Heaven Can't Wait - Chapter 43
28 Nov 2020 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jennickels
Chapter Forty-Three - They Can Have This Moment
With a groan, he turns on his heel, backtracking through the station until he gets to Clarke’s hall. He stands there a long time looking like a creeper until his feet move again, and he’s in front of her door. She’s my friend. Friends talk. She’ll want to talk to me. Right? His finger hovers over her bell, nerves overwhelming him. It’s late. What if she’s sleeping?
Sleeping? Clarke? She’s as bad as you are.
“I can do this,” he mutters and pushes the button before he can change his mind. He hears the bell buzz on the other side then waits, his stomach tightening into knots. This is Clarke—why am I so nervous?
Love does crazy things-
Shut up.
The voice laughs, but then the lock clicks and the door opens a crack. It’s dark inside. Clarke blinks bleary-eyed at him. “Bellamy?”
Crap.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry. I-” He trails off, not sure what else to say that isn’t lame. His eyes drop to the floor. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh.” There are a couple seconds of awkwardness before she steps back, opening the door for him. “Do you want some tea? Don’t tell Raven—I’ve been hoarding it.”
Bellamy laughs meekly as he follows her into the tiny space. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Clarke matches his chuckles. “I can share.”
He sits on the edge of the unmade bed and watches her warm some water on an electric burner then pour it into two mugs. Why did she have two mugs? Duh—Niylah, of course.
His knee won’t stop bouncing. He’s sure the people in the quarters below hers can hear it. But as soon as Clarke turns around, he forces it to stop. He plasters a smile on his face that he doesn’t think would fool anyone, least of all Clarke.
She hands him a mug then sits next to him, hands wrapped around her own cup. “I heard Indra finally found a family.”
“Right to the point,” he says with a defeated shrug. “It’s for the best, you know?”
She nods. “I’m sure she’ll adjust and be happy. Kids are resilient.”
Don’t I know it.
Bellamy tries to be happy for Heaven. He wants to be happy for her. Needs to be happy for her, but there’s this gaping pit that just keeps growing—sucking him down into its depths. It’s like someone flipped the switch, turning out all the color in his world. And things are way too quiet. He can hear every murmur and rumble of the station. Every whisper of thought. He hates it.
He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until Clarke gently pries the mug loose, setting it on her desk She kneels in front of him, holding his hands between hers.
“Bellamy, it’s okay to miss her. She was a big part of your life even if she was here just a short time. Everyone could see the effect she had on you.”
He looks away, cheeks burning. Why did they all have to make him sound so pathetic? Like he couldn’t be a whole person without her? Like he’s desperate?
Because they know you.
Clarke lifts his face with fingers under his chin, then brushes away tears with her thumbs.
“It’s so stupid,” he mumbles, not looking at her.
“What is?”
“Acting like someone died. Like I just lost my mom again. Or Octavia. It’s just so-”
“It’s not stupid. You love her—I can tell, and grief doesn’t care how the person entered and left your life. You have every right to your feelings whatever they may be.”
He tries to pull away, but Clarke’s a lot stronger than she looks. She waits for him to gather his thoughts.
You came here to talk, remember. How can you expect to be with someone if you can’t even talk about something so personal?
Bellamy lets out a soft breath. “I just miss her. It’s only been a few hours, and already I miss her so damn much.”
Clarke leans her forehead against his. “What do you miss about her?”
“What?”
“Tell me about her. I didn’t get to spend a lot of time with her, and the time I did, she mostly hit me with things.” She snickers. “So tell me what she was like when I wasn’t around.”
“Oh, uh.” Bellamy sifts through his memories, looking for something to tell Clarke. Something that doesn’t sound ridiculous.
Just tell her the truth. She’ll know if you’re lying anyway.
“She reminds me of Octavia,” he blurts. Did I mean to say that?
It’s a safe topic, so probably.
Clarke smiles. “She did look like Octavia.”
“Not just that. Just her whole personality. She was so resilient and full of life despite her circumstances. And brave.” He smiles a the memories. “And smart. The other night—when the power was out—I put a movie on a tablet to keep her occupied. She watches everything. She’s always observing and calculating. I woke up to her singing show tunes and dancing around the room. She figured out how to replay the movies. And she memorized my lock code after seeing it only a couple of times.”
“Too smart for her own good,” Clarke says with a chuckle. “That’s how my mom used to describe me.”
“I’m sure she still describes you that way, Clarke. Mostly because it’s true.”
She finally pulls away, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry—my mom said the same thing about me.”
Clarke’s smile brightens the hole inside of him. “I’m sure she did. I bet you caused her all sorts of trouble when you were a kid.”
“Me? Never. I was a perfect angel. Octavia, though-”
She stops him with a finger over his lips. “Don’t try to deny it. Octavia has told me all about you.”
She doesn’t move her finger. Bellamy doesn’t breathe. Being this close to Clarke always does crazy things to him and being this raw emotionally is making it harder to resist. The seconds tick by with neither of them moving. The room boils around them. Bellamy can’t take it anymore. The dancing around and pretending. Slowly, he runs his hand along Clarke’s arm, settling his fingers on her pulse. His thumb rubs circles on the back of her hand. She shivers when he presses a soft kiss to the pad of her finger still over his lips.
There are so many things he wants to tell her. Things that terrify him so he can only imagine what she’ll think. He’s shaking again when Clarke leans closer. He kisses her finger again. And again. He tastes the salt of his own tears on her skin. It frightens him how much he wants this.
“Clarke,” he murmurs.
“Shh.” Her finger is suddenly gone, leaving his lips cold but only for a second before she’s kissing him. Hard.
What?
His body is kissing back before his brain can catch up to what’s going on. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. Clarke has her own ideas, though, and pushes him back against the bed, stretching her body over his. Bellamy is pretty sure he’s going to spontaneously combust.
“Clarke,” he tries again. She continues to kiss him but slows—the kisses tender now. Bellamy kisses her back but manages to slide her to the side to lay against him. It gives him room to breathe and think. The tears he tastes this time are hers, and it breaks his heart.
“I miss her,” Clarke whispers. Her fingers tangle in the delicate chain around her neck.
“Lexa?”
She nods, tears slipping from behind closed lids. Finally, she’s talking about it.
“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m hijacking your grief.” She laughs dryly.
Bellamy wipes her cheek then kisses her softly. “Tell me about her. What do you miss?”
She leans back to catch his eyes, her brow knit together.
She doesn’t believe you want to know. You hate Lexa.
Bellamy forces his expression to stay neutral. He does want her to talk about it. With him. As much as that will hurt, he wants her to trust him enough to tell him.
“Really?”
He nods. “Of course. She was important to you. You’re important to me. So-”
Clarke kisses him again and again and again. Vaguely, he realizes she’s stalling, but he can’t find it in himself to care in that moment. He slides her closer and decides they can have this moment without their combined grief and guilt smothering them.
