She knew plenty of people wish they had soul marks; she didn’t want it to be weird.
Bellamy arched an eyebrow.
“What word?”
“You know what word,” Clarke replied tersely.
The small smirk on his face widened at that, and he shifted forward so that he was leaning across the table. Clarke couldn’t help her gaze flitting to his lips. She hadn’t remembered the small scar there and suddenly it was all she could focus on.
“Oh? Did you mean soul—”
Clarke scrambled to cover his mouth with her hand, cutting him off.
His breath puffed warmly against the palm of her hand and the intensity of his eyes made her highly aware of their skin connecting. She felt a tickle on her wrist. It was then that she realized her sweatshirt’s sleeve had pulled back, revealing the pulsating mark on her wrist.
Apparently Bellamy had too, since when she looked back at him, his eyes had locked onto her wrist and he had completely stilled. Trying to pull herself together, Clarke slowly retracted her hand and settled back into her seat.
“It’s different in the light,” was all Bellamy offered, his eyes still lingering on her wrist.
“Whatever. What is it you were saying about not being interested in them?”
He took a slow sip from his coffee, his eyes focused on her as if contemplating how much to open up to her. Clarke didn’t entirely blame him — they weren’t even friends. Just two people randomly thrust together. It didn’t really stop the child in her though from wanting to stomp her foot and remind him that they’re soulmates and he should just go ahead and trust her anyway seeing as how the universe did.
This was going to be a weird balance to figure out.
“I just don’t have time for one,” he finally said, his tone more serious than she’s sure she’s heard it before.
“Time for one?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like Princess,” Bellamy said, his words now laced with exasperation. “I can’t just start romancing some girl who’s supposed to be my soulmate. I have Octavia to look after, classes to focus on, money to earn. Soulmate or not, I’m just not particularly interested in one. I’ve got my life figured out and it’s fine how it is.”
Clarke bit her lip.
Those seemed like perfectly legitimate reasons.
“So spill, why aren’t you jumping for joy at the idea of being stuck with me?” He nudged her leg with his foot.
“Easy, they’re an archaic concept that I don’t believe in,” she replied quickly.
“You’re a skeptic?”
“Well, I mean… obviously they exist. And people have reported successful with relationships with them. I just don't believe in allowing something placed on my skin by some type of ‘fate’ to dictate who I spend my life with.”
“Something tells me you don’t love astrology either,” Bellamy said with a laugh.
Clarke snorted and shook her head before continuing.
“We’re pretty good proof of it too. There’s no reason for us to be together, and we shouldn’t settle just because we match or whatever,” she explained.
“Fair enough,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he observed her closely.
It made her squirm in her seat.
“Let me guess,” he finally said. “Your parents weren’t soulmates and now you’ve decided to just say fuck it to them.”
Clarke stiffened.
“Actually, my parents were soulmates. But that didn’t stop my mom from—” she cut herself off abruptly, clamming up now as she realized what she had been about to tell him. Bellamy had stopped mid-sip at her sentence, clearly not expecting it start going in the direction it did.
“It didn’t stop things from not working out,” Clarke finished cooly.
Another silence settled over them. Clarke wiggled further back into her seat, taking a large gulp of her drink. The caramel and whip cream had melted into it and it was comforting to stare at it instead up at Bellamy. She knew it was hypocritical to want him to tell her his story and then for her to balk at the idea of sharing her own. But he was such an ass about her background that it wasn’t worth talking about it with him.
To his credit though, he didn’t push the issue. Instead he let the silence linger and Clarke was appreciative. She wasn’t used to silence, at least not since Wells had moved. This one didn’t quite have the same level of comfort as the ones with her best friend, but there was something different about these that made them just as relaxing.
“I study philosophy and political science, with a minor in religious history.” Bellamy’s voice breaking it a few minutes later.
Clarke looked over at him in surprise. He gave a half jerk with his shoulders.
“I figured I could share something about myself,” he said with a crooked grin.
She smiled as well, straightening back up. “Communication design with an art minor. It’s to make it look like I have my act together more than I do.”
From there they finally fell into what had to be their first normal conversation. No insults, no talk about soul marks. It turned out even though he was a junior in college, Bellamy was actually a couple years older than her. He told her about transferring from the community college by where he had grown up in North Carolina, having been able to finally get enough credits to help him jump back to where he needed to be grade wise. And that much to Octavia’s chagrin, he had followed her to Arkadia (though it had always been his first choice he added, noting that Octavia only knew about it because he had looked here first).
Clarke didn’t push him on the grittier details.
She held back some information from him, stuff she hadn’t bothered to tell anyone here at Arkadia. She told him all about Wells and how he had been the one to convince her to pursue art and design, versus science. She briefly mentioned what it was like growing up with her mom as mayor, but kept it short. Told the story of how she met Jasper and Monty at orientation her freshman year and the shenanigans they got her into.
Eventually her phone beeped and Clarke looked down in surprise at it.
She was pretty sure it was the longest she had gone without looking at it, a feat that she struggled with constantly.
“Oh shit, I’d forgotten I promised Harper I’d help her with a presentation for class,” she explained, her apologetic tone sincere.
Bellamy held up his hands. “No offense taken, I probably should go work on my paper anyway.”
They were about to separate once more outside of Grounders when Clarke stopped them both.
“We should set up like, guidelines of some sort. I know I think the marks are silly, but I want this to work and not be weird.” A deep breath. “Alright. I think the main rule should be we don’t tell anyone.”
“Fine by me,” Bellamy hoisted his book bag back onto his shoulder. “Especially my sister. She’s obsessed with that soulmate shit.”
“Deal.” Clarke grinned at that. Definitely not surprising. “I also don’t want my friends to know about it, too much explaining to do. And it’ll be weird.”
“Since we’re not together, we’re free to date or hook up with whoever we want,” Bellamy added, giving Clarke a suggestive wink to which she groaned at.
“I’m stopping you from having your precious threesomes if that’s what you’re implying Blake,” she retorted, grabbing her coffee as they walked out of the coffeeshop.
“Unless you want to join in of course.”
Bellamy barely managed to dodge the swat to the arm, laughing as he caught Clarke’s eye. She tried to keep the frown on her face as she stared him down. She didn’t enjoy how easily he was making her laugh.
She sighed then.
“And I guess… we try to be friends?”
“Friends,” repeated Bellamy with mock seriousness.
Clarke held her hand out expectantly, causing him to let out a bark of laughter before reaching out to shake her hand.
They had then that awkward moment of trying to say good bye in that way you only can when you don’t really know someone. The back and forth movement, the jumbled up explanation of that you have to get somewhere. Clarke had to bite back the giggles she was experiencing. In the course of less than twenty-four hours, she’d gone from seeing Bellamy as this asshole partier, to a protective older brother, to a legitimately awkward kind of guy.
Maybe being friends with him wouldn’t be too hard.
She was working on how to explain to Wells that she’d decided to be friends with the guy she had previously declared her arch nemesis, when a thought occurred to her.
Her idea brought her to a halt. It seemed silly, especially after just spending the entire morning discussing why they shouldn’t be together because of a mark. But she was feeling selfish and plus when else would she get the opportunity?
“Wait!”
Bellamy slowly spun on his heel as Clarke jogged back to catch up with him.
“You’ve seen mine, show me yours,” she said breathlessly.
“You know how inappropriate that sounds right?” Bellamy sounded amused though at her proposition.
She simply gave him a pointed look, at which he sighed over dramatically, before shifting his book bag to his other shoulder. Clarke watched as he pulled the color of his shirt over, revealing more skin and then a collarbone and then…
Clarke couldn’t help the small gasp that came out when she saw it.
Okay, maybe she didn’t have to believe in soulmates. That somehow she and Bellamy were destined to be together because stars had aligned and selected them to be together.
But seeing the matching mark on him effected her more than she had thought it would.
Her fingers hesitantly reached up, pausing first as if waiting for permission. He nodded so subtly it was almost impossible to tell. She gently touched his skin, tracing the matching star that sat atop his collarbone.
It matched hers perfectly. She’d heard of some being more similar in theme than in style. But theirs were a perfect match. Both deep purple in color, almost royal. The stars and the trails that followed them were both illustrated, reminding Clarke of the woodcut style tattoos she had seen before. Similarly to hers too, Bellamy’s drifted as well.
Clarke frowned, lifting her other wrist up and twisting it so that she could see them next to each other.
Bellamy was silent as she did this, watching her intently. She could feel how close they were together and if she wasn’t distracted by the soul marks she would have been distracted by their lack of personal space between each other.
It wasn’t that the marks were drifting — they were rotating. Circling in tandem with each other.
“Binary stars,” she murmured under her breath.
Bellamy’s chest expands under her touch as he inhales. “Rotating stars that never touch.”
His voice rumbled in her ear and it seemed to wake Clarke up. She shook her head to clear it and stepped back, almost reluctantly dropping her hand to her side. Reciting their earlier conversation in her head, she reminded herself that she wasn’t interested in soulmates. That Bellamy was too much of a dick to bother with.
“Seems pretty spot on to me,” she forced the grin on and he echoed it back.
“Definitely could be worse.”
She watched as he once again turned to leave again. Her wrist stung again as she watched him go and she rubbed at it with her thumb.
Just before he pushed open the door though, Bellamy cocked his head back and gave a half wave in her direction.
“See you around Clarke,” he called out.
She had waved back before it hit her that she had never heard him call her by her name before. The mark seemed soothed by it, but she tried not to think about what that meant too much.
It was just a showing of respect, that they were going to try to be friends now.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Except there was something about the way he said her name that seemed different than she’d ever heard it before.