Bellamy likes his job, he really does. But days can be long when things are quiet in town, and on those days he always looks forward to coming back home to Clarke or to have a lunch date with her. Because while they’ve been together for a few years now, they totally still go on dates. Lunch dates, dinner dates, anything really.
It’s pleasantly warm in the coffee shop near the campus, and the bitter, yet invitingly warm smell of coffee filled the atmosphere. He loves coming here. They served all sorts of drinks and for not much extra you can get a delicious pastry with it. He used to come here a lot when he was still in college. Now it’s once, sometimes twice a week.
Bellamy claimed their favorite seat, a spot in the back of the café near an electric fireplace. He waits for ten minutes, checks his phone for any messages from Clarke, and then waits for another five minutes. It’s then that he first calls her, but after ringing for a while it goes to voicemail. He thinks she may have forgotten about their date, or perhaps there came something important in between, but he figures that she would’ve left him a message then.
Bellamy sent a text to Octavia and within a minute she replied, telling him Clarke went home sick earlier today. Which is strange, really, because first of all; Clarke didn’t complain this morning about feeling unwell. And secondly; why didn’t she let him know?
The drive to their apartment should take about twenty minutes, but somehow Bellamy managed to get home in ten. He only barely remembered to lock the car before he stormed off and ran up the stairs to their apartment.
“Clarke?” he called out as soon as he closed the front door and
made his way to the living room. “–– Clarke? You here?”
Hearing Bellamy’s voice echo in the apartment usually felt like a breath of fresh air to Clarke. Between a long day at school and a long day at work, Bellamy returning home or seeing him wait for her on the sofa was the highlight of her day. Today, was a different story. When she heard the apartment door slam shut, Clarke seemed to forget how to breathe. Tears started to pool in her eyes, forcing Clarke to squeeze them shut to bite them back. She could usually contain her emotions and bottle them up when the burden of stress became too much but, even she knew she had a breaking point and this must be it.
Clarke had no idea how to tell Bellamy. They had been dating for a few years now and they were nowhere near ready for a baby – the mere aspect of one wasn’t even brought up in conversation. Clarke couldn’t even begin to guess how Bellamy would react to the news when she couldn’t even swallow the results of the test for herself.
When Clarke wanted to say something, no sound came out of her mouth. She felt paralyzed in place as she tried to regain her composure, something that typically came easy to her. Now it seemed like it was a challenge even when the man she loved was calling out for her.
Clarke’s legs shook as she pushed off of the wall to stand up. She used the sink to maintain her balance as her insides twisted into knots, almost forcing her breakfast to come back up as she snatched the stick from the sink. Clarke shoved it in her pocket and dabbed her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket, taking a double take in the mirror to make sure she didn’t appear as if she was crying. The last thing she needed was Bellamy worrying about her. Maybe she was just overreacting but, she was still afraid that this one situation could ruin everything she had worked for – graduate school, her financial standing, everything.
“Bellamy! You’re home early.” Clarke shouted, peaking her head out between the door frame and the bathroom door. “I’m in the bathroom. I’ll be out in a few.” Cringing at the sound of her voice, Clarke knew Bellamy would be able to tell she had been crying. It was no use to hide the test, anyway. He would find out eventually on his own. Clarke took the test out of her pocket and turned off the bathroom lights, making her way to the living room as she hit the plastic stick against her hand over and over again in a rhythmic pattern. Clarke’s eyes met Bellamy’s as she approached him, her features stern as she thought of the right way to go about the situation.
“We need to talk, Bellamy.”
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