It was around, maybe, 10, and Murphy and Clarke were still talking. They'd ordered much more beer than him, and Clarke kept emitting these high pitched giggles that could somehow still be heard in the loud bar. Murphy was smirking at her, telling yet another joke, when Bellamy intervened. "Maybe we should go home?" He said, just loud enough for them to hear him.

Clarke turned to him and laughed. "Why? W- we're just getting started!" She exclaimed, and Murphy pumped his fists.

"Hell yeah!" he said, then leaned down and loudly whispered: "I really have to pee, okay? I'll be right back."

Clarke smiled up at him. "Okay."

They were left alone. Him and Clarke. Before he could say anything, she grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Clarke started dancing, and Bellamy just stood by awkwardly, apologizing to people when he bumped into them.

Even in her drunk state, after a while she seemed to notice that her friend wasn't having a good time. So Clarke grabbed his hand and dragged him to the back of the room.

She shoved him up against a wall, a pouty look on her face as she took a step back. "Why a- aren't you having fun Bell?"

"I, I-" he stuttered, and she shook her head.

"No, none of that," she demanded stepping closer and poking him in the chest. "Why. Aren't. You. Having. Fun?"

"Clarke, you're drunk, just-"

She let out a frustrated sigh. She was so close to him, their noses were practically touching. Bellamy glanced towards the door of the mens bathroom. Where the hell was Murphy?

He wasn't looking at her, so the kiss caught him off guard. It was sloppy, and he could taste the alcohol on her breath. She pulled back when his body froze and he refused to melt into the kiss. Clarke wasn't looking at him, but he was looking at her, and the look of betrayal and regret on her face made him cringe. "S- sorry..."

Which was of course the exact moment that Murphy chose to join them. Bellamy jerked away from her, but if Murphy noticed how close they'd been, he didn't let it show. He pointed finger guns at them both and said: "Heyyyyy..." Really loudly.

"Shut up." Clarke snapped at Murphy, then proceeded to rush off.

Murphy shrugged nonchalantly. "Jeez, what's up with her?"

Bellamy had a good idea what was wrong, but he stayed silent and watched Clarke's retreating back.

Murphy frowned and nudged Bellamy's shoulder. "Hey. What's wrong?"

Bellamy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing," he managed. Murphy waited in silence. "I just..." he started, then stopped again. "She doesn't... Clarke thinks that I should talk to someone about Octavia, that I should let it all out and just cry, but that's not my way of coping, y'know?"

Murphy nodded surprisingly solemnly for a drunk person. "I choose to be numb," Bellamy continued. "I don't want to... to be weak." His voice cracked at the end, so he stopped talking. Bellamy hoped Murphy didn't guess what he'd been about to say.

I don't want to get hurt.

Bellamy gulped and felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He swiped at them. Jesus, this was too close to emotion. He swallowed his tears and turned to Murphy. "Nevermind. Just don't tell anyone I said anything, okay?"

He waited for Murphy's nod of confirmation. "I probably won't remember in the morning anyways," Murphy told him, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

After a moment, Murphy opened his eyes again. "What? You're still here? Go get your Princess."

...

Bellamy found Clarke sitting outside the bar with her head in between her knees. "Fuck off, Murphy," She growled when he sat down next to her.

Bellamy cleared his throat and her head snapped up. "Oh," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's you."

"Yeah. It's me."

"Go away," She whispered, and she sounded so pathetic and weak that he just wanted to hug her to make her pain go away. "Please..." she added as an afterthought.

"I'm not going away, Clarke." He told her gently.

"Why?"

"Because I'm your friend."

Your friend who thinks about you every night before he goes to sleep, your friend who loves you as more than just a friend, your friend who wishes that he'd kissed you back. But he's too scared, too scared of the consequences.

"... Can we go home?" Clarke murmured.

Bellamy nodded. "Sure. You wait here, I'll go get Murphy."

He stood up to go, but she grabbed his sleeve and looked him in the eye. "Tell him I'm sorry."

He nodded again and she let his sleeve slip out of her grasp. Bellamy opened the door to the bar and winced as the noise came rushing back. He closed the door at the same time he spotted Murphy flirting with some unlucky girl.

When he approached, the girl's eyes flitted between them and she walked away. Murphy finally saw him. "Hey, back already?" Murphy asked as Bellamy went to stand in front of him.

"Yeah. Clarke says she's sorry, are you ready to go?"

Murphy blinked. "I'm going with you guys?"

Bellamy sighed impatiently. "Are you kidding? You're way too drunk to drive!"

Murphy held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Jeez."

Murphy followed him out and Clarke and Murphy wordlessly got into the back seat. Bellamy thought that they were probably still fighting, but when he glanced back, Clarke was asleep on Murphy's shoulder.

A little pang of jealousy flickered through Bellamy, but he just clenched his jaw and repeated the same thing as earlier.

Clarke. Wasn't. His.