Status: fluffy bellarke trash
Can't Help Falling
'cause I can't help
Bellamy hated Valentine’s Day.
He hated the fact that you could never get a reservation anywhere because everywhere was so busy. He hated the pinks and reds and whites of hearts that hung off every ledge, their cursive writing reminding him that it was, in fact, Valentine’s Day. He hated how everything went up in price for just a few days, making it impossible to not spend your life’s savings on a box of chocolates and some flowers.
And he hated the expectations that led up to the inevitable disappointment.
Clarke, on the other hand, was obsessed with the holiday so Bellamy was entirely unfazed when he walked into their shared living space and was met with what looked like the stomach contents of some kind of unicorn. The place was entirely transformed; banners with their taunting cursive writing fell from the doorways and the fire place mantle, stuffed animals holding anatomically incorrect hearts smiled at him from every angle, and she stood in the middle of it, a smile radiating from her so bright it could rival the shining tin foil hearts that she had expertly placed on every wall.
“Isn’t it great?” she yelled, despite the fact that they were almost right before each other, admiring her handy work. Bellamy tried to smile, which came out more like a grimace, and nodded his head, not entirely sure what to say. Clarke didn’t notice, though, her attention was turned to the sound coming from the oven signaling that whatever was inside was done.
Heart shaped cookies, he assumed.
“So what are we going to do tonight?” Clarke called from the kitchen. Their apartment was small, everything connected in one way or another, but she always felt the need to call and make sure that Bellamy heard her. He could hear the clanging of metal as she removed the baked goods from the oven, filling the house with a scent that made his stomach growl.
“I thought maybe we could just stay in. Maybe watch a movie,” he said, walking towards the smell. He entered the room just in time to see her smile falter, the light fade out a little from her eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. He hid the emotion from his face, though, as he walked up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, planted a kiss on the back of neck, and grabbed a cookie from the baking sheet that was in her hand. She tried to smack his hand away but he dodged her swinging arm and slinked away, pretending he didn’t see her roll her eyes and shake her head.
“I have to go out for a bit,” Bellamy called, grabbing his black jacket, which stuck out against the brightness of the decorations, and starting towards the door. Clarke peaked her head around the corner and looked at him, a sad expression on her face. “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”
He shrugged. “I won’t be gone long, I just have a few things to do,” he said, reaching towards the doorknob despite her protests, and opened the door with a loud creak, slipping through and down the stairs.
Making his way to the car, he avoided the couples that were all dressed up, holding hands and smiling, getting ready for a night of romance that just couldn’t be attained on any other day of the year. Suppressing an eye roll, he climbed into his car and with a rev of his engine drove off, mentally preparing himself for the plan that he had come up with.
He hated the fact that you could never get a reservation anywhere because everywhere was so busy. He hated the pinks and reds and whites of hearts that hung off every ledge, their cursive writing reminding him that it was, in fact, Valentine’s Day. He hated how everything went up in price for just a few days, making it impossible to not spend your life’s savings on a box of chocolates and some flowers.
And he hated the expectations that led up to the inevitable disappointment.
Clarke, on the other hand, was obsessed with the holiday so Bellamy was entirely unfazed when he walked into their shared living space and was met with what looked like the stomach contents of some kind of unicorn. The place was entirely transformed; banners with their taunting cursive writing fell from the doorways and the fire place mantle, stuffed animals holding anatomically incorrect hearts smiled at him from every angle, and she stood in the middle of it, a smile radiating from her so bright it could rival the shining tin foil hearts that she had expertly placed on every wall.
“Isn’t it great?” she yelled, despite the fact that they were almost right before each other, admiring her handy work. Bellamy tried to smile, which came out more like a grimace, and nodded his head, not entirely sure what to say. Clarke didn’t notice, though, her attention was turned to the sound coming from the oven signaling that whatever was inside was done.
Heart shaped cookies, he assumed.
“So what are we going to do tonight?” Clarke called from the kitchen. Their apartment was small, everything connected in one way or another, but she always felt the need to call and make sure that Bellamy heard her. He could hear the clanging of metal as she removed the baked goods from the oven, filling the house with a scent that made his stomach growl.
“I thought maybe we could just stay in. Maybe watch a movie,” he said, walking towards the smell. He entered the room just in time to see her smile falter, the light fade out a little from her eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. He hid the emotion from his face, though, as he walked up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, planted a kiss on the back of neck, and grabbed a cookie from the baking sheet that was in her hand. She tried to smack his hand away but he dodged her swinging arm and slinked away, pretending he didn’t see her roll her eyes and shake her head.
“I have to go out for a bit,” Bellamy called, grabbing his black jacket, which stuck out against the brightness of the decorations, and starting towards the door. Clarke peaked her head around the corner and looked at him, a sad expression on her face. “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”
He shrugged. “I won’t be gone long, I just have a few things to do,” he said, reaching towards the doorknob despite her protests, and opened the door with a loud creak, slipping through and down the stairs.
Making his way to the car, he avoided the couples that were all dressed up, holding hands and smiling, getting ready for a night of romance that just couldn’t be attained on any other day of the year. Suppressing an eye roll, he climbed into his car and with a rev of his engine drove off, mentally preparing himself for the plan that he had come up with.