#beaked

“Uh huh.”

“I promise, I’m fine.”

“Still, you wanted one, right?”

“I was cool either way,” he says, and wishes he meant it.

Not having a soulmate sounds great right now.

*

The number-one thing Bellamy knows about Clarke Griffin is that she’s fifteen.

It’s obviously not her only personality trait, or even her most important one, but it’s the only one that can matter to Bellamy right now. Because fifteen is really, really young, and the more he thinks about it, the younger it seems. He doesn’t think he was even a complete person at fifteen, and Clarke probably isn’t either.

Not that he doesn’t like her, so far. She’s smart and sharp and interesting, not exactly fun, but enjoyable. Plus she’s always good for a random argument, which he likes, and she’s started experimenting with low-cut tops, which he’s trying very hard not to pay any attention to, even if it doesn’t always work. She is pretty, but, again, in the way where he’s very aware that she’s going to be in high school for several more years. By the time she graduates, he’ll be out of college himself and off in the world.

Even if she is his soulmate–and he got one of his own high-school friends to confirm that she is, after swearing her to secrecy–she’s not his soulmate now. And if, when she’s twenty, his name shows up on her, she’ll at least know who he is. She can try to find him, if she wants to. There’s definitely no way for him to tell her now that she’s his soulmate without feeling like he’s taking advantage of her, so he just doesn’t. He goes back to school without having said a single word to his new soulmate the entire summer.

Miller isn’t impressed. “You let your sister tell her you don’t have a soulmate?”

“What else was I supposed to say? Hey, call me in five years if we’re soulmates but otherwise have a nice life? Fuck, I’m not ready to be someone’s soulmate now, she shouldn’t have to do it at fifteen. And I wasn’t just going to make up a name.” He sighs. “If you have a better idea for what I should do, you can tell me, but anything I can come up with feels like–grooming, or some shit.”

It doesn’t take Miller long to think through that one. “Yeah, fuck, I don’t know. You’re right, that sucks, there’s no good way to tell a high-school sophomore she’s your soulmate. Sucks to be you.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“Can you at least stay in touch? Like Facebook friend her or something?”

“I’m not going to sign up for Facebook just to friend an underage girl.”

“So then what’s the plan? Wait five years and google her?”

“Wait five years and see how I feel. I’ll still be twenty-five and she’ll be twenty, that doesn’t sound much better. Maybe give it ten years, that’s enough to not be creepy, right?”

“I think once she’s legal, you’re set. But what do I know, I’m still waiting to meet Monty the normal way.”

“I met her a normal way! She’s my sister’s friend, it’s totally normal. The timing just sucks. If O had met her in college, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. It would still be weird,” he admits. “Depending on how old she was. But at least I wouldn’t have to be overthinking it alone.”

Miller pats his shoulder. “Yeah, this is basically the worst possible soulmate scenario for you. So–happy belated birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“At least you like her.”

He sighs. “Yeah, at least there’s that.”

*

As a rule, Bellamy doesn’t like lying. He does it, of course, about big and small things, but he doesn’t enjoy it, and having Clarke for a soulmate means he’s doing it a lot. For the most part, he can tell his friends the truth, but he feels weird telling people he hooks up with–it always ends up being such a long story, and people always want more details. It turns a quick, no-strings-attached fling into a long discussion about soulmates and the right way to deal with them and how age gaps change as people get older. Which isn’t always bad, but is rarely what he’s looking for at a party.

So he mostly says he hasn’t met her yet, which is what everyone expects him to say anyway, and if he ever wants to actually seriously date someone, he’ll tell them the whole truth. It’s not as if it reflects poorly on him; he hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s trying so hard to do everything right.

On his breaks, he’s constantly aware of Clarke being nearby, of the possibility of seeing her, like a malfunctioning spidey sense that doesn’t actually tell him anything and just makes him non-stop paranoid. Since he still hasn’t told his sister about the soulmate situation, he can’t just ask her, and it seems as if she and Clarke are growing apart anyway, in the natural way that kids in high school do. And while there are definitely some advantages to that, it makes him feel antsy, too, unsure of what’s happening to Clarke in the months and years of his not seeing her.

When he does, finally, he’s not ready for it, of course. He’s home for spring break, not quite a year after he gets his soulmark, at the grocery store, and he literally runs into Clarke in the produce aisle, the stupidest meet-cute in the world.

Her smile is warm as she recognizes him. “Hey, Bellamy.”

“Hey, Clarke.”

“Spring break?”

“Yeah.” He wets his lips, trying to figure out something to say that isn’t an unhelpful mono-syllable. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like years since he saw her, and he can’t help studying her for non-existent changes. She’s just Clarke, the same as he remembered: blonde hair, blue eyes, the mole over her lip adding a lopsided charm to her smile.

His soulmate.

“How are classes going?” he finally asks.

“Fine. Pretty uneventful.” She holds up an apple. “Just stocking up for a road trip. Mom and I are doing a college tour over break.”

“Anywhere you’re particularly excited about seeing?”

“Brown,” she says, with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m a legacy, so it doesn’t feel completely unrealistic.”

“Definitely not. I hope you get in.”

“Thanks. You’re a junior too, right? Any idea what you want to do after graduation? Or is it too soon for me to even ask?”

“If everything goes well, I’m going to be teaching. But that’s assuming everything goes well, I’ve got certification and prep stuff to do first, and that’s not set up yet.”

“I figured it might be a little early, yeah. What do you want to teach?”

“History.”

“That sounds like a good fit for you.”

“I’m hoping so, yeah. What about you, any career aspirations yet?”

“Something art-related, still not sure what. My mom thinks art history will make me more employable, I’m not totally convinced.”

“I think a degree from somewhere like Brown will probably make you pretty employable all by itself.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“Well, uh–” He rubs the back of his neck, but he can’t come up with anything else to say to her. This might be the last time he ever sees his soulmate, and he’s done. “Good luck with–everything.”

Her mouth quirks. “Everything?”

“End of high school, college, college applications. All that stuff.”

“The rest of my life?”

“I’m not going to wish you bad luck for the rest of your life.”

That one actually gets a laugh out of her, and his stomach flips. Would he feel the same, if her name wasn’t on his back? He wouldn’t have been thinking about her off and on for all these years, but he thinks–she’s pretty, he likes her. There would have been something there.

“Yeah, I guess that would be pretty shitty of you. Good luck with the rest of your life, too.”

“Thanks,” he says.

If she wasn’t his soulmate, he probably wouldn’t watch her go. But he thinks he’d still want to.

*

Gina Martin feels like someone he might marry, in another universe. They meet his first spring teaching AP World History, when he starts going to a bar regularly because it feels like a healthier way to consume alcohol than alone (or even with Miller) in his apartment while he grades. It’s still probably not the healthiest thing in the world, but that’s fine. He was never going to be the healthiest person in the world, he was only ever going to do his best.

Gina is cute and flirty right from the start, but he does his best not to read into that. It’s her job, as a bartender, to be cute and flirty, after all. She does it to everyone, and he doesn’t want to get carried away thinking it’s anything personal.

It’s not like he has time to date, anyway.

It’s been about three months when some drunk guy spills a drink on her and she tugs off her flannel to reveal a gray tanktop underneath, low cut enough that he can see the curling edge of soulmate letters on her left breast. He can’t read the name, but its existence interests him in the way soulmate names always do.

Once she’s dried off, he says, “Do you like talking about soulmates?”

She thinks it over. “I do it a lot. Does that count?”

“Not really. If you don’t want to, we can skip it.”

“Having problems with yours?”

He’s pretty sure Clarke is older than twenty, by this point, but if she’s tried to get in touch with him, it hasn’t worked. Most of the time, he’s too busy to worry about it much, but every now and then, he’ll wonder if the lack of contact means she got another name, or if she doesn’t know how to get in touch, or if she’s disappointed, or any of a thousand other things that occur to him in his stupidest, most irrational moments.

He knows it means she hasn’t decided to talk to him, and that’s all he needs to know. Which is a good reason to try to flirt with a cute girl.

“I was actually curious about yours,” he says. “But I’m always ready to vent about mine.”

It’s not entirely true, but it does make her smile. She raises her eyebrows at his empty beer glass and he nods, so she refills it and slides it back to him. “Haven’t met mine. Your turn.”

“It’s complicated.”

“You two don’t get along?”

“No, that would be easy.” He drums his fingers on the bar. “I’m, uh–twenty-five now?”

She smiles. “You don’t even know?”

“It’s been a busy year. So, yeah, I got my soulmark five years ago, when I was home from college for the summer. And I knew the name when it showed up.”

“Lucky.”

“Not really. She was one of my sister’s friends, just finished with her sophomore year of high school. I panicked and told everyone I just didn’t get a name because it didn’t–” He sighs. “I didn’t know how to tell her. She wasn’t going to know anyway, it didn’t matter.”

“But she must be old enough now, right? To have her soulmark.”

“Yeah. But I haven’t heard from her.”

“Does she have any way to get in touch with you?”

“Google.”

“And you haven’t gotten in touch with her?”

“No. Sometimes I think about it, but–” He shrugs. “I don’t know what I’d say.”

“It makes a lot of sense to me. You lied because she was a kid, and now you want to come clean. What else would you need to say?”

“I don’t know.” He huffs. “I figure if I’m her soulmate, she’ll let me know. And if I’m not, I don’t want to make her life more awkward by bringing it up.”

“That seems misguided at best and actually stupid at worst, but I also probably wouldn’t want to call her if I were you either, so–what are you doing after this?”

He frowns. “After what?”

“Well, I get off in an hour, so–after I get off.”

The frown deepens. “Did that story count as a pickup line?”

“You’re cute,” she says. “That’s not new. You’ve been trying to not be a dick about flirting with me, we both have soulmates, you’re clearly a good guy. So if you want to go on a date sometime, I’ll take it on credit.”

“Credit?”

“Buy me dinner later and you can get laid tonight.”

He opens and then closes his mouth. “Sounds like a good deal,” he settles on, and Gina grins.

“I thought so.”

Bellamy’s pretty sure they both know it’s not going to last, but it’s nice for as long as it does, through their first Thanksgiving together. Octavia comes back from college to crash on his couch, and they have this awkwardly intimate dinner with just the three of them. Holidays have been weird since Aurora died, but Bellamy wasn’t prepared for just how much weirder it would be with his (fairly casual) girlfriend there. She’s so convinced that Gina’s going to abandon her own soulmate and marry Bellamy, and even if that was never on the table and Gina didn’t want it, it’s an awkward situation.

“This maybe isn’t the best idea,” Gina says.

“Yeah, I know.”

She bites the corner of her mouth. “I know that saying I still want to be friends is a total cliche, but I do still want to be friends.”

“Me too. I definitely don’t want to have to find a new bar,” he teases.

“Yeah, we can’t have that.”

He puts his arm around her, giving her a quick squeeze. “I still love you. Just not–”

“The same way you always have,” she supplies.

“Yeah.”

“We both knew what we were getting into. We’ve got soulmates who are going to show up.”

Sometimes, Bellamy can believe that. Sometimes, he does think that Clarke will just stroll back into his life someday, that they’ll run into each other at the grocery store or something equally cliched, and things will just work out like magic, like they’re supposed to, without this years long headache he’s been nursing.

Mostly, though, he thinks he missed his chance. That he was supposed to go for it back when he first got Clarke’s name, because whatever great celestial force it is that governs soulmates doesn’t understand age of consent laws.

But that’s never going to be the right thing to say to his girlfriend during a breakup, so he just smiles. “Yeah, we do,” he says, and tries to mean it.

*

Gina: Are you coming to the bar tonight?

It’s not a particularly surprising message for a Saturday night–the more surprising thing is that Bellamy was chaperoning a dance and hasn’t been checking his phone–but he still can’t help feeling a little suspicious. He doesn’t like Rocket Fuel as much as he liked her last employer, and it’s early enough in the year he doesn’t feel the need to go full alcoholic. Probably there’s some guy there hitting on her and she wants him to scare him off. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Me: I wasn’t planning toI had a school thingbut we’re done so I can be on my way overeverything okay?

Gina: Everything’s fineClarke Griffin is hereWe’re talking about you

Bellamy nearly drops his phone, and the effort it takes to not drop it makes him nearly makes him trip over his own feet. It’s about the least graceful he’s ever been, but–Clarke. Clarke is at the bar. Clarke is so fucking close.

He tugs on his jacket and starts walking before he’s even responded to the text, in a hurry to get there as soon as physically possible. It’s not that long a walk, which is the best thing about Rocket Fuel, as far as he’s concerned, but he still can’t get there fast enough.

Me: holy shit I’m going to kill youyou’re joking, right?

It doesn’t feel like the kind of thing she’d joke about, but it doesn’t feel possible either. There’s no way Clarke just wandered into the bar and started talking to Gina about him. Did she just tell Gina her name, or did Gina bring him up?

He’s trying to figure out a good way to ask if he’s Clarke’s soulmate too when the picture comes through, Gina with Clarke and an unfamiliar woman with dark hair in a tight ponytail. She’s lovely, but all Bellamy can focus on is Clarke, her hair shorter, her smile nervous, but still familiar. She must be twenty-two or twenty-three by now, out of college and in the world, in his world. Talking to Gina. Taking selfies.

Gina: That’s MY soulmate with her btwRaven ReyesAnd you are Clarke’s soulmate, don’t worry

Me: holy shitI’m on my waybe there in ten minutes

He actually runs part of the way, which feels excessive and a little pathetic, except that Clarke is right here, and his soulmate, and all he has to do is get to her. He’d run the whole way, except that he doesn’t want to be weirdly sweaty when he shows up.

She may be his soulmate, but he still wants to make a good impression.

To his surprise, she’s leaning on the fence outside of the bar, although it takes him a little while before he’s sure it’s her, and not some other blonde girl. The odds of that seem low, but the odds of Clarke showing up at Rocket Fuel with Gina’s soulmate seem even lower, so he’s not ruling anything out.

Once he’s close enough, he waves, and she smiles, pushes off the wall and comes to see him. He knew what he was expecting to see, knew what she looked like now from the picture Gina sent, but the reality of her is still a shock.

He clears his throat. “Hey, Clarke.”

“Hey.”

Ideally, this would be the point where he said something smooth and cool, some line worth waiting for, but his brain is still stuck on her face. “You didn’t want to be inside?” is all he comes up with.

But she laughs. “Honestly? No. We had an audience.”

“Gina said you brought her soulmate too, yeah.”

“My best friend.”

“Jesus. I can’t believe it.”

Her smile is impish. “Which part?”

“Everything about soulmates, pretty much. I’m, uh–” He pauses, reconsiders. There are thousands of things he wants to say, but one’s more pressing than the rest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. When it happened.”

Her response is immediate. “Don’t be.” She smiles. “You want to take a walk and tell me about it? That must have sucked.”

He inclines his head in the vague direction of the park, away from the school. All the students cleared out, but they could still be in the area. He really doesn’t need to be dealing with anyone else. Just dealing with Clarke is overwhelming enough. “It was–fucking surreal, honestly. I wasn’t expecting to get anyone I knew. Most people don’t. And I didn’t–” He shoots her half a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, you were cute, but you were fifteen, and you weren’t going to get your mark for five years. If some guy had come along and told O that, even if he was her soulmate, I would have kicked his ass. And now, teaching teenagers? Jesus. There’s a reason you don’t get it until you’re twenty. I still wasn’t ready then.” They walk in silence for a second, but he can’t help it. The question has been pressing at his mouth since he first saw her. “You really got me too?”

She laughs. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know much about you. I tried to figure it out. Why we were–why you were my soulmate.”

“And?”

“No comment,” he says, automatic.

“Oh, come on.”

She sounds so disappointed he has to laugh. “I liked you fine, okay? You were smart and intense and I felt bad for noticing you were hot.”

“I don’t feel bad about that at all,” she says, grinning. “You’re my soulmate, you’re allowed.”

It’s surreal, hearing the words. He was so sure he wasn’t going to be anyone’s soulmate. That this couldn’t possibly work out for him. “I still can’t believe it. I thought you might have my name, but–I figured if you did, you would have gotten in touch.”

She shrugs. “I thought you would already have someone else. Since you didn’t have a soulmate. I didn’t want to barge into your life and mess stuff up for you.” She laughs a soft, sheepish little laugh; he can’t stop looking at her. “You were mine, but I thought I wasn’t yours.”

It makes total sense, of course, but it’s also just the most absurd situation. And mostly because of him. “I would have liked to know, even if I had someone else. But I get it. I didn’t want to do that to you either.”

“I think you did the best you could. I don’t know—" She shakes her head. “I have no idea what I would have done if you told me back then.”

He grins. “Been smug as shit, I assume. I know all you guys had a thing for me.”

“Not a big one. Just, you know—normal teenager stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“Did your sister know?”

“About you? No, I just told my best friend. He’s the one who found your name for me. I sent him a picture because I didn’t want O to know first. Which was a good call, I don’t think she would have been able to keep her mouth shut.”

She’s going to murder him when he does tell her, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, he’s catching up with his soulmate.

“Where is it?” she asks, and he frowns. “Your soulmark.”

“On my back, just under my shoulder blade. Where’s yours?”

“Stomach.”

“So you couldn’t really hide it.”

“No. Are you—" She pauses, reconsiders. “I guess you date. You dated Gina.”

“Yeah. But I’m not seeing anyone right now. You?”

“Single.”

His stomach flips, like it always has. “It, uh. This doesn’t have to be anything, if you don’t want it to be. We can just be—“

She shakes her head. “I want it to be something. We should at least try.”

It feels like such a small word, like nothing new. He feels like trying his best sums up his whole life.

Then again, it’s turned out pretty well for him. He’s got a job he likes, friends, and a soulmate who’s smiling up at him, eyes bright with happiness.

He smiles back. “I’m good with trying.”

*

In the morning, he calls his sister.

Clarke is on the couch, dressed in his clothes, which isn’t a new kink for him, but feels new because he is completely gone for her and his previous scale of things he was into no longer applies. She’s been texting Raven for updates about her and Gina, and Bellamy texted Miller with the update that Clarke was in the apartment, but he doesn’t think he can get away with texting Octavia. Even if he tried, she’d call back immediately, and somehow put herself on speaker phone so she could yell at him most effectively.

She picks up on the second ring. "Why are you calling so early? Did you and Miller have a fight?”

“That’s your guess?”

“Wait, am I supposed to guess? I was just annoyed. You woke me up. Did something bad actually happen?”

“Nothing bad.”

She groans. “Please just tell me, it’s too early for this shit.”

“I lied to you,” he says, in a rush. “About my soulmate.”

There’s a long pause. “What?”

“I told you I didn’t have one, but I do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice is small, and he closes his eyes against the guilt.

“It had nothing to do with you, O. My soulmate–it’s Clarke Griffin.”

“Clarke?” she demands. At least she’s too surprised to sound hurt.

“She was fifteen, I didn’t want to tell her. Fuck, I didn’t want to deal with it at all. And I wasn’t going to make you lie to your friends for me.”

“You kind of did, though. You had me tell them all that you didn’t have a soulmate.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know it was a lie.” He rubs his face, and Clarke gets off the couch to wrap her arms around him, an unexpected burst of warmth. He leans into it. “I’m sorry, seriously. I kept wanting to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

She pauses. “So why are you telling me now?”

“Because she found me,” he admits. “And I’m her soulmate too.”

“Of course you are.” She doesn’t sound sarcastic, or even surprised, just matter-of-fact. Like there was no doubt. “You thought you weren’t?”

“Assume I’ve been on a downward spiral about this whole thing for the last seven years. I figured I was going to die alone.”

“That’s why you should have told me, dumbass. Or she should have! I can’t believe you two. You’re both ridiculous.”

“We are,” Bellamy agrees, twisting to kiss Clarke’s temple. “We must be soulmates.”