《Fireworks {The 100 Fanfiction Modern AU}》Chapter 1

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Bellamy remembered the day so vividly.

He woke up, took a shower, and got dressed. He ate breakfast and performed his daily ritual of calling Octavia. They talked for a little.

He didn't know that it would be the last time they talked ever.

"Hey big brother."

"Hey O. How are you doing?"

There was a small laugh from the other end. "I'm fine. Lincoln's gonna bake a cake and take it to the 4th of July party. Are you coming?"

Bellamy blinked. Right, today was the 4th of July. "Oh, yeah, Monty and Harper are doing a party at their house this year, aren't they?"

"Mhm."

"I mean, yeah I'm coming."

"Cool. Lincoln and I might be late, I'm working a late shift tonight."

Bellamy nodded. "Okay. Well I'll see you there?"

Another laugh. "Yeah big brother. You'll see me there."

Then he'd hung up. Clarke came into the kitchen, stifling a yawn. "Morning." he'd said.

She'd walked to the kitchen island where he was sitting and sat down next to him. "Morning." She'd replied.

"So, you going to the party tonight?" he'd ventured.

She'd nodded and grabbed his coffee, taking a quick sip. "Hey!" he'd exclaimed. "The coffee pot is right over there."

Clarke had shrugged, offering him a mischievous smile. "Yours always tastes better."

Bellamy had frowned, but let it slide. This was Clarke, after all.

Then they'd gone their separate ways, her to the Hospital and him to the College that he was a professor at.

He had an uneventful work day, it was summer vacation so none of the students were there and he was trying to finish his lesson planning. Time flew, and before he knew it, it was 7 o'clock. The party started at 8, so he'd driven home. Clarke wasn't home yet, which wasn't unusual. Sometimes she stayed a little late.

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He'd then driven over to Harper and Monty's house. Everyone was already there, everyone except Clarke, Lincoln, and Octavia that is.

Bellamy had sat in some plastic lawn chairs in the back, alternating between taking sips of his beer and chatting with Murphy. At about 9, Jasper had declared that they were done waiting for Octavia, Clarke, and Lincoln, and to 'let the fireworks show begin.'

Bellamy had swallowed his nervousness and looked up at the sky. The fireworks were what he remembered the most about that night, the dazzling reds and blues and yellows that filled the night sky.

They'd just finished the second to last when Jasper, who was more than a little drunk at this point, stood on one of the picnic tables. "Ladies and gentlemen," he'd announced. "It's time for the firework we've all been waiting for, the most amazing and spectacular of all, presenting... THE IRON FIST!"

Jasper had stepped aside and gestured at the last firework, which his girlfriend, Maya, had set on the grass and was attempting to light. An awkward silence had filled the air as the firework failed to light.

Jasper had leaned down and kissed her on the cheek gently, whispering something in her ear before gently taking the lighter from her hands and trying to light it himself. Maya had backed away, and Jasper had finally succeeded in lighting the wick.

Jasper, too, backed away, and the backyard filled with tense silence.

The Iron Fist exploded in an array of color and sound. Grey sparks shot up in the air, and the crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed.

The gate opened, and Bellamy's eyes snapped to it. It was Clarke. Even in the dark, he could see that she was crying. His gaze jumped down to her hands, which she was holding gingerly in front of herself. Her eyes scanned the crowd of people before finally landing on him.

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The back of his neck prickled. Was that... blood on her hands? They stared at each other, horror dawning on Bellamy. The firework fizzled and died out. Harper was the first to notice Clarke, calling, "Hey Clarke!"

They all turned to her, started to greet her, before stopping halfway through. An awful silence filled the backyard. Clarke never once looked away from Bellamy.

She cleared her throat, and tears spilled from her glassy eyes. Her whisper felt so loud in the quiet backyard.

"... It's Octavia."

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