Bellamy thought he was only going one Friday. But when Clarke grabbed his hand and dragged him out the door, he couldn't say no.

When they got there, they waited for Murphy (and, apparently, Raven,) and ordered drinks. It was the last day of school, Bellamy was in the mood to get drunk. He and Clarke were on their second round by the time Murphy and Raven got there.

It was a little awkward at first, but the alcohol loosened up everybody and eventually they were all laughing and joking like old friends. Which they were.

Raven told them all about her job as a mechanic, and about her leg, which she'd injured last year in a work accident. She claimed it was getting better, but he saw that when she stood she winced. But alas, it was getting late and all good things must come to an end.

While Clarke and Murphy led the way, Bellamy stayed back with Raven. "Your legs hurting you." he stated, and she rolled her eyes.

"And you're drunk." she retorted.

"So are you."

"Yes, but I'm significantly less drunk than you."

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair. "That is not true. I'm not slurring or anything." He tripped over a stray rock on the sidewalk and Raven cackled.

"But your balance is shit."

Bellamy stood up and brushed himself off daintily. "Stop trying to distract me. How long has it been hurting."

She was silent for a while, and he was starting to think he'd offended her until she spoke. "3 months."

"Really? Raven, you should see a doctor."

She winced. "I'm fine."

"I'm not kidding, you really need to-"

"Shut up," she snapped. "I'm not taking advice from you."

"What?"

"Your life is total and complete crap!"

Bellamy stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

"You can't even mourn your dead sister properly!" she spat.

Bellamy's heart practically stopped. "What the fuck, Raven?" he hissed.

"You ignore us all for 10 months, and then you just fucking decide that you're fine again? That's not how it works, don't you-"

Bellamy had never been so relieved to hear Murphy's lazy drawl. "Oooookay Raven, I think you've had enough fun for one night."

He dragged Raven away, the latter of whom was still shouting curses over her shoulder. A tense silence ensued, and Bellamy heard Clarke come to stand beside him. Clarke grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "She'd just had a bit too much to drink, that's all."

Bellamy swallowed. "Yeah, okay."

She nudged his arm. "Hey, you good?"

He nodded and faked a smile in her direction. "Yeah. Yeah, of course, I'm fine."

...

"Hey, do we have any-"

Clarke shushed him and pointed at her computer, which was open. It took him a moment to realize that she was doing her online class. "Oops." he mouthed, exiting the room and sitting in the living room.

He heard her sign off a couple minutes later, before calling to him: "What did you need?"

He could do this. He just had to be brave. "Can you come in here?" he asked, and she poked her head through the door.

"No, I mean, sit down." she gave him a funny look before obliging.

Clarke propped her head up on her arms. "What's up?" she asked.

Bellamy gulped. He had to be brave. "I want to bake something."

Clarke smiled, showing all her teeth. "I didn't think you'd want to try that so soon," she admitted. "But the kitchen is all yours. I'm not good at baking, anyways."

Bellamy rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Don't I know it." he grumbled, and she laughed. It felt good to tease her.

He stood up and strolled into the kitchen. Flour and other ingredients were already out from Clarke's class. "What were you supposed to bake today?" Bellamy asked her.

"A chocolate cake," she replied from the other room. When he inquired as to where it was, she laughed and told him: "In the trash can."

Bellamy peaked inside the trash can, and indeed a mildly burnt, crumbly chocolate cake sat there. "Hm. Do you mind if I make one? We can do a taste contest, I'm sure yours will taste better with all the trash juices on it."

Clarke snorted from the other room. "Ha. Ha. Ha." she said dryly.

Bellamy smiled. He felt better already. His fingers lingered over the baking ingredients. Oh god, he couldn't do this.

"Like this?" Octavia asked, holding up to cake batter.

Bellamy smiled. "Exactly."

Bellamy gripped the edge of the counter and sucked in a shallow breath. He could do this. He closed his eyes until his breathing returned to normal and reached for the flour.

...

When he was sure he wasn't going to suddenly have a mental breakdown, the baking became mindless. He'd baked this exact cake so many times before he barely needed to focus. Bellamy even hummed a little to himself.

When he stuck it in the oven, Clarke came into the room. "Is it done yet? I'm hungry."

"Firstly, no. Secondly, we are not having chocolate cake for dinner."

Clarke propped her head up against the counter with her fist. "Um. Yes we are." she told him as if he were the biggest idiot in the world.

Bellamy's smile faltered. When he didn't respond, Clarke looked up at him. She followed his gaze to a point behind her, but nothing was there. Except something was there.

"Oh, big brother," Octavia sighed. "I missed you."

Then she flickered out and she was gone. "-Bell?" Clarke was saying, but her voice sounded like it was underwater. "Jesus Bell, breathe."

Air filled his lungs. In, out. In, out. In. Out.

Clarke was standing up, staring at him, concerned. "Are you okay?" she asked after a moment.

Bellamy nodded mutely. Yes, yes, he was fine. "Did you see her?" Clarke asked quietly. He debated lying, but...

"Yeah."

She moved to him and hugged him. "It's okay."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I know."