Chapter Text
For a few unnerving moments, Bellamy could see nothing at all. Then his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and soon there was just enough light filtering through the slim cracks at the edges of the curtain for him to carefully make his way down the steps on the left side of the stage and along to the nearest blue-lit ‘Exit’ sign.
He pushed the door open, breathed in the fresh air, and sighed with relief when no alarms rang from inside the now-empty building.
His truck was the only vehicle left in the vast lot, and as he slid into the driver’s seat, Bellamy wondered how the hell he could have been so stupid as to let himself get locked inside a dark, empty theater. He, who worked so hard to maintain control over every facet of his life.
He sighed softly as he shifted into gear and sped out of the lot, finally admitting to himself that Clarke had been absolutely right on that score. Bellamy’s chaotic childhood had left him with an almost compulsive need for control.
But then… falling in love with Clarke Griffin had been totally and completely out of his control.
And while he could hardly believe how damn happy it made him, there had still been that tiny scared part of him that had wanted to somehow cage those feelings. Keep a lid on them. Not let them wander free.
He gripped the wheel tightly as he worked it all out in his head, forcing himself to accept that his hangups had completely screwed things up with Clarke. And he knew that if there was any chance at all of getting her back in his life, he was going to have to let all that shit go.
He had to find a way to trust his feelings. To allow himself to be vulnerable. To be open.
Maybe even let things get a little bit… out of control.
That is, if it wasn’t already too damn late.
Misery swamped him when he remembered that Clarke had even started to question if he really cared for her at all. How the hell was he ever going to convince her that his feelings were not only real, and deep, but that he was all in?
Especially if she wouldn’t even talk to him.
And it was doubly frustrating that she somehow saw Finn fucking Collins as having “real feelings” just because he’d dreamed up some stupid over-the-top romantic gesture that made the guy look utterly ridiculous!
Fuck! Anyone could look ridiculous. He was pretty damn sure he could look ridiculous if he really put his mind to it.
Yeah!
He could… most definitely…look ridiculous...
And that was the moment that it clicked. The moment that Bellamy’s brain finally caught up with where his mind had wandered to.
His body jerked so violently that the truck actually lurched to the left. He drew in a sharp breath and steered quickly into the right-hand lane, pulling off the road into a strip mall and slamming on the brakes.
He slumped back in his seat, breathing hard, as he began to think furiously. An idea had suddenly popped into his head from out of the blue, and was now percolating up a storm. And the longer he considered it, the more he realized how utterly absurd it was. How absurd, and silly, and, well… downright ridiculous.
But… wasn’t that exactly the point?
XXXXXXXXXX
Clarke had already made it pretty damn clear that she didn’t want to listen to anything he might have to say, so it looked like the crazy plan he’d come up with might be his only option. But Bellamy couldn’t deal with this estrangement for even one more day, so if he was going to do it, it would have to be soon.
Like… right fucking now.
He considered the logistics, mentally compiling a list of everything he’d need to make it work, and soon realized he was going to need some help. And he thought he knew just where he might find it.
Bellamy switched off the engine and pulled out his phone, scrolling quickly through his contacts. He was pretty sure they’d exchanged numbers at some point, although he’d never actually used it. Tonight would be the first time.
He pressed on the number, mentally crossing his fingers that the call would be picked up.
“Professor! To what do I owe this honor? You know, you’re missin’ a great party here. Miller’s dad went all out for us. You should come on down…”
Bellamy could barely hear him with all the racket from the pub.
“Murphy, could you shut the fuck up for a minute?” he interrupted impatiently, too wound up to even be civil. “Look, I, uh… I really need your help.”
And perhaps Murphy caught his intensity, because the monologue came to an abrupt halt.
“Yeah? What’s goin’ on?”
“I’ve… gotta to do something, but I don’t really have the right equipment, and I, uh, thought you might have what I need at your shop.”
He figured Murphy must have moved then, because the background noises suddenly faded away.
“Okay, Bellamy. What are you lookin’ for?”
As Bellamy gave him the list, he hoped to hell he’d thought of everything. And that Murphy would have what he needed
For a moment there was silence, then Murphy said, “So… you gonna tell me why you need this stuff? Or are you just gonna make me guess?”
“For fuck’s sake, Murphy! I don’t have time for this shit...”
“Jesus, Bellamy! Calm down! Don’t worry, I got you covered. I just… thought I’d ask. When do you need this?”
“Like right fucking now.”
He heard Murphy’s sigh.
“Yeah, okay. You know where my shop is?”
Bellamy grunted a yes.
“I’ll meet you there in ten.”
Less than six minutes later, Bellamy was parked in the street outside of Second Chances, impatiently drumming his fingers on his steering wheel. He jumped out of his truck as soon as Murphy pulled up, and was waiting nervously in the doorway when he arrived with the key.
“You got ants in your pants or somethin’?” Murphy squinted up at him as he unlocked the door.
Bellamy nodded. “Something like that.”
“Well, come on in, then. I think I got what you wanted out back. Follow me, but watch your step. I got a lot of shit in here.”
Bellamy was so distracted that he was barely aware of his surroundings, noting only that Murphy did indeed have a whole lot of shit in his shop.
They headed into a back room, where Murphy opened a dilapidated cupboard, rooting around until he found what he was looking for.
“This do?” he asked, handing it all to Bellamy.
Bellamy looked it over and frowned uncertainly. “Will it work with my iPhone?”
“What model you got?”
Bellamy shrugged, pulling it out. “Not sure. But it’s only a couple months old, so…”
“Should be fine.” He grabbed Bellamy’s phone. “Here’s how you hook it all up.”
Bellamy nodded, tried it out a couple of times, sighing with relief when everything seemed to work.
“So what do I owe you?”
For a long moment, Murphy was silent, then he shrugged. “Nah. It’s on the house.”
“What? No way! I can’t just take this.”
“Well, here’s the thing. You only need that stuff for… whatever it is you’re doing tonight, right?”
“Right.”
“That’s what I figured. So I’m just… lending some stuff to a friend.”
Bellamy was surprised. Had he and Murphy actually become friends?
Maybe they had.
“Thanks, Murphy. I owe you.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Murphy said, eyeing him carefully, “For some reason you’re being all hush-hush about why you need that shit, and that just makes me so damn curious. So suppose you tell me what the hell is going on, and we’ll call it square.”
Bellamy nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “Fair enough.”
XXXXXXXXXX
Now that he had what he needed, Bellamy knew it was time to just… get on with it.
You can do this, he told himself, while he made a brief stop at his apartment for a quick shower and a change of clothes.
You need to do this, he reminded himself, as he slid back into his truck, if you ever want Clarke to believe you really love her.
You’d better goddamn do this, he commanded himself, as he drove the few miles east, if you don’t want to end up a bitter, lonely, pathetic wuss.
But after he’d reached his destination and parked his truck on the street, he still had to force himself to actually open the door and step out.
Shit! This is so far out of my comfort zone it’s not even on the same planet.
He chuckled at the sad accuracy of that thought, wishing his amusement could quell his nerves.
As Bellamy grabbed Murphy’s equipment from the back seat and attached it to his phone, he noted how quiet and empty the street was, despite the warmth of the late spring evening. And knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
He’d always thought it was a nice neighborhood, from the very first time he’d dropped Clarke off on the night they’d painted the sets. She lived in one of three apartments that had been carved out of a stately old Victorian. Her place was on the second floor, and she absolutely loved the house, from its delicate gingerbread trim to the small stained-glass window in her living room.
“It has character,” she’d told Bellamy more than once, and as far as he was concerned, that alone meant it suited her to a T.
He gazed up at the house now, his eyes fixed on the second-floor front window. Her car was in the driveway, so he knew she was up there. For one tiny instant he froze, unable to move, before he shook himself out of it.
Get the fuck on with it, you asshole. It’s now or never.
With renewed determination, he found the right program on his phone, adjusted the volume to “high” on the amplifier he’d gotten from Murphy, and flipped the switch on the mic to “on.”
With a final look up and down the street, Bellamy tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart as the intro blasted out of the amp into the quiet of the evening.
He gave a silent thank-you to Monty Green for providing them all with the entire score, because this one he’d definitely had to “borrow.”
And then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes for one brief moment… and began to sing.
Not talk-sing, but sing-sing.
“I have often walked down this street before
But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before
All at once am I several stories high
Knowing I'm on the street where you live”
As he’d anticipated, from almost the first note heads appeared at windows, and by the third line, some of Clarke’s neighbors had begun to step outside. It skittered through the back of his mind as two, then four, then ten people emerged onto the sidewalk, that they must all be wondering who the idiot was who couldn’t sing worth a damn, but was still providing them with a concert.
He kept doggedly on.
“Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?
Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?
Does enchantment pour out of every door?
No, it's just on the street where you live”
Soon, an entire streetful of Clarke’s neighbors had gathered to listen to him make a fool of himself. But though he kept his eyes peeled on that second-floor front window, there was still no sign of Clarke herself.
Panic had begun to zing up his spine by the time he reached the bridge.
“And oh, the towering feeling
Just to know somehow you are near”
But then, just when he’d almost given up hope, Clarke’s face suddenly appeared at her window. And she looked… disbelieving.
Bellamy’s heart soared when she raised the sash, and he continued on with renewed hope.
“The overpowering feeling
That any second you may suddenly appear”
“People stop and stare, they don't bother me
For there's nowhere else on earth that I would rather be
Let the time go by, I won't care if I
Can be here on the street where you live”
All the way through to the end of the song, Clarke stood at that window, a curious expression on her face. Then just as he began the reprise of the bridge, she banged the window shut and disappeared from view. Panic began to lick at him again, but he kept on, desperate now, unwilling to give up.
“And oh, the towering feeling
Just to know somehow you are near
The overpowering feeling
That any second you may suddenly appear”
Where the hell was she? Had it all been for nothing after all?
That was the moment the front door opened, and Clarke stepped out to stand on her stoop, not twenty feet away from him.
Bursting with renewed energy, Bellamy started down the walkway towards her as he sang the last few lines.
“People stop and stare, they don't bother me
For there's nowhere else on earth that I would rather be”
Let the time go by, I won't care if I
Can be here on the street where you live”
By the time the music stopped, Bellamy had ground to a halt right in front of Clarke. For a moment or two they simply stared at one another, while all around them the neighbors gaped at them in silence.
And then Clarke asked, her face the very picture of confusion, “Bellamy, what the hell is going on?”
“I’m singing,” he said. As though no further explanation could possibly be necessary.
She sighed heavily. “Yeah, I can see that, and you’re doing it pretty badly. Thank god you didn’t actually have to sing in the show. But what I meant was,” she waved her arm around at the mic, at the amplifier, and taking in the whole of her street, “why are you singing, um, here?”
He looked down at her, his smile soft.
“Because… I’m making a big romantic gesture,” he told her matter-of-factly. “I’m getting out of my comfort zone. Letting go of the controls. Making myself look fucking ridiculous. Any and all of the above, take your pick. Because I really wanted you to understand how much you mean to me, and how damn sorry I am for being such a jackass this morning. And… I’m hoping really hard that you’ll forgive me for all of it, Clarke, because I don’t want to lose you.”
For a moment, Clarke simply stared at him, and Bellamy’s heart began to pound as he waited for a response.
But then she blinked. And her lips softened into a small smile. The smile became a grin, and the grin turned into giggles. And pretty soon Clarke was laughing herself silly.
Then Bellamy was smiling, too, and thinking that just maybe things were going to be all right after all. Especially when Clarke stopped laughing long enough to reach up and wind her arms around his neck.
“You really are an idiot,” she said, just before she kissed him. Right there on her doorstep with her entire neighborhood gawking at them.
When Bellamy tugged her closer and began to kiss her very thoroughly, the quiet street finally erupted, as Clarke’s neighbors clapped and cheered. Some may even have whistled.
When they pulled apart a few moments later, both smiling happily, Clarke said, “So… are you coming in?”
Bellamy cupped her face in his hands and gazed down at her fondly. “I thought you’d never ask. Just let me get my stuff.”
It was the work of seconds to grab his phone and toss everything else back in his truck, while the neighbors still watched them with avid interest.
As she opened her door, Bellamy glanced around at their still-beaming audience and murmured, “You know, I don’t think you’re ever going to live this down.”
“Like I care,” she muttered, grabbing onto his hand and pulling him into the house.
They barely made it to the bedroom, their sudden intense mutual passion rooted in the pent-up longing of a week’s worth of denial, and the frustrated heartache of their short-lived but painful conflict. The kisses were wet and open, as arms stroked and hands caressed, until finally they tumbled onto the bed, hot and naked and needy.
“I can’t believe I made myself wait so long to do this with you again,” Bellamy rasped in her ear as he slid into her moments later.
“Me, either,” she said, rotating her body beneath his in a way that brought great pleasure to them both.
As they moved together, Bellamy thanked every god he’d ever heard about that he hadn’t screwed things up with her forever.
And then he stopped thinking altogether, his body awash with passion and love. They came together moments later, their soft moans and sighs filling the air of her bedroom as the last rays of the setting sun filtered in through the window.
Bellamy moved to shift his weight off Clarke, landing heavily beside her on the bed. He pulled her close, stroking gently along her arm.
“I’m so sorry about everything, Clarke,” he told her, unable to stop himself from apologizing again. “I think I should maybe… try to explain why I acted like such an ass.”
Clarke nodded. “You will, Bellamy. We’ll talk it all out soon, but… it doesn’t have to be right now, does it?”
“Okay,” he said. “Long explanations about childhood hangups to come at some later date. But,” he twisted his body so that he could look down at her, “just so there’s never going to be any misunderstandings about this again, I need to tell you…”
“Yeah?” she murmured hesitantly, when he seemed to stop himself.
Bellamy took a deep breath and put his heart on the line.
“I’m in love with you, Clarke. I’ve never in my life had a day as miserable as this one, when I thought I might have lost you. And I just…” He sighed. “Please tell me it’s okay that I said that.”
Bellamy saw Clarke’s eyes became glassy, and then she, too, took a heavy breath.
“It’s very okay,” she said softly, admitting, “I didn’t have such a great day, either.”
Then her tears spilled over, and he couldn’t help asking, “So… those are tears of happiness, right?”
Clarke gave him a watery smile and reached up to stroke a finger along his jaw.
“Very much so,” she said. “And relief. Because… I feel the same. I love you, too.”
Feeling like his heart was going to explode with happiness, Bellamy pulled Clarke back into his arms and began to kiss her again. She deepened the kiss immediately, pressing her body against his, and soon they were well on their way to another round of lovemaking.
When, through a thick haze of desire, Bellamy suddenly remembered.
“Oh, shit, no!” he said, pulling back from her, glancing at the bedside clock, and rolling out of the bed.
Clarke stared up at him in disbelief. “You’re leaving now? Again?”
“Yes! No! That is… we’re both leaving.”
“What! Why?”
“Come on, Clarke, we need to get dressed. We’re going to a party.”
“Now?”
“Yep,” he said, grabbing for his socks and pulling up his boxers.
She squinted up at him. “Bellamy, we can’t maybe go partying some other time?”
He turned to smile down at her as he hurriedly pulled on his pants.
“Nope, because there’s not gonna be another party like this one. And because I’m not done letting it all hang out.”
Clarke reluctantly began to drag herself from the bed. “Okay, but this had better be good.”
Bellamy shrugged.
“Pretty sure you’re gonna like it. And… I know everyone else will.” He paused, smirking. “Almost everyone.”
XXXXXXXXXX
They climbed into his truck, and Bellamy turned on the ignition, but instead of putting it in gear he first pulled out his phone to make a call.
“Octavia. You and Lincoln got anything on tonight?”
“Bellamy! Is everything okay now? You seemed a little… off right after the play.”
“Yeah, O, everything’s good.” He turned to smile at Clarke while he spoke to his sister. “But, listen, I want you guys to come to the cast party. It’s at Miller’s Pub. You know where that is, right?”
“Yeah, I know where it is, but… the cast party? Isn’t that just for the cast? I don’t think we should crash…”
“Hey, it’s your youth center that benefits, isn’t it? And, uh… didn’t you almost paint sets with Clarke?”
Octavia’s peal of laughter was so loud that he was pretty sure even Clarke had heard it.
“Yeah… I think you’re reaching there, Bell. Even I know that almost isn’t the same as doing it.”
“Well, then, how about… you saved the play when you blackmailed me into playing Henry Higgins. Fantastic idea. So you’re good to go.”
In the passenger seat, Clarke snorted loudly.
There was a short silence on the other end of the line, and then Octavia said, “Is someone there with you, Bell? What the hell is going on, anyway?”
Bellamy groaned in frustration. Dealing with his sister sometimes drove him nuts.
“Jesus, O! For weeks, all you do is complain because I don’t have time to see you, and now I invite you to a party and you’re giving me the third degree. Just fucking come!”
“Okay, okay!” she agreed finally. “Lincoln just got home from work, so we’ll be there soon.”
“Good.” He hung up quickly before she could ask any more questions.
Clarke eyed him thoughtfully. “So it’s the cast party we’re going to. You wanna tell me why that’s so important?”
But he only smiled as he finally put the truck in gear and pulled out into the street. “Just a little more… self-revelation.”
Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, then shrugged and changed the subject.
“So… is your sister always that stubborn? I really like Octavia, but I don’t know her all that well.”
Bellamy chuckled. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen her when she was a kid.”
“Yeah? Does that mean tales of little Octavia will be part of our conversations about your childhood?”
“They could,” he said, glancing over at her. “If you want them to be.”
“I do,” she said very firmly. “I want to know everything.”
XXXXXXXXXX
Bellamy remembered chipping in a few bucks for the cast party weeks ago, but it was immediately clear to him that Miller’s dad had gone above and beyond.
Not only had he closed the pub for their private party on a normally busy Sunday evening, he also appeared to have laid out a spread that could never have been paid for by the amount collected from the cast and crew. And it looked like someone - Bellamy suspected Kane - had shelled out for a DJ to provide entertainment.
When he and Clarke walked in, the party was in full swing. Some people were still eating, while others were out on the dance floor, taking advantage of the music. It was a raucous group, and for a few minutes, Bellamy and Clarke merely stood near the doorway, silently taking it all in.
And then someone noticed them — Jasper, he thought.
“Hey!” The shout was loud enough to be heard over the music. “Eliza and Higgins are here! I thought they weren’t coming!”
Bellamy watched as one by one, curious faces turned towards the door. Conversations seemed to peter out, and to be replaced by quiet murmurs, as their castmates not only located them but clocked their linked hands.
The song playing over the sound system suddenly filled the otherwise quiet room, until that, too, ceased abruptly when the DJ apparently caught wind that “something” was happening.
And then into the soft murmurings came a loud amused chuckle, followed by a familiar voice.
“So professor, are you gonna tell me that lame-assed plan of yours actually worked?”
Clarke snorted and answered for him.
“You really should’ve seen him, Murphy. He was… magnificent.”
Murphy grinned wickedly. “Yeah, I’ll just bet he was.”
Bellamy laughed, too happy to care about the teasing.
But it seemed Jasper hated being out of the loop. “What plan? What the hell is he talking about?”
“Funny you should ask,” Bellamy said, tugging a bemused Clarke toward the DJ’s setup at the other end of the room.
“Mind if I borrow this?” he asked the man, grabbing onto the mic. “I’ve got something I need to say.”
Clarke eyed him in surprise. “Are you going to make a… a public announcement?” she whispered. “About us?”
Bellamy slapped his hand over the mic. “That was my intention. Unless… you have some objection?”
Clarke shook her head, smiling almost shyly. “None at all.”
“Good.” Seems like we’re finally on the same page.
He raised the mic and smiled, his eyes roaming over the crowd of new friends, people he hadn’t known existed a few months earlier.
“So the thing is,” he began, and then ground to a halt as it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t a clue about what it was he wanted to say.
Yeah, he wanted to acknowledge his relationship with Clarke, so she’d know he was all in, but how should he actually phrase it? He wasn’t quite sure how much information was too much information. What he could say to make his feelings for Clarke clear without people thinking he was over-sharing. He frowned heavily, thinking hard. Maybe if he just told them…
“Oh, for god’s sake!”
Clarke snatched the mic out of his hand in amused exasperation.
“I think what Bellamy is trying to say is that he’s damn glad his sister coerced him into playing Henry Higgins, because otherwise he’d never have met me. And,” her smile was sunny, “I am equally grateful to Octavia Blake for the same reason.”
Bellamy grinned at her, bending to speak into the mic.
“You know what? That’s exactly what I wanted to say. But also… I wish I’d told all of you about this last week,” he added, eyeing Kane and Pike smiling up at him from a table in the center of the room, “instead of stupidly thinking it would be better to wait. And,” he wrapped an arm around Clarke’s shoulder pulling her tight against him, “I also wanna say that being with Clarke is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me….”
He was interrupted then by a sudden high-pitched shriek from the vicinity of the doorway.
“Eeeeek! I don’t fucking believe it! Am I the world’s greatest matchmaker or what? And I wasn’t even trying!”
As an exuberant Octavia rushed across the room to throw herself at Bellamy, there were bursts of laughter and shouts of approval from every corner of the room.
Well… perhaps not from every corner.
At one nearby table, a chair was slid back roughly, scraping across the wooden floor with a loud screech as its occupant leaped to his feet.
“Clarke, you can’t possibly be serious about this,” Finn Collins said hotly.
“But, I am,” she said serenely. “Very serious… and very happy.”
He barely let Clarke finish, preferring to talk over her, protesting insistently, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Then three people all spoke at once.
“Finn…”
“Collins…”
“So who the hell are you, then?”
It was Octavia’s bald question that seemed to bring Finn up short. With a brusque shake of his head, he stormed out of the pub and, Bellamy fervently hoped, out of their lives.
After the door slammed shut, there was a moment of dead silence, and then everyone seemed to talk at once, the sounds of a noisy party once again permeating through the building.
“Hey, forget about that dick,” Murphy muttered as he approached the group, shrugging off the unpleasant moment in his own inimitable way. “There’s still food if you’re interested.”
And that was when Bellamy remembered that he hadn’t eaten all day.
An hour later, they were still chatting with Octavia, Murphy, and the others, and Bellamy couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so lighthearted.
“You really were great in the play, Bell,” Octavia was saying as the talk turned once again to the performance.
“He was, wasn’t he?” Clarke agreed enthusiastically, from where she was sitting tucked against his side.
She eyed him thoughtfully.
“You know,” she said, as though the thought had just come to her, “we also do a musical every fall to benefit the Ark City food pantry, and this year we’re doing West Side Story.”
As she continued, Clarke’s voice began to vibrate with excitement.
“I’m going to audition tor Anita, and you know what, Bellamy? I think you’d be perfect for the role of Bernardo!”
Bellamy side-eyed Clarke, certain he must have misheard her. But no, there she was, smiling at him expectantly.
She wanted him to do another play?
But… oh, god, this time it was West Side Story, and Bellamy had seen that movie, and while he wasn’t sure if Bernardo did much singing, he seemed to remember a helluva lot of dancing! And god knew his dancing was even worse than his singing!
Bellamy tried not to panic. This was Clarke, after all, the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was crazy in love with her. So if she really wanted him to try out…
He struggled, swallowing audibly, finally turning towards her as he tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t disappoint her.
Her sudden burst of laughter brought him up short, and soon she was arching against him, waves of glee rolling over her. And then the others were laughing as well.
“Man,” Murphy said from across the table, his shit-eating grin as wide as Bellamy had ever seen it, “you should see your face! She really had you going, professor.”
Bellamy blinked at Clarke as he finally caught on.
“You were kidding,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, sorry, couldn’t resist. You’re not… pissed off, are you?” she added, a little hesitantly.
Bellamy shook his head, grinning. “I might have considered getting mad if I weren’t so damn relieved.”
Clarke smiled up at him. “Yeah, I think maybe this is a good time for Bellamy Blake to retire from musical theater.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said with a fervor that had the table in an uproar all over again.
Bellamy bent down to softly kiss her rosy lips, audience be damned.
“It just wouldn’t be possible to top this performance,” he told her, smiling. “Despite himself, the idiot professor finally got the girl… and so did I.”