Because of You

The Stars, My Destination

I blew out a slow breath. "So you're allowed to protect others when they need it, when I need it, but I can't do the same for you?"

He seemed taken off guard by the question before quickly shrugging it off. Almost reluctantly, his eyes wandered back to the restaurant, and I could hear the question in them. I knew who they were looking for. "I told you; I don't need it."

I shook my head in disbelief, not buying it. There was not wanting something, and then there was not understanding what it was that you needed. "You're so used to protecting your sister," I said slowly, "ever since you were a little kid. You protected her from the person that's supposed to love her unconditionally." I sighed sadly. "But no one protected you. And I know you think it doesn't matter anymore. That it's too late, and maybe it is. But I'm going to do what it takes if it means being there for you, whether you want it or not. Protection . . . support . . . it's not a privilege. It's something people deserve, a something you were unfairly deprived of." I shrugged. "So yeah, maybe it is late. But it's the best I've got."

I waited for the rebuttal. For our usual bickering to gain traction as it so often did. But Bellamy didn't say anything. He stood stoically before me, uncharacteristically still and even more uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes, seemingly small galaxies with the broken light illuminating from the restaurant at my back, bored into mine.

That was when my heart started pounding again.

I quickly shook myself, and my gaze snapped off from his. I cleared my throat. "Now, if we're done with this, I'm gonna go because it's kind of freezing out here and I am currently jacketless." I turned to leave.

"Clarke?"

I stopped and glanced back, just long enough to watch Bellamy as he stood there for a moment, seeming as if he were debating about something. Then he was pulling off his jacket. Before I could object, he was beside me, draping it over my shoulders and fumbling with the collar, not meeting my gaze. "We really haven't . . . spoken much. How'd it go with your mom? Did you ever talk to her?"

Grateful for the subject change, I nodded, feeling it oddly difficult to breathe in that moment. "Yup, and not much since."

He frowned. "Did she lie?"

"No, she told me the truth, which so happened to be the confession of the lie I caught her in. The details really aren't important."

He looked up, eyes suddenly very close to me. His hands were still on the jacket and I felt trapped between them both. The light from the restaurant snagged in his hair and crackled in his eyes like embers, lit with an intensity I couldn't break away from. As unfathomable as the darkness between the stars.

Bellamy abruptly stepped back, shattering the close proximity. He let his grip on the jacket fall and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. "You should talk to her," he said thickly.

I swallowed, trying to find my voice again. Trying not to wonder why it was so hard to. "I, uh, I'm not sure it's the right time," I said quietly, my previous courage gone. The issue with my mom wasn't about courage though; it was about forgiveness. What I needed was the courage to forgive.

Bellamy looked at me intently. The intensity was still there, but it wasn't as vivid with a yard or so spanning between us. "Your mom won't always be there, Clarke," he said and, more solemnly, "You may be able to attest to losing a dad, but I know what it's like losing a mom. Talk to her."

I didn't know what to say to that, reeling at the small reference to his mother. After seeing it with Jae, I knew what a sensitive subject it was.

As if reading my mind, Bellamy's gaze drifted from me over my shoulder, to where I knew my car was parked. "You should . . . turn on the heater when you get inside," he said simply. "You can return the jacket after break."