(After reading your excitement following the sneak peek, I've decided to cut this story in half so I can deliver the first part a lot earlier. This is part one - part two coming in the next week or two).

Guess who's back (back back) back again.

Hello friendly friendlies, I'm sure you're wondering whether I've been dead this whole time but nope - just super busy mentally, emotionally and physically. I'm quite sure these have been the hardest months of my life, but no excuses. This is part one of a long one-shot I've prepared for ya'll about Bellamy and Clarke though multiple New Years. Hope you enjoy it. I think a lot of you can relate. Missed all of yous.

Also, I want to write a quick shout out to my main guy, Ben. Thank you for being the most amazing partner the past couple of months during my training. This is dedicated to you. Lyrics inspired by 'Say You Won't Let Go' by James Arthur.

IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER WHEN READING - The ages of this story are as followed - Bellamy, born in 1987, Clarke born in 1988, and Octavia born in 1990.

Say You Won't Let Go

i met you in the dark, you lit me up

i. new years eve 1995

The Blakes move to Westwood on a Tuesday, their belongings packed in a minivan.

It's raining when they pull into the driveway, a dusky, trembling sky that announces their arrival. Clarke beams, kneeling in front of her living room window. She's excited; has been excited to meet her new neighbours since Mrs. Wilson got transferred to a hospital in Seattle.

It's not that she didn't like Mrs. Wilson or her two cats that always seemed to eat her mother's garden, but Clarke was the only kid on the street, and she was desperate for new friends.

"Daddy!" Clarke yells. She cuffs her hands against the glass. "Daddy, they're here! Come down!"

The van doors open, and two children rush out of the vehicle, shielding their hair from the rain.

Clarke smiles. Kids.

Jake walks into the living room. "Look at that, Stardust," he says, and he places his hands on her shoulders. They're shaking too much in excitement for him to hold. "You've got some new friends to play with."

The youngest one, who Clarke will learn is only five, walks tiredly towards her new home, dark bangs pasted to her forehead. She carries a cardboard box in one hand and a stuffed animal in the other, an older boy holding onto her as they walk up the porch steps.

Based on the dark complexion and darker hair, she thinks it's her brother. They look young, her age, and it's perfect.

Clarke looks at her father. "Should I go over and say hi?"

He chuckles. "Let them settle in, yeah?"

"Okay. How about after dinner?"

"Clarke."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he nods, "tomorrow."

She doesn't sleep that night. Her mind wraps in ideas on what to say and what games they should play. She decides on tag, since it's easy, and in the morning she grabs her whistle and a pen and walks over to the house next door.

The young boy answers. He has a valley of freckles that run along his cheeks. She wonders if he would let her draw them someday.

"Hi." Clarke reaches her hand forward. "I'm Clarke Rosalie Griffin, your next-door neighbour."

"Bellamy," he says. He doesn't shake her hand.

"That's a cool name."

"Thanks."

"Is it Greek?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

"My mom tells me a lot of things come from Greek mythology, and so does my dad. He's a giant nerd." She bites on her bottom lip, looking at the empty house behind him. "You have a sister, right?"

Octavia Blake is smaller up close, her hair even darker in the shadows of their house. She stands awkwardly beside her brother after he calls her to the door, and she's just as quiet, just as shy.

Clarke smiles and asks them to play with her in her backyard. They tell her they have to finish unpacking.

"Maybe they're just scared," her mother tells her later. She places the dish towel beside the kitchen sink. "They came from across the state. It's a new city for them." Clarke sighs, and her mother tilts her chin. "Hey, give them time. They'll come around."

But they don't, and it isn't until the following month that Clarke realizes why.

Her mother usually works late on New Year's Eve, and so her and her father spend the remaining hours of the year watching the Dick Clark special with buttered popcorn and chocolate bars. It's a tradition with her father, since being a surgeon isn't exactly a 9-5 job, and Clarke is almost done her third bowl when she notices a glare from the window.

It's strong and bright, and she leans forward on the couch. The glare is coming from the Blake house across the street.

She narrows her eyes. "Daddy."

"What is it, Stardust?"

"The Blake house," she says. "The lights are still on."

"That's okay. Maybe they're spending New Year's Eve like us."

Clarke presses her lips together and looks back to the window. She doesn't see shadows, or the outline of a TV, or -

"There's no cars in the driveway."

Her father stares at her. "What?" he asks, and she points to the driveway. No cars. Not Mr. Blakes, or Mrs. Blakes. Her father curses - she never hears him swears but he does, and he gets up from the recliner and grabs her hand.

They walk to the house next door in their PJs. Octavia answers it after the third knock.

Jake smiles. "Hi. Octavia, is it?"

Octavia looks at Clarke. She nods. "Yeah."

"Nice to meet you, Octavia. My name is Jake, I'm Clarke's father." He looks inside the house, his expression strained. "Is your mother home at the moment, sweetie?"

Octavia shakes her head. "She's at work."

"And your dad?"

She shrugs. Jake swallows thickly.

"Okay." He sighs and kneels in front of her. "Why don't you get your brother - your brother is here, right?" Octavia nods at him. "Okay, good. Your mother just called me, and she wants you to get your brother and watch the ball drop at our place. That sound like fun?"

Octavia stares at him. She looks confused.

"We have the Dick Clark special," Clarke tells her. "And lots of soda."

Octavia presses on her bottom lip; looks up at them with those bright, brown eyes. "Do you have any food?"

Jake releases a breath. "Yeah," he tells her. "Yeah, we have lots of food. Come on."

Octavia nods, and that's how it happens. The beginning of her story with the Blake siblings. It's not as easy convincing Bellamy to come to the house, but he's better after, though still quiet and shy.

He eats the pasta that her father makes and tells them things - that he's eight-years-old, into Greek mythology, and that his mother asked their dad to watch them for the night while he was at work.

But their dad left three hours ago to get snacks, and he hasn't been back since.

(Hours later, in the midst of chaos, he drunkenly stumbles back home. He doesn't even realize his children are gone).

Clarke is only seven, she doesn't know how to handle these things. But her father does, he's the best at it really - because he doesn't say anything, doesn't pry or dig. He only asks Bellamy about his favourite Greek God, and for a brief moment, Bellamy smiles.

A few days later, Clarke invites them over again. This time, they say yes.

you made me feel as though i was enough

ii. new years eve 1997

Octavia Blake becomes her best friend in June of '96. An inseparable bond of fire and ice.

It's a simple story, the way it happens; not one that deserves a divine proclamation. Clarke was playing in the garden in her mother's backyard when Octavia asked if she could join. It's not that they didn't like each other before - the night she spent at Clarke's house made them friends, but Octavia was still shy around her. Still scared.

They played tag that day, and hopscotch, and then monopoly after she came inside for dinner. It was a fun day, and Octavia kept coming over as if it was a tradition or routine - and she hasn't stopped coming over since.

Clarke's never had a best friend before and was she glad she waited for Octavia to be her first. Which is why she invited Octavia to the movies for New Year's Eve with her parents, their third time spending the holiday together.

"I'm never going on a cruise in my entire life," Octavia proclaims after the movie. Jake and Abby brought them to see Titanic, and Octavia loved it, but now she's terrified. "Never, ever," she says, and looks at Clarke. "Don't ever let me go on one, promise?"

Clarke giggles. "It's just a movie, O."

"Liar. That really happened."

"Impossible."

Octavia turns away from her. "Mr. Griffin, who's right here?"

Jake hesitates, looking at his wife in the passenger seat. "Well," he draws out, and Abby laughs. "It happened, but that almost a hundred years ago. A cruise won't sink like that now."

Octavia shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. No cruises for me."

"What if Leonardo DiCaprio was on it?"

"Then he can drown by himself," she says, and Clarke gasps. Leonardo DiCaprio was the first man she ever loved. "He's done it once before."

Clarke argues with her, tells her she's wrong, but then Octavia makes some joke about the door Rose was on in the water and it makes Clarke laugh. That's their friendship - the fierceness and the silliness; arguing and laughing. Octavia challenges her, even when Clarke knows she's right; and it's fun.

Her father turns onto their street, lowering the volume on the radio. "Once we get inside, you girls get your PJs on and we'll get the popcorn popping, yeah?" He looks at them in the rearview mirror at them. "We've got good snacks this year, O. Ketchup chips, and almonds for the chocolate, and - "

"Is that Bellamy?"

Clarke looks at Octavia, who peers out the window to their house. She follows her gaze and notices Bellamy on her front porch. That's odd, she thinks; he was supposed to go to his friend's house tonight.

"Looks like it," Jake says. He sounds confused.

Abby looks at Octavia. "Was he supposed to be home?"

Octavia shakes her head. Abby looks at her husband.

"That's okay. He probably wants some snacks." Jake pulls into the driveway and plasters a smile. Bellamy doesn't even look up at them. "Maybe he was jealous about you getting to eat all the popcorn."

"He doesn't like popcorn," Octavia tells him as Jake helps her out of her car seat.

"That's crazy talk. Who doesn't like popcorn?'

He places her on the ground, holding her shoulder as they walk towards the porch. Clarke tries to peer out the window as her mother struggles with her belt, but she can't see, and she's getting worried.

"It's fine, sweetie. He probably just needs something."

Clarke opens her mouth, but her father speaks before she does.

"Abby," Jake calls. "Come here."

Abby pulls Clarke out of the car seat. It's dark outside, nearing the final hours of the year, and she walks beside her mother as they approach the porch. Her father is kneeling in front of Bellamy, cupping his face in one hand

He tilts his face upwards, and Clarke see's it; a long, purpling bruise under the surface of his eye.

"Jesus," Abby whispers.

"I told Octavia to go inside," he tells her, and she's never heard her father sound so furious. "Call Aurora."

Her mother nods, and she's quick when she acts, years of experience at the hospital setting into her adrenaline. Clarke wishes she was like her mom at this moment, but she's far from it; Clarke can't even move, can't even breathe. His face is swollen.

"What happened?"

"Clarke," her father whispers. "Go inside."

"Is he okay?"

"Clarke - "

His hand moves on Bellamy's face, and Bellamy gasps, body wincing as his thumb caresses the bruise.

Jake curses. "Hey, you're okay, buddy." Clarke watches as Bellamy swallows thickly. He looks like he's in pain, and it makes her head hurt. "You're okay. Let me go grab you some ice."

He removes his hand from his cheek, gently, and stands. Clarke watches as he walks towards the front door, and then she's suddenly alone with Bellamy. The two of them and the bruise that sizzles on his skin.

It's quiet for a while, but when he speaks again, it's so soft she barely even hears. Words low on his bloodied lips.

"It was my dad," he says, and she doesn't even know what that means.

"Your dad?" She shakes her head. "Why?"

"I don't know."

It's quiet again. He looks at her.

"How was the movie?"

She's confused by the sudden change of topic. "It was okay. Leonardo dies at the end."

"Yeah. He usually does."

Clarke nods. She doesn't know what to say. She looks at the house beside hers, the Blake house, the one with the quiet kids and the mean dad, and she realizes why she can't have sleepovers at their house, why he's always quiet and shy and -

She's never really talked to him in the few years she's known him. He was nice and played with her and O when her father couldn't, but he was one year older than her and didn't really talk to her in school.

Though he was still her friend. And she hates it when her friends are sad.

"You should probably get inside, Clarke. It's starting to get - "

She shakes her head, and leans forward to hug him, her small arms hanging loosely around his neck.

"You're my friend," she tells him, because she needs him to know. "Okay?"

For one terrifying moment, he's still against her, silent; but then he sighs on her shoulder and settles into the embrace, patting the small of her back.

"Okay."

Her father comes outside moments later, holding a bag of ice in one hand and a can of Pepsi in the other. He tells her to go inside again, and this time she listens, but only because he says that Octavia needs her.

She walks into the house to find Octavia crying on Abby's lap, and Clarke knows that she'll keep needing her for a little while longer. Maybe even forever.

"My dad never hits him that hard," she whimpers, and Clarke puts her hand on her shoulder. "He's never that bad. You have to believe me, he's not usually that bad. He just had a bad day."

Three days later, Aurora tells Mr. Blake to leave the house. He doesn't come back this time.

then you smiled over your shoulder, for a minute i was stone-cold sober

iii. new year's eve 1998

Octavia gets the flu two days before New Year's Eve.

And not any kind of flu - but the stomach flu. The one that makes you hot and cold all while throwing up any leftover food you've had in your stomach. It's gross and contagious, but Clarke tries her best to cure her anyway.

"O!" she hisses. She picks up the box of tissues that Octavia dropped on the ground and places it on her bedside table. "Come on, you're supposed to be trying to get better."

She groans into her pillow. "I can't."

"Yes, you can." She sits at the edge of her bed. She's been in Octavia's room a lot more since Mr. Blake left one year ago. "It's almost New Year's Eve. Who am I going to watch the ball drop with?"

"Your dad."

"Well, yeah. But I want you there, too."

"I'm sick."

"Bet you can get better in a day."

Octavia raises an eyebrow. "Bet you I can't." She coughs then, loud and gross, and Clarke inches away from her on the mattress. "What do you want from me? It's not my fault I'm dying."

"Sure it is. Remember last week when you played in the snow without a coat?"

"It wasn't that cold."

Clarke narrows her eyes. "There was an extreme weather warning."

Octavia shrugs and cuddles into her pillow. "Tomato, tomata."

She doesn't get better that night, or the day after, and suddenly it's New Year's Eve and their tradition is broken. With her mother working nights, it's back to being her and Jake, and the popcorn and soda cans.

"Cheer up, Stardust. We can still have fun."

Clarke looks at her father. "You've fallen asleep at 9 p.m. every night this year."

"Give me some credit," he says. "I have one night of left 1998 to make it up to you."

She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to respond, but the doorbell rings before she can speak.

Clarke jumps out of the recliner. "No way. Did you order pizza?" Her dad mumbles something to her under his breath, but she doesn't hear, rushing towards the front door and swinging it open.

To her surprise, there's no pizza. Just Bellamy. Wearing his glasses and holding a book.

Clarke stares at him. "Oh." She must look disappointed because he raises an eyebrow at her in curiosity. She shakes her head to rid her expression. "Sorry. Hey, Bell. What brings you all the way over here?"

He rubs his hand behind his neck. "Hey. Nothing special," he says and gives her the book he was holding. "Just thought your dad would like this back."

She looks at it. Greek Mythology. It's the book her father lent him a couple months after Mr. Blake left earlier this year. Those first weeks were difficult, especially on Bellamy. He lost the figure who was supposed to teach things about being a man.

Jake realized that and tried to help. But it's been hard - Bellamy's been distant.

"Oh. Yeah." She smiles at him. "That's - "

"Bellamy?"

Clarke turns to the sound of her father's voice as he walks towards the door, a smile wide and genuine on his face.

"Mr. Griffin," Bellamy greets. "I just . . . wanted to return the book you gave me. It was a good read."

He nods, placing his hands on his hips. "I thought you'd like it. What'd you think of the chapter on The Big Dipper?"

"It was good. Lots of information."

"Yeah. Sometimes it can get confusing, huh?" When Bellamy nods, Jake steps back into the house. "Tell you what - instead of reading about it, I'll show you what it looks like instead. It's easier to understand that way." He leans forward, winking at him. "And plus, it's pretty darn cool."

Bellamy looks at him. He seems hesitant, his lips pressing together into a firm line, but then he swallows thickly and takes those three deep breaths that Clarke's mother always tells her to make when she's nervous; the ones that make everything feel okay.

It seems like it works for him too, because he nods, stern, and steps over the threshold.

"Yeah," he says. "Okay."

Jake grins. He steps back and leads him into the house, the sound of Dick Clark's voice echoing the living room. Clarke glances at the countdown - two hours until midnight. She doesn't want to miss the ball drop.

Jake opens the kitchen door onto the back porch. Bellamy's expression marvels at the telescope.

"Woah," he whispers. He steps forward and runs his finger along the silver metal. "This thing is amazing. It must have cost you a fortune."

Jake shrugs. "We had to use some of the money we've been saving for Clarke's tuition, but she'll be fine."

Bellamy laughs. Clarke sticks out her tongue at them.

They spend the night like this, laughing, making jokes. It starts with finding the Big Dipper, but then her father makes a game out of it, leaning into the telescope and asking Bellamy to identify each star in the sky, to explain it's history and origins.

And Bellamy does - he wants to, his words vibrant as he discusses all of the archives that her father mentions.

It's fascinating, making Clarke feel warm and fuzzy. She loves spending time with her dad, but it makes her happy that Bellamy gets to spend time with him, too. He doesn't have one, and she's always been good at sharing.

An hour later, ten minutes before midnight, her father falls asleep on the chair. But this year she's not sad, because Bellamy is still awake beside her and it's time to start new traditions.

Clarke looks at him. She has an idea.

"We can share him, you know - if you want."

Bellamy glances at her. He's been leaning into the telescope even before her father fell asleep, and he looks disorientated, his eyes covered with red circles from the scope.

"What?"

"My dad," she says. "I said we can share him."

He narrows his eyes. She knows it's not something that you should say to someone without a dad, and if her mother were here she would tell her that she was being rude, but Clarke has always been one to speak her mind.

"You can't share dads."

"Yes, you can."

He shakes his head. "No, you can't. That's not how it works."

"Says who?"

Bellamy sighs. He looks tired, as if he's had this conversation before or at least wrestled with the thought in his head. She wonders if he'd feel better if she gave him some leftover Halloween candy in her closet.

He speaks after a moment, voice low.

"I don't know," he tells her, and she nudges her shoulder with his.

"Well, I do. Her name is Clarke Griffin, and she says that's how it works." He snorts, shaking his head, and she grins at his amusement. "Don't worry, I know how to make it even."

He glances at her. "Make it even?"

"Yeah. I've had him for ten years, so you can have him for the next ten."

"That could work."

She nods. "But you'll have to be careful around Thanksgiving. He's not that good of a cook, but he thinks he is, and it might be safer for everyone if you just order a pizza."

Bellamy chuckles. "Noted."

She smiles. She hopes she made him feel better. She's about to ask him if he wants some snacks when she hears the sound of fireworks from the living room, she proclamation of celebration and chanting in New York City.

Clarke blinks. "It's New Years," she says. She missed the ball drop. "I missed it."

He looks at her, a small grin spreading on his face.

"You didn't miss it. You just spend it out here instead."

She smiles. "Yeah." She glances at her father, sleeping contently on the chair. New traditions. "Happy New Years, Bell."

"Happy News Years, Clarke."

They stay awake for another hour before Jake wakes up, and escorts Bellamy to his house with a new book. It's another one on Greek mythology, a classic, and every Sunday since that night Bellamy comes over to study the stars with her dad.

It makes her happy, and it's easy, because like she's said - she's always been good at sharing.

i pulled you closer to my chest

iv. new year's eve 1999

Their mothers bring them to an ice rink in Boston three hours before entering 2000. Clarke's never been skating before, and she expects it to be fun, but then Octavia lets go of her waist in the middle of a turn and the world suddenly begins to spin around her.

She slams into the boards surrounding the ice rink, dizzy, her fingers gripping the edge.

"Octavia!" she hisses. Her toes are numb against the inside of her skates. They probe the fuzzy socks her mother got her for Christmas. "I told you not to let me go."

She skates towards her. "It looked like you were getting the hang of it."

"I wasn't."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." She sighs. "I suck at this."

"You don't suck. You're just not that good."

Clarke huffs. If their mothers weren't looking at them from across the benches, she'd be tempted to give her the finger.

"Motivating speech, O. Now could you please remind me again why I'm friends with you."

Octavia rolls her eyes, and there's a sound of shredded ice as Bellamy approaches them from the other side of the rink. He's grown his hair out - she thinks as an attempt to look older - and the loose curls are haphazard underneath his Boston tuque.

He looks at Clarke, then Octavia, and she narrows her eyes as the smiles appear on their faces.

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing," she says. Her knees begin to buckle tiredly against the boards. "You're just lucky we're not playing tennis."

He raises an eyebrow. "Tennis? I thought you sucked at tennis."

"No, I don't." She points to Octavia. "She sucks at tennis."

"I don't suck at anything." Clarke opens her mouth to argue, and Octavia lifts her finger, holding it up between them. "Except math. That I do admit is challenging."

Clarke rolls her eyes. Bellamy laughs, moving to stand beside her.

"Don't listen to her. Of course you're going to suck if you're taking lessons from O." He takes her hands and peels them from the board, placing them on his shoulders. "Like most things, I'm good at this. So just follow my lead, okay?"

She nods. She remembers the stories of Bellamy playing ice hockey with his dad when he was younger, and she trusts him, letting him guide her as he skates away from the boards.

After half an hour, he seems confident enough in her to let her go. She immediately falls onto her hands and knees on the ice.

Bellamy sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Scratch that, Griffin. You really do suck."

He's laughing when he helps her up, and so is she. He always makes her laugh.

Octavia rejoins them later, and they spend another hour on the rink before their mothers call them to start packing up. It's almost midnight, and even though she doesn't get to watch the Dick Clark special with her dad that year, she does get to watch the countdown in runny McDonalds on the highway back home. Honestly, it's just as perfect.

i think that you should get some rest

v. new year's eve 2001

Octavia collapses on her bed, body bouncing lightly on the mattress. "I'm going to dye my hair blonde someday," she states, and points to a poster of Britney Spears on her wall. "Like Britney's - her hair is so pretty and bouncy. It's perfect."

Clarke turns from the TV to look at her. Jessica Simpson is performing, singing a song about a boy and a once-in-a-lifetime romance, and she wonders how much money Dick Clark made in order to agree to it.

"That's because she has people to make it look perfect," she tells her.

"I can make it look perfect."

"With what money?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, I'm only 11 - I'm sure I'll find my way to success one day." She stares at the ceiling, adjusting herself onto her elbow. "And if not, I'll just marry someone else with money. People do that, you know. I read once in a magazine."

Clarke shakes her head. "You've been reading too many magazines," she says and rolls off the bed. "I'm gonna grab a Coke, you want anything?"

She nods. "Popcorn."

"With butter?"

"Duh."

Clarke winks. She steps out of the bedroom, the house silent except for the sound of the downstairs TV echoing Jessica Simpson voice. She shakes her head, because the only other person home is Bellamy, stuck babysitting them for the night while their parents celebrate the new year at a charity ball.

She crosses her arms over her chest and walks into the living room.

"Oh my God, Bell. If I find out you're a Jessica Simpson fan, I'm never going to - "

Clarke gasps. On the couch isn't Bellamy, but a girl around the same age, sitting with her legs crossed on the cushions.

"Oh. Hello." The girl is tall, slender; she doesn't recognize her. "Who are you?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Roma. Who are you?"

"Clarke."

"Clarke?"

"Yeah." She points to her house, visible through the living room window. "I'm their neighbour."

"Oh."

Clarke smiles tightly, her lips strained with confusion. "Yeah. So." She steps backward from the room. "Do you know where Bellamy is?"

Roma nods and points a finger towards the kitchen. Clarke leaves and follows her direction, finding Bellamy staring into the fridge. Of course, he's a total guy - completely oblivious.

She crosses her arms over her chest and clears her throat. He's got some explaining to do.

"There's a girl on your couch," she tells him.

Bellamy glances at her, a bottle of Coke in his hand. He seems amused. "So I've noticed."

"Is she your friend?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes widen. "Girlfriend?"

"Depends on what you mean by the word," he says. He closes the fridge door and opens the bottle, a mischievous smirk gracing his features. "She is a girl, and she is my friend. So technically, yes."

Clarke nods. Bellamy has a girlfriend. It's not that it surprised her - he was cute, and 14, and had more freckles than she could count, but he was still Bellamy, and the thought of him with a girl made her blush.

"Does your mother know she's here?"

His expression falters at that. She raises an eyebrow.

"No," he admits, and he shakes his head when she gasps. "Clarke. You can't tell her."

"Why not?"

"Because she'll make it into a big deal even though it's not."

She presses her lips together, staring at him. He stares right back.

"Fine," she says and holds up her hand. "But it's going to cost you."

He's been expecting this. "Of course it is."

Clarke smiles. She walks towards the counter and opens the cupboard behind him. There's a sigh, and she knows that he's watching her, those dark eyes trying to read her expression.

She grabs a popcorn bag from the shelf. "You're friends with Finn, right?"

"Collins?" he asks. She nods. "He's a bit of a dick."

"But you know him?"

"Yeah."

"Great." She puts the bag of popcorn in the microwave. "I want you to tell him that he's cute."

"You want me to tell him he's cute?"

She huffs. "I want you to tell him that Clarke thinks he's cute."

He stares at her, and she almost expects him to say no, to tell her to say it herself; but after a moment he smiles, one that is small and affectionate and leaves goosebumps on her arms.

"You like him," he says, and it's teasing.

"Is that not obvious?"

"You know he's in high school, right?" He takes another sip of his Coke. "He's my age."

"So?"

"So you're 13. What are you going to do with a 14-year-old?"

She points at the living room. "What are you going to do with a 14-year-old?"

Bellamy rolls his eyes and raises his hands above his shoulders. "Alright, relax. I'll give him your message." The microwave beeps, signaling the end of the timer, and she pops it open. "But you've got to stick to your word, too."

"It's a deal."

He winks at her. "Fantastic," he says and steps away from the counter. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got a lady waiting for me in the living room." He pauses in the doorway and looks at her. "I'd stay in O's room for the rest of the night if I were you."

Clarke gags. "Gross, Bell."

He laughs, and she throws a popcorn at him as he leaves the kitchen. The TV in the living room is louder when she retreats back upstairs, and she watches the final moments of 2001 with Octavia, ringing in the new year with popcorn and cans of Coke.

The next morning, when she sees Aurora, she doesn't mention Roma.

Bellamy delivers her message on Monday.

i knew i loved you then, but you'd never know

vi. new year's eve 2002

Her first year of high school, she makes out with Finn Collins in the field behind their school.

It's not that they haven't kissed before - he was the first lips she's ever tasted when he kissed her in the summer heat - but this was different. He wasn't her crush anymore, he was hers; the high school version of what love was supposed to feel like.

And she felt it. In that moment she truly did.

They leave the New Year's Eve party before midnight; he tells her she's pretty, gives her a sip of his beer, and lays her softly on the hard grass of the football stand. It makes her stomach feel warm and fuzzy, and when her father picks her and Bellamy up from the party a couple hours later, she feels as though she's drifting.

Her father pulls into the driveway, and Bellamy holds her elbow as she stumbles out of the car.

"Bell," she says. Her breath smells like alcohol. "Have fun?"

"Mhm. You?"

She thinks of Finn, of his hands and his lips, and tries to hide the smile that forms on her face. Bellamy hates him, has even tried to punch him once she's pretty sure, and she's not interested in adding another reason to his disdain.

Not like she cares what Bellamy thinks. He's grown sour towards her in the months she began high school. She blames it on him being 15 and an idiot.

"Oh, yeah. Tons."

Her father gets out of the front seat, and he looks at him, grinning mischievously before returning his gaze to her.

"I bet you did," he says, and she raises an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?" His smile grows wider, and she shakes his elbow, pleading. "Bellamy."

He leans forward, the texture of his curls rubbing against her temple. She shivers - because it's cold, obviously, and tightens her grip on his bicep.

"It's just a heads up, Griffin, and you probably already know this, but you have grass stains on your back."

Clarke gasps. Shit. She pulls away from him as her father curves the car to approach them, and Bellamy laughs, the sound growing in volume as she desperately tries to pat the material from her shirt, peeling the strands of grass.

They don't come out, and when her father notices he doesn't talk to her for a day, while her mother gives her a talk about safe sex and the climbing rate of teenage pregnancy.

Bellamy reminds her of the incident every day for the entire year.

'cause i played it cool while i was scared of letting go

vii. new year's eye 2003

A year later, after many painful encounters between Finn and her father, she brings him to a dinner party her parents throw at an event hall.

The room they rent is decorated with the arrival of 2004, streamers shadowing a silver glow over their tables. She loves it, and wears a black dress that pools at her feet when she stands. It fits her, very well she thinks, since Finn can't stop touching the wrap at her waist.

"Finn," she giggles. She's just finished dancing with Octavia, and she's out of breath when she retrieves to her table. "I don't think this is a good start to winning my dad over."

He looks at her. "I thought you said things were getting better."

Clarke sighs. It has been, but it's not what it should be. Finn is important to her, but her father is more important, and she needs him to like him. Needs him to talk about him the way he talks about Bell.

"Better, yeah. But not good enough."

"When will it be good enough?"

Clarke shrugs. "When he gets rid of his shotgun I think."

Finn gulps, expression faltering, and she presses a kiss to his lips.

"I'm kidding," she teases, but he shakes his head. "Hey, I'm kidding. Who wouldn't love this face, huh?" She pinches his cheeks playfully. He runs his fingers down the material of her dress again. "You'll do keep him in awe, I know it."

"It seems like it'll be easy since he seems to love Bellamy."

"Yeah," she agrees. "That remains to be a mystery to me."

He chuckles. It's a sound she hasn't gotten tired of hearing. She leans in again and presses her lips to his cheek, then his jaw; he wraps his arm around her, pulling her in and -

There's a slam on the table, vibrating the glasses and plates with its quiver. Clarke sighs and turns in her chair. She isn't surprised when she sees Bellamy standing behind her.

"Sorry kids," he says, and she wants to punch him. "I interrupting anything?"

Finn rubs the back of his neck. "Actually - "

"Doesn't matter. I've brought a present." He turns the bottle so the label is facing them. Bacardi. Clarke rolls her eyes. "Who's ready to the ring in the new year with a bang?"

Clarke takes the bottle. "You're crazy."

"What for?"

"For even carrying this thing around." She scans the crowd for her parents, frowning slightly when she spots Roma touching up Octavia's hair across the ballroom. "My parents are going to kill you if they see you with it."

Bellamy laughs. "Kill me? Your dad is the one who gave it to me."

"Liar."

"Not lying."

"You are." She narrows her eyes. "I can tell."

"How's that?"

"Call it intuition," she tells him. "You know like in Final Destination? When they predict when the next person dies." She closes her eyes, smiling. "Guess who's death I'm watching right now."

Bellamy shrugs. "Based on the looks your old man has been sending lover boy and the shotgun he keeps in the basement, I'm guessing it ain't me." Clarke opens her eyes, gaping, and he takes the bottle from her grip. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go ask O. I'm betting she's up for it."

Clarke curls her hands into fists. She hates that he knows how to aggravate her, but then Finn says it doesn't bother him and kisses her seconds before midnight, and every trace of Bellamy slips from the uneasiness of her mind.

i know i needed you, but i never showed

viii. new year's eve 2004

She loses her virginity to Finn during his last year of high school.

They planned it for weeks, and she was prepared. His parents were away for a weekend in November, and his room was lit with candles and flower peddles that glowed like the stars above the football field.

Her mother told her it would hurt, but she didn't know how much. Truthfully, it hurt more than she expected - but it was okay, she was with Finn and she loved him and that made it okay.

She felt different afterward. Closer to him.

She told Octavia about it as soon as she got home.

"It was good?" Octavia asks. She was 14, effortlessly beautiful with her dark, curious gaze. "I heard it's good after a couple of times. Did you do it a couple of times?"

Clarke laughs. "One time was already painful enough."

"Well you'll do it again soon, I'm sure." She sighs and lays onto her mattress, staring at the ceiling. "I can't believe you and Finn had sex. Feels like just yesterday the only interaction you had was through MSN."

Clarke rolls her eyes, but the words struck an emotion in her heart. They were growing up. Octavia was in high school, and Bellamy was in his last year. Things were changing and they were all changing with it.

It terrified her, and she held onto that moment - carved it into her memories. A time when they were young and naive; unaware of the obstacles the future years were preparing for them.

She shakes her head. "Yeah. It's crazy," she whispers. She turns to Octavia, raising an eyebrow. "But enough about me. It's time to start spilling about that Lincoln kid you keep mentioning."

Octavia smiles, and it's wide and filled with hope. It's another moment to remember.

She fills her in, and the month of November goes by quickly. She has sex with Finn again, and Octavia kisses Lincoln for the first time at a Christmas party with her high school friends. Again, things are different, though this time Clarke doesn't mind.

That New Year's Eve isn't special. Finn plans to take her out for a nice dinner, and she puts on the black dress he likes, the one that cuts low beneath the chest, and walks into the kitchen.

Bellamy sits at her dining room table, a pile of pamphlets in his lap.

"Hey." He looks up at her. The glasses that rim his face remind her of his father. "Your mom finally keeping her word and sending you off to boarding school?"

He smirks. "No need to hide your feelings, Clarke. I know you'll be devasted when I leave for college next year."

"Is it next year or when you leave for college? Because those two happen to be different things."

Bellamy laughs. Jake shakes his head as he grabs a cup from the counter. He's been helping Bellamy decide what school he wants to go to the last couple of months. But it's been hard - he doesn't have the best grades, or the money, and it leaves him unmotivated.

"Be nice, Clarke," he says, and she rolls her eyes when Bellamy sticks out his tongue at her. "Dealing with college applications is stressful enough without you teasing him about it."

Bellamy nods. "Yeah, Clarke. Be nice."

"Shut up."

"Clarke," her father hisses.

"What?"

Her father opens her mouth, but the cell phone rings from his front pocket. He answers it, staring at her in irritation as her mother's voice echoes through the speaker.

"Hey, Abs." Bellamy pokes at her side as he talks, and she shoves at him. "Yeah. The year? Hold on, let me check." He pulls the phone away from him, stepping towards the living room. He points at Clarke. "Behave."

She huffs. Her father's voice fades into the darkness of the living room.

Bellamy breathes heavily. "You know," he whispers, and she glances at him. His grin is mischevious. "This might hurt your feelings to hear, but your dad likes me better than you."

"Yeah. And the sky is green."

"It's blue, actually."

"Shut up."

He chuckles. She hasn't seen him this carefree since Roma broke up with him last week. It's not that she liked Roma, but she thinks Bellamy liked her, and it sucked seeing him sad about it.

"So. No plans tonight?" she asks. She already knows the answer.

"Nope. You going out with Finn?"

"He's picking me up soon, yeah." She leans forward and picks up a brochure for the campus of Boston University. "You know there are counselors who can help you with this, right? You don't have to take advice from my dad."

Bellamy shrugs. "You're the one who suggested we share him."

"Share him? You can take him for yourself if you want. I'm pretty sure he's had enough of me by now."

"That's a given. We all have."

She laughs. "Right. As if any of you could live without me." She sits on the chair beside him and peers over the pile of pamphlets. "Do you have any idea where you want to go?"

"I don't know. Roma wanted me to go to Chicago with her."

"Roma was a bitch."

He snorts. "So I've noticed."

"It's about time you did. She wasn't good enough for you, and you don't need her," she tells him. She means it. "You're going to do something good. It may take you a while to figure it out, but you'll get there."

Bellamy shakes his head. "Would be easier to get there with better grades."

"Grades 'schmades. You'll find a way."

"I have a 60 in math."

She picks up the Boston University brochure. "Bump it to a 70 and you could apply to police foundations."

"I don't want to be a cop."

"Fine." She scans the programs listed on the paper. "Criminology. Social work." She gasps when she finds a good one. "History. You would love that."

He raises an eyebrow. "And become what? A historian?"

"No, you moron. A teacher. So you can teach history."

He narrows his eyes. She knows that expression - it's the one he makes when he's reading or doing homework. Concentration. She smiles when he takes the brochure out of her hand.

He looks at it, sighing after a moment. "It's not that easy," he mumbles, and the words are low and rough on his lips. "I would have to go to teacher's college. That's an extra 50 grand."

"I already told you," she says, nudging him, "you'll find a way."

Bellamy grins. The large rim of his glasses almost covers his dimples. She's tempted to take them off; they're hiding his layer of scattered freckles, and she's always loved his freckles.

He glances at her, content, and the sound of Finn's horn echoes from the driveway.

Bellamy presses his lips together. "That's always a good way to win your dad over."

"Hey. He's trying."

"I can tell," he murmurs.

Clarke smacks his chest lightly and lifts herself from the chair. Finn is scanning through the radio station when she looks out the kitchen window, scruffy hair pulled into a ponytail the way she likes it.

It's almost eight, a half-hour before their reservation, and she turns to Bellamy before leaving.

"Hold on." She breathes deeply and looks at him. "I need to ask you something."

"Okay."

She nods. "I know you don't like Finn - " He makes a face and she holds up her finger. "Let me finish. I know that you don't like him. But it would mean a lot if you would try to."

He sighs. "Clarke."

"What?" She crosses her arms over her chest. "Is it really that hard?"

"Yes. He's an ass."

"So are you."

"It isn't the same."

She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. He's important to me, and so are you."

He looks at her. His eyes are soft, caring, and she knows he doesn't think Finn's good enough for her - or that anyone is - but she loves Finn, and Bellamy is one of her closest friends. She needs them to like each other.

It's quiet, and for a moment she thinks he'll refuse, or tell her she's dreaming, but when he nods his head she merely nods in return. It's a deal. One that she hopes he'll act on.

"Okay." He stands from the kitchen table. "Next time I see him I'll try not to think about clocking him."

Clarke smiles. "Progress."

In that moment, she thinks it'll end up working out. That Bellamy will try and Finn will try even harder and they'll eventually become friends. She thinks that when Finn kisses her that night, it's the lips she'll be tasting for the rest of her life. The body she'll never stop feeling.

But she was wrong.

She was wrong. And everything changes again.

i held your hair back when you were throwing up

ix. new year's eve 2005

Finn cheats on her five months before prom.

And it fucking hurts.

The pressure in her blood feels thick, her heart an irregular beat. It feels broken - truly, painfully broken; cut into several disfigured pieces that poke at her chest each time she breathes.

He texts her in December. A fucking text message, and she doesn't tell anyone. Instead, she goes to a high school party a week later, on New Year's Eve, and decides she wants to distract herself. That she wants to forget for a little while.

So she takes a shot of vodka. And another shot, and another.

She starts throwing up before midnight.

"Fuck." Harper holds her hair back. It was her house, and she brought her to the upstairs bathroom the moment Clarke said she felt sick. "Where's your phone? I need to call your dad."

Clarke wipes at her mouth and mumbles out a word. A name.

Harper doesn't hear it. "What did you say?"

"Bellamy," she murmurs. She feels dizzy again. "Call Bellamy."

Harper nods and takes the phone out of her jean pocket. She dials the number, hand soothing on her back, and when Bellamy answers she tells him that Clarke was sick, and she wanted his help.

He's at the bathroom door in less than ten minutes.

"Jesus," he whispers. He looks at Harper. "What happened?"

"I don't know. She was like this all night, it seemed like she was upset."

"About what?"

Harper shrugs. Bellamy steps into the bathroom.

"Head back down to your party," he tells her. His voice is low, rough at the edges. "I'll take care of her."

Harper nods. She lifts herself from the ground and hands him the wet cloth she's been using, murmuring something before she leaves. Bellamy sighs, closing the door behind her, and lowers himself to the ground.

Clarke throws up again into the toilet. His hands are gentle on her back.

"This is gross," she whispers. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "I've seen a lot worse."

She coughs, wiping at her mouth, and leans against the bathtub. Bellamy moves closer to her, watching her with eyes that search for a cause; skin tight with concern behind his freckles.

He works part-time at an auto shop, taking a gap year while he saves up for college, and she notices a grease stain on the bridge of his nose. She wonders if he notices things in her, too; wonders if he sees what he's looking for.

"Are you okay?"

She glances at the tiles. He hooks a finger under her chin and tilts it upwards.

"Hey." His eyes are narrow, concerned. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Clarke, I've known you for ten years. You're going to have to lie better than that."

She stares at him. He knows her too well for her to lie, and the realization is painful when it hits her. She feels the tears sting the back of her eyes.

"Finn," she whispers. It's the first time she's said his name in days. "He has a girlfriend."

The hand soothing her back stops. "What?"

"He has a girlfriend. And she isn't me."

Bellamy's eyes burn into her, but he doesn't respond, instead holds her hair as she leans over the toilet again. She throws up, releasing the waste and the pain, and rests her forehead on the seat.

The cover is cool against her cheek. "It's okay. You can tell me you told me so."

"I'm not going to do that."

"Why not? I deserve it." She whimpers, covering her eyes. "I'm an idiot."

Bellamy sounds angry. "Finn's the idiot."

"Right. And I'm the dumbass who thought college would keep him loyal." She shakes her head as she lifts it from the toilet seat. She's so God damn tired. "Who thought I would be good enough for when - "

"Clarke," he interrupts. "That's enough."

"No." She points a finger at him. "You don't fucking get it. The girl is prettier, has - "

There's a breath, and her words are swallowed as she's brought forward. Bellamy cups her face in his hands, staring at her with wide eyes that burn with both fire and ice, so powerful they scare her.

"Stop it," he tells her, and his voice is strained. "Just stop. If you don't think you're good enough, then you are an idiot."

She opens her mouth to argue, and his fingers press into her cheeks.

"You would be for me, okay?" His eyes have grown impossibly bright in the dimness of the bathroom. "If it were me, you'd be enough."

Clarke stares at him. You'd be enough. She can't make sense of the words, doesn't know what they mean. Finn's never said them to her or made her feel like she was, and the words are enough to break her.

She covers her face, crying into her palms.

Bellamy runs his thumb under her eyes. "Hey," he whispers, "you're okay." She shakes her head, and he sighs, picking her face up from his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you home."

She nods. Home. That's all she wants - she wants to go home.

She doesn't remember much after that - doesn't remember leaving the bathroom and the house, or getting into Bellamy's car. But she does remember arriving at her house, remembers Bellamy helping her out of the truck, hands light on her waist as he walks with her to the front door.

Her father is waiting for her on the front porch. She cries his name when she see's him.

"Daddy."

Bellamy lets go of her as she stumbles into his embrace. Over her shoulder, she feels Jake whisper to him.

"Thank you," he says, and hugs her closer to his chest.

we've come so far my dear, look how we've grown

x. new year's eve 2006

The morning of 2006, she realizes things with Bellamy are different.

You'd be enough, that's what he told her, and she tries to figure out what that means.

She tries to notice if he's different with her; whether he acts peculiar when he's around her - if he gives her more compliments or finds excuses to linger his hand on her waist.

But he doesn't. He's the same. And it isn't until she feels a certain warmth in her stomach does she realizes that she's the one who's different. The one who feels more than the platonic friendship they've established the past eleven years.

She likes him. A lot. Probably more than the freckles that she's grown to admire on his cheeks.

She thinks about it, telling him what he means to her. Thinks about telling him that he'd be enough.

In March, Bellamy gets accepted into Boston University, and everything changes.

He tells her on a cold, Wednesday morning, knocking on her front door and giving her the acceptance letter that he had found in the mail. She opens it, her tears stinging with pride, and he lifts her into a hug.

"You did it, Bell," she squeals. There's a pang in her chest when his arms circle her waist. "You found a way."

That summer he looks at apartments near his campus, moving into the city in September.

She doesn't see him again until Christmas.

He's grown more in four months, the scruff on the shadow of his jawline a cliche attempt to appear older. His shoulders are wider, chest more broad, and the feelings that she's suppressed during the year seem to bubble up when he appears at her doorstep for the Blake-Griffin holiday dinner.

He stands on her doormat, a 19-year-old Bellamy Blake wearing a Boston University sweater.

"Stardust," he greets. She usually scolds him for using the old nickname from her dad, but hearing it in his rough tone makes her blush. "Long time no see."

That night, after they clean the dishes and open presents, he stays up with her and Octavia, laughing and talking about life. She tries to tell herself she won't miss him when he leaves again.

But it's stupid to keep pretending, exhausting even, and before she knows it it's New Year's Eve, the final hours of a shitty 2006 coming to an end. Harper tries to invite her to a college party in Chicago, but Clarke's in her second attempt at senior year, and she has five exams in the first two weeks of January.

She's studying in her room when she hears the sound of rocks against her window.

"Clarke!" There's a pebble, and then a bigger rock, loud and heavy on the glass. "Open the fucking window, Rapunzel."

She walks to the window and lifts it. Bellamy stands with his arms crossed below her.

She shakes her head. "Jesus, Bell." She can see the outline of his smile in the dark. "I'm trying to study."

"Stop trying. It's New Year's Eve."

"It is? Haven't realized. Thought the fireworks I've been hearing all night were for something else."

He laughs. She's missed the sound. "Come on, princess. I'm only here for a couple more days."

"Good."

He hovers a hand above his heart. "Ouch," he says, and weighs something in his grip. "You'll change your mind once you see your present."

He lifts a case of beer. Budweiser. Her favourite kind. She smiles and changes into her sweater, meeting him on her front porch.

"You're so lucky it's not Molson," she tells him, and he laughs when he gives her an already opened bottle.

They walk along the streets of their neighbourhood, talking about Octavia's new boyfriend, Lincoln, and pointing at trees where they used to play hide-and-seek. It's refreshing, and he takes her to their high school football field a half an hour before midnight, both of their heads fuzzy with the beer.

"I feel like I haven't been here in forever," he says. He sounds reminiscent.

"You're not missing much. The caf food still sucks and our mascot is still the Pythons."

He looks at her. "How's senior year?"

"Even worst the second time around." She takes a sip of her beer. It's her second one. "How's college?"

"College is good."

"You know, you can be honest. Our parents aren't listening."

Bellamy shrugs. "I am being honest." He digs his foot into a grass spot. "College is college. It's like anyone would expect it to be."

"So you're drinking tons of booze and sleeping with tons of women?"

He doesn't say anything. Clarke gasps.

"Bellamy!"

He glances at her. "What?" The short scruff doesn't hide his sly grin. "Like I said - it's college. What happens on campus stays on campus."

She shakes her head. "You're such a guy."

"I've realized that, yes."

"So I guess it seems as though Finn wasn't the only guy who turned horny in college."

Bellamy narrows his eyes. "That's different. Finn was an - "

"Idiot. I know." She points across the field to the goal posts. "See that spot right there? That's the place where he gave me those grass stains from that party. I walk by it every day."

"To spit on it?"

"No." She crosses her arms over her chest. "At first it was because I missed him. But now - I don't know, I guess it's because I like the person I am without him."

Bellamy smiles. "Yeah," he whispers, "me too."

Her face feels warm - from the beer or his gaze, she's not sure, and she steps towards him, taking another bottle from the case he's holding.

"So what about you, huh?" She pops the cap and swallows a couple ounces. "You got someone special?"

"Maybe."

"Keeping me in suspense, I see."

He presses his lips together. "Yeah. That's it."

He reaches forward and takes the beer from her hand, lifting the bottle to his lips. She watches him, shaking her head with narrow eyes.

"You're always causing trouble. You know that, right?"

He tosses the empty case on the ground. "And you always stay out of it. It makes me look bad."

"Well, that's why we make a good team."

"A team, huh?"

"Yeah." The moon above them shines brightly against the freckles across his jaw. "Bellamy and Clarke. Bonnie and Clyde."

"You know, Bonnie and Clyde end rather tragically."

She shakes her head. "We're different," she whispers, and he watches as she takes another step towards him. "They were lovers - we aren't lovers."

"No." His gaze drops to her lips. "We're not."

She stares at him. There's a heat in his eyes that she's never recognized, and she wonders to herself if this was the change she was trying to look for. The change that that would indicate whether or not he wants her as much as she wants him.

You'd be enough, he told her. last year. She would be enough for him.

Clarke narrows her gaze. "Bell. I - "

Above them, fireworks erupt across the sky; an explosion of colours that scream loud in the night. She breathes heavily, her chest heaving at the sudden noise.

Bellamy glances at his phone. "It's midnight."

She steps away from him. "It's getting late." She runs a hand through the waves in her hair. "We should probably start heading back."

He nods, swallowing thickly. It's quiet on the way - not awkward, they've known each other too long for anything to be awkward - but just . . . quiet.

They arrive at their houses, and she steps onto her porch.

"Well." Her chest feels heavy as she turns to him. "Looks like this is goodbye."

"For now," he says.

"Yeah. You leaving early tomorrow?"

"Getting on the road around six."

"I see."

They stare at each other, silent again, and she presses her lips together.

"Okay, well. Guess I'll see you when I see you then."

He closes his eyes. "Clarke."

"What?"

He stares at her, not saying anything. She huffs and walks towards the front door.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Bell," she murmurs, and she hopes he can't hear her; she hates how her voice trembles. "Do you want a goodbye present? An album for the road? I'm sure my dad has a Queen CD somewhere - "

There's a creak on the porch and a sound of footsteps. Bellamy grabs her arm.

"Bell - "

He pulls her against him, and her words become swallowed by the warmth of his mouth.

She whimpers. His lips taste exactly how she imagined it would. It's soft, sweet, but he pulls away almost as soon as it happens, his gaze exploring hers as he opens his eyes.

She stares at him, searching his curious depths. His hand cups the back of her head.

"Tell me if I'm doing something stupid."

He kisses her again, and this time, the sensation almost blinds her; a combustion of the emotions she's been trying to suppress the last couple of months. She feels everything, all at once, and it fills her with overwhelming affection.

Clarke pulls away and looks at him. The warmth in her chest deepens as she holds his face between her hands.

"You're not doing something stupid," she whispers, and that's all the permission he needs.

He crashes into her, his mouth absorbing her whimper.

Her hands roam his body, his skin is warm and solid beneath her touch. She can feel the longing on his lips, and she invites it in, opening herself to him as he explores her.

His tongue enters with technique, hands caressing the skin of her back, and her gasp is swallowed by his mouth.

"Bell," she hisses. Their breathing is heavy and filled with flames. "Jesus."

He grunts in response, moving her backward and pressing her against the wall behind them. She stumbles into the wood, his kiss fierce and consuming, and it makes her crave him in indescribable ways.

She thinks of the months wasted imagining this, the lost moments she spent thinking of what his skin and hands feel like; and it makes her return the kiss with her own fire, pressing into him until there's no space left between them.

Because she doesn't need space, hates it actually, and the pressure is thick when she rolls her hips into his, making him dip his head into her shoulder and groan into her skin.

The noise is her new favourite sound.

He presses his lips along the skin of her collarbone when the porch lights start to flicker, and she opens her eyes, holding Bellamy's head in her hands.

"Wait."

Her breath is rapid, same as his, and she looks above them as the light continues to turn on and off.

Bellamy glances at her. Realization dawns on them.

"Oh, my God," she whispers. He steps away from her as she straightens against the wall. "It's my dad."

Bellamy curses and runs a hand through his curls. She fixes the wrinkles in her shirt.

"I'm sorry," she tells him. His hair remains ruffled by the thread of her fingers. "I need to go."

"I know."

She stares at him, disheveled, and hurries into her house. Her father is on the staircase when she closes the door behind her.

He crosses his arms over his chest. "Weren't you supposed to be studying tonight?"

"Yeah." Her voice is raspy, and she clears it. "Sorry."

"Was that Bellamy out there?"

"Uhm, yeah. We were just hanging out."

He nods, unblinking, and she places her hands on her hips.

"What?" she demands. "Are we not allowed to hang out?"

Jake raises an eyebrow. If the room wasn't so dark, she was sure he would see her swollen lips and the blush on her cheeks. In the end, though, it didn't matter, and she shakes her head, mortified.

"Shut up," she hisses. The smile he gives her is knowing, and she pushes past him up the stairs.

If only she knew it was one of the last smiles he'd ever give her.

AND THAT'S PART ONE! DID YOU GUYS LIKE IT? LOVE IT? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENT SECTION BELOW.

Part two will be available soon! And it will have more love, tears, and - unfortunately, death. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Xoxoxo. It feels good to be back, and I hope ya'll feel the same way.

PS - if you have any questions leave them in the review section. I reply to all of them :)