#bellarkewrites

Clarke, being a pretty rational person, had told herself that she would try to convince people for 4 months and after that, she was on her own. She didn’t know what that meant exactly but she wasn’t going to waste the rest of her life trying to convince people she was right. She looked at the calender above her desk, the date was circled in red marker and she had scribbled: “Figure out what to do with the rest.”. She meant, the rest of her life. Literally.She didn’t know yet what she was going to do with “the rest of her life” but she knew she had to go to the hospital to see Bellamy. He had been in a traumatic car accident two months ago and he was being released today. They had been friends since her freshman year, so for 2 and a half years now and while they weren’t the closest, they shared an inexplicable bond. But there was a simpler reason for why she was the one that had to pick him up from the hospital, his sister was busy. When she got to his hospital room, Bellamy was sitting in a wheel chair.“Bellamy, you okay?” She asked, failing to mask her concern. She expected to see him up on his feet.

“Yeah, it’s just protocol. They’re wheeling me out of the hospital, I can walk with crutches just fine.” He shrugged lightly. There was a microscopic smile on his face, he couldn’t help but feel special whenever she worried about him.

Clarke sighed with relief in response,

“Okay, good. Are you done with all the paper work?”

“I am. Let’s go.”

“Can you pull over here?” Bellamy asked casually. Even though it was a strange request, seeing as they were in the middle of nowhere with just a small gas station near, Clarke pulled over.

“We’re fine on the gas, Bell.” She looked down to double check it.

“Yeah, I know. I just want to grab something real quick.” He grabbed his crutches and slid out the front seat.

Clarke should have followed him but being alone with him after two months of only seeing him for 15 minutes and never alone was overwhelming. She could use a break. She had forgotten how drawn to him she felt and how the air seemed to thicken whenever they were alone. Just before he got into the accident, she had told him about her discovery and they had a huge fight. Of course, seeing him in the ICU, half concious, made Clarke forget all about him calling her “crazy” and her calling him “irresponsibly stubborn”. It was difficult to explain that to her friends, of course. Raven for one could not understand why Clarke cared so much about what Bellamy thought and how she could seem to forgive him instantly. Clarke had acknowledged that she had been attracted to Bellamy from day one but she repressed her feelings for so long (because she had a boyfriend at thetime and he was straight up unpleasant to her) that once they had resurfaced, it was way beyond being a “crush”. She was in this limbo of having feelings for Bellamy that were too deep to be a crush and too platonic to be love. No one seemed to understand that. She sometimes thought maybe Bellamy knew. She pushed those thoughts away.

“Bellamy should be back by now” she murmured to herself as she leaned to look out the car window, after 15 minutes of waiting for him in the car.

Worried that he might have fallen down or hurt himself somehow, she got out of the car and walked towards the gas station. Right as she was about to enter it, she saw his silloute by a tree near the back of the building.“Bellamy!” she yelled out and walked towards him “Where the hell have you been?”

“Relax, princess, I cracked a window open, didn’t I?” Bellamy’s witty comment could not distract Clarke from the cigaratte he was holding between his fingers.

“What the hell, Bellamy?!” She launched herself at him to grab the lit cigarette from his hands but he put his hands higher so she couldn’t reach.

“I’ve always wanted to try one.” He said somewhat nonchalant.

“And?” Clarke asked bewildered.

“They’re horrible.” He coughed, the tobbaco residue in his throat still bothering him. He put the cigarette out and they walked back to the car in silence.

Clarke threw her car keys on his kitchen counter, her thoughts about “what to do with her life” creeping back into her mind. She looked at the clock hanging above his couch, it was almost afternoon. Great, she thought to herself, another day closer to Primfaya.

“Clarke…” The familiar hoarse voice pulled her back from her thoughts. Bellamy was sitting on the couch, gesturing her to join him.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

With a concerned look on her face, she sat next to him. Without her encouragement, he went on with what sounded like a speech he had prepared a while ago.

“I almost died. Clarke, I almost died and I can’t –“ He shook his head, “I can’t keep living the way I have been living.”

Clarke looked down to her hands, biting her words, trying her best not to say, Yeah, Bell, it’s not just you. None of us can keep living the way we’ve been living.

“And I’m sorry I called you crazy when you said the world was ending.” He sounded sincere but still unconvinced.

“The world is ending, Bellamy. 120 days left.” Clarke interrupted him.

He sighed and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

“The world is ending for all of us everyday, Clarke.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been—“

“No, no. What I’m saying is, we’re all dying every second we’re alive anyway. You don’t need a dooming apocalypse to remind you to live.” The was he emphasized the last word draw Clarke in. That’s what’s been missing from her life, “living”. She had “researched” and “planned” and “hoped” for so long, when instead she should have lived. Her eyes shined as an idea formed in her mind.

“So, we make a ‘bucket list’.” Clarke asserted.

“No, that’s against the whole point. The minute you put these on a list, they’ll become tasks.” Bellamy shook his head in disagreement.

“So what do we do? Just wake up and do what we always do?” Clarke sounded disappointent, she hadn’t realized how appealing this ‘doing what we’ve always wanted to do’ idea was actually.

“We do whatever the hell we want.” A smug smile appeared on his lips.

“Whatever the hell we want?” Clarke asked lifting an eyebrow.

“Whatever the hell we want.”

She texted him that night when she couldn’t sleep, his words haunting her.

Clarke: What if making a bucket list is something I’ve always wanted to do??Read, 2:08 AM.

It took Bellamy nearly 30 seconds to reply.

Bellamy: You can’t use semantics to make me plan spontanity, Griffin.Read, 2:09 AM.

Clarke chuckled at his response and put her phone away. For the first time in many nights, she didn’t toss and turn in her bed, her brain riddled with questions and worries. The lightness of just doing what you’ve always wanted to, even the thought of it as a valid option, made her feel at peace.

Next morning, when Clarke was fixing herself her usual breakfast, scrabbled eggs and toast, her phone buzzed.

Bellamy: So what’s the plan for today, Princess?Clarke: Ha ha, very funny Blake. No plans, remember?Bellamy: Yeah but you still need to do something with your day… What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?

Clarke sighed, she wasn’t sure this was the most responsible way to deal with mortality but she was so tired of being the responsible one all the time. A smile played on her lips as she pondered her response. Bellamy must have realized she was taking her time,

Bellamy: No thinking. Quick. What have you ALWAYS wanted to do?

Clarke: Have my art showcased in a gallery. I’ve always wanted my painting to be hung on a gallery wall, framed and everything.Read, 10:48 AM.

When Bellamy didn’t respond for two hours, she got discouraged. Had she said something stupid? Yeah, painting was just a hobby for her but was it so outrageous that she wanted something of hers that she poured her soul into to be feautured on a gallery wall where everyone could see? She made herself a cup of coffe and sat on her couch, her instincts screaming at her to continue her research, find a way to survive this. Find a bunker, or something. Her binder of rationing plans, her map of where the radiation would be the least severe, the book Second Dawn were scattered on her coffee table. She leaned down and grabbed a piece of paper. On top she scribbed, “Bucket List”. Bellamy was right, just writing the words down made her tense up in her shoulders. Her phone buzzed again.

Bellamy: Meet me at 42nd and Locust. In 15.

When Clarke got there, exacty 15 minutes after she got the text, she saw him waiting by a cute coffee shop with a mid-sized canvas tucked under his right arm.

“Hey!” She waved as she walked towards him. “What’s with the canvas?”

Bellamy showed the painting to her. It was one of hers.

“You kept it?” she asked in disbelief. Bellamy never mentioned her art much and when she had given him the painting as a house warming gift, he had curtly thanked her and she assumed it was too much.

“It’s a gift from you, of course I did.” He smiled. He suddenly grabbed her hand,

“There’s an exhibit I’ve been wanting to see, let’s go.”

He lead her to an underground art gallery. Clarke knew this one, it was a really hipster art gallery. The last stop before making it “big” for many artists.

“No…” she gasped. “Bellamy, no, not here.”

“Why not? It’s not like it’s MoMa or something.”

“Yeah but—“ Clarke gestured to all the art surrounding them “I’m not –“

“Relax, Clarke. I’ve got this.” He walked confidently towards the end of the corridor. He turned left onto a small nook.

“Ah, yes. It’ll go great here.” He sounded pleased with himself.

“Are we really doing this?” Clarke asked, her exciment shining through her eyes. “I mean, Alexander Piquet, that’s one of my favorites.” She gestured to the painting next to the empty wall space Bellamy was sizing for the canvas.

“Yes. We are. Just go be my look out.” Bellamy sounded exaspareted but she could tell he was having a good time too. It was strange for Clarke to see him so lighthearted, he was usually always worrying over his little sister.

“What’s taking so long?” She looked at him over her shoulder. He was trying to balance himself on one leg as he used two of his hands to stick a piece of paper on the wall under the canvas.

“You wrote a description?” She asked in a hushed tone but amused.

“Of course, it’s gotta blend in, right?” Bellamy looked up at her. “It’s hard to do this with a broken leg, though.”

Clarke walked over to him and gently placed her hands on his waist, to help him stay balanced. When they were done hanging the framed canvas on the wall, Bellamy took a step back and looked at her.

“There’s a guided tour in 40 minutes, you in?”

Clarke laughed at the thought of her painting being featured on a tour. That she could not miss.

“I cannot believe, the tour guide just improvised.” Clarke kept chuckling at the memory of the baffled tour guide when he got to her painting. She was driving Bellamy home but she was so amped up on adrenaline that she couldn’t stop smiling.

“He was going to ignore it, go past it at first but –“ Bellamy was almost as giddy as she was.

“Yeah, you asked him stupid questions he couldn’t ignore.” Clarke slowly pulled up at his house.

“Well, I paid good money for that tour and I’m getting every pennies’ worth.”

Clarke tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled.

“I had fun. Thank you for today.”

“So did I.” He smiled back and manuvered to get out of her car.

“I want to do something you want to do tomorrow.” She blurted out. After a day like this, going back to her doomsday plans seemed so boring.

“Gun range, 2 pm. I’ll pick you up.” Bellamy winked.

“No, I’ll pick you up.” She gestured to his broken leg.

“Oh, right. You pick me up.” He lightly touched her shoulder, “Get some rest, “rising artist Griffin”, tomorrow’s going to be a long one.”

And it was. But not in a bad way. Days with Bellamy were never long in a bad way. He was so excited to be at a gun range. His eyes shinning with a sense of glee Clarke had never recognized in Bellamy before. At first, Clarke only watched him with her ear muffs and protective glasses on.

“Come on, Clarke!” He kept asking for her to join in on the fun. Clarke had never pictured herself with guns before.

“No, I’ll just watch.” She kept refusing, besides she was having more fun watching Bellamy beam at the guns and fist bump the air every time he hit his mark.

After a good 45 minutes, Bellamy put the gun down and turned to face her.

“Are you just afraid you’re going to suck at it?” He was making that thing where he slightly crooked his head and smiled at her with the corner of his lips.

She suddenly found herself flustered. Blood rushing to her cheeks, she crossed her arms in front of her and tried to match his smug tone.

“No, I’m just not a “gun girl”, you know?”

He must not have bought her response because he just gazed at her with his smile fixed on his lips.

“C’mon! I’ll show you.” He insisted.

“You know what? Fine. I can be a bit of a ‘badass’.” She walked towards the shooting point.

He chuckled at her response.

“There you go! Alright.” He sounded excited. He cleared his throat and proceeded to show her how she should hold the gun. Placing her index finger on the trigger, adjusting her posture. He gently placed his hand on her elbow and she swore she could feel her heartbeat getting faster.

“And now, shoot.” He spoke softly to her ear and slowly stepped away.

She pulled the trigger and stubbled a little after the gun fired. She couldn’t help the laughter escaping her lips.

“Is it bad that, that felt good?” she asked incredulous.

“No, just adrenalin.” He shook his head and encourged her to take another shot.

Two weeks went by like this. It was either her or him texting the other with spur of the moment “plans” to fill their days and check things off from their “not written out” bucket list. Clarke still worried though. She tried her best to hide away her doomsday plans but her calender still haunted her. She was also afraid that Bellamy would realize this wasn’t a sustainable way to live. Clarke didn’t mind as much, because she knew the world would be swallowed up in a nuclear wave pretty soon but he was just doing this because he didn’t want to be 70 and never have been to a firework show. She knew they wouldn’t make it to 70, which made everything they did bitter sweet. Some days were more bitter than sweet though. Like the day Bellamy texted her out of the blue with just one word.

Bellamy: Pie.Read, 3:16 PM

Clarke: Okay?Bellamy: Apple pie. I really want apple pie today.Bellamy: No, I want to find the BEST apple pie in the city.Clarke: Let me get this straight, you want to go bakery hopping?Bellamy: I’ll be there in 20. Wear your sweatpants.

So they went bakery hopping. The first few they just went into bakeries and tried their apple pies like normal customers but after the 4th one, eating apple pie and writing down notes weren’t as fun anymore so Clarke started making up stories. To her utter pleasure, Bellamy followed her lead. At one, they were shopping for a friend’s surprise birthday who hated cake, the other they were looking for catering for a dog contest with the theme “Fall”, another they pretended to be an engaged couple and Clarke tried to talk him out of having pie at their “wedding”. It was a fun, sugar crazed day over all so it caught Bellamy off guard when she started crying as they walked to her apartment. His leg was better and he was walking with a cane now.

“Clarke…” His was voice hoarse with thousand worries, he cupped her face and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek with his tumb. Clarke leaned into his touch.

“The world is ending, Bellamy.” Her voice cracked as she said his name.

“I know you believe that but –“ He took a step back.

“I can’t even convince you. I have the research, I have the maps. Primfaya is coming. We shouldn’t be doing whatever the hell we want, we should be trying to find a bunker, talk to the authorities.” She sounded so determined and focused.

“You don’t have to carry this on your shoulders Clarke. Even if you’re right, with only a few weeks left, there’s nothing you can do.”Clarke sighed.

“So what do we do now?”

“This.” He lift his hands up. “This is what we do now.”

Clarke looked at her feet and felt a rain drop land on her head.

“What’s something else you’ve always wanted to do?” As the words left his mouth, they heard a loud thunder. The rain started pouring down on them. Clarke laughed lifting her face up. She closed her eyes and let the rain wash over her for a second.

“As cheesy as it sounds, I’ve always –“ she started her sentence but she couldn’t get the words out. “Nevermind.” She shook her head. “Let’s go inside.” She started to walk towards her building’s door.

“No!” He gently pulled her back. “Tell me. Is it “Gene Kelly”ing?” he asked, teasing her.

She shook her head, mildly amused.

“No, I’ve always, oh this sounds so cheesy, I’ve always wanted to kiss under the rain.” Her words hung on air for a few seconds and before she could realize what was happening, she found Bellamy’s lips on hers. “This” made sense now. She pulled him closer to her, pressing their bodies together. He tightened his grip on her waist. When their lips parted after a while, Clarke’s lips burned with the urge to keep kissing his but he placed his forehead on hers, still holding onto her waist. His hands found their way to her hair.