Romeo and Juliet

Chapter Thirty-Seven

 "Are you okay?" Bellamy asked. Now that they were talking to the Ark, Clarke was more stressed than ever. Having to look both of her father's murderers in the eyes every second wasn't good for her. "Clarke." He shook her shoulder slightly, snapping her out of the field of thought she was entrapped in.

"Y-yeah?" She asked, running her hair back into a ponytail, not looking him in the eyes. Bellamy sighed, looking towards the dreaded tent that concealed the Chancellor... in a way.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Bellamy gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes, pushing past him to the water well, collecting it for her 'patients,' mostly just idiots who skinned their knee or someone who lost a tooth and thought they were dying. "Look, my mom's scheduled next, I won't have a mental breakdown just yet." She joked, but Bellamy didn't think it funny.

"Clarke."

"Bellamy. I don't want to talk about, I have to go talk to my mom." She said the word 'mom' with such a distaste that it seemed like a poison that had entered her body. A cold was spilling over her, almost like she jumped in the river near camp. Her body was barely able to tear her away from Bellamy and towards the tent, dreading every second.

She felt Bellamy's eyes trained on her, looking her from head to toe. He's worried. For good reason... She fought herself in her head, thinking about everything that happened. Octavia still was upset with Bellamy, while she'd grown closer with Clarke, almost like a way to spite him, show how she was okay without him. It was horrid.

"Clarke." Abby's voice was sweet, almost calming, but Clarke was done. Clarke's relationship with her mother had died the second Wells told her the news. There was no recovering it, no matter how hard either of them tried. "Clarke, sweetie?"

Just say it. Spit it out. Let her suffer in it. "I know, Mom." Was all she said. Usually, the words by themselves wouldn't be enough to translate her thoughts, but the stone-cold look of pure hatred passing through Clarke's eyes made sure Abby understood. "... now you're quiet." She laughed to herself, not looking as Abby clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Clarke, he-"

"He gave you no choice?" Clarke asked, a tear falling down her face. How had her life gotten so fucked? Just above a year and a half ago her parents and she were happy, and she was crushing hard for one Bellamy Blake. "You could've chosen to not kill him, Mom."

Even saying the word 'mom' seemed like a betrayal to her father now. Living seemed like a betrayal. "Clarke, I lo-"

"Don't. Wells died letting me believe it was him." Clarke's voice broke, tears pooling down her cheeks now. She only prayed that her mother couldn't see. Clarke always needed to be so strong for everyone, especially her parents. They expected so much from her, and if she didn't pay up, her life would be over. She failed when she let her father get killed. Clarke wouldn't fail again.

"Baby, listen-"

"No, I'm done talking to you!" Clarke cried, turning off the screen, pulling her knees to her chest and rubbing her tears away. Suddenly, there was a knock on the tent, though it wasn't quite audible.

"Urm, sorry, you can't really... you can't really knock on tents, but-" Bellamy stopped talking as he saw Clarke looking up at him with puffy eyes.

"Hey." She whispered, hiding her head back in her hands, not able to look at him. "We're done. I told her, then I told her we were done." She sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

He didn't speak, he didn't know what to say. All he did was sat next to Clarke on the bed beside her, stroking her hair. He hummed, presenting that song he'd lured to sleep with nearly years ago on the Ark. He had nothing else to say, but it seemed like it comforted her. After a minute, her cries muted and she hugged him back, pulling the blankets over her small frame. It was almost winter, and it was getting colder and colder with each day, evident by Bellamy's jacket slung across Clarke's shoulders. "Jesus, I'm such a mess." Clarke smiled, but her face was still hidden in the nape of Bellamy's neck on the bed.

"We're all messes, princess." Bellamy murmured, continuing to run his hands through her hair and humming quietly. "It's just a matter if you let that control you or not."

He didn't hear anything, so he looked down. Clarke was asleep, her face hidden in his shoulder. He felt the slightest hint of drool on his skin and smiled, closing his eyes himself.