When the doors close and the train sets in motion, Clarke collapses on her seat and closes her eyes, trying to regulate her breathing as the young man sitting right next to her briefly looks up from his book before quickly turning his head away. She manages a shy smile that he doesn't see, then hears the buzzer of a phone and disappears behind her bag right when he brings his gaze up again - this time she's the one who misses it, but her mind has better to worry about when she finally pulls her cell out and reads the text that pops up on the screen the moment she unlocks it.
« be running a little late, wait for me at the station »
She makes a long, annoyed exhalation and rolls her eyes. Sure, let's make this even more fucking difficult. She sighs deeply and jumps slightly when she notices the man still looking at her from his seat, shamelessly this time, his expression weirdly wandering between annoyance and amusement.
"Shit, did I say that out loud ?!"
He gives a smirk.
"Oh, but please, be my guest, we all want to hear about your problems, it has been all too quiet and peaceful in here before you rush in."
She still can't tell whether he is teasing or groaning - is it even possible he's doing both ? - so she just crosses her legs nervously. He's cute. Tall, tanned, all muscles and strength but not deprived of some sort of depth in his look with something soft and considerate in the way he frowns when looking at her - through her - despite his obvious impatience. And the freckles on his face bring out a strange impression of childish innocence that contrats with the hardness of his jaw. Okay he's hot.
"There was only you in here" she says dumbly.
"My point exactly."
Now he is definitly annoyed with her. Great. He goes back to his book while she tries to come up with a way to apologize. Wait, what does she even care ?
"No need to be rude ! she snaps. I'm already being left hanging around at the station for an hour, that's enough caveman attitude for today !"
"Oh, the princess doesn't like to be put on wait", he grunts without even looking at her.
Clarke feels like she could smash the damn book onto his head. She narrows her eyes, and when she answers, her tone turns out much more hysterical than she meant it.
"That's not... Listen it's early, I've barely had 4 hours of sleep before almost missing my train and nearly killing myself in a heart attack trying to catch it, only to learn that my... um ! date is running late, so I really don't need some cocky moody nerd to give me a hardtime for disturbing his reading... of a not even so good French classical, by the way !"
He raises one eyebrow but he seems amused again. She bites her lip.
"Everyone knows Victor Hugo basically copied Walter Scott and Shakespeare, and then mixed them up to come up with his so-called own genius."
There is a new gleam in his eyes when he finally looks up again, before he closes his book and moves to the edge of his seat. She holds his gaze while he patiently waits for her to calm down. She can't even imagine what she must look like right now.
"Sorry" she whispers eventually.
He still doesn't speak and god, again she wants to knock him down and wipe that smirk off his face. However, weirdly, she actually finds herself wanting to talk to him more about... that, and he must sense it somehow.
"So -"
His expression softens as he speaks and that makes her want to lay her head on his shoulder. Whaaat ?
"What happened, did the lucky guy forget about your special moment or anniversary date or something ?"
She lets out a bitter laugh, although she can't help herself notice he did call her boyfriend « lucky ».
"That's not quite like that... Things are not going so good, so we need to talk. And I told him that. So he knows it's important. And we set up a date, he picked it, and now he... Fuck I just hate it when people are late okay ?!"
He spreads his arms open in a defensive gesture.
"Hey, preaching to the choir here. Jeez if you knew my sister..."
For a second he seems to want to add something, but his expression suddenly changes as his eyes widen in understanding.
"Wait, we need to talk ? Uh oh, trouble in paradise, then ?"
She sighs and pushes the hair off her face, all while trying to find the right words to explain her messed up love life. Why is she so nervous to have her romantic choices judged by a complete stranger ? And why on Earth does she keep talking to him about them ?
He leans forward and murmurs :
"Hey look you don't have to - "
Suddenly he is the one who is embarassed and that's just what it takes to make her feel comfortable again. Taking a long deep breath, she then clears her throat and meets his eyes before she starts speaking again.
"It was a summer thing, very sudden and oblivious, all happening very fast and very... overwhelming. We kind of did in two weeks what other people do in two months - knowing each other, falling for each other, kissing each other - only we didn't really know each other, and even less did I know myself or what I wanted..."
He nods to encourage her to continue and she inhales for perhaps a little too long.
"I mean, I hadn't even been with someone before, and... I was just enjoying the moment, you know ? He was nice and he liked me and I laughed a lot with him, so it felt good... I just didn't give too much tought into it."
"And then summer ended" he states almost mechanically.
"Then summer ended... I didn't really know what it meant. But anyway we tried the long-distance thing, and we kept it going like that, and it's been 7 months, and I just don't... I don't exactly feel like myself around him anymore."
"Because you can't match the person you really are with the person you have been with him back seven months ago. Same for him, right ?"
He has put his book down on the small tablet and Clarke has the impression she is now the one he is reading into.
"It doesn't work", she whispers in agreement. "But it's like he refuses to see it !"
She is yelling again and she doesn't fail to notice the corner of his lips twisting up.
"He's so obsessed and ridiculous, trying to prove me how perfect we are and it just makes it all the more obvious that this relationship makes no fucking sense !"
"Is all of it really that bad ?" he asks, tilting his head - oh look who thinks he's my shrink now !
"There is no point ! We tried ! And it's not that he has no qualities, he is very kind and attentive and caring, but now he's doing things like showing up at my window at midnight after 3 weeks of nothing or writing me poems, jeez, how can he think I find it romantic ?!!"
He snorts :
"Well, of course, I mean if even the great Victor Hugo isn't good enough for you..."
She rolls her eyes.
"You know what I mean. He's... he's smothering me."
"So... you gave him a date and you're meeting him to tell him you're breaking up with him ?"
She nods silently.
"Well, seems to me, princess, you're a hell of a heartbreaker."
"Don't say that ! Clarke buries her head in her hands. I don't want to hurt him !"
She feels his light grip on her wrists as he gently pulls them apart and forces her look back on him.
"Hey", he whispers in his low and so, so reassuring voice. "I'm joking, okay ? Of course you don't want to hurt him. So how are you gonna do that ? What are you gonna tell him ?"
She freezes.
"Well, that's the thing. It's not just that I want to protect his feelings, it's more like he won't acknnowledge mines. Like he'll refuse to let go."
"Can't blame him, can you ?" he whispers.
He adds a playful wink at the end of his sentence but his tone has reached deeper and lower than ever. Clarke almost hears her heart skip a beat. So weird.
"So, I thought I would just make it easier by using the old good « I met someone » thing, because that's the only thing that will actually save me from explaining how I feel and don't feel about him."
"Brave princess" he mocks, arching one eyebrow.
"I'm sparing him !" she protests. "I'm not going to lash out on him and make a list of reproaches... that's not... God I just hope he'll buy it and let me go."
This time, her train mate truly gives in to laughter, which she only makes grow louder with her glare.
"Come on, a love relationship is not a prison. If you want out, you pull the plug and it's done. If he doesn't understand, make him."
"Yeah, I know, I know... But sometimes he's just so straight-minded and obsessive... He's holding on so hard to the things he considers as the only possible truth... I just... He won't believe it. Won't want to hear it."
She sighs heavily, carefully chasing the stinging she starts to feel in her eyes and throat as she speaks, and as she rises her look up at the ceiling in attempt to push back the tears, she doesn't notice him rubbing the back of his head while his eyebrows line up into a straight thoughtful serious line.
"I could give you my number" he shrugs finally, and this almost causes Clarke to snap her neck as she instantly turns her head back down to face him.
"Mmm... uh, what ?"
He shifts on his seat, suddenly losing his self-confidence.
"If you're gonna make him believe you have someone new, and if he doesn't want to hear it, make him hear it. Make him hear... me. I could, you know - "
She blinks at the words and contemplates his offer, trying to process what he said to make sure she truly gets his point, make sure she is not missinterprating or even fantasing the whole thing, and finally - when she lets herself accept that he is actually asking what she thinks - allowing herself to analyse how it makes her feel. It makes her feel - well, great. And eager. And hopeful. It's terrifying. It's amazing.
"You want to be my proof if he doesn't believe I have a new... boyfriend."
She blinks again and feels the fire on her cheeks when she pronounces the last word.
"So ?" he asks impatiently, and then she can see it in his eyes, how he is both annoyed with her taking so long to answer, and with himself for being so desperate and anxious about it, how he is trying not to meet her gaze but can't help himself, how he feels stupid when he does anyway and he has to quickly look away because he wants to hide what it does to him. She sees it right there, reflecting exactly the way that she feels it inside, and that makes her suddenly feel calm, good, certain, in a way she has not experienced in a long time.
"Yeah, okay" she whispers. "Sounds good."
"Sounds good" he smiles.
They talk it through a little, exchanging names and numbers - his names is Bellamy- and going over the details. Three times Clarke asks him if he is sure he wants to do it, and he rolls his eyes. Four times he teases her -how he admires the guy for holding on so long, how nervous she looks, how blessed she should feel for being his fake girlfriend, how thrilled and eager that obviously makes her - and so she rolls her eyes. They agree on the basics of the plan : she will serve her story to Finn and if he doesn't take her words, she will go all « then talk to him yourself and see », then make the call and watch him lose his face, more or less.
"Can I be very, very, mean to him ? Like putting my finger on all of his flaws that you listed, and how I am the opposite ?"
She slaps his shoulder, but he just keeps going on and on.
"Telling him how we met and how you immediatly baiscally almost assaulted me because I was everything you needed and everything he was not ?" A sparkle flicks through his eye : "Oh ! Can I tell him about the first time I made you come ?"
"Get over yourself !"
He is an idiot, and she is laughing way too much, although she tries her best to pull out a disapproving look, only successful at making him grin bigger and brighter. Once she has definitly talked him out of spicing up their story and bringing up the drama - « For the last time no pregnancy story ! » - they talk of something else. More like everything, actually : they cover all the possible subjects, jumping from one to another without any logical connexion, going back and forth between serious confidences and stupid comments. When Clarke is done letting him do the humor part, and when she has actually had enough of validating his mockery of which she is too often the willing victim, she dares to try out her own little jokes and they are so silly, so silly he grants her a exasperated look but at the same time almost chokes with laughter.
They nearly don't notice when they reach the next station. Clarke jumps from her seat, grabbing her bag and stepping up awkwardly towards him while is stopping.
"Well, that's my cue" she smiles as he stands up to hand over her bag. "Thanks, Bellamy" she adds in a murmur. "For all of this".
"Call me if you need anything" he winks at her and she rolls her eyes again, with a giangantic smile on her face. Then he pulls closer to grab her hand, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumb. "You're welcome, Clarke. Anytime."
"This has been... nice"
"Yeah..."
Not without an unexpected pinch in her heart, she slightly moves to take her hand back and starts walking away when he lets go.
"Hey princess" he calls out when she is already halfway to the door of the compartment. She turns her head and huffs to push back a strand of hair.
"No matter what happens or what he says, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. It's about you. You do whatever the hell you want."
She nods, and without a word - they have said so much already - she turns and jumps off the train.
___________
Turns out she doesn't need to use his number. Finn doesn't even let her speak when he finds her at the station two hours later. She barely has the time to hug him awkwardly before he gives her his cautiously written and reharsed break up speech. They can't go on like this, things are not the same, they both deserve better. It doesn't take long before he admits he has met a girl and has been « seeing her for a while now ». Him and Raven are happy and good for each other, he is sorry, he hopes she will understand even if it hurts. "I understand" she says, taken aback. Then a kiss on her forehead, a stupid, vain « I wish you all the best », a quick look back when he is at the door, then he disappears. That's it.
She is angry. Partly because he has been treating her like a fool for months. Mostly because he thinks he has won and she is the loser and she didn't get to say how she wasn't. She is free, she is relieved, but also frustrated with her pride harmed by his little sorry smile, and her tongue burning with the words she didn't have time to throw at him.
For a minute, she hesitates, she seizes her phone in her pocket, tempted to text him right away to let him no what she thinks, to show him that he doesn't get to have the last word. But then she feels some tickling in her stomach and her finger on the screen stops on the most recent added contact, and before she can even think about it her thumb is pressing on the call icon.
"What a douchebag" Bellamy snaps when she tells him how it went.
On the train, she had already noticed how much he could say simply by the tone of his voice, but it stuns her nonetheless, even more now that his voice is all she gets to figure him out. She hears him well. He is furious with Finn, ready to do or say whatever she needs to hear about him, but somehow the anger is contained under his concern for her. He is happy that she called, happy to distract her, but sorry that things didn't go as she wanted. He is also ready to comfort her, cheer up her and please her for much longer than just a phone call, and he makes that all the more clear during the hours that last their conversation.
They both speak but he mostly lets her taking it all out. Then he makes her laugh, but keeps checking every once in a while that she is okay, waiting to hear her own stupid jokes to allow himself to get back to the gentle teasing.
He doesn't make any comment on the fact that she called him anyway - well that day he doesn't, but God won't he shut up about it now any time the subject is brought up ! He doesn't ask why, and she doesn't justify herself, because everything feels so obvious that neither of them needs to explain it, even less would be able too.
They are reluctant to stop talking, so they don't, and when Clarke is finally forced to hang up, but they are both clear on not wanting to say goodbye, they decide that they don't have to.
"You're free for a coffee this Friday, right ?"
The response takes time, but less because of her hesitating than her lame attempt to breathe normally.
"God, no !" he exclaims theatrically at her silence. "You already have someone, I should have known, princesses don't..."
"You're an idiot" she huffs in amusement. "And I'm off at 4 this week."
"Perfect, I'll pick you up at the station."
Right before she ends the call, he says with an audible smirk in his voice :
"Hey, princess ? Don't worry I am never late."
She smiles at the promise and breathes into the phone : "Well, that's a good start."