Chapter Text
“Clarke? Are you home?” Octavia knocked on her door a couple times before bursting in.
Clarke laid her book down, squinting her eyes at the intruder. “Come in?”
The dark hair girl bounced into the room, spinning and dropping herself onto Clarke's bed. “Thanks. So, don’t get mad, ok? But-” She trailed off, the sentence hanging loosely between them.
The blonde closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she could feel the other girl’s warmth radiating. “What?” She almost didn’t want to ask.
“But I think I may have found a solution for our problem.”
“What problem?”
“The roommate problem.” The younger girls' hand had wormed its way into hers, pinkies linked together.
Octavia and Clarke shared an apartment, one that was close enough to campus that Clarke could walk most days, take the car on days she really felt out of it. They had been living together for over a year now, a steady and comfortable relationship between them. The girls had been friends for over five years now, so long that it felt like Clarke had grown up with Octavia, relying so heavily on the younger girl, that at times, Clarke wondered which one of them was older. Octavia had helped her through some of the hardest parts of her life, her exterior never cracking when the blonde laid something new on her, needed her .
Clarke wondered briefly if this was it, this was the moment the other girl got sick of her, this was the moment it was ended and she would have to pretend to be okay. “What’s the solution?”
“Well, I’m not moving in with Lincoln for another month, and Bellamy’s lease is ending around that time and-”
She didn’t finish before Clarke had sat up. “Octavia, please tell me you didn’t.”
Octavia pressed her lips together, squeezing Clarke's hand. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission. Right?”
Clarke had met Bellamy numerous times throughout her relationship with Octavia. He could have passed off as O’s twin, with their same color hair and eyes, his skin only slightly more olive than his sisters. But where Octavia was loud and boisterous, her emotions written on her face, her heart very clearly on her sleeve, Bellamy was almost the exact opposite. He was quieter, face closed off, body language unreadable. He was a smooth talker, he fit easily wherever he went, a smile and a few jokes and you felt like you had been friends with him forever. He was smart, Clarke would never admit it, hating the way he almost taunted her with his knowledge, always having to have the last word in any conversation they had. He had his friend group, and she had hers, crossing over only when O was the mediator. Until their friend groups merged into one big happy family.
The times they had mingled, had bounced into each other, Clarke had always gotten the feeling that he didn’t like her very much. Again, she would never admit it to him, but it hurt her. A sting as his joking words stabbed into her heart.
“Princess.”
“Sorry were you talking to me?”
“I don’t see any other royalty here.” Bellamy had rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Can’t you just call me Clarke like everyone else?” Her nose had crinkled a bit in the signature ‘unsavory show of emotions’ as her mother so lovingly called it.
“And deprive you of your title? I could never be so rude.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Octavia had to break it up, had to apologize for her brother. That was the first time, definitely not the last.
“There’s just some things you’ll never understand, Princess.”
“Just because my family was well off doesn’t mean I’m not aware of things that go on. And it doesn’t mean their wealth is mine.”
“I’m sorry, who’s in med school right now?”
“What does that have to do with anything? Am I not supposed to educate myself or accept help when it’s offered? If I didn’t use it and lived in debt forever that would be more stupid. You’re telling me if you could pay off anything, you wouldn’t do it?”
“That’s so different. You have everything and you don’t even appreciate it. Like your twenty-thousand-dollar car you don’t even drive.”
“That was a gift, I-”
“Oh wow, that makes it even better.” He’d laughed and the conversation was over.
Clarke could never pinpoint how the fights would start, only that Bellamy would always have the last word, smirking as she would leave the conversation, the group, the room. He had decided who she was, before she could even tell him herself, and no matter how hard she’d tried to explain, tried to make him understand, he never would. It’s like her words would get twisted and anything she said only added fuel to his fire.
“He doesn’t not like you, he’s just cautious and protective. It takes him time.”
“Octavia, he hates me.”
“He just doesn’t know you. I told you, we were raised different, and he’s a dumb boy. He’ll come around.”
“Come around when? When I sell everything and live on the streets? What do I have to do to get his respect?”
“I mean I’m sure it’s not that-”
“O, he wouldn’t even let me look at his cut hand the other day. He insinuated, quite brazenly, that I’ve gone as far as I have because of my mom.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s degrading and you know it.”
“Just give him time, please. He’ll come around; I promise.”
She tried her best to be careful around him, knowing that if she jumped, he would catapult to any small thing she said. She quieted around him, not giving him any ammo, laughing at his jokes towards her, agreeing every time he put her down. O wanting so badly for her best friend and brother to get along, so badly for the two major parts of her life to coexist. Clarke didn’t want to take that away from her. So, she stopped complaining to the sister, stopped trying to take everything he said personally and waited. Waited for him to come around.
Sometimes Clarke wished she had met Bellamy when she was younger. When she could fight his fire with a hotter fire. She wondered what her younger self would have said to his remarks, if she would have been able to put him in his place or if it would have backfired. Younger Clarke had more spark and life, younger Clarke was naïve and probably all the things Bellamy was accusing older Clarke of being. She was ungrateful for what she had and took for granted almost everything her parents bought her. She didn’t know any different. But younger Clarke grew up and learned quickly. She wasn’t so stupid anymore, and she hated that Bellamy treated her like her younger self, treated her like he even knew her younger self.
Murphy and Octavia were the only friends in their group who sincerely knew Clarke. Knew that she barely talked to her mother if she could help it, that she tried with all her might to distance herself from the Griffin name. That she wasn’t who she used to be. Bellamy had never given her the opportunity to explain, and no one had ever filled him in. She supposed it wasn’t really his fault he held so much disdain for her. He didn’t know why she shared an apartment, why she hated her car so much, or why she had a full ride at the Ark’s medical program. She shared the apartment for Octavia, to help the girl, on more than one occasion covering both their rent as the younger girl apologized profusely and told her she would make up for it. Her car was a gift from her mother, a ‘Sorry your father is dead let me buy that emotion away from you.’ Clarke hated it and avoided driving as much as she could. And the Ark? It was her father who had paid her way through with the money in his will. She would never have denied him that, not now when he was gone. But Bellamy didn’t know any of that, and part of her was glad she wouldn’t have to see the look on his face when she revealed she was actually helping his sister, was fulfilling a dead man's wish. The longer time went on and he held her in the same regard, the longer and more painful the truth would be to him. The longer the one year stretched into two, then three, then five, she felt like they had passed the stage of a real friendship. Crossing a line, running away from it and making the distance that much harder to close. They had settled into stranger like acquaintance, empty words of hello and goodbye, a tolerance more than anything for the sake of Octavia. Add to the list of things she would never tell Bellamy, it hurt that he placed his ideas of a silver spoon onto her. He was a nice person, she saw how he was with his real friends, with O. That closeness she had always craved, had practically forced Octavia into, she envied that he so freely gave it to everyone around her. A large hole where her closeness should be, but wasn’t. Eventually after five years that envy and sadness settled into acceptance. Bellamy Blake didn’t like her, and that was that. Clarke Griffin was studying to be a doctor so she could help people not be in pain. Silently, she kept her truths to herself and let him think what he wanted.
“Clarke please just think about it okay?” O had her head on the girl's shoulder, her lips pouting.
“What did you do this time?” Monty sat across from them in the dinner, Jasper and Murphy appearing almost out of nowhere behind him, surrounding their small table. Murphy scooted closer to Clarke, hand reaching over to grab at Octavia’s beer.
“Hey!”
“She volunteered Bellamy to be my new roommate without even asking me.” Clarke picked up one of the fries in front of her, squishing the substance between her fingers before letting it drop back down.
“To be fair, I didn’t say it was a done deal, it would kill two birds with one stone. He’s looking for a place, you’re looking for a roommate.”
“You’re not worried they’ll murder each other? Jesus Christ talk about most likely to start a war against each other.”
Clarke ignored Murphy, continuing her assault on the fries. “He already thinks it’s a done deal. Also, what gave you the impression I was looking for a roommate?” O just looked at the girl, not saying anything as her lips pursed together. “ I’m not, I’m perfectly fine and I can pay rent on the place by myself.”
“Sure you could Princess! But you can’t pay for good company.” Bellamy Blake slid into the booth, taking the last spot next to Jasper, Nathan Miller scooting in beside him.
“You’re the good company? Why can’t you move in with Miller?” She addressed him, only able to look at his hazel eyes for a second before turning her attention to the mangled potatoes in front of her.
“Don’t drag me into this. I just came for the beer.” Miller shot her look before also grabbing at Octavia's beer that had been making its rounds.
“Miller lives on the other side of town. Your place is closer to the bar. Correction, our place since I signed the lease already. Are you going to be annoyed forever? Because I can live with that.”
She ignored his jab, opting to stare down the girl next to her. “He already signed the lease? What happened to ‘we would talk about it’?”
“Fucking hell Bell.” She threw a torn-up fry at him, Murphy reaching across to grab it and stuff it into his mouth, murmuring something about wasting food. “Clarke, we still have like a month, I wanted to ease you into it.”
Clarke pushed the fries closer to the middle of the table, her stomach turning to knots.
The conversation had continued outside of them, Jasper and Monty talking about their latest gaming stream, Murphy trying to run down the waitress to order more food, Bellamy and Miller talking about a coworker of theirs.
The conversation moved on, everyone, even Bellamy and Clarke, finding a spot in all of it. She commented on things, nodded and hmm’d along where she was supposed to. But for the most part, she was just happy to be there and surrounded by everyone. Even Bellamy. The whole gang was like a janky puzzle, each piece fitting in, even if you had to slam it in a couple times. Clarke had never been so thankful for the gang of misfits, even Lincoln who she hardly knew. Even Bellamy who didn't want to know her. It settled something in her heart to be surrounded by so many people who knew her, even a little bit, and still wanted to be there with her. Something she never had before. It was worth going quiet to let Bellamy talk, it was worth not putting her opinion into the mix just to have this peace. Bellamy met her gaze once when the check was being brought, he didn’t say anything and neither did she. She finally broke first, blinking hard and wondering why her eyes were stinging.
Time passed by too quickly, Clarke's days spent slaving away and finishing up her coursework, the end of the year, and her first-year residency looming over her. She slept through the nights, binged on fruit to help her brain, went to school, skipped dinner, ignored calls from her mother, squeezed as much time as she could with Octavia, even if it meant helping her pack her things.
“I mean, maybe I’m a bit nervous, Lincoln is more of a perfectionist than I am. And what if we just don’t get along together? What if he keeps using my toothbrush, or he keeps moving my stuff, or he eats my leftovers?”
Clarke reached out, grabbing the packing tape next to Octavia and biting off a piece before answering. “You’ve been dating for two years already. You guys know each other pretty well.”
“Yeah, but what if he hates that I’m messy.”
“O, he knows how messy you are.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too much.
“Okay, and he knows that I can’t cook, but what if he decides that he wants a good cook? A good, not messy cook?” The ‘ What if I’m not good enough?’ lingered at the end of her sentence.
Clarke stopped taping the box between her legs, “If he sticks with you after seeing your room, I don’t think there’s anything you can do that will make him run. Besides, he can cook well enough for the both of you. Seriously though, you know how much he loves you.”
“I know.” The girl abandoned the box she was working on, sighing and stretching before leaning back on her hands. “I’m just worried being together twenty-four seven will be too much.”
“For you or for him?”
She scrunched up her face, opened her mouth and closed it. Opened it again. “Him.”
“Octavia, you know you’re good enough for him, right? In fact, I would say you’re too good, and that no one deserves you. But at least he treats you like he knows that.”
A small smile appeared on her face. “Thanks. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I know.”
The whole gang arrived the day Octavia was moving out. Murphy arriving first, his boots swinging onto the couch as he found yet another weird position to sit in. “Where’s the pizza?”
O rushed into the living room, smacking the back of his head on her way to the kitchen. “Feet off the couch, Christ, what is it with bisexuals and weird sitting positions? Pizza is at Lincolns place. My place. Whatever.”
Murphy looked at Clarke, one eyebrow raised.
“She’s nervous. But she’s right, take your shoes off the couch.”
“Bisexuals do not sit weird, I resent that.” He slumped down anyway, propping his feet, instead, on the coffee table. “I know I’m early, but I’ll have you know I’m not lifting a hand till the designated time has arrived.”
Clarke grinned. “I expected as much. We have to wait for Bellamy to get here with his truck anyway.”
“Excited for a new Blake?”
She removed herself from the floor, hopping on the couch and tucking herself close enough that she could detect the faint smell of cigarettes, somehow his leather jacket still encased in the campfire that they had done more than three months ago. Close enough so her heart finally relaxed, the feeling of someone else almost grounding her. “It won’t be the same without O here. And I hear he’s cleaner than her, so I guess that’s one plus.”
“Not in the bathroom he isn’t” Octavia bounced through the living room, her singsong voice following her back to her room.
“Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better about him coming?” She moved her head into Murphy’s shoulder, closing her eyes.
“Ah, don’t worry Griffin. You’re always welcome to come crash with me.” Murphy was the only one in their gang who lived alone, a janky fire station that no one knew how he afforded, turned to his own bachelor pad. Most of their parties and nights out revolved around his home.
Clarke opened her mouth to tease him for how many parties he hosted, when the front door slammed open, Bellamy Blake stepping inside the living room.
“Honestly, did you guys pack anything ?” His eyes roamed around the room, eyebrows going up.
“Don’t look at me, I just got here.” Murphy nudged Clarke and she was forced to look up and address Bellamy.
“Most of O’s stuff is in her room. It’s in boxes don’t worry .”
“You two going to sit there the entire time?”
Murphy pulled the girl closer. “Yup. If luck will have it, we won’t be lifting a thing.” Clarke laughed into the boys' neck, ignoring whatever remark Bellamy threw their way.
The process was a lot faster than Clarke was hoping for, the last box emptied from Bellamy’s truck before the sun even had time to set. With eight people helping, even though Monty and Jasper gave up halfway through to play a game of hacky sack in Lincolns kitchen, the entire thing only took about three hours.
“You had a lot more stuff than I remembered.” Clarkes muscles were sore, even bringing her arm up to take a bite of pizza took too much energy.
Lincoln poked his girlfriend's side. “Don’t worry, there’s room.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“We’ll make some.”
Everyone groaned as Lincoln gave the girl a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Someone throwing a peperoni slice that landed in Octavia’s hair.
Jasper tried to start a round of “Simp! Simp! Simp!” but shut up after no one joined him, Monty giving the boy a shove and an eye roll.
“This is why you’re still single, Jas.”
“I’ll have you know; my mother thinks I’m a catch.”
“So, Bell, when are you going to make us do the same thing for you?” Octavia talked around the food in her mouth, ignoring the pointed looks from Clarke.
“My lease ends in a couple weeks. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you guys pizza too.”
Jasper and Monty cleared their throats.
“And beer, Jesus.”
“This was the hardest workout ever. I can’t imagine having to carry stuff up four flights of stairs.” Her and Octavia’s apartment, her and Bellamy’s apartment , elevator was broken. Had been since they moved in. Surely it was some code violation, but no one seemed to care enough to complain.
Bellamy rolled his eyes at her. “God forbid you have to lift a finger again.”
Octavia kicked her brother. “Be nice. Bellamy probably has more shit than I do. So yeah. Beer and Pizza and drinks on you for the next four weeks?”
Bellamy groaned. “Or I’ll do it myself and save a couple hundred.”
“Dude. You work at a bar. Drinks are always on you anyway.” Murphy snorted, stuffing another slice of pizza in his mouth.
Clarke pushed her plate away, half her pizza had been taken apparat and picked so thoroughly she had balled it up in a napkin, stuffing it away in her pocket. If she had eaten, she would probably be feeling sick right now. A part of her thought that they would have to get along, now that they were supposed to live together. But Bellamy still didn’t seem to care.
If he wanted things to stay the exact same, she wasn’t going to put in any effort to change them. She pretended her heart didn’t ache as everyone continued their conversations.
For a while, Clarke had the entire apartment to herself. She did her homework in Octavia's now empty room, enjoying the way the sun lingered in here longer than any of the others. The tv in the living room left on, a background noise to convince the girl that the apartment wasn’t empty. That she wasn’t alone. The words on the page before her swam and repeated themselves, she must have been reading the same paragraph, but the words were new every time her eyes scanned the page. She knew she wasn’t retaining anything but kept going, begging anything to stick. After a while, Clarke laid her head on the books, wondering If she could get osmosis to do the work for her. The light was fading, like the sun had given her a gift but was now gradually taking it back. The cold and emptiness of Octavia’s room only making her feel a deeper nothing that was spreading in her chest. She watched the sun recede, thankful no one was there to see her, that no one could read her mind and find out how thankful she was Bellamy was moving in. That anyone was moving in. She just didn’t want to be alone again.
Her phone vibrated somewhere behind her, but she didn’t bother getting it.
By the time Clarke woke up, the room was entirely dark. Slowly she pealed the anatomy book from her cheek, rooting through the darkness for her phone so she could turn the flashlight on. It was past midnight. She had two missed calls, so many texts from the group chat her phone had capped off at ninety-nine. She could still hear the television, a faint blue light making its way to her as whatever show kept on playing to an empty audience. She didn’t bother turning it off on her way to her room. Her stomach let out a groan, informing her of the continuously missed meals. As if she wasn’t already aware.
Clarke didn’t know why she had stopped eating. She just had. Maybe it was the loads of biology and chemistry homework she was behind, not being helped by the dark cloudy days that had taken over the city of Arkadia, making her long to curl up in a cozy sweatshirt, bury her head under her duvet. Maybe it was the fact that her father's death was always fresh on her mind. A deep pit in her stomach that she was never fully able to reconcile, her mourning period brief, rushed onto the next task of her life before the tears had even had time to dry. Maybe it was because no one was there anymore, no need for frivolous meal making that took up time and energy, dishes that would sit in the sink too long and make the place smell. Maybe it was just easier this way.
Clarke didn’t think she was ugly, not necessarily. She knew she was a bit on the thicker side, but always prided in how well she could fill out jeans, turn heads in cropped tops. Clarke didn’t know why she’d stopped eating, and she didn’t like to think about it. She had almost two years of medical training under her belt, a lifetime of diagnosis and medical garble inside her. The logical part of her brain could nail down exactly what she was doing, what was happening to her body. The ten pounds she had lost, the fact that sometimes she would have to sit in the shower when stars burst in her eyes. If she didn’t think about it or give it a name, then she could pretend it was the stress. The name that she wouldn’t think or say, that meant there was something wrong with her. So, she would go on pretending that everything was fine. Just like with everything else in her life.
Bellamy moved in two weeks later while Clarke was at class. It was a Wednesday that was crammed with classes, the clouds loomed over everyone, threatening to let loose at any second. The constant low rumble of thunder had kept Clarke distracted throughout the entirety of the lecture, her eyes being pulled to the windows, watching and hoping for the first drip, drip, drip of rain. It came to her, twenty minutes later when she was walking home. The clouds splitting as Clarke looked up, an onslaught of water hitting her. She didn’t bother running or trying to get out of it, knowing she would be soaked either way. This was how she arrived home ten minutes later.
“Yo Griffin, fall in the river?” Jasper greeted her as soon as she had walked into the apartment, her shoes barely even off her feet.
“Caught in the storm. What are you doing here?” She looked past the boy, Monty and Bellamy laid out on the couch, Bellamy’s friend Miller sitting next to him.
“We just finished moving Bellamy in. Want some pizza? You look like a kicked kitten.” He poked at her side, the four layers of wet shirt not doing her any favors.
Clarke ignored his comment, continued to stare past the boy, seeing the extra stuff. The boxes still spilling from the kitchen, the extra couch crammed into the living room, a PlayStation haphazardly connected to the tv, the wires snaking through the coffee table and on the floor. There was a shout from the boys, Miller threw something at the screen in protest. “Oh. That was fast.” She gave Jasper a side hug as she moved through the apartment, trying to move quick so her clothes wouldn’t make puddles on the floor.
“The roof on your convertible break Princess?” Bellamy paused whatever was on the screen, smirking at her soaked attire.
She ignored him, making a jagged line through the living room so she wouldn’t trip over the piles of things. Bellamy’s things. “Welcome to the apartment, other Blake.”
Living with Bellamy wasn't as bad as Clarke had envisioned. It helped that they were hardly ever in the apartment at the same times. Bellamy off with Miller or O or someone else, picking up extra shifts at the Dropship, the bar where he worked. Clarke tried not to keep track of his comings and goings. Her heart still slowed down when she heard the front door open, when she could hear him in the kitchen or bathroom, doors and cabinets slamming, the sound of his PlayStation whirring to life. Her hands would settle and her breathing would slow and it was comforting to know someone else was there. Even if the someone else was the other Blake.
It was a nice day in Arkadia, save for the wind that whipped at Clarke’s hair, causing her to pull her jacket a little closer. A protection from the weather or her mother, she wasn’t sure.
“We poured so much into this Clarke. You can’t lose sight now when you have less than a year before residency.”
Abigale Griffin sat poised and sharp before the girl. How someone could look so menacing in pink scrubs, she didn’t know. Two phones and a pager lay on the table before them, surrounded by Abby’s steak, Clarkes untouched salad. She had only picked up her fork so her hands had something to do.
“My words and influence can only take you so far. Are you even listening?”
“I’m doing the best I can, you know how hard the classes can be.”
“Yet I managed to do it while holding two jobs. I didn’t have someone offering to bail me out. This isn't even the hard part. What's gotten into you?”
Clarke opened her mouth to say something, floundering for words to explain, nothing coming out.
“I don’t want excuses Clarke. You have no idea how embarrassing it is for me to have my own daughter fail a basic course.”
“It was one C. I wouldn't call that failing.” Clarke stabbed her salad, not meeting the other women's eyes.
“Do you think your father would be proud of this behavior?”
The lump that had been in her throat throughout the entire meal, got larger. She set the fork down quickly, bunching her hands under the table so the shaking wasn’t visible.
“You’ve been ignoring me, missing classes, barely passing, all for what? So you can prove something by refusing my help? You’re lucky enough your father put away as much as he did, yet here you are throwing it back in his face. You will not get this opportunity twice; father’s only die one time. The one thing he wanted for you, the one thing I thought you wanted to do, and you're throwing it away because the classes are hard? You’re an adult Clarke, life is hard.”
The wind picked up for a second, Clarke's hair blowing over her face as she tried to keep composed. Cars zooming past their spot in the outside venue. Why her mother chose to sit outside, she didn’t know. “I never asked him to pay for med school.” She knew her voice sounded weak, she had to fight to keep the tears from her face, thankful her hair was covering the worst of her.
“But he did and you were fine using his money to move away from me and pay double rent for you and your little friend. You knew what you were risking when you signed up for the program. Not being ahead is grounds for automatic failure. Getting a C is not being ahead. You’re embarrassing not only your father’s memory, but my legacy as well. Figure out what you want, because I’d rather have you drop out, than make a mockery out of me.”
They were silent for a bit, the rushing cars and the clinking of silverware the only sounds in Clarke's mind. She could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. She didn’t bother arguing with her mom, nothing was good enough for Abigale Griffin. Clarke had tried almost all her life to be ahead, always barely missing the finishing line and falling down. Automatic failure. “I’m trying. As hard as I can.”
“No, you’re not. You’re running around, acting a damn fool. These are basic courses; I could pass these in my sleep. If you weren't so distracted-”
“Mom, I study hard, I do all the extra credit work. This is the only C I’ve ever gotten. I was just distracted; it was a really busy week and Octavia’s brother-”
“Stop making excuses. And stop with that unsavory look on your face.” Her mother picked up her phones, signaling the waiter for the check. “If I was footing the bill for your classes I would have cut you off by now. Think about that the next time you’re dwindling your father's inheritance. I’m sure you can get the check, can’t you?”
Jake Griffin was a tall man. For all her life, Clarke had literally looked up to him. He taught her how to walk, how to talk, how to ride a bike. He drove her to all her soccer practices growing up, standing on the sidelines, waving when she would look over. ‘ Sorry kiddo, mom had a surgery that ran long. ’ He stayed up with her all night to help on school projects, bought her tampons and her first training bra. He drove her to her first date, picked her up after. He bought her the prom dress she wanted, took pictures of her and Lexa on their way out the door. ‘Your mother wishes she could be here but there was an emergency at the hospital.’ Throughout her younger years, she felt as if she was raised by one parent.
Jake Griffin was always there for Clarke. ‘ Your mom loves you; she’s just off saving the world, she’ll be back.’ Young Clarke had wondered what it would take for her mom to save her, to be there and want her the same way she was for random strangers at the hospital. The girl would sometimes listen as her parents fought, late in the night when Abby would finally get home from work.
“Relax Jake, you’re acting like I ran over her dog.”
“It was her Birthday; you could have at least tried to make an appearance.”
“It was her sixth Birthday; she’ll hardly remember it when she grows up.”
“No, she’ll remember her own mother missing milestones in her life.”
“You told me you would never make me chose between family and work. That’s exactly what you’re doing now. You knew how difficult it would be for me, how demanding this field is.”
“Yes, I knew, and I made peace with it. But she’s a child for god's sake. She doesn’t understand why her mother is never here, never pays attention to her. There shouldn’t even be a choice between work and family, you should have picked us a long time ago Abby.”
Maybe it was because it took her mother from her, that Clarke become fascinated in the medical field. The first time she rooted through Abby’s bag, pulling out a stethoscope and listening to the cat's heartbeat, Abby wasn’t even mad. “Do you want me to show you how to use it?” Clarke had nodded, eager for those eyes to remain on her. And when Abby would come slumping through the doors, hair tangled, scrubs creased, she would go to Clarke, putting the girl on her knee as she went over notes. “One day, you’ll be just like mommy.”
Jake bought Clarke a medical kit, letting the girl place fake plasters on him, hello kitty Band-Aids on his forehead, a pink cast tied to his elbow. He would smile at her, and her mom would laugh when she saw the state of him. No one yelled anymore. Instead of being upset, Jake would roll his eyes, joking, ‘How am I going to cope when not one, but two doctors show up late to dinner?’ he would tickle Clarke, making her promise him she would be on time for dinner.
Jake Griffin had put away almost four-hundred thousand dollars by the time he died. Had clearly stated in his will that he wanted Clarke to use it to make herself happy.
“It’s enough to get you through med school and then some.” Abigale had put her arms around the girl's shoulders. “You can still make him proud.”
Her interest in medicine had made Abby happy, it made her father happy, so it should make Clarke happy too, right?
Clarke was tired and starving, the coffee cup in her hand traded for half a cup of vodka at Octavia's housewarming party that was three weeks too late.
“I’m so happy you made it!” O was hugging her, the house already filling with their closest friends, music could be heard in the living room. “Where’s Bellamy?”
The blonde shrugged, downing the rest of her cup, nose scrunching as the fire made its way down her throat, the smell alone almost making her want to vomit. She pushed through and prayed for the buzz to get stronger.
“You guys didn’t come together?”
“I came from class. I think I saw his truck pulling up when I was coming in though.”
“I’m surprised you two are still alive.” O led them to the backyard where a majority of people had crowded, seating them on an old couch that had somehow made its home in Lincolns backyard. “How’s that been going anyway?”
Clarke smiled, already the alcohol in her bloodstream, nothing in her stomach to delay the function. The vibration in her body growing stronger with every passing second. She couldn’t even remember the last thing she’d eaten. “It’s fine O. Both of us have our own lives so we haven’t really been in the apartment alone.”
“You sure you’re alright Griffin? You know I can tell when you lie.” The girl patted Clarke’s head, running her hand down her cheek.
She could feel the alcohol turning her skin red. “I’m great, really.” Her smile was all drunk, no sincere.
O smiled back, leaning over and squeezing her shoulder.
“Griffin!” Murphy's body slammed into Clarke, nearly knocking her from her seat. “Where you been hiding?” He sat half on the couches arm rest, half on her lap.
“Classrooms, morgues and operating galleries, you know, the life of a med student.” Clarke leaned against Murphy’s shoulder.
“Always going to be flexing that?” Bellamy walked into the conversation, a tall girl with brown hair following him closely.
Clarke felt briefly powerful, the alcohol like a shield between her and the rest of the world as she ignored Bellamy, sitting away from Murphy and turning to the girl. “Hi, I’m Clarke, I’m better than everyone else because my dad died and left me money and I’m using his money to go to school.”
The girl’s mouth fell open, the group going silent as everyone waited. After what could only be a few seconds the girl snapped her mouth shut and smiled kindly, sticking her hand out to shake the blondes. “I’m Echo, my dad’s alive so I’m poor and in debt to university.”
Murphy’s jaw was on the floor watching their exchange, Bellamy still rooted to the spot, face emotionless.
“It’s nice to meet you Echo.” Clarke shook the hand back, sliding off the couch and taking her leave. Bellamy didn’t say anything to her as she walked away.
She could hear Murphy whistling low behind her. “I like this one Blake!” She could hear someone punching the boy.
Clarke knew she was way drunker than she should be, having downed another shot before joining her friends in the living room. Really, she just wanted to feel good for once. Something with a lot of bass was bumping through the speakers, her body swaying close to Octavia’s, all logical thoughts had left her. She could feel the sweat at the edge of her scalp, droplets collecting on her forehead. O grabbed onto her, pulling the girl closer as they jumped around.
“Are you having fun?” She had to lean in and talk into Clarke’s ear. “You look like you’re super drunk.”
“God, I hope so!”
They laughed, Clarke fumbling with a hair tie as she pulled her sweaty locks out of her face. Somehow Murphy and Jasper were next to her, the bass continuing to pound in everyone's bodies. Somewhere in her head, she wondered if everyone got as sweaty as she did when they were drunk, wondered how fucked she would be in the morning, wondered just how red her face was. Another song came on and she pulled away from them, stumbling across the floor, shaky hands opening the patio door. Thankfully it was colder outside, the wind had picked up, the sun already long gone as she took her seat in the darkness. She closed her eyes and the world spun. The perfect level of drunk.
It had been cloudy in Arkadia all day, small droplets made their way to the ground, enough to make everything smell beautiful, but not enough to soak her. Clarke almost wished it wasn’t so cloudy so she could search for stars, knowing it wouldn’t matter. She was too drunk anyway, everything dancing in front of her. She could hear a somber melody playing inside, someone had put on a slowed down version of something familiar, no doubt Monty or Jasper, possibly Lincoln if no one was looking.
I don’t wanna be alone. The words danced through her skull, drifting through the open windows, cracked back doors. Clarke closed her eyes again, enjoying the coolness of the rain as it hit her burning skin. She could hear the wind through the trees, Lincoln, and Octavia’s, backyard surrounded by heavy wood . I don’t wanna be alone. Sometimes, if Clarke closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could pretend that her father was there. She was four years younger and everything was ok. How the universe could continue, when her world had stopped, she didn’t know. She was supposed to be okay, to let the world keep turning her, aging and forcing her to keep growing. Cause yah know, somewhere inside, I cannot find, the feeling I got from you. But her world had stopped, and pretending like her insides weren't rotting her, that she hadn't died with her father, seemed to get harder and harder with each passing day. No, somewhere inside, I cannot find, the feeling I got from you. I don’t wanna be alone. I don’t wanna be alone. She blinked extra hard against the tears that threatened to spill over with the rain. I don’t wanna be alone.
“Hey!”
She jolted, wiping her face quickly as Bellamy stepped towards her, closing the glass door behind him.
“Jesus, you okay dude?” He kneeled before her; her eyes shook, everything shook as she tried to focus on him. “Do you need a ride home?”
“You must be drunk if you’re asking.” She hoped her words weren’t slurring as she pushed off the couch, stumbling as the earth tilted under her.
“I had one beer, relax cop.” He grabbed her around the arm, almost lifting her whole-body weight as he placed her on her feet.
“Other Blake is being nice to me?” She could tell her voice was too loud.
“Yeah well, not like you’ll remember this in the morning.” He led her through the gate rather than taking her through the house, his black truck parked on the side of the road.
Clarke grabbed his arm as soon as he had her buckled into the truck, tried not to squeeze her fingers too tight around him, chasing that warmth. “My bag. It’s inside, by the kitchen.” He sighed. “Please.” She knew she was very drunk. “Please. ”
He mumbled something before pointing a finger at her, “Do not puke in the car or I will kill you.”
He closed the door on her, the silence a deafening roar as she tried to calm her breathing. It was hot but she was scared If she opened the door, an alarm would go off. Clarke felt like she sat in his car for twenty minutes, but also two, time blending with the alcohol in her system. The quiet had her mind bouncing with thoughts, her stomach flipping like she was on swings every time she would close her eyes. She couldn’t tell when Bellamy had gotten back, but suddenly they were driving, the windows down, something gently playing on the radio. Her bag sat by her feet. Clarke stuck her hand out the window, letting the air gently push it up and down like waves, like she used to in her dad's car.
“Not gunna puke on me Princess, are you?”
“If I do, I can just buy you a new car so it doesn’t really matter.” She sat up a bit, resting her head on the windowsill, the wind cutting off whatever Bellamy said.
They drove in silence after that, the night lights hitting Clarkes closed eyes, tiny wisps of her hair tickling her nose every now and then. She was still drunk, even more now, or so it felt like. She couldn’t tell where they were, everything felt like it was going in and out. She would see a stop sign, see the green from a traffic light through her eyelids. Eventually they had stopped. They stayed silent as he pulled into the parking lot, the car stalling as the windows rolled up. They didn’t say anything as they walked up the stairs, Bellamy practically carrying her whole weight, helping her along. She blamed her drunk state on how close she leaned into him, how she breathed through her nose just to get his scent. She didn’t realize she’d had a death grip on his arm until his other hand came down and gently prodded her fingers off so he could unlock their door. He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stumble through the hallway and to her door. She couldn’t help leaning her head against his chest, missing when Octavia was there, when she could freely seek the comfort of someone else. She couldn’t help pressing herself to his side, her own arms coming around him and squeezing tightly, the last sober cell in her brain screaming that she was hugging him. It was over just as quickly and she opened her door, not looking back at him as she pushed it closed and fell into bed.
The shrill tone of her alarm took her away from a dream. Clarke grumbled, her eyes heavy with effort to open, a headache blooming from the night before. It was seven, which meant she had forty minutes to get ready if she was going to walk. She stared at her phone instead, the gnawing in her stomach reminding her she hadn't eaten much in the last two days. She would have to if she wanted to make it through class. Clarke closed her eyes, knowing if she drifted off, her backup alarm would go off. She just wanted to remember her dream, wanted to remember whatever it was that had her waking up like she had missed something important. Like there should be someone next to her in bed. Usually, these kinds of dreams made her sad, reminding her of the loneliness in her own life. But something was different, she woke up and still felt love, could still feel the warmth of someone's breath on her shoulder, her neck. She felt like she wasn't alone. The feeling only lasted till the middle of Clarkes class.
Right before the teacher had started his lecture, Clarke's phone had vibrated. Through the home screen messages from Octavia, she had yet to respond to was one text from an unsaved number, the only unsaved number she had memorized. Her mom.
I talked to your biology professor. He’s willing to give you extra credit to make up for the C.
Great. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate. Even though her headache was mostly gone, the dead feeling behind her eyes remained, an almost unbearable pain to close them, even for just a second. She tried to take notes, her usual ‘privileged penmanship’ as Bellamy called it, was all over the place. Her eyes closing for three seconds too long and her pen slipped down the page, the e in vaccine falling away. Every end to her sentences looking like children's scribbles, half a page in looking like a badly drawn maze. She quit. Slamming her notebook shut and stuffing it into her bag, ignoring the looks of her classmates as she stood up and made her exit. The teacher peering over his glasses at her, continuing his lecture without skipping a beat as she let the study hall door slam behind her.
Clarke knew that her professors were more lenient with her, that she really did get special treatment. One word, or phone call, or email from the renown Abigale Griffin, causing them to extend their deadlines for her, overlook spelling errors and give her extra credit to make up for her decreasing grades. These weren't needed when Clarke had first started school, bright eye and on top of her homework, excited to tell her dad about classes, about how well she was doing in them. Relieved at the look of approval on Abby’s face. Back then, school was fun, it was easy, it was something Clarke had looked forward to. Even though she didn’t tell her mother how looking at dead bodies had made her throw up, how much she hated learning the Latin roots to everything, memorize bones and joints.
Her going to med school had made Jake happy, had made Abigale happy, so it was supposed to make Clarke happy too.
The United States Medical Licensing Examination, otherwise known as the Board Exam, is a test all medical students take in their lifetime, multiple times. Because the test comes in three parts. Clarke had been studying all her life for the tests, all the late nights, all the practices, nicking medical supplies and giving Octavia practice IV’s, suturing bananas and cold chickens from the store. All her years of practice had come down to the USMLE test. And Clarke was taking the first part in less than a month.
“Um. Decreasing myocardial contractility.”
“Correct. Clarke do we really have to keep doing this? You know this front to back.” Octavia threw down the stack of cards, groaning and sprawling herself on the couch.
“Not being ahead is grounds for automatic failure.” Clarke kept pacing, tying her hair up for the millionth time before squatting down to grab the loose cards.
“Yeah, okay to whatever that means, but we’ve gone over these every day for the past week. At this point, I can even correctly pronounce this medical talk.” Murphy grabbed the flash cards out of Clarkes outreached hands, squinting at the words. “Okay some of it anyway.”
“My test is in two weeks, nothing is too much, if anything studying too much is expected. If I quit now, I would be behind.”
“What, you can’t get mommy to tell you the answers?” Bellamy walked out of his room, glancing at the trio before making his way to the kitchen.
“Bel, put on a shirt for shits sake.” O threw a hand over her eyes, Murphy smirked next to her.
“Sorry if my studying bothers you so much. I’ll go somewhere else next time.” Clarke glanced at him, watching Bellamy’s black twitch as he took out a carton of something, slamming the fridge door as he turned towards them.
“This is a lot less fun when you don’t respond.” He leaned against the wall for a moment, taking a swig out of the orange juice he had.
Clarke eyed him longer than she meant to, her eyes searching his face for something, anything . "It’s never been fun.” She turned away before he could respond, crossing her arms. “Come on guys, keep going, please?”
She listened to the other man walk off, his room door shutting quietly.
Murphy cleared his throat. “A thirty-two-year-old woman with type one diabetes mellitus has had progressive renal failure over the past two years. She has not yet started dialysis. Examination shows no abnormalities. Her hemoglobin concentration is nine. Nine something. Hematocrit is twenty-eight percent, and mean corpuscular volume is ninety-four something” He stumbled a bit, crinkling his nose at the weird symbols and words. “A blood smear shows normochromic, normocytic cells. What is the likely cause?”
Her heart flipped, hands clenching briefly before she exhaled. “Erythropoietin deficiency.”
“Correct to whatever it was that you just said.”
The first part of Clarkes Board Exam was in one week. She was studying, she knew she was studying. Fact after fact, organs and bones and ounces and pounds, all crammed into her head. Board questions and real-life scenarios running through her head, night and day. In the back of her head, she knew she wasn’t eating enough, not sleeping enough. But that was all part of the process. It’s okay that she wasn’t eating, that she was waking up too early, staying up too late. That’s what all med students do. Right?
And it wasn’t even her fault that she was getting up early; other Blake in the kitchen at 6AM, whirling a blender, blasting REO Speedwagon, Jefferson Starship, sometimes Floyd.
“Gotta get pumped for the morning run Princess!” Is what he had told her the first time. When she had stumbled out of her room, hair matted and dented from leaving it in a bun overnight.
“You can’t be any quieter?” She had stood in the middle of the living room, her oversized t-shirt and sweats with Cheeto prints, hanging off her.
“Sorry your majesty, I live here too!” He smirked at her, turning the music up. “AND I CAN’T FIGHT THIS FEELING ANYMORE!”
Clarke had stopped asking him to be quieter.
She still wasn’t used to it, three weeks later, still waking up annoyed, the pillow over her ears not helping a bit as the sound of Creedence Clearwater mixed with Bellamy’s deep voice vibrated through her. If she wasn’t staying up studying, she would almost be happy that the boy was getting her into the habit of early rising, something her mother had tried countless times. She would never tell the boy that though, especially since she felt so sleep deprived, her notes on muscle dystrophy scattered in the bed, alarm clock two whole hours away from going off. The sun wasn’t even out yet, just a dull glow coming through her window, a promise of what was to come. Waking up early gave Clarke more time to think, Bellamy’s voice still belting out lyrics, still refusing to let her sleep anymore. She was tired of thinking though, knowing that if she let her mind mull things over, that if she settled on something, it would become more real. And there was a lot of things Clarke did not want to become real.
Her stomach flipped, a rumble that felt like it was eating itself. If she laid in bed any longer, her mind would start analyzing that rumble, why there was a rumble. How Clarke hadn’t eaten a proper meal in two days. She threw the covers off and got up. It was too early for anyone but the other Blake to be up, Clarke already having sent texts to Murphy and O, and after twenty minutes Jasper and Monty. No responses.
She pushed her door open tentatively, wondering if she could make a run to her car without him noticing. She tiptoed through the hallway, halfway through the living room before stepping on the one creaking floorboard.
“Princess is awake!” Bellamy glanced back at her, he was working over the stove, an empty egg carton on the counter.
She ignored him and walked to the kitchen anyway, giving him a wide berth as she grabbed her water bottle out of the fridge and made her way back towards her room.
“What no breakfast? Didn’t anyone tell you it’s the most important meal?” He was looking back at her over the kitchen island as she stopped, a deer in the headlights.
“No thank you. Besides, I prefer my eggs as caviar, or don’t you remember.” Her stomach turned at her own words, even though she tried to make them light, even though she followed it up by sticking a hand on her hip, wondering how much of a bitch she could make herself for his benefit.
For the briefest moment she saw something flash over his face, like a shadow of a cloud that was pushed away by the wind, and suddenly the sun was back and she wondered if she had imagined it. “Right.”
She turned and went back to her room, hands sweating around the cold-water bottle. “Right.”
Two days till the exam. Oddly enough, the closer it came, the more relaxed Clarke felt.
“You mean, you’re not going to make me ask you questions that involve words I can’t even pronounce?” Murphy was crouched in a chair in front of her, a cup of dark roast in his hands.
“I think.” She took a deep breath “I’ve studied enough.” Clarke was nursing her own cup of coffee. The hipster coffee joint close to Murphy’s home that they inhabited most Fridays was surprisingly empty. The sun was already in the sky, washing over the streets, over the tables and chairs scattered around them. It was pleasantly warm.
“Are you okay?” He leaned over, dramatically taking her temperature with his free hand. “Are you sick?”
She swatted his hand, smiling slightly. “Yeah, -just. If I pass at this point, I pass.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And if I don’t. I don’t.”
“And you’re okay with not passing?”
“I’m okay with the outcome being out of my control from here on out.” When Murphy kept looking at her like she had two heads, she sighed. “I’ve studied hard, you know I have. There’s nothing more I can do now.”
They were silent for a while. Someone in the kitchen dropped a dish, a loud clang breaking through the quiet, Murphy and Clarke looking around for the noise before going back to their coffees.
“Seriously, Clarke, are you okay? You seem. Quieter lately, not like yourself.”
She avoided his eyes, watching the cars pass by, stop for the light, keep going. “I’ll be better once the stress of this is over. It’s just been a crazy few months.” Would she be better? Because if she passed the first test, it would only get harder, her first year of interning, long hours at the hospital, even less sleep. And if she didn’t pass. What would she even do? She would have to deal with her mother’s disappointment. Her fathers. It had to be better after this. It had to be, it-
“How is it with Bellamy?”
“It’s alright.” She wasn’t lying. For some reason the other Blake had been semi nice to her. He still clanged about at the crack of dawn, still called her princess, still had to comment on everything, still got the last word. But he was being nice, well nice for him. Clarke wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The fact that she had given up on trying with him, right when he seemed like he was putting effort. She was too tired to put much brain power towards it, too tired to figure out what his issue was. Why he kept offering her food. “I’m studying and he’s off doing other Blake things. We haven’t killed each other yet.”
“He still up at the light?”
“ Before the light. And yes. He’s amicable at best.”
“You’re still coming tonight, right?”
She sighed and leaned onto the table, cupping her chin with her free hand. “Only because I miss you and O so much.”
Murphy laughed. “We miss you too.”
Murphyyy
All right everyone, movie recmnds, go.
Jas
Black Panther!
Monty
Again dude, really? We should do Wonder Woman!
Jas
And I say, again dude, really? As if that’s better. You just love Gal.
Monty
If love is a crime, lock me up.
Jas
Cops are on their way.
O!!!
Can we please start watching Ozark? <3 I’ll love ya’ll forever. Lincoln says Ozark too.
Murphyyy
Liar
Other Blake
Dunkirk. Letting partners vote counts now too? Picked the wrong time to be single.
Monty
Don’t be so rude to your right hand Blake omg.
Other Blake
Keep laughing Monty.
Murphyyy
You guys suck ass. My vote is girl with the dragon tat. I get two votes since its my place :)
O!!!
Eat my ass murphy.
Murphyyy
Babes I don’t think Lincoln would like that >:(
Other Blake
Dude. Really.
Clarke moved the blanket that was over her, grabbing her phone, scrolling through the conversation that kept going off. She had a couple hours to kill before heading to Murphy’s, deciding to spend it on catching up on the sleep that Bellamy was denying her. But her phones vibrations kept waking her up. Again, he’s keeping me from sleep. She groaned, moving the duvet so she could breathe out of a tiny hole, not bother to respond before turning it to silent, setting an alarm for two hours before closing her eyes again.
One side effect that Clarke was not expecting, was just how angry she would become. She knew why she saw spots when she would stand up, and why she had the most vivid dreams of stuffing herself on random food. Why she had passed out that one time after running home from school. But she never realized how angry she would become. It was so unlike her it was almost scary. Her emotions felt all over the place, like she was going to snap at any moment. And for once she was extremely thankful that she was busy, that she couldn't see O and Murphy that often. Even having other Blake around, though little he was, made her want to scream. It took all her strength to not yell, and Clarke just wasn’t feeling that strong anymore.
Clarke wasn’t an outright mean person, at least she didn’t like to think she was. When she was younger and was allowed to think good things of herself, she thought she was a good person. She used to be sarcastic and witty, she liked to joke around and poke fun. But she always kept herself in check. Sidestep the truth if it meant sparing someone's feelings. Her mother called it weakness. Her father called it excellent bedside manners. Clarke knew she had anger inside her, but it wasn’t until she had stopped eating that she found out just how much. Her hands would shake, her stomach feeling like a blackhole and she would have to do everything in her power not to scream, not to pick up the nearest object and launch it at her target. It didn’t have to be anything big, someone giving her the wrong look, a text from her mom, even Bellamy’s singing in the morning. All of it made her feel like exploding. But she would swallow it and hope her body ate it up. Bellamy’s voice in the morning had the same number of calories as a bagel with cream cheese. At least, it fueled her the same way.
Murphy lived in a three-story firehouse, right in the heart of Arkadia. It had poles going from the second floor to the first, a multi car garage with walls so high you could build your own nightclub in it. The first time Clarke had gone there, she had to have Murphy show her where the bathroom was. After her father died, she lived in the firehouse for two months. It was a second home to her. She had counted the tiles in the kitchen, had memorized every scrape and dent in the bathroom. She didn’t even knock anymore when she came over.
Everyone was sitting in the main hall of the fire station. Three couches not even crammed into the space, a large dining table that seated the whole gang and plus some, and a tv bigger than anyone’s paycheck easily fit the room. Rich. Murphy was rich, crazy, rich, loaded. Bellamy never seemed to make him feel bad for it though. Clarke wasn’t sure who knew that he outright owned the firehouse. Didn’t buy anything second hand, all his jeans were Dolce and Gabbana, hand tailored, ‘Jesus Murphy, you have a tailor for your clothes?’ ‘What? I’m not dropping three thousand for a shirt that doesn’t fit right.’ Tailored.
“Griffin! You made it!” Jasper waved at her from the second couch, looking over Monty’s head as she dropped her stuff on the table, shedding her now wet coat. “Gang’s all here!”
Clarke took in the surroundings, Bellamy glancing at her, no sign of Echo beside him. Lincoln smiled and waved from his seat next to Octavia, who seemed to be in an intense argument with Monty.
Murphy walked in from the kitchen, two large bowls of popcorn in each hand. “Clarke! Come help me get the rest of the shit?”
She nodded, briefly waving before walking to the kitchen, Murphy hot on her trail, hand’s now empty.
“So, what did you guys vote on?” She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, hopping onto the kitchen island, tracking Murphy. Her vision was tunneling, Murphy’s voice cutting in and out briefly before she stuttered in her breathing, leaning against the kitchen wall and closing her eyes for a second.
“Wonder Woman.”
She could hear the sound of the microwave opening and closing, cracking her eyes back open before the boy could turn around. “Oh? Who caved?”
“Not sure, but I’m pretty sure there was a bribe involved, money exchanged hands.”
Clarke snorted, the tingling in her hands going away the more she pumped her fingers. “Why is it that we can never settle on anything? We should start pulling slips of paper instead. Otherwise, we’re going to be watching Wonder Woman for the rest of our lives and Monty will be broke.”
They stayed silent for a while, the whirl of the microwave and Clarke's leg hitting the cabinets below her, the only penetrating sound.
“You ready for your test?”
She could tell he was looking at her, her hands playing with the wrapper on the bottle. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“When's the meeting with the Mommy dearest?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You going to go?”
“Have to, unless I want to get yelled at.” She laughed a little, putting on a cranky voice “No wire hangers, ever!” Murphy rolled his eyes and chuckled.
“Aww, Princess, trouble in paradise?” Bellamy slid into the kitchen, smirking as he walked right past Clarke, going right to the fridge before addressing Murphy. “You still have the beer from last week?”
Murphy gave the girl an apologetic look, his hand brushing her shoulder as he went to show Bellamy where the drinks were.
“You two going to gossip in here the entire night?” He had a six pack in his hands now. Murphy had gone back to staring at the microwave. “God forbid anything happens without Griffin there to approve it.”
Clarke tried to keep her face as closed off and blank as possible as she hopped off the counter top, the water bottle in her hands a tiny tsunami as both her and it shook. She could feel her lip tremble and she hated herself for that sign of weakness, hated the way Bellamy’s eyes glanced down at it before taking her whole posture in. She must have let some emotion slip through the cracks because he had the decency to look apologetic. She didn’t recognize her own voice as she spoke across the kitchen. “It’s not fun anymore.”
Bellamy briefly shook his head. “What?”
She could feel her whole body shake as she took a deep breath, the wild anger she had tried to hold onto and swallow done coming back up her throat. “It’s not fun anymore.” She hurled her water bottle across the space, watching as he ducked to the side just in time and the bottle exploded on the wall, water raining down on him and Murphy. Clarke staid still for a moment, taking in the shocked expressions of both boys before the ringing in her ears and adrenaline took over. She turned and rushed out of the kitchen. Someone called to her when she walked out of the movie room, she held her arm up in a dismissive gesture. Something fell from her lips, drowned out by the water in her ears as she left the firehouse.
It was still raining outside; she could see lightning in the distance. Clarke wasn’t sure how long she walked, didn’t even register in her head where she was going, till she got to their apartment. She didn’t have anything on her, having left her bag and coat still on Murphy’s table. By the time she walked up the stairs, clothes dripping with every step, shoes squeaking on the linoleum, the adrenaline had worn off. She was just happy that her keys were still in her back pocket as she fumbled to open the door. She wasn’t sure when she had started crying, the tears in her eyes making it difficult to see what she was doing, they slid down her face, one after another as if taking turns. Some of the anger in her had subsided, the fire inside her simmering, on low, as if she had turned the oven down. And she wasn’t sure if she had finally eaten her anger, or if it had started eating her.
The sun was already up by the time Clarke opened her eyes, something that hadn't happened at all in the time she had been living with Bellamy. She stayed in bed, straining to hear if anyone else was home. There was no singing, no noise at all besides her own breathing.
Clarke opened her door, thankful for once that she hadn't taken O’s room when she had the chance, no way sneaking out with a door that would squeak. Her bag and coat were laying by her door, cellphone placed gently on top. She was supposed to see her mom today, one last argument, one last talking to, before her board exam. But all Clarke wanted to do was sleep. So she did. She closed the door on her things, leaving them in the hallway before crawling back in bed, her eyes gently falling shut as the sun continued to make its way into her room.
The second time she woke up the sun was no longer in her room, having moved past the window and settling somewhere above her. It was still light out, but with her phone still in the hallway, she had no way of knowing what time it was. Late enough that she had missed her appointment with her mom. She closed her eyes again.
The third time she woke up, someone was gently tugging through her hair, she could feel a dent in the bed where they were sitting next to her.
“Clarke?” Octavia was sitting above her, concern written all over her face. “Are you okay?”
She sat up, smile tugging on her lips, the room was a bit darker, evening light now. “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to check on you after- yesterday.”
Clarke nudged herself closer to the other girl, enjoying the feeling of another human.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously?” O nudged her. “You run out of Murphy’s, Bellamy had to drive home to make sure you were even here. On top of that no one hears from you all day?”
“It’s just school stress.”
“Bullshit. Did Bellamy say someth-”
“No. It was me. I overreacted. You know my test is in two- tomorrow. My test is tomorrow, I’m just stressing. I promise I’m fine.”
They were still for a moment, the creaks from the building penetrating the room. Somewhere past her closed door she could hear the sounds of pots and pans being pushed and pulled around, the microwave door opening and being closed.
“You promise you’re okay?” Octavia held her hand in front of them, pinky sticking up.
Clarke didn’t even hesitate in reaching out, linking their fingers together and pushing out the most convincing lie of her life. “I promise.”
The first part of the board exam was a multiple choice, eight-hour test, that took place in the testing center behind Arkadia Hospital. Clarke had decided to drive there, arriving an hour early. She clutched her scheduling permit as she waited for the staff to set her up. All her belongings in the car, multiple ‘good luck’ texts unanswered on her phone. She had even seen one from Other Blake before she had stuffed the phone into her glove box. She had used the bathroom twice while waiting, had paced in the lobby, sat and shook her leg, redone her hair a hundred times before someone finally came and got her.
Bellamy was watching tv when Clarke finally arrived home nine hours later. She hadn’t seen him that morning, no music blasting her awake.
He paused for a moment, seemingly thinking over his words before speaking. “How did it go?” He muted whatever it was he was watching.
She kicked her shoes off, throwing her stuff by the door before answering. “We don’t get the results for like, three weeks.”
He nodded, the silence skipping a beat before. “Well, how do you think you did?”
“I don’t know.” She hung by the door, watching as he sat up.
He looked nervous . He opened his mouth to say something, eyes dancing around the room, snapping to hers briefly before looking away again.
Sighing once, she went and sat on the opposite side of the couch, pulling the blanket off the back. “What are you watching?”
He looked at her for a bit before clearing his throat. “Uh, the Michael Jackson documentary.”
“The good one or the bad one?”
“There’s a good one?”
She had to hide her smile with the blanket, curling up and making herself comfortable.