Chapter Text
Normally, when Bellamy had a problem like this he would talk to someone about it— usually Miller, occasionally Raven, sometimes Monty. Murphy, if he was desperate. But he knew what every single one of them would say, and he didn’t want to hear it.
You shouldn’t have fucked her in the first place. That was in Miller’s voice, dry but serious. What a goddamn mess , Raven would say, while Monty would cluck sympathetically and suggest the he already knew the answer to his problem. Murphy would just laugh at him and pass the whiskey, which was probably closest to what Bellamy needed right now, but it still wasn’t enough.
Because what he really needed was to fuck Clarke again.
He couldn’t believe he was back here so easily, but then again Clarke was the exception to every goddamn rule he’d ever made. It normally took him a long time to admit he was in love with someone— too long, honestly, but being in love made him feel too vulnerable. And then he’d gone and not only fallen in love with Clarke in under three months, he fucking told her like a goddamn idiot. Clarke, the queen of casual fucks, who had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want anything too serious, least of all with him. She liked fucking him and spending time lazing half-naked around her apartment, but when it came to Official Relationship Things like going out in public, she tended to convince him it was better to just stay in bed. That was the person he decided to say I love you to when their relationship was barely off the runway, and he couldn't even pretend to be surprised when they crashed and burned shortly thereafter. He should have just kept his mouth shut, but she had a way of drawing out the side of himself he had spent years building walls to protect, especially when they were in bed together.
As she had put it the other day, sex was never their problem. Sex with Clarke was addicting, and here he was, nearly a year clean and crawling back to her like he hadn’t done his best to forget what they had. She was right— she was stuck under his skin. B ut where one more fuck was all she needed, he had the opposite problem. Having her and losing her had been unbearable; having her again and knowing it was the last time he’d be inside of her was a fucking death sentence. He should have stayed away; should have let her leave his office, cheeks burning in embarrassment, and moved on. He should have celebrated that she was just as fucked up about them as he was, even if he couldn't quite bring himself to be happy she was messed up because a stupid part of him still cared. And above all, he shouldn’t have gone to her apartment that night. That was the dumbest thing he'd done in a long time, dumber even than keeping her clothes tucked into his bottom drawer when he knew damn well he should have thrown them away.
He’d gone so far as to go out last night, hoping to find someone— anyone— to erase her taste from his memory. But the woman he found was just enough like Clarke to make him hate himself more. She was blonde and pretty and not interested in anything more than a quick fuck, but even that didn't assuage his guilt, because the entire time he was fucking her he was thinking about Clarke.
Sighing, he poured himself a shot for courage and wished Miller wasn’t gone on business trip, because the presence of a roommate might stop him from doing this. He called up her number and admitted to her what he hated admitting to himself.
Once wasn’t enough
He hit send and took another shot, because self-loathing tasted best with a side of whiskey. She wouldn’t respond and he couldn’t blame her, but now there was someone else in the world who knew his misery. She might not give a damn, but at least he wasn’t alone.
The knock on the door less than a half hour later had him jumping out of his skin. He blinked in surprise to find her waiting just over the threshold, and like always with Clarke, his body overtook his brain. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to him, his lips crushing against hers before he could stop to ask himself if this was even what she wanted. Maybe she'd come to tell him to leave her alone; that she was over him completely now. But then she was kissing him back, fingers tangled in his hair, and his heart swelled and shattered at the same time.
Because he was well and truly fucked, and in more ways than one.