Bellarke- Arkadia High

Concealing secrets.

Clarke's PoV:
Knocking on Bellamy's door, I felt extremely nervous, but I couldn't pin point why.
I heard thuds come to the door and soon enough it swung open to reveal Bellamy.

"Hey. Am I late?" I ask, trying to introduce a subject.

"Not at all, me and Miller were just about to go swimming." He says, moving aside and welcoming me in.

"Oh good. Is Lincoln coming?" I ask, hoping that he isn't so that I can steer away to Octavia is things get awkward.

"Yeah, he is." Bellamy responds walking through to the huge kitchen his parents posses.

"Oh, I thought he had an e-con test." I say, sounding a little too disheartened.

"No, he's coming. Still busy though, being a year above and all." He said nodding. I copied.

"Where's Octavia?" I asked inquisitively.

"Upstairs. Let me get her." He says. He runs up the spiral staircase of their home to fetch her.

I turn around in a circle, admiring the beauty that his mother has for art and how she makes a room so aesthetically empty, yet somewhat homely. The wall is permeated in canvas as beautiful in its corporate way. The flowers are white and the yellow nectar looks sweet. The petals fan widely over the canvas, that when you walk past it you can almost detect a fragrance.

Octavia comes running down the stairs in her swimming costume and a towel loosely wrapped over her shoulders. She smiles.

"Clarke!" She says running up and giving me a hug.

"Ready for some swimming." She asks rhetorically.

"What's with the flirtatious bikini? Is there something going on between Lincoln that you haven't informed me about?" I ask her, laughing.

"No..." she says grinning.

"Liar. Anyways can I get changed in your room?" I ask still slightly laughing.

"Sure, head upstairs." She replies as I head up the huge staircase they posses.

I get changed into a bikini and wrap a silk robe round my body and come back downstairs. I tiptoe on the cold and wooden floor, outside to the patio to see Bellamy wrapped in a towel, stood next to Octavia and Lincoln.

He instantly smiles when his eyes connect with mine.

"Where's Murphy and Jasper?" I ask curiously.

"At a party down the road." Bellamy says smiling at me.

"Oh, hi Lincoln." I greet, whilst slipping my towel off. He smiles back, clutching Octavia's hand. I instantly feel a cold breeze whip around my body. I realise the moon is starting to appear for so early in the night. It lays on her back almost as though the wind tilted her. It's

The leaves turned golden weeks ago and still we go to the outdoor pool. There is no getting in slowly. The only way is to dive in and let the cold water surround you all at once, hoping the heat from your muscles will be enough to keep the shivering at bay. The chlorinated soup is cold enough to make my lips blue even with non-stop front crawl. I pull myself onto the side, limbs shaking.

The season for swimming with the sun on my face is over. For October, the sun says goodbye so early in the evening. We are the fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night. In the serenade of the black, the stars are a choir; they are lights that sing in infinite patterns. Sometimes eyes need music, and the darker the night the sweeter the song.

Suddenly, I hear to gun shots derive from the pool. I see Octavia and Lincoln frantically moving around just to try to warm up. They both giggle- their faces uniting with one another.

However, Bellamy doesn't join them. He stands there still with his towel embracing him: never letting go. I take my calves out the icy water and stroll up to him, hoping his fixated eyes on the moon will become transversed to mine. He doesn't nudge, so I intervene.

"Hey, why aren't you going in?" I ask.

"If I told you, you'd laugh." He says, not moving his face at all. It's like he's become frozen in fear and isolation.

"Try me." I say smiling.

He slips his towel off, to leave him in swimming shorts, and something that is so noticeable you can't not notice it. I'm not shocked, just stunned.

"My dad was a bit of a drinker. It's how I get my bruises. And, theoretically, my self-induced scars. But, what hurts worse is the insecurity. The internal brokers that only a person exposed to abuse can experience. It's like this: there is mental scars are a tapering factor in the serenity of domestic life. Because agony can only be seen on the inside. The pain that no one else sees because... well, no one else cares."

"I do. I care."