[So I wrote a thing. It's really ramble filled and long. The title is inspired by the song Comes and Goes (In Waves) by Greg Laswell. All grammar mistakes are mine :)]
...
The first time Bellamy Blake sees her, she's crying into her palms. He has a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watches the hair on her head wisp around from the wind off of the shore. He feels his hold from his mother's hand tighten, as it remains clasped with his own. He hears his sister gurgle from her place attached to his mother's chest.
"Why's she crying momma?"
His mother's dark hair wisps around as well. She clears her throat and shrugs as she continues to hum happily toward his sister as they walk along the beach. He halts his feet in the sand as he looks at the girl once more.
As if she senses his gaze, her head lifts from her hands but she continues to cry. He realizes she has the most golden hair he's ever seen.
"Clarke!"
He looks behind her and watches as a man with matching golden hair run up the beach. The girl who was crying turns her head quickly and rushes to her feet as she begins to embrace the man before her.
"You can't run off like that!"
He narrows his eyes as he watches them embrace. The man must have said something funny because he hears a faint laugh in his ears that causes him to smile. As his mother pulls him along, he wonders briefly what it would be like to have a father and what it feels like to be saved.
…
He is officially ten years old.
He stares at the clocks across from his bed as he watches the red lights flicker from his desk. John Murphy told him that the minute he turns ten, he'd grow hair on his face. He brings his hands up from under his Captain American comforter and pats his face quickly.
No hair makes John Murphy a liar, not that he expected anything less.
His mother says that sometimes people lie and that it's okay.
He doesn't agree but he found himself lying earlier at dinner when he said he liked his mother's homemade pesto sauce.
It sat funny in his mouth but he forced a smile and ate it anyway. Octavia spit it out after five seconds.
…
At school, Mrs. Monroe gives him a sticker for his birthday. It has a birthday cake with the number ten on it with his name in the candles. He smiles down at it as he swings himself on the old swing-set.
Murphy (He decided to ditch his first name last week, no one knows why) is swinging next to him but he decided not to bring up the hair on the face thing. He's having a good day.
He glances at where the young kids are playing and smiles at the sight of his sister with her two braids chasing butterflies. He bites his lip as the other kids look at her strangely.
His hands clasp the chains tighter as he pumps his legs higher in the air. He pumps and pumps until all he can see is a bright blue sky.
He thinks about space and he thinks of the Greek God he learned about earlier in the day. Zeus was his name. He thought that was a strange name for someone.
He slowly starts to come back to Earth and plants his feet into the rocky gravel. He turns his gaze opposite of where his sister is and watches a blonde girl smile to herself with a book sitting on top of her lap. A boy we dark skin is sitting next to her with a bright smile. He can tell by her hand motions that she's reading aloud to him.
He turns his head back toward his sister. Jumping off the swings when he sees someone tug on one of her braids.
…
"Bellamy!"
He turns around slowly as he grips the straps of his book-bag. His eyes widen as the familiar but not familiar blonde skips her way toward him with a large smile. Her hands are behind her back and her two front teeth are missing. "Yeah?"
She rubs her lips together as she shoves her left hand toward his chest. "Happy birthday, Bellamy."
He holds the white construction paper between his fingers as he nods his head. She skips away before he can thank her but he stares at her as she skips away.
His hands are clammy as he looks down at the card in his hands. Her cursive is better than his but he thinks she makes the letter 'p' weird. However, he can't keep the smile off his face as he walks toward down the hallway and toward his sister.
…
They walk home from school. Octavia (her hair is no longer in braids and he feels his hands ball into fists at the remembrance of what he saw earlier) talks quickly as she holds his hand on the walk home.
She rambles on and on about the butterflies she saw and how she colored them all day long.
When he asks where the pictures are, she grows quiet.
She doesn't have to answer.
When they get home, the house is empty. He hadn't really expected much but it hurts a bit when he calls out for his mother. He was used to this. Being ten didn't change anything that happened when he was nine.
He sits Octavia in front of the TV and starts to do his homework. Octavia pulls out the birthday card he had gotten earlier.
He pulls it out of her sweaty hands and tells her that she can't touch it.
It was the only gift he had gotten beside a hug and a kiss on the cheek from his sister. He stared at it all night long.
…
When he is twelve he realizes his mother spends more time away than at home. He tries not to think of the different men who are always sitting at the kitchen table when he helps Octavia get ready for school.
He starts to hate his mother.
…
The first time he kisses a girl he's fourteen and he almost misses.
He almost misses because Roma Kavanagh can't stop giggling as they stand awkwardly in the small closet underneath Murphy's stairs.
He feels nervous as he watches the dimples grow on her face as he moves his lips closer to hers. Her lips are soft and they taste like strawberries.
He kisses her again just to be sure.
…
"You know who's becoming a hot piece of ass?" He turns his head as he watches Dax Giovanni pour himself a cup of Pepsi. The girl's had left hours ago and his lips still tingled at the thought.
"Clarke Griffin."
The name is tossed around casually and he thinks about all the memories he has of Clarke Griffin. He sees her skipping in the hallway. He sees her reading by herself in the library. He sees her always turning in an assignment on crisp, clean paper (unlike his wrinkled own). He thinks about the birthday card that's hidden in the back of his desk at home.
His hand stills as it holds a slice of pizza. He isn't sure why the mention of her name causes his stomach to erupt in a strange fashion. He also isn't sure why he imagines kissing her underneath Murphy's stairs. Would her lips be soft? Would she taste like strawberries?
Why had Dax suddenly noticed her? Why did the thought make him angry?
He can't stop the words before they flow out of his mouth. "She's a nobody. Don't waste your time on her."
"Yeah." Murphy spits out, mouth full of pizza. "She's nothing but a stuck-up, bitch."
He doesn't feel right but he doesn't say anything more.
That's the first and last time Clarke Griffin is mentioned at Murphy's house.
…
"Bellamy?"
He looks up from his bed to see his sister, standing awkwardly in the doorway. She's ten now and taller than she was last year. Heck, last month.
"What's up?" He closes the book in his lap and gives her a concerned glance.
She sways slightly and looks embarrassed. "I need some new clothes. Everyone makes fun of me and I-."
"Who makes fun of you?"
She bites her lip and glances at the ground. He looks at her and notices that her clothes are too small. Her tights are ripped and her plaid red dress hugs her awkwardly from her growth spurts.
"I just need some clothes, Bell. Please."
He nods and bites his tongue. His mother should be doing this, not him.
However, he empties his saved up money from cutting the neighbors yard last summer and buys his sister new clothes.
…
"That was uncalled for, Bellamy."
He turns his head from inside of his locker as he comes face to face with the scowl of Clarke Griffin. It stuns him at first but after a few minutes he feels a scowl make it's way to his own face. "What's the problem now, princess?"
"You're my problem." She crosses her arms. "You didn't have to embarrass me in front of everyone."
He stares at her blankly for only a second before he shrugs. "You're mistaking me for someone who cares."
She scoffs and shakes her head. "Fine."
This time when she walks away from him, she doesn't skip and he doesn't watch her leave.
…
The first time he gets drunk, he's fifteen years old. Murphy's older brother throws a party for no reason at all except to get "fucking hammered".
He thinks it's a weird reason to celebrate but he doesn't think twice of the idea once he consumes the liquid placed into his red cup. It burns as it makes its way down his throat and not in a good way. It burns so much that his eyes sting and he has to shake his head a few times to get used to the taste.
"Blake, that girl is totally checking you out."
He turns to focus on whoever is speaking to him. He thinks it's Dax but he can't be sure. His vision is hazy and his hands feel like they are on fire. "Who?"
The voice speaks again but he can't hear it.
He does however feel the lips press against his neck as a voice purrs into his ear. "Let's get out of here."
…
He fucks a girl for the first time in the back of a car. It doesn't take long but she doesn't seem to complain.
He tells all of his friends about it the next day.
…
He gets his first job a week later moping up the floors at the butcher shop three miles away from his house.
He hates it most of the time but he loves being able to get nice things for Octavia. He doesn't tell his mother about his job, not that she would even notice.
…
He happily accepts the small flask that Dax hands him as they watch their peers sway back and forth.
Not only does he feel stupid, he realizes that dances are also stupid.
Girls stand opposite of him with their friends as they glance over and whisper into each other's ears. It irritates him and annoys him.
"Wow, look at that."
He takes a steady sip from the flask before he turns and follows Dax's gaze. His own eyes widen as he watches Wells Jaha walk into the gym with Clarke Griffin attached to his arm. For a moment, all he can focus on his her.
Her usual curly mane is somehow softer, falling in loose ringlets around her. Her dress is a dark green that ends right after her knees.
She's prettier than any other girl in the gym.
He turns back around and brings the flask back toward his lips.
…
"Are you drunk?"
He laughs as he looks out the window. His mother had picked him up after her night shift from that stupid school dance. He couldn't wait for the next four months to pass by so he could drive himself. "Like you care."
The rest of the car ride is silent.
…
Octavia is getting bad grades in her history class.
He spends his nights trying to help her. He even acts out things, which makes her roll onto her back and laugh. He rejoices in the sound. It makes the pain in his chest start to feel lighter.
…
"Fuck."
He grins against the throat he's currently latched onto. He licks and sucks as he hears the vibrations underneath his tongue.
He loves girls and he loves fucking.
And he likes not feeling anything.
Once he comes, he hears her reach her high. She purrs into his ear before latching her lips around it.
He pushes himself off of her and starts to pick up his clothes. He checks his phone and notices the time. He swears to himself as he jumps into his jeans.
"You're just leaving?"
He rolls his eyes and doesn't answer. He's late.
…
He's sweating by the time he reaches the auditorium. He rolls his eyes as people sigh when he makes his way to an open seat in the middle of the front row.
He wants to swear at them all but once Octavia comes onto the stage with her new pink ballet shoes as his anger fails away.
She dances with a smile on her face and he stands and claps the loudest when she's done.
…
When he's learning about Julius Caesar in English, he notices Clarke Griffin's eyes light up as she flips the pages of her textbook. She was the only person he knew in his English class.
She's smart.
A hell of a lot smarter than he is (not that he would ever admit that to her).
He finds himself staring at her a lot in class, too.
It annoyed him on no end that no matter what he was doing or supposed to be doing, his eyes always fleeted over to the blonde waves of Clarke Griffin.
When she would finish reading material for class, she would pull out what he assumed to be a sketchbook out of her book-bag. Her hand flew delicately over the page and he wondered what she was imaging in her head.
…
He's in second block when he hears about the death of Jake Griffin.
He doesn't see Clarke Griffin for the next two weeks.
…
He's walking home slightly drunk when he passes the cemetery. He doesn't know what posses him to go into the eerie place but he does. He's slightly surprised when he sees a ray of blonde hair enter his vision in the distance.
She doesn't even turn around when he comes up behind her.
Her blue eyes are blank and she turns to look at him out of the corner of her eye. She lets out a breath.
He can't stop himself from spitting out. "I'm sorry."
She shrugs. "You didn't do anything."
He thinks about her empty seat in their English class. "I can still be sorry." He kicks at the ground. "My dad died. A long time ago. I didn't really know him."
She is silent for a moment before she says. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything."
She looks and smiles sadly at him before turning back toward the large marble that she's standing before. "I can't even remember what the last thing I said to him was." She shakes her head. "I didn't get to say goodbye."
"Well, say it now." He feels stupid at the look she gives him. "What?"
She scoffs, a noise he's familiar with. "It doesn't work like that, Bellamy."
"Says who?"
She's silent for a moment. Brown eyes stare into blue.
She turns back toward the strong marble and runs her hand across the top. "May we meet again."
…
Clarke Griffin is at school the next day.
He smiles at the sight of her blonde hair into his locker.
…
Clarke Griffin comes to him on a Monday for tutoring. At first he thinks he's hearing things. "Wait, what?"
She rolls her eyes (he's glad to see she's back to her old self) and scratches at her forehead. "I'm really behind in classwork. I'm sort of failing." She whispers the last part. "I-forget it."
She starts to walk away and without thinking, he reaches out his hand for hers, tugging her back. If she's surprised at the gesture, she doesn't show it.
"Alright." He scratches the back of his head. "Are you free now?"
She glances around the empty hallway. "Uh-sure."
"Good."
…
"This isn't exactly what I thought tutoring would be."
He turns his head from the stage where Octavia twirls with a large grin. He rolls his eyes and turns his body slightly from where he was sitting on the floor. "You wanted to be tutored, I'm tutoring you."
She presses her lips together and looks like she's about to rebuttal. Instead, she nods and pulls out her notebook.
He's in the middle of discussing the French Revolution when he see's Clarke smile at his sister from the corner of his eye. He smiles briefly to himself.
…
Somehow, Clarke Griffin becomes sort of a figure in his life. Not really a enemy, not really a friend.
He's currently standing at the stove making macaroni and cheese while Clarke helps sew Octavia's winter recital outfit.
They are giggling together softly as Octavia talks about the wonders of seventh grade.
He doesn't let it show how much he enjoys the sound.
…
It's Friday and he's currently in Nathan Miller's basement.
He's holding a beer when Clarke Griffin makes her way into the space. Her eyes search around the room quickly before they land on him (he only knows because he's looking at her, he can't stop looking at her). He shakes his head and tries to focus on whatever Murphy is saying; turning away from the blue eyes he can't really stop thinking about.
Clarke comes up to him anyway. "Hey." She sounds breathless.
Murphy opens his mouth before he does. "Look who decided to grace us with her royal presence."
He hears Miller mumble to cut it out under his breath. He remains motionless. Clarke is looking at him. Murphy is looking at him.
Clarke swallows something in her throat before opening her mouth. "Bellamy, can I-."
"What are you doing here Clarke?" The words sound harsh from his mouth. He feels Murphy's and everyone else's eyes on him. "No one wants you here."
He wants to push the words back into his mouth but he can't. They are floating around them. They are ugly and mean and untrue.
Clarke's face grows red. Her eyes narrow softly, as if she's in pain. "Right." She nods her head slowly. She glances around the room and he sees her tremble softly at the weight of stares.
He watches her leave. Murphy laughs. Miller glares. He drinks.
…
He walks up to her locker the following Monday. Her head is in her locker. He licks his lips. "Hey."
She turns her head and turns away even quicker when she sees him beside her. She doesn't say anything.
"Look, Clarke-."
She slams her locker. Her eyes are fierce. The sad look she had in Miller's basement is long gone. "Stay away from me."
She walks away and he watches her go.
…
"Where's Clarke?" Octavia is slightly breathless as she jumps into the backseat. She used to complain about his "no sitting in the front until your fifteen" but now she does it willingly.
He grips the steering wheel and watches as his sister buckles herself into her seat. "She's busy."
"What did you do?"
He thinks about what he said. He thinks about Clarke walking away from him earlier. He lets his anger get the best of him, "I didn't do anything."
Octavia doesn't say anything else.
The words feel heavy in his mouth still.
…
It isn't his best idea but after a week of not talking to Clarke Griffin, he can't think of anything else to do. He knocks heavily on her red front door.
She answers after the third knock.
She says, "What are you doing here?" the same time he says, "I'm kind of an asshole."
They look at each other for a long time before they slowly smile at another.
Her smile slowly turns into a smirk. "Kind of?"
He rolls his eyes and gestures toward his car where Octavia smiles widely from the backseat. "You in or what?"
She smirks. "I'm in."
…
They are currently stretched out on a blanket in his shitty ass backyard.
Octavia is wedged between them fast asleep with a smile on her face. He pulls the blanket up higher on her.
He feels Clarke's eyes on him. "What?"
"You're good to her."
He glances at the braids in his sister's hair. "I have to be." He glances at the blue eyes staring into his head.
"No one has to be anything." Her voice is soft. "You're a good brother, Bellamy." She glances away. "You may be an ass half of the time but deep down, you're a good guy."
He stares at her for a moment before turning his head up and toward the clouds.
…
Octavia cries to him a week later about a mother-daughter sleepover for her dance class. Their mother is hardly around and when she is around, she's not really there (it doesn't make sense to him either).
He finds himself talking about it to Clarke the next morning. Her eyes are narrowed the same way they get when she takes an exam.
That weekend, Clarke comes over with two sleeping bags and a bag of snacks.
Octavia's smile stays on for weeks.
…
Clarke convinced him to go to their junior prom. He's currently glancing down at the small flowers woven into her hair as they sway to the music. He turns his head and looks across the gym to see Dax and Murphy glaring at him.
He doesn't really hangout with them anymore and it feels good.
He spends his time with his sister and Clarke. Occasionally with Miller but that's it.
He likes it. He likes his life. He likes Clarke Griffin.
He tells her over punch.
She rolls her eyes but smiles into her cup, telling him that it's such a him thing to do. He asks what she means but instead of answering, she leans up and kisses him on the mouth.
…
He learns that Clarke Griffin likes kissing. He's pretty certain she likes kissing more than he does. Well, maybe she doesn't. He can't seem to keep his lips off of hers ever since their first kiss a week ago.
She's like poison and wine in his veins. He can't get enough.
…
"Bellamy – I.."
His brow rose as he looked down at Clarke spread out underneath him. Her pale skin was flushed and it felt like silk. All she was wearing was a white bra and her jeans. He wanted to ravish her skin with his mouth.
"What is it?" He brings his hand from her waist up into her hair. It flows through his fingers like water. When she doesn't answer, he grows nervous.
She bites her lip and signals for him to get off of her.
His heart beats widely in his chest.
"I just-I."
Clarke Griffin never was this flushed when talking to him. He would roll in the fact if he wasn't so nervous. "What is it?"
She gestured between them. "I've never done anything like this before."
He tilted his head. "Yes you have. We made out-."
She hit him in the stomach and narrowed her eyes. "I've never.." She lets her eyes grow wide. He tilts his head more to the side in confusion. "Jesus, Bellamy. Do you need me to spell it out?"
He smirked slightly at her tone. He thought about it for a moment and his eyes widened. He wasn't sure why he was so surprised in that moment but he was. He was also glad no one had ever seen her this way. No one knew that if you sucked on the spot underneath her right ear she moaned or that her eyes grew dark when he would grind their lower halves together.
"It doesn't matter."
She looked at him in disbelief. "Bellamy-."
He brings a finger to her lips, a soft smile on his own. "It doesn't matter okay. This is – this is all kind of new to me, too."
She smiles and he realizes that he said the right thing
…
He knows he loves her on a Tuesday.
Well, maybe he always had but he knew exactly then.
They were on the beach, enjoying the warmth from the sun above them.
She laughed softly when he kisses her jaw but continues to read the book in her lap, occasionally glancing up to watch Octavia in the water.
…
He's a senior in high school. He's getting good grades and he's getting into colleges he never thought he would. Clarke rolls her eyes but kisses him every time he gets another acceptance letter.
…
He gets into the University of Chicago. Clarke gets into the Chicago Art Institute. Her mother isn't happy but she is.
She kisses him and cries as he reads her acceptance letter to her. Everything is slowly falling into place.
…
His mother gets sick.
He realizes on an uneventful day that he can't afford college in Chicago if he has to help pay for his mother's medical bills.
He knows he shouldn't hate her but he can't help the feeling when it crawls up his neck when he holds the acceptance letter in his hands.
…
They have their first big couple fight when he tells her he isn't going to college. She says he's throwing his future away.
He tells her to mind her own fucking business.
"You're my business!"
Her face is red and her hands are in fists.
Brave Princess.
They yell more and then he ends up screaming at her. She leaves and he goes after her.
He always goes after her.
…
Graduation is long and warm. Octavia sits awkwardly with Clarke's mother throughout the entire ceremony. He claps loudly when Clarke walks across the stage.
He feels like running into a wall when he does.
…
"I never want to be without you."
Her voice is soft; he never heard it this soft. It sounds like the end even though the words imply the opposite.
"You won't be." His voice is rough and loud. She kisses his mouth.
His makes sure to kiss every inch of her, as if he was creating an Atlas on the body of Clarke Griffin.
…
She cries the entire time he helps her unpack into her new dorm room. The room is big and it's covered in posters already. Her roommates name is Maya. He grunts his greeting as he helps carry box after box.
As they unpack his truck, he feels heavier.
…
He takes night classes at a community college on Tuesday and Thursday nights. He picks up a job as an IT guy Monday through Friday and a bartender Friday through Sunday. It's hectic and it's crazy.
His mother gets worse.
…
He calls Clarke whenever he has free time. This time when he calls her, he hears voices in the background.
"What are you doing?"
He pictures her in her favorite white sweater and jeans. God he misses her.
There's a pause. "Just hanging out with friends."
"Who?" He hears someone (someone with a deep voice) say, Clarke has a boyfriend? He asks the question again and hears her laugh before moving somewhere that is quieter.
"Just friends."
Clarke has a boyfriend?
He can't help himself. "Who's the guy?"
There's a pause. "Finn. He lives on my floor."
"Okay."
There's another pause and he can hear people knocking (more like pounding) on what he assumes to be wherever Clarke stepped away into.
He hears her giggle and mutter out she needs another minute.
A strange feeling in his stomach grows.
…
"I need new shoes."
He glances up from his computer to see Octavia throw her ratted down pointe shoes onto the table. She's almost fourteen and her sweet innocent grin is gone. He wonders when exactly it left. Was it when she held back their mother's hair when she threw up from chemo? Was it when he threw everything around in his room when he realized he wasn't getting out of this fucking town? Or had it been long before then?
"Alright." He turned back toward his computer.
She nodded and headed toward the fridge. "Clarke called me. She said you haven't been returning her calls."
He watches on cue as his phone lit up with her face. He flipped his phone over. "I've been busy."
Octavia rolled her eyes as she sipped from her water bottle. "You can't blame her for going away to college, Bell."
He didn't. He - did he?
He huffed and didn't say anything else.
…
Someone kissing his neck wakes him up in the middle of the night.
His eyes open quickly as they adjust to the darkness. He's surrounded in it but he's not alone. Bright blue eyes stare into his own.
"What are you doing here?" His voice is hoarse with sleep.
She rubs her hands over his hair. "Go back to sleep."
He does and when he wakes up hours later and alone, he realizes it was only a dream.
…
He learns that he hates Finn Collins with every fiber of his being. Especially after he finally answers the phone and Clarke tells him that he kissed her.
He feels rage and then he feels nothing at all.
She begs him and pleads that it didn't mean anything but when he asks if she kissed him back, she doesn't say anything.
He asks her again.
"I don't know." She whispers, her voice breaking. "You've been ignoring me and-."
"I've been busy Clarke. Just like you."
"With what, Bellamy? Community college?"
There's a beat of silence. She tries to take back the words but he beats her to it.
"Fuck you, Clarke." Fire against fire.
"Bellamy I'm sorry I didn't-I didn't mean that."
His stomach is in knots. He feels sick. He feels pathetic. He feels like nothing. His life is crumbling before him. "I have to go."
"Bellamy, no." She's crying into the phone. "Don't hang-up. I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't mean it." She sniffles into the phone. "I'll take the first plane home and we can-."
"Don't." His voice is stronger than he is. "Just – don't."
He mumbles that he needs some time before he hangs up because he's a fucked up bastard.
He turns his phone off.
…
His mother gets worse and worse.
He can't do anything about it.
…
She calls him a week later.
He's drunk, at some bar with Murphy.
He debates answering the phone but finds himself stepping outside into the cold fall air and answering the call anyway.
He doesn't say anything but breathes into the phone. He hears her let out a breath
"I didn't think you were going to answer."
"Almost didn't."
She sighs and even through his drunken mind, he can picture her face. Her eyes are downcast as she cradles her phone to her ear. Her bottom lip is probably tucked between her teeth.
"I'm worried about you."
His heart soars and he gets pissed off at how affected he is by her words. "Okay."
"Bellamy, please just." She lets out a breath. "Please talk to me."
He misses her voice. He wants to tell her things. Like how he got promoted at work and how he's doing in his classes but then he remembers what she said last time. And then he hears someone in the background, encouraging her.
"Is someone there with you?"
She's silent and then she lets out a breath. "Yes but-."
"Is it him?"
She's silent again. "He's just my fri-."
He hangs up the phone.
…
He sees a girl watching him at the bar. He can't even bring himself to walk over toward her no matter how horrible he feels.
He slaps a twenty on the bar and walks home.
…
His mother dies on a Friday.
It hurts him more than he thought it would. He thinks about when he was younger and how he would clutch his mother's hand in wonder. He remembers before she fell away from him. He remembers how she was.
The funeral is small.
He holds tightly onto Octavia's hand.
…
This time, when he feels someone in bed with him, he knows he's not dreaming. Her blue eyes are bright and her face is full of concern and love and it makes him sick.
She pushes a piece of hair out of his eyes. "I'm so sorry."
He wonders who called her. He places his bet on Octavia. She apologizes again, this time it's softer and she's crying.
He's crying too.
He's crying for his mother. He's crying because love fucking sucks but being without Clarke Griffin sucks more.
He keeps crying into her collarbone. She only holds him tighter.
…
It's been almost three months since he's been inside of her. When he looks down at her below him with a moan escaping her mouth, it feels like nothing changed. She feels warm and soft and he gets lost in it.
He kisses the spot below her ear and he sucks on her breasts as he continues to lose himself in her.
He can't get enough of her but like most things involving Clarke Griffin, his body reacts before his mind does.
…
He knows it's kind of over when she leaves the next day. He's not good enough, not right now. He needs to repair himself, somehow. He needs to figure things out. He needs to figure himself out.
She gives him a watery glance as she walks toward her rental car, like she knows.
He lets himself kiss her once more. It's wet and teary and he hurts so badly but he needs to do this.
For her.
For him.
She leaves and he can only stand there.
…
A year passes. An entire year and he feels the air in his lungs pass by clearer. He no longer feels rage. He no longer feels hatred for himself. Sure, those traits are still there but they aren't as dominant.
He works. He goes to class. He helps Octavia with her chemistry homework.
It's his life and it's okay.
…
She comes back in the middle of March. She stands on his porch with a watery gaze. She rambles on that she couldn't bare it. That everything didn't make sense. That art didn't make sense. That the colors she tried painting always seemed to mash into the colors of his eyes.
That she missed him every single day and that she knew she couldn't be anywhere but here.
He was silent for most of it. Listening to her breathing. Taking in her short blonde bob and her sweater (it was his).
She laughs slightly and wipes at her nose. "Can I come home now?"
…
Times passes slowly and quickly.
Octavia gets into Julliard. She cries and clutches him tightly as she thanks him for everything.
Clarke stays with him and loves comes to him quicker, fuller. They still argue. Fire to fire but in the end, she kisses his neck in apology or he rubs hers arms after walking away from a fight.
It's not easy but it's worth it.
…
Octavia ends up meeting an artist in New York named Lincoln Oswald. Clarke jokes that it must run in the family.
…
He marries Clarke Griffin when he's twenty-nine. It's a small wedding but that's all right. She cries when she recites her vows and he cries too. He cries because he loves her and he cries because he found his way back to her.
…
He becomes a father when he's thirty. To a girl named Rory. She looks like him and he's wrapped around her perfect, finger.
…
He becomes a grief counselor, he jokes that he knows a lot about grief. Clarke swats his arm but she stands next to him when he gets his degree.
He helps people who lose people because he knows that pain.
He reminds all of his clients that it gets better. He shows them a picture of his daughter in proof.
…
His family gets bigger. His family gets stronger. His family is love.
…
His bones ache all over but he still manages to sit down next to Clarke on the beach. He can hear his grandchildren laughing behind them.
She turns to him suddenly and he smiles before kissing her forehead.
"I've done everything I've ever wanted to do on this Earth with you."
He smiles at her. "You've given me a wonderful life, Clarke."
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes but smiles all the same. "I love you the same way I loved you when I was fifteen."
He makes a joke about her not looking a day older than that but she does. Not in a bad way but in a very good way. The laugh lines around her mouth are his favorite. He doesn't mind her gray hairs and she doesn't mind his beard.
It took them awhile but they figured it out.
Just like he knew they would.
…
She leaves him in her sleep when she's eighty-three.
And he feels the light leave his life.
He stands on a beach and speaks words he heard her say year and years ago. His eyes are wet and his voice is rough from crying. "May we meet again."
…
When he turns eighty-four, he dies in his sleep with a smile on his face.
When he opens his eyes, he feels youthful. He runs and his legs know exactly where to take him.
He sees her crying into her palms on a beach. He calls out her name and she looks up. Her lips form his name with a watery smile.