Clarke and Bellamy were walking back from getting ice cream when she got a phone call. Bellamy briefly glimpsed the caller- and it was Abby. Clarke frowned. "I've got to take this, sorry."

She fast-walked ahead, but he could still faintly hear her. "Mom?" a silence. "I'm sorry, I can't." A car zoomed by and Bellamy strained to hear, vaguely feeling guilty for spying on her. "- I don't know," Clarke was saying, and her voice lowered even more. "I'm worried about him." He thought he heard her say, but he couldn't be sure. "I know, I know. I'm sorry mom, I have to go."

She turned off her phone and he jogged to catch up with her. "What was that about?"

Clarke's smile was strained. "Nothing." She took a lick of her ice cream and changed the subject.

...

Bellamy gently picked Clarke up and brought her to her room. It was the night before her surgery, and Clarke had fallen asleep while Bellamy was on the phone with Raven. She was fine, a bit panicky, but fine.

He watched Clarke breathe, in and out.

Then he crept out of her room into his. Bellamy collapsed onto his bed. He hadn't heard Clarke cry since he'd come home- in that letter he'd written that he could hear her crying, so maybe that was it. He didn't really want to go to sleep, he kept having nightmares. But he was tired, and after a while of staring at the ceiling, sleep overtook him.

...

Bellamy had jinxed it.

When he woke up again, Clarke was crying. She was quieter than usual, but he could still hear her stifled sobs. So she'd had another nightmare then, if she was up at this hour. He swung his legs over the side of his bed. The floorboards creaked and the crying immediately stopped.

By the time he opened the door to Clarke's room, she was already laying down again. He should leave, she obviously didn't want him here if she was pretending to sleep to make him go away. But that was the thing- even when he hadn't wanted it, Clarke had been there. So he whispered into the darkness: "Clarke?"

She sighed and sat up. He could only see her silhouette in the darkness. As he approached, she mumbled: "What's wrong? Why are you awake-" but he cut her off by reaching over and hugging her, pulling her in close.

"I'm sorry." He told her. "I'm sorry, Clarke. I'm so sorry that when I heard you all those nights, I was too scared to do anything about it," His voice broke. "But I'm here now."

Clarke started shaking, and before he knew it she was crying again. "Y- you died... I- I had to wa- watch as you d- died... a- and the whole time y- you were just screaming her name, b- but I cou- couldn't tell you th- that she was dead, that she was g- gone, and-"

She broke off into a sob, and Bellamy held her silently, because she was his best friend. Through the bad, through the good, she was always beside him. A tear slid down his face.

It was going to be a long night.

...

When Bellamy woke up, Clarke was tucked into his chest snoring softly. Bellamy reached over and swept the hair out of her face. "Princes..." he mumbled softly, and she stirred. Her glassy eyes slid over his face, taking in every inch of his face.

"Good morning. Get me coffee." She told him.

"If you want me to get up, you're gonna have to move, Clarke."

"Just kidding, stay here." She told him, cuddling up to his chest. They stayed like that for a while before Clarke yawned.

"Clarke."

"Hm?" she asked, idly tracing her fingers across his chest.

"You should go to work."

Clarke sighed. "But you need me here."

"Clarke."

Her lip quivered. "I- I just... even though you said you wouldn't, I'm scared that I would come home and find you passed out in a pile of your own blood. You tried to kill yourself Bellamy. That isn't something that just... goes away."

"I wasn't thinking. I wouldn't do it again, I've already told you that."

"I'm not so sure about that." She detangled their bodies and stood up, turning away from him.

"What? You think as soon as you leave I'm going to just go and kill myself?" He asked, standing up too.

"I don't know!" She snapped. "I don't know anything about you anymore, Bellamy."

"I wouldn't. Tell me you know that." He walked over to her and grabbed her shoulder. She jerked out of his grip, but did turn to face him.

"I can't."

Bellamy threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not suicidal!"

"Does someone who's not suicidal try to commit suicide?!?"

They stared at each other silently, but the tension that had been building these last couple days, the tension that Bellamy was sure he had been imagining, suddenly snapped.

"I love you." He blurted.

She paused, staring at him, eyes as wide as pennies. "I mean, as more than just a friend."

Her voice was hushed, barely more than a whisper. "Do you remember? That day when I got drunk and kissed you? It wasn't just because I was drunk."

Bellamy couldn't believe this was happening, her words didn't quite compute. All this time, he'd been imagining what would happen if he'd told her and she'd said no, he hadn't even bothered to imagine what would happen if he told her and she said yes.

"I love you too. I don't care if you're broken, I don't care Bellamy."

She searched his eyes, willing him to understand. "You're my best friend." Bellamy started, and when she looked devastated, he amended- "Which is why I didn't want to try and kiss you and have you not like me and ruin our friendship and-"

She interrupted him with a kiss.

This was nothing like that night they'd gotten drunk, this kiss was meaningful. He wrapped his arms around her waist like he'd dreamed of doing so many times to pull her closer. As the kiss deepened, they fell sideways onto the bed. When they finally broke apart for air, Bellamy asked: "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm yours, Bellamy. I'm all yours."

The thought sent a thrill down his body. She was his, she was his. He tugged his shirt off over his head and leaned in to kiss her again.