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Much as he doesn't want to, Bellamy starts stressing out about his soulmate about two months before his eighteenth birthday.
He knows how stupid the whole thing is. For every couple of happily married soulmates, there's another person with no name on them at all, or with the name of a person they'll never meet, or name of their best friend who has a real, romantic soulmate, dooming them to a strange, third-wheel life.
That's the one he figures he'll get, honestly. His soulmate will be Octavia, because he can't really imagine anyone being more important to him than she is. And then she'll turn eighteen in six years and have her own actual soulmate, and he'll have proof on his body that he is destined to be the perpetually single cool uncle to his sister's kids.
To make himself feel better, he reads all the horror stories he can find. Octavia says this is twisted, weird, and sad, but he ignores her. Their mom's story was already pretty bad; O's dad was her soulmate, and he was a fucking dick, so angry at Aurora for having a kid before she met him, for not waiting for him. He kept up a veneer of normalcy for a couple years, but then he turned mean and hard once she got pregnant, telling Aurora that the new baby shouldn't have to live with a constant reminder that its mother was a whore, that she had to get rid of her son, leave him somewhere and never go back.
They'd left her soulmate, and Bellamy, only five, decided right then and there that he never wanted one of his own. That he wouldn't get one. But it's not really his call. And some part of him thinks maybe it would be nice. Just--maybe.
It's a dangerous way to think, so instead he reads about a guy in Michigan whose soulmate turned out to be his childhood best friend, who'd died suddenly and unexpectedly only a few weeks before the tattoo showed up, about a woman in Arkansas whose tattoo showed up in Arabic script who was shunned from her community for being a terrorist.
Octavia or no one, he tells himself firmly. He doesn't want or need a soulmate.
His eighteenth birthday is a Sunday, for which he's grateful. He'll have a full day away from school to process whatever marks do or do not show up on his body and no one at work knows his birthday, so he won't have to worry about any of them asking. He'll figure out what to tell his friends before Monday morning. A full day of preparation.
Octavia wakes him up by jumping on his bed and saying, "Who are you gonna marry?"
"Whom," he grumbles, rubbing his face. "You can tell because if I answered the question I'd say I'm going to marry her instead of I'm going to marry she, so--"
"Oh my god, Bell, shut up. Whom are you going to marry, fine!"
"SAT prep sucks, you can never start too early," he informs her. "And I don't know. It hadn't showed up yet when I went to sleep." He sits up in bed and scrubs his face, surveying himself. He doesn't feel different. Maybe there's nothing.
"I hope it's Echo, she's teaching me how to braid my hair all cool like hers."
"I hope it's no one we know, I'm not prepared to be anyone's soulmate yet." His heart lurches as he spots a band of black writing wrapping around his left arm, below his shoulder. It feels like a sign of mourning. "Found it," he says, mouth dry, and leans in to read-- "Clarke Griffin."
There's a pause, and then Octavia says, "Huh."
"I hadn't thought about it being a guy," he says, voice coming out even and conversational.
"That could be a girl," Octavia says, but she doesn't sound convinced. "Maybe that's why it has the e at the end. To be girlier."
"How many girls do you know named Clarke?"
"Okay, fine, it's a guy." She looks suddenly gleeful. "I bet he thinks you're a girl."
"Why would--" he starts, but then he thinks about it. If he was someone else, and the name Bellamy Blake showed up on his body, he'd probably assume it was a girl. He's had like five teachers make that mistake. "Okay, yeah. My soulmate is probably a guy. Who probably thinks I'm a girl."
"If he's eighteen."
He scrubs his face. "Good thing I'm going to college next year, right? That's when you're supposed to experiment with your sexuality."
"Uh huh," says O, petting his arm. "I still get to be maid of honor."
"Obviously," he says, flopping back on his bed. When he puts his arm over his eyes, he can see the ink on his arm, and it makes his stomach flip. He has a soulmate. "That goes without saying."
*
Bellamy's not against dating guys. He's never really thought about doing it, but it's mostly because he's never met a guy who did much for him. But he's also never really looked. He likes girls, and it requires absolutely no effort on his part; he sees a pretty girl and likes her. It's the easiest thing in the world.
Guys are--well, he doesn't think he likes guys. The day after his birthday, his friend Wick comes over and drapes his arm over Bellamy's shoulder and it's not exciting or anything. Maybe if Wick was shorter than he is? Maybe he likes shorter guys. But either way, no breasts, which--it just seems like kind of a shame. He loves breasts.
He's thinking about it so hard he nearly misses Wick's question, except he knows Wick's question, because it's what everyone is going to be asking him today.
"So, what about your soulmate? Hot celebrity? I had my fingers crossed for you."
"Thanks. I appreciate your support." He rubs his neck. "It's, uh--some guy named Clarke Griffin."
"Huh," says Wick. He nods. "How's that gonna work out for you?"
"No idea."
"Maybe it's a famous dude," Wick says, patting him on the shoulder.
"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better."
The news about his soulmate makes the remainder of his senior year a little awkward. Some number of his casual acquaintances decide they can't hang out with him anymore because he likes guys, which he still doesn't, exactly, but, at the same time, he has no interest in being friends with anyone who would drop him for being bi, so it's no loss. It's a pretty small town, not super conservative, but more conservative than not, and he quickly becomes known as being, if not gay, then at least suspected of it, and he tries really hard to embrace it, because the whole attitude pisses him off, but no matter how many guys who are confused about their sexualities and want to make out he meets, he never quite gets to being attracted to them like he is to women. And it just feels shitty to fool around with someone he's not into just because he might someday have a guy for a soulmate.
So he waits, and watches gay porn sometimes, for variety. Some of it gets him off, which is a start, anyways.
The first time he's really attracted to a real guy, he's a sophomore in college, and he finds out his best friend Miller is gay, and he feels this weird, strange twinge of happiness, like--honestly, he is genuinely excited Miller is into guys, because Miller might be into him, and that's a new and frankly kind of awesome feeling.
He does not do particularly well articulating it.
"Thank god, I need so much help with sexuality," is what he actually says. Miller raises his eyebrows, which is his usual response to any given stimulus, and Bellamy gives him a sheepish smile. "Shit, that's not what you're supposed to say when someone comes out to you, huh?"
Miller snorts. "Nah, it's fine. I love it when you make everything about you. You think you're gay?"
"I'd be bi," he says. "I know I like girls." He scrubs his face. "Did you know you were gay before your soulmate's name showed up?"
"Your soulmate is a guy," Miller says, comprehension dawning.
"My soulmate is a guy," Bellamy agrees. "I know platonic soulmates are a thing, but if I'm going to have one, I'd rather really have one, I guess."
Miller considers. "You know, the number of people claiming they have platonic soulmates goes down every year. Research mostly suggests that historically speaking, those were queer couples who couldn't be out, so--"
"Great." He flops back on his bed. "Sorry to make your coming out about me."
"I did know I was gay before I got my soulmate's name, for the record," he says, after a pause. "And my soulmate is a guy. I think."
"What's his name?"
"Monty Green."
"Mine's Clarke Griffin."
"So you're just trying to teach yourself to be into guys?"
"Kind of. I'm not opposed to it, like--if I was into a guy, I'd be good with it. Chris Hemsworth is really hot. Maybe Clarke Griffin looks like Chris Hemsworth. I could live with that."
"Glad you're looking on the bright side of this," Miller says.
"He's my soulmate, right? I should put in the effort, if he's cool. And if he's not cool, fuck him anyway."
"Basically, yeah."
It's another month before he's drunk enough and selfish enough to ask if Miller wants to make out, which he knows is a bad idea. Miller is his friend, not a blank slate he can use to test his sexuality on. And he tells Miller as much, in one long, semi-coherent ramble, about how he likes him and respects him and thinks he's hot and is kind of into him but they both have soulmates and he knows he shouldn't ask, he just--
"Fuck, you're a fucking disaster, Blake," Miller tells him, and leans in to kiss him.
It's--it's not bad. Miller's taller than he is, pretty built, and he takes control of the kiss, which isn't something that generally happens with girls, and he kind of likes it. In fact, once he gets used to it, he thinks he really likes it, so he pushes closer and kisses back, opening his mouth for Miller and following his lead. He gets caught up in it in no time at all, and it's not until he's on his back on the bed under Miller, tugging off Miller's shirt and sliding his hands up his chest, that his brain catches up with the proceedings.
Miller's must catch up at roughly the same time, because he pulls back, eyes impossibly dark, looking more than a little shaken.
"Sorry," Bellamy says, his voice rough.
"What are you apologizing for?" Miller asks, rolling his eyes. "You think you're bi yet?"
"Selectively, anyway."
"I'm honored."
"Yeah, you should be. I've got a really intense application process."
"Shut up," says Miller, and it penetrates Bellamy's semi-drunken haze that he looks nervous and a little guilty, not like he's really joking around. Maybe he thinks he's taking advantage or something. Or that Bellamy's just confused. Which he is, kind of generally, but--it seems stupid to overthink being into Miller.
"Okay," he says, and pulls Miller back down, kissing him again, and Miller doesn't object this time.
They don't exactly date, although he thinks that makes sense for them. He and Miller like each other, are attracted to each other, and have a great time with hanging out and sex, but they're not romantic together. They're bad enough at being romantic apart; he's not surprised they aren't putting in much effort. Bellamy makes a vague attempt, once, because he doesn't want Miller to think this is nothing but experimentation to him. Miller rolls his eyes at the date attempt--asking him to dinner--and says, "You suck at this, Blake," and they just play FIFA and then Bellamy blows him later.
He's found he's good with dicks. He doesn't find them as inherently appealing as breasts and pussies, but there's a lot of societal baggage there--he hasn't seen guys sexualized his whole life the way he's seen girls--so it makes sense. And he likes getting people he likes off, gets plenty of satisfaction just from that, and blowjobs are actually a genuine turn-on. He's really, really into sucking dick.
He might have an oral fixation. Which is good to know. And kind of awesome, honestly.
A few months into their non-thing, a guy from the LGBT group Miller's in asks him out on a real date, and Bellamy tells him to go for it, on the grounds that he feels weird telling him they should be exclusive or something. It's not the kind of relationship they have. They go back to being friends, and Bellamy feels a little guilty that he goes back to just fucking girls. He had a lot of fun, liked Miller, but--maybe he's just picky about guys. And dating is weird, anyway. Miller and his new guy fizzle out fast because Miller has a name on him and the guy doesn't, and that's just awkward. And that's broadly how Bellamy feels about serious dating; if he found something good, it would be worth it, but--he's pretty sure most people from about eighteen to twenty-four just feel like they're holding their breath, waiting for their soulmates. It kind of sucks, honestly.
"Have you ever googled him?" Bellamy asks Miller, a few weeks after he and Henry breakup. Per their usual, they haven't talked about their relationship, but Bellamy thinks it's safer to just leave it. They like each other, but they categorically know they're not meant to be. And he thinks, attraction aside, they're probably better friends. Miller is an awesome best friend.
"Do you think you'd care this much about this shit if your soulmate was a girl?" Miller asks, not looking away from GTA.
"Probably. My sister says I think too much." It's not the whole truth--Octavia says he thinks too much about dumb shit and never thinks enough about everything else, and he has to admit she's right, but he doesn't have to admit that to Miller. "I'm just curious," he adds. "I never really had a functional soulmate couple around when I was growing up. The whole thing's weird to me."
"You need to make more friends so I'm not the only person you talk to."
"Fuck you."
There's a pause, and Bellamy wonders if he made it weird with the whole we used to hook up thing, but instead Miller says. "I've never looked for him. It'll happen when it happens."
"You're so wise and mature, Miller," Bellamy says, and Miller kicks him.
*
Bellamy meets Miller's soulmate before Miller does, which is disconcerting.
He's in his first year of grad school, and he's mostly kind of dealt with the soulmate thing. He's dated a few girls, had a truly spectacular failure of a thing with a guy named Murphy, and figures his sexuality is about as functional as he can make it. He likes sex. He's a lot more likely to be into any given girl than any given guy, but it doesn't seem worth stressing about. There are so many other things that can go wrong with soulmates, the gender thing is honestly the least of his worries.
His biggest concern about soulmates is honestly that Octavia has a name on her now, and she's already met the guy, and he's Bellamy's age, which is just--so, so much worse than his own three-year sexuality crisis.
So when Monty Green shows up in the seminar he's TAing, he is completely unprepared.
Not that he really would have ever been preparing himself for Miller's soulmate; Miller remains his best friend and sort-of ex, but he takes care of his own love life. Still, soulmate names are one of those things it's hard to forget, even if they aren't your own. Friends don't let friends miss out on their soulmates.
He misses about half of Professor Cartwig's introduction because he's watching Monty, trying to get a read on him. He's--cute, Bellamy guesses. An undergrad, probably a sophomore or junior, passing notes to a dorky-looking kid in goggles. It's weird, seeing him, knowing he's Miller's soulmate. Bellamy's willing to admit he pictured Miller with someone a little more like himself, someone less obviously dorky, more muscular. More eye candy, less puppy dog.
But Monty seems--fine. Nerdy. Miller will probably be happy.
He goes to Octavia's dorm as soon as the class ends and checks to find that the door is open, so he flops down on her futon without preamble.
"You're such a drama queen," his sister huffs. "If this is about Lincoln, just leave now. I'm tired of you being an incoherent douche about it."
"No, I'm giving up on that one while I figure out a new argument. Maybe a powerpoint presentation."
"We're not even dating, weirdo."
"I know." He rubs his face. "I met Miller's soulmate."
"Were you a weird dick about it? Did you get jealous because he's your only friend?"
"No, shut up. I met him, Miller didn't. I didn't even talk to him. He's in my history seminar. Do I tell Miller? Do I tell the kid? What if Miller isn't his soulmate and it's really awkward for everyone?"
"If it was you, would you want Miller to tell you?"
"I dunno. It's not like I know anything about the guy. All I can tell Miller is that he's around and in my history seminar. Maybe he wants to meet him naturally."
"So if I met Clarke Griffin--"
Bellamy shoots up. "You didn't, did you?" When he sees his sister's smug expression, he flops back down on her futon with a groan. "Okay, okay. I'd want to know. I'll tell him."
"What was he like? Miller's soulmate."
Bellamy shrugs. "I dunno. I didn't talk to him or anything. He was cute, I guess? Kind of nerdy."
"Oh my god, you're actually jealous," says Octavia, with clear delight. "Why are you jealous? Please tell me you aren't still nursing a weird crush on Miller."
"No, but--I'm his ex, right? Sort of? I get to worry about if his soulmate is gonna treat him right. I'm allowed."
"You're ridiculous, Bell."
"What if it was Maya? You'd be totally ready to murder her soulmate if she set a foot out of line."
"That's because Maya is shy and quiet and needs someone to look after her," Octavia huffs. "You only want to look out for people who are fine on their own. Like me and Miller." She glances at her phone. "Okay, I don't need to do this paper. I'm coming to your apartment. I totally want to see Miller's face when you tell him he's gonna marry some nerd in your history seminar."
"Yeah, when you put it like that," Bellamy says.
Miller is working for a tech startup, which means he has weird hours and no dress code, and his boss really wants to seem cool and laid back when he makes totally unreasonable demands. It sounds like hell to Bellamy, but Miller is paying most of their rent, so he's not going to argue with the situation. It does mean Miller is even grumpier and less talkative than he was in college, and Bellamy briefly debates waiting to tell him until he's in a less shitty mood, but that might never happen. Maybe his soulmate will help. Stranger things have happened.
"Hey, you brought little Blake," says Miller, perking up. He totally adores Octavia; Bellamy thinks it's because he's an only child. He has no sister of his own to get annoyed by. "What's up, little Blake?"
"Not much," says O, lying through her teeth. "I'm just here to capture this moment on film."
"Fuck, is your brother finally proposing?"
"Your soulmate is in the class I'm TAing," he says. Just like ripping off a band-aid.
He doesn't actually know what he was expecting from Miller. He knows plenty of people who can't wait to meet their soulmates, and plenty more who don't put any thought into it, who live their lives like there's no name on their body. And he though Miller tended more toward the second than the first, but he never quite achieved the causal nonchalance when they talked about it that some of his other friends have.
Now, Miller basically looks like Bellamy punched him in the stomach, not just surprised, but pained and a little betrayed. Shocked and almost hurt.
"You found my soulmate?" he asks, and Bellamy finds himself raising his hands, like he's defending himself.
"Not on purpose," he says. "I was doing attendance for my seminar. He was on the list."
Miller is still staring at him. "In your seminar," he finally repeats.
"Yeah. Monty Green, right?"
"Shit."
"He was cute," Bellamy offers, unsure what else to say. Octavia looks just as uncertain.
Miller's thumb rubs his right wrist, where Bellamy knows the name is, hidden under the bracelet he always wears. That he wears to hide it. "Fuck."
"It's not bad," Octavia offers. She's the only one of them who has any experience with this, and Bellamy's suddenly glad she's here. "I was nervous too."
Miller scowls, but he has trouble getting pissed at O like he can at Bellamy. So he just huffs and says, "What was he like?"
"Cute, like I said," says Bellamy, exchanging a quick look with his sister. "It was the first class, so it's not like I saw much of him. He was cracking jokes with his friend. He looked--fine? Fuck, Miller, I don't know. He's probably like twenty or so, Korean, I think? Smiled a lot."
"Seriously, you'll be fine," Octavia adds. "Bell wouldn't have mentioned it if he thought the guy was a serial killer or something."
Miller's jaw tightens, and then he finally says, "We're talking about this once. Once."
"Once," Bellamy agrees. "Uh, what are we talking about?"
"I'm a pretty shitty boyfriend," he says, eyes flicking to Bellamy. "So I figure I'm probably a pretty shitty soulmate too."
"Dude, no," Bellamy says, blinking. "What? You're fine. You were a good boyfriend."
"You tried to take me on a date and I made fun of you."
"Yeah, but--who wants to go on dates?"
"Monty Green might."
"We're only having this conversation once, right?" Bellamy asks.
"You guys are the worst. You slept together for like three months four years ago, how is this still something you haven't talked about and have weird issues with? I should become a couples counselor."
"Thanks, O." He glances at Miller. "Dude, if I'd said I really wanted to go on a date, you would have gone. But that's not how we were, and you knew it. You weren't being an asshole to me. You were good. And if your soulmate doesn't like you, fuck him, he's wrong." He pauses. "And it's gonna be really fucking awkward if you don't meet him and he finds out in like three years that I knew who he was, so, seriously, Miller. You should meet the kid."
"I'm going to meet your soulmate first and I'm going to be a fucking dick about it," Miller mutters. "Tell him I'm--I don't know. Tell him I exist."
"I'm going to tell him I'll fail him if he breaks your heart."
"Yeah, you're gonna get fired if you say that," Octavia says. "Do you guys need to hug? I feel like you should hug. This is sweet."
"Shut up, O."
"You should do one of those pacts, like, if you guys haven't gotten with your soulmates successfully by the time you're forty you just marry each other."
"I don't think we need a pact for that," Bellamy says. "That was already the plan, right?"
"Right," says Miller. "Okay, conversation over. Are you legal to drink yet, little Blake?"
"I have like five different IDs that say I am."
"Cool, I've got gin."
*
Bellamy calls Monty Green over after their next class. He told Professor Cartwig after he talked to Miller, just because it seemed like an important FYI, in case of awkwardness, but it's not like this is his fault. He is probably handling this fucking weird situation as well as he can handle it.
"Um, what's up?" asks Monty, looking nervous. "We haven't had any assignments yet, so I assume I haven't screwed anything up?"
"No, uh, this--this is actually really weird, but I figure it's weirder if I don't say anything." He rubs the back of his neck. "My roommate wants to get coffee with you."
Monty's eyebrows shoot up. "Based on what, exactly?"
"His name's Nathan Miller."
Monty's hand goes to his side, automatic, and Bellamy now knows that Monty Green has Nathan Miller's name tattooed on his hip. Which is good. He was kind of worried the goggle kid was Monty's soulmate and Miller was going to have to be an awkward third wheel.
"Really?"
"Yeah." He pauses, but he can't help it. "And he's my best friend and we used to date, so, uh--you won the soulmate lottery, okay?"
Monty smiles a little at that, like he finds Bellamy's veiled threats cute instead of scary. Bellamy can be threatening, he seriously can. Plenty of people are terrified of him. He's choosing not to be because this is his student and Miller's soulmate.
If, by the end of the semester, things have gone wrong, he can be terrifying then. Monty can think he's cute in the meantime.
"Does he like video games?" Monty asks.
"Yeah."
"Has he played Ni no Kuni? I'm looking for people to talk about Ni no Kuni with."
Bellamy has to smile. Just a little. "No idea. But it you want to get coffee with him and ask, he's off work in like twenty minutes."
Octavia has a job at a coffee shop, so Bellamy follows Monty over, both so the kid has someone to talk to--he seems nervous--and so he can see his sister. And also so his sister can intimidate Monty. Octavia is allowed to be threatening.
Of course, when they get there, Lincoln is around, chatting with Octavia, and Bellamy tries not to do anything stupid or inappropriate or creepy. Lincoln is probably being the best much-older soulmate he can be; he and Octavia aren't dating yet, just getting to know each other, taking it slow. He's even encouraged O to date other people, if she wants, and while she's pretty stubbornly saying Lincoln is it for her, it's not like that's his fault.
Besides, Monty is twenty and Miller is twenty-four, and Bellamy has zero ethical concerns about that, so while eighteen/twenty-four is definitely worse, he has to admit he might be somewhat biased because his sister is involved.
Just slightly.
"Hey, O. Lincoln," he adds, with a nod, because he can be polite.
"Bellamy," says Lincoln, and then smiles at Octavia. "I'll see you later."
"You are an asshole," Octavia pronounces.
"I didn't even do anything, shut up. This is Miller's soulmate, by the way."
O's immediately all smiles. "Hi! Monty, right? Miller's the best. If you're a dick to him, I'm going to destroy you."
"I'm not sure I've ever been a dick to anyone," Monty says, like he is actually reviewing the events of his life and trying to decide if he has wronged anyone at any time.
"Well, he's already a way better boyfriend than you," Octavia says. "What are you guys getting?"
Miller shows up while Bellamy and Monty are hanging out reading, and Bellamy only stays for about three minutes, until they discover Miller has played Ni no Kuni and also wants to talk about it, before quietly slipping out.
It's a strange feeling, watching Miller figure out his soulmate. Bellamy doesn't think it's just that they used to kind of date; it goes deeper than that. There's a part of him that wants to hate the whole soulmate thing, for all the reasons he thinks he should. It sucks for some number of people, people who don't have a soulmates, or who lose them before they ever meet, or who have soulmates who are assholes, like his mom's.
But the look in Miller's eyes when he's talking to Monty, or about Monty, or remembering that Monty exists--that's pretty great.
*
It continues being great, too. Monty and his best friend, Jasper, with the goggles, become an easy fixture in their lives, which mostly means they come over to play video games a few nights a week and Miller disappears periodically to hang out with Monty. They don't seem to do much dating, in the traditional sense, and they also aren't having that much sex, because, according to Miller, Monty thinks he might be asexual and he's trying to figure out what that means for his life and their relationship.
"You're not trying to figure it out?" Bellamy asks, frowning.
Miller shrugs. "Just because all I did with you was have sex doesn't mean that's all I care about." He looks a little embarrassed, and Bellamy bites back on a grin. "There's way more to relationships than sex, so, yeah. Whatever. We're good, fuck you."
He gives up on hiding his smile and claps Miller on the back. "I'm happy for you."
"Don't even fucking start, Blake, you're going to be a nightmare when you find your soulmate. I'm already thinking about moving out just so I don't have to deal with all your shit."
Bellamy would like to argue the point, but he has trouble imagining that Miller is wrong about this one. He has absolutely no idea what he's going to do with a soulmate, no more than he did when he was eighteen. He's at least confident now that he'll be able to make it work with the guy on a basic attraction level, but he's not really much better at dating than Miller is. He doesn't know how to be a good soulmate either.
But, of course, Miller did say he was going to meet Bellamy's soulmate first, and be a dick about it, and it turns out Miller wasn't wrong about that one.
Which is how he ends up opening up their door on Friday game night to a very cute girl with wavy blonde hair and a six-pack of PBR.
"Hi, are you Nate?"
It takes him a minute to parse the question, both because she's really cute and he routinely forgets Miller even has a first name, so he just assumes she's at the wrong apartment.
"Monty's boyfriend?" she prompts.
"Oh, no, sorry." He gives her a smile. "He's still at work. I'm the roommate. You're here for game night?"
"Yeah, Monty said we should hang out more in a social setting." He raises his eyebrows, and she grins. She's really cute. "We're in the same biochem class. I just transferred, so he thinks I need more friends."
"Nice of him. Uh, here, let me take that beer. You want one? Sorry, you're the first one here and I'm a terrible host."
She laughs and follows him into the kitchen. "I'll take a beer, yeah. Am I early? Monty said 5:30."
"It's fine, don't worry about it. I was grading, I kind of lost track of time." She cocks her head at him. "I'm in grad school, getting my PhD. I'm Monty's TA, that's how we met."
She nods and accepts a beer. "Cool." There's an awkward silence; Bellamy tends to be bad with new people, especially one-on-one, and the girl is pretty and bright and he's even worse at pretty girls than he is at other human interaction.
"So--" he says, at the same time she says, "Um--" and he gives her a wry smile and gestures for her to go on. "I'm Clarke, by the way," she says, offering her hand, and Bellamy--
Well, honestly, Bellamy's entire head brain kind of shuts itself down. It's like a computer during a power outage, immediate and complete blankness, and then a slow whirring as he reboots himself.
"Clarke," he repeats, before the reboot has finished. His ears are ringing. It could be--it doesn't have to be Clarke Griffin. But 5:30 is way earlier than anyone else is showing up, and he never told Monty his soulmate's name, but all Monty would have to do would be mention her in passing and Miller would jump on it. Or Clarke could have--if she's got his name too, then she might have mentioned it to Monty, and Monty could have put it together.
"Yeah," she says. She's looking at him like she thinks he's kind of weird again, and he flushes. He deserves it.
"Sorry, just--Clarke." He wets his lips. "I'm, uh. I'm Bellamy?" It comes out like a question, but he sees the way her eyes widen, and his heartrate picks up.
"Oh," she says. "Yeah, okay. That--yeah. Hi."
"Hi." He finds himself smiling, and he probably looks insane. But Clarke's looking at him too, assessing him, and he figures she's probably not going to be offended that he's having some trouble. "Did, uh--did Monty know?"
"We hadn't really gotten to the let's talk about soulmates place yet. Although I got the impression Nate was his."
"Yeah." He worries his lip. "He probably mentioned you to Miller. Uh, Nate. I always call him Miller. That's why I was kind of weird when you asked about him, Monty's the only one who calls him that."
"You forgot your roommate's name?" Clarke asks, amused, but he thinks it might be in a good way.
"Yeah, uh, my roommate, best friend for like five years, and we dated for a while, so--it's even sadder, honestly."
She laughs, a bright peal of sound, and Bellamy has absolutely no idea what he's supposed to do with this situation. He was vaguely prepared for Clarke Griffin, he thought--he would meet some guy, and he'd be Bellamy's type, and he'd figure it out. But instead, here's this gorgeous girl, all smiling and glowing and nothing even vaguely resembling the soulmate he'd been imagining.
"So, Bellamy Blake, right?" she asks.
"Bellamy Blake."
"You're not what I pictured."
"Yeah, I know the feeling." He worries his lip. "I went through a three-year sexuality crisis over you."
"How'd that work out?"
"Probably pretty well, honestly," he admits. "If you just had an obvious girl name, I probably wouldn't have noticed I was bi. So that was cool for, you know. Learning more about myself or whatever."
She smiles a little, but it's weaker than before, to Bellamy's eye. "You must take this soulmate thing really seriously, huh?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You had a sexuality crisis over someone you'd never even met."
"Oh, well--" He rubs his neck. "It just seemed like a stupid reason to miss out on a soulmate. You could see be an asshole or whatever, but--guy didn't seem like a good enough reason to give up on it."
That gets a real smile. "Okay, yeah. I get that."
"So are you, uh--not into the soulmate thing?" he asks.
"I wouldn't go that far. I'm just--not letting it determine my entire life. I figured Bellamy Blake would show up or she wouldn't, and I'd like her or I wouldn't."
"So, no sexuality crisis for you?"
"Yeah, I was already bi. Sorry you didn't have a huge impact on my adolescent development."
"I'll live." He can't help looking her over again, taking her in. She's wearing an Ark University t-shirt, so he assumes that's where she transferred from, and a pair of old, soft jeans. She looks relaxed and sure of herself, like she knows exactly who she is, and Bellamy's honestly a little jealous. "So, what are the odds Miller and Monty never show up?"
She laughs. "You think they set us up?"
"Monty never comes until at least six, so, yeah, I think they set us up. Miller probably figured I'd freak out if he just told me."
"Would he be right?"
"Yeah, probably. I've been overthinking the whole soulmate thing since he met me."
"Okay, so--grab a beer and tell me about it," she says, and he follows her into the couch, sitting just close enough he can feel the warmth coming off her side. He's--he has no idea if he's screwed or what, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't be in any better shape if she hadn't been his soulmate. He'd just be tripping over his tongue not knowing how to flirt with her, instead of having the whole thing out in the open.
"My mom's soulmate was a dick," he says, looking down at his beer bottle.
"Not your dad?" she asks, voice mild.
"Nope. That's how we found out he was a dick. My mom got pregnant when she was seventeen, just by accident. Her high-school boyfriend. He got his soulmate right after they found out she was pregnant and offered to marry her anyway, but she didn't want to make him. And four years later, she met her soulmate, and he seemed fine, but--he hated me. As soon as my mom got pregnant with my sister, he started telling her she should get rid of me, because I reminded him she'd been with guys before him."
"Holy shit, seriously?"
"Yeah. I was too young to really get what was happening, but he said a lot of bad shit I didn't understand, and then my mom took me and left. She said I was going to have to take care of my sister, since she didn't have anyone else, and--yeah. It was fucked up." He shrugs. "I figured my sister would be my soulmate, honestly. Not like that," he adds, at her raised eyebrows. "Just--I've been taking care of her since she was born, I figured I'd just be taking care of her for the rest of my life." He leans back, rubbing his face. "Honestly, if you just had a name I knew was a girl I probably would have freaked the fuck out. Sexuality crisis distracted me from soulmate crisis, and by the time I figured that out that part, I'd sort of forgotten soulmates are fucking scary."
When he risks a glance at her, she looks a little charmed, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're kind of ridiculous, huh?"
"That's what I hear, yeah."
She regards him for a second, and then she slides closer, tucking herself in against his side. Bellamy's heart stops for a second, and then he puts his arm around her, hesitant. She laughs. "That was weird, right?"
"Let's just assume this whole thing is weird, but I never mind when a pretty girl wants to cuddle with me."
"My parents weren't soulmates either," she says. "On purpose. My dad didn't have a soulmate at all, and he and my mom met in college. They fell in love and they got married, even though she had another soulmate out there."
"And he showed up?"
"He showed up."
"And your parents broke up?"
"Not right away.That was honestly the worst part? I was thirteen when Marcus showed up, and my mom kept trying to make it work with my dad, because she loved him, you know? It didn't just go away. They tried to see if they could do a poly thing, anything, but--I dunno. It was too hard, I guess. They got divorced when I was seventeen, and I got to watch the whole thing crash and burn in slow-motion."
"Fuck."
"Basically. So I was kind of like you, I guess. I was hoping I just didn't have a soulmate."
"Huh."
She pokes him in the side. "What?"
"I just don't think that would make me decide I didn't want a soulmate, I guess. It sounds like it sucked a lot more for your dad, so--"
"I was always closer to him than my mom." She looks down, rubbing her thigh, absent, and Bellamy feels a thrill run through him when he realizes it's probably where his name is. His name is on her, and he really, really wants to see it. "As soon as your name showed up, I freaked out and stole my mom's credit card to book an immediate flight out to see my dad."
"Okay, so--no sexuality crisis, but I still caused a crisis."
"Not for long," she grumbles, and he squeezes her shoulder. She fits really nicely against him, he can't help noticing. And she smells good. It feels too soon to have kind of a massive, stupid crush on her, but he thinks if she wasn't his soulmate, it wouldn't bother him. He's attracted to people at first sight all the time. This one just feels weightier.
"So, you went to see your dad?"
"I felt like I was betraying him, I guess. Having a soulmate. Like I was letting him down. So I went and literally cried on him about it. It was a stressful day."
"What did he say?"
"That he wasn't upset, of course. He said he was happy for me, but--he honestly thought I should ignore it."
"Ignore it?"
"Marcus, my mom's soulmate, he spent the whole time he wasn't with my mom looking for her. He was obsessed with finding her. But she changed her name when she got married, so he was looking for Abigail Clarke, and she went by Abby Griffin. So Dad said he thought he got the better side of that deal. He had a wife and kid he loved, and Marcus put his life on hold for twenty years trying to find Mom. He didn't want that for me. He didn't regret anything, so he just said I should be open and honest with anyone I dated, and if I found Bellamy Blake and liked--" She smiles a little. "Liked her, I should see where it went."
"That's pretty good advice."
"Yeah." She pauses. "It still went kind of wrong."
"Maybe my story wasn't that long." She pokes him again, and he grins. "No, I want to hear."
"You're kind of a dick, you know that?"
"I know, yeah. What happened?"
"I dated a dick who didn't tell me he was a dick upfront, like you do."
"Ouch."
"He had this whole spiel about how he wasn't sure about soulmates and thought we should just live our lives like the tattoos didn't exist and it all sounded really good, like we were on the same page. But it turned out he already knew his soulmate, he'd known her his whole life, and they were still together, he was just--having cold feet about it. And he said all this stuff about how she couldn't be his soulmate if he loved me like he did, and--I might have bought it, except that if he meant all that, he should have fucking talked to her about it first, instead of cheating on her."
Bellamy rubs his thumb against her shoulder. "Yeah. When was that?"
"Last year. That's why I transferred. I was in the same town I grew up, near my mom and Marcus, and I never liked it all that much, so I just figured I'd get away and forget about everything." She gives him a rueful smile. "And then I'm here for two months and you show up."
"Hey, you came to my apartment," he teases. "I had no idea."
"Yeah, I figured if you knew you would have managed to be at least slightly cool."
"I would have," he agrees. "I'm usually really cool."
"Uh huh." She leans her head against his shoulder. "I know I'm being an asshole saying this when I'm kind of all over you, but--I'm not really ready for anything. Datingwise. I just really needed a hug."
"It's okay," he says, tightening his arm around her. "Like I said, I never mind cuddling with pretty girls." He bites his lip. "I still want to hang out. If that's--you seem cool."
"Yeah," she says. "I'd like that." She pulls away, but it's just to get her phone. "Oh, look, Monty texted something came up. And a winking emoji. Total setup."
"I'll murder Miller later," he says.
"Really?"
"No, I'm going to buy him a fucking cake."
She laughs. "You're cute."
"Yeah? Good."
She settles in more comfortably. "So, game night. Is that the kind of thing we can do with just two people?"
"Usually we just play Mario Party and swear at each other," he says. "But if we do a movie, we don't have to move."
"I like that plan," she says. She pauses and then says, "Where's your tattoo?"
"Left arm."
"Can I see?"
He frees his arm from around her, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show her the black band of letters. Her fingers ghost over it, tracing Clarke with a delicate touch.
"You're really mine, huh," she says, with something like wonder.
It's been less than an hour and it already feels inevitable. "Yeah," he says. "I'm really yours."
*
When Miller and Monty finally show up, Clarke is asleep, with her hand fisted in Bellamy's shirt, like she wants to make sure he doesn't get away, and Bellamy is unashamedly staring at her. There's a part of him that feels like it's vaguely anticlimactic that, after six years of stressing he wouldn't be sufficiently attracted to his soulmate on first sight, Clarke Griffin is a hot blonde girl who wants to snuggle and watch Netflix, but it's hard to really be upset about how the whole thing worked out for him.
He still glares at Miller, on general principle.
"You couldn't have warned me?" he asks.
"You would have freaked the fuck out."
"I still freaked the fuck out."
Miller looks significantly at the girl all tangled up in Bellamy's arms. "Yeah, looks like you really screwed it up."
"Shut up." He looks at Monty. "You couldn't have warned me either?"
Monty shrugs his shoulders. "Nate said this would be better. You should have seen his face. I've never seen him laugh so hard before."
"What exactly happened?" Clarke asks, stirring against his chest, but making no effort to move away.
Monty sits down next to them on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table. "I was telling Nate about our project, mentioned I needed to get in touch with Clarke, and he tried to kind of play it cool. You know, oh, who's Clarke, I haven't heard about him." He grins at Miller. "I thought he was jealous."
"Whatever, I was so smooth," Miller says, wandering into the kitchen for more beer.
"So I was like, she's in my biochem class. Clarke Griffin. And he just started laughing and didn't stop for like five minutes. It was actually scary."
Clarke raises her eyebrows at Bellamy, and he feels his face heat up. "Miller was there for most of my sexuality crisis," he tells her.
"It was cute," says Miller. "He really, really wanted to make sure he was going to be into you. And then Monty showed me your Facebook page and you were--" He gestures at Clarke's obvious Clarke-ness. "It was hilarious."
"I'm still kind of mad at you," Clarke tells Monty.
"Sorry. Nate made it sound like a really good idea."
Clarke looks at Bellamy in a way that makes him wish Miller and Monty weren't around and he and Clarke had been dating for like six months. "I'll eventually forgive you. But I should probably get going."
"Yeah, I guess it's getting late," Bellamy agrees, reluctant. He is a little bit annoyed that a single evening has him completely convinced the soulmate thing is correct and he wants to marry this girl, but he thinks he'd probably feel about the same even without the tattoo. Clarke is awesome.
"Hey, Nate, isn't there something we need to do somewhere else?" Monty says brightly.
"Oh yeah, definitely," says Miller, and follows Monty in the general direction of his room.
"Still going to murder you!" Bellamy calls over his shoulder.
Clarke laughs softly. "I like your friends."
"Cool. Good. I hear you need friends. My little sister is going to want to meet you too. She's overprotective."
"Okay." She worries her lip, and then leans up to press her mouth against his. Bellamy manages to resist the urge to kiss her back for all of a second, but when she shifts closer, he figures she knows what she's doing and slides his hand into her hair, slanting his mouth back against hers. The kiss is slow and easy, and it ends with Clarke in his lap and his hands up under the back of her shirt, pulling her closer.
"Uh," he says, when she finally pulls back. Her pupils are blown and her mouth is red and he wants her to stay forever. "That was--"
"Sorry, I just wanted to--" She seems to be looking for an explanation, and then she drops her face against his neck. "I just wanted to."
"You, uh--you probably shouldn't. If you're not ready for dating."
"I know. Sorry."
He laughs and presses his lips against her hair. "Yeah, uh, don't apologize. You're good. But--" He tries to figure out how to phrase it, and finally settles for, "I'm really glad you're my soulmate."
Her smile is like the fucking sun. "Me too." She extricates herself from his lap, and he follows her to the door, feeling like a lost puppy. He just doesn't really want her to leave. "So, um," she says, tucking her hair back. "I should get your number."
"Yeah," he says, and they exchange cell phones. Her background is a picture of her, grinning, with a cute boy; they look like they're in high school, and it's adorable.
"Okay, so--" she starts, looking as about as hesitant about it as he feels, and Bellamy leans in to kiss her again without really thinking about it. But she laughs against his mouth, slides her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, so he figures it's probably fine.
Clarke kisses like she's trying to win a friendly debate, demanding and hot and unyielding, but with a smile lurking around the corners of her mouth that he can taste. She seems to really like his hair, tangling her fingers in it, tugging gently to get him to change the angle of the kiss, and every time it occurs to him he should stop kissing her she'll make a small noise or nip his lip and he forgets all about it again.
Miller is never going to let him live this down.
"This is why I didn't want you to kiss me," he tells her, when she rests her face against his neck. He can feel her grin.
"Because it leads to more kissing?"
"Basically, yeah. It's harder to back off if I know you want to kiss me."
"Sorry."
"I'll work on it." His fingers twitch against her waist. "You, uh. You don't have to leave. Not in a sex way, just--you could stay."
"Because I'm your soulmate?"
"No," he says. He's compelled to add, "Okay, yeah, I wouldn't ask if you weren't, but that's because it feels less creepy when it's destiny or whatever. But it sounds like you've had a crappy year, so if you want company, I have a giant bed, and Monty's staying, so Miller's going to make some fancy breakfast tomorrow to impress him."
"And you want me to stay," she says.
"Yeah, I really do."
Clarke laughs and kisses him. "This slow thing isn't going to work at all, is it?"
"I'll try my best," he promises, and she just shakes her head, smile fond.
"Okay, show me the giant bed," she says. "You've got me curious."
*
The first morning Bellamy wakes up with his soulmate, he spends a while just looking at her, like a creeper, because he still can't quite believe she's here, with him, and he has actual, tangible proof that she's meant to be his. He's still not sure he likes or even believes in soulmates, not all the way, because it feels too easy and too uncomplicated and too difficult and messy all at once, but--he likes that Clarke is his, and that no one can argue that.
When he feels too creepy, he gets up and pulls on a t-shirt and goes to see if anyone is awake and making coffee. Luckily for him, Miller's in the kitchen, and he hands Bellamy a mug without being asked.
They sip their coffee in silence for a minute before Miller finally says, "So, you like her."
Bellamy flips him off.
"She seemed cool, I guess. Kind of hard to tell when she was just asleep or eyefucking you the whole time, but--"
"Shut up. She's not--we're taking it slow."
"Dude," says Miller, unimpressed. "She slept over."
"Yeah, but we just slept." He scrubs his hand over his face. "Look, assume I am stupid fucking into this girl already, and she seems kind of lonely, and she had a rough year, so I just want to take care of her, okay? You know how I get."
"Yeah, okay. I'm just saying, I think you need a word other than slow for when she sleeps over the first night. And you've got a hickey." Bellamy's hand flies to his neck, reflexive, and Miller smirks. "Okay, you don't, but it was clearly a possibility."
"Fuck you," he says.
"Nah. We've both got soulmates. It would be weird now."
It makes him smile. "Yeah, but if it doesn't work out and we're both forty and single--"
Miller snorts. "Yeah, Blake. You're still my backup marriage." He sobers, actually looks at Bellamy, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "You're not, I dunno--not pissed you went though all that panic and sexuality weirdness and in the end your soulmate is just a cute blonde girl you would have fucked in half a second anyway?"
"Nah," says Bellamy. "I'd be a way shittier soulmate, for one. And it was fun." He offers his fist to Miller. "No regrets?"
"No regrets," Miller agrees, and they bump on it. "You want to make your girlfriend French toast?"
"I really do," Bellamy says, and they get to work.