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bellarkefanfiction · 6 years

Text

Baby, we're an artistic coincidence

written by: josefine / @selflessbellamy

prompt: "You keep requesting the book I need so I can’t have it the whole time and we leave each other passive aggressive notes in the margins" for anonymous

word count: 2564

If Athena had lived today, her black dress would be set aflame by the ravaging war behind her, there would be a chess piece tattooed across her collarbone: the knight, symbolizing strategic warfare. No doubt she would have a bruised face with a cut lip but her pace would carry her proudly through the battlefield. At least, this is how Clarke Griffin captures her in a modern format, drawing all of the curves and lines that make up a goddess.

She’s been reading The Iliad for reference. Despite her interest in mythology she’s never actually read that classic before, but now that it’s vital for her studies, she has to. If only the asshole that keeps reserving the book from the library would just let her have it for more than a week at a time.

Annoyed, she’d walked into the library that morning, sipping on her hot chocolate. The first unsuspecting librarian she encountered was the target of her frustration (but not even that could possibly cloud how cute he was).

“Isn’t it possible for me to have this book for longer? I really need it for my studies.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the rules. The other person claimed that he needed it to write a novel, but I don’t know. He looked like a college student to me.” At that, the librarian had smirked, just a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth, but that was enough to send her away, since she wasn’t keen on getting distracted by anything — at least not until her project was finished.

For hours, she sits by one of the tables in the library, struggling to finish the portrait of Athena before she has to turn the book over, which she does. However, she still has three art pieces to go: Artemis, Nyx, and Nike. Feeling exhaustion seep into her bones, Clarke makes an impulsive decision that she knows she’ll most likely regret, but before she has the time to, she opens the book and scribbles a short message in the margin of the first place.

Now, are you really writing a book or is it a bullshit excuse?

I need this book, otherwise I’m gonna fail my course.

Hope it’s a damn good WIP.

Then she closes it again before handing it over to the cute librarian, and they exchange smiles. Somehow, it places guilt in her heart, sort of like she’s disappointed him in a way by writing in the book… Whatever, she doesn’t even know this man.

***

A week later, the book is hers again, which leads her to the library. By now, her drawing of Athena has been filled in with gorgeous watercolors, and she’s surprisingly proud of it. Since her dad died last year, her inspiration has come and gone like a tidal wave, which is more than frustrating when your future depends on the work that you create.

Grinning slightly this time, the librarian hands her The Iliad, and suddenly a question emerges from Clarke’s lips without permission. “Sorry, but would it be weird if I’d like to know your name? We see each other so often by now, it just… feels a bit strange—“

“Not at all. My name’s Bellamy.”

She smiles. “I’m Clarke.”

When she opens to book, ready to start her drawing of Artemis, a mysterious blue Post-It has been placed in the margin of the first page, directly below where she wrote her passive aggressive message a week ago. Now, that’s been erased.

On the Post-It, the other Iliad-reader has written:

DON’T YOU KNOW IT’S WRONG TO WRITE IN BOOKS, PRINCESS?

SHAME ON YOU ;)

(AND YES, I AM IN FACT WRITING A BOOK)

Block letters? Who writes in block letters like that? Well, when they’re not yelling at someone on social media, that is. Needless to say, it’s uncommon. Thought #2: What the hell is that winking smiley face supposed to mean? As everyone knows, the use of it can be interpreted in a million different ways, so… is this guy a creep? Is he just trying to be sassy, what’s going on?

Before her mind loses to all of the unanswered questions, Clarke stops her train of thought, reminding herself that she has some very important work to do, and she has no intention of letting anything prevent her from it.

It takes a few minutes for the full image of a modern Artemis to take shape in her imagination, but when it does, Clarke wastes no time. Keeping a strict focus as a young huntress starts to appear on the piece of paper, she hardly notices someone brush past her. Later, she finds out that it’s Bellamy, because he reveals it once she’s about to leave.

“I hope you don’t mind me trying to sneak a peek at your drawings. They’re really good… Are you doing a project?”

At those words, Clarke lights up, spinning around on her heel so that she can walk back towards him. “Yes. It’s a series of art pieces that depict some Greek goddesses in modern time,” as soon as she’s said that, Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up, exposing his interest and surprise.

“Which ones are you doing?”

“Oh, you like Greek mythology?”

He chuckles at her question, running a hand through his curly, dark hair: it’s attractively messy, and for a moment she’s more than tempted to move it out of his eyes. Nevertheless, she catches herself at the last minute, placing her hand on the counter.

“I’ve read The Iliad myself a couple of times,” he admits at last, grinning.

Curious, she meets his dark brown eyes for a second before her gaze unconsciously drifts to the dusting of freckles across his cheeks. He would be difficult to draw, she notes: the lines of his face vary in hardness, and there seems to be no shortage of beautiful features that she would hardly be able to do any justice, like the small crinkles around his eyes. Before she becomes too carried away, Clarke starts to tell him more about her project. “I’m doing five different ones. Athena, Artemis, Nyx, Nike, and Aphrodite… I’ve only done two by now, and the project is due in two weeks. This is why I keep returning for the book.”

Bellamy hesitates for almost an entire minute, then says, carefully, “Wouldn’t it save you some time if you bought a copy?”

Worrying her lips, Clarke explains, “I’ve looked, but they’re all newer versions and somehow restored. I wanted my references to be as traditional and unrestored as possible just so that the pieces could have some authenticity.”

If his facial expression is anything to go by, Bellamy didn’t expect that reply at all. When he finally speaks, the only words that emerge are of understanding, “Yeah, okay. I see that…”

Shrugging, Clarke heads for the door again, saying, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to buy a copy. Thank you. See you tomorrow.“

But she’s barely taken two steps towards the door before Bellamy stops her in her tracks, “Clarke, wait! I— Maybe I can talk to the other reservation-holder and ask if he would mind letting you have the book for the next couple of weeks?”

Turning her head, she manages to smile at him. “No, I wouldn’t want you to go through that trouble for my sake. Have a nice evening—“

“But…”

She can tell that he’s holding something important back and he’s pulling himself together in order to say it, yet meanwhile, amid the silence, Clarke’s eyes dart to a small stack of blue Post-it’s at the left end of the counter. It doesn’t take her long to put two and two together, and while there’s still a possibility that she’s wrong, she decides to jump the gun. “… So you’re writing a book. Is it in block-letters?”

At that, he looks up, noticing the smile on her face, and he immediately seems relieved that she’s not angry with him.

“No, I’m using my 20th century typewriter. That’s why it’s taking so long,” he jokes, making her laugh. That alone is enough to baffle her, since most people haven’t been able to make her laugh in the past months. Her dad passing doesn’t have her in tears anymore, but the traces of the grief sadly still linger, which has made it more difficult for her to enjoy things. “I’m sorry about the Post-It,” he continues sheepishly, pulling her back to reality. “But I can’t bring myself to write in books… Unlike some people.”

“Are you judging me?”

He shakes his head as his smile grows wider. “No, and you can have the book. I’ll just use the old one I have at home,” Wait, if he already had The Iliad at home, why would he need the one from the library so badly? Before she can gather the courage to ask, Bellamy apparently reads her mind, because he explains, “The one I have is an heirloom that’s been passed on through three generations. When my mother died, she left it to me because she knew that I loved it so much, but I’m afraid that it’s falling apart now. The spine is ruined, and the pages can’t handle much more turning—“

Before he can speak any more, the thought that has struck Clarke’s mind eagerly escapes her throat. “You know what? We should share the book… How do you like your coffee, Bellamy? You look like a ‘none of that sugar-and-milk bullshit’ guy to me,” with that, she winks, prompting him to wink back at her, which indicates that she was right.

***

They take the book to the nearest coffee shop. Once they’ve received their orders of caffeine, Bellamy pulls out a notepad from his bag and Clarke places her favorite set of pencils on the table. “I never asked you what your book was about…”

At that, his smile turns crooked as he lets his pen graze the tip of her nose. “Well, I think you’ll like it. It’s about the ancient Greek gods and goddess in our modern world.”

Obviously, she thinks he’s joking at first, because there’s simply no way that they’re working on the exact same idea, but he looks really serious. Sending her a crooked grin, Bellamy seems to be aware of her doubt and decides to pass her his notes as evidence: In block letters, there are incredible details about Athena’s tattoos and outfit choices, about Artemis’ pact with nature, about Aphrodite’s self-love.

“Maybe we can help each other out.”

Chuckling, he replies, “Yeah. If you promise me you’ll never write in a book again.”

So that’s what they do every day for the next two weeks. They meet up in the library or in the coffee shop to share their ideas and keep each other company while they work, even if it’s for hours on end until the stars come out. Quickly, they discover that they have a shared passion for snacking while working, but in order to do that, they’re forced to change the location of their meet-ups. Luckily, the park seems like the perfect spot.

“What did you bring for me?” He teases when she shows up, carrying a plastic Target bag, but she only sticks her tongue out at him.

“Not for you. For us… Skittles, Oreos, Hershey’s and Nerds.”

“You read my mind.”

Sitting on the grass next to Bellamy as rays of sunshine fall onto his face is distracting; it makes his skin resemble growing bronze and his eyes remind her of the forest floor on a summer’s day. Worrying her bottom lip, Clarke asks for his opinion, “Aphrodite… She’s difficult. How do you picture her?”

Clearly thinking hard, Bellamy picks a purple Skittle from the bag, offering her a red one, since it’s her favorite. Then he says, “I picture her having long strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. And she would wear one of those maxi dresses, for sure.”

“White or pink flowing fabric?”

“Pink, definitely.”

As Clarke sketches, she senses Bellamy’s gaze on her, which makes it a little more difficult to focus, and yet a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at the thought of him being interested in her work. In fact, having someone else care about her project has made her more passionate about it, and she has even gone back to the older sketches to add more details after talking to Bellamy about them.

“You’re extremely talented,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. “The way you capture silhouettes is just… Does it run in the family?”

At his question, Clarke stalls, the pencil hovering over the drawing while she tries to prevent herself from trembling. Judging by the way he places his hand on his shoulder comfortingly, her sadness peeks through her rough exterior despite her efforts to hide it. Swallowing, she croaks, “My dad was an artist. He never got to witness my acceptance at RISD.”

It’s easier to talk to him about it, knowing that his mother’s gone, too. Losing a parent is unimaginable to most people, and the only ones who know just how deep the pain of it cuts, are those that have experienced it.

“I’m sure he would be proud of you.”

That’s it; those words break her shield, make her walls crumble, so that tears are running down her cheeks before she’s even realized it. To no avail, she attempts to catch them all with the back of her hand, but when Bellamy turns around to hug her, she finds that the soft material of his blue Henley absorbs them a lot better.

After a minute, she stops crying and pulls back to let the sunshine dry her cheeks, yet Bellamy’s thumbs do so first. Overwhelmed by his softness, she says, “I want to draw the cover for your book once it’s published.”

“If it is published, you mean,” he smiles sweetly, but she shakes her head.

“No, when it’s published.”

He’s already promised her the honor of being the first person to read the prologue of the novel, which is nearly done, and she’s practically buzzing with excitement at the thought. No matter what, she intends to be his biggest supporter in finishing it, not only because it sounds amazing, but also because he is much kinder than he gives himself credit for.

In fact, it seems very much as if he doesn’t give himself any credit at all…

***

When she receives an A for the art pieces, Clarke desperately wants to give him the credit that he deserves for being an amazing encourager and partner during this project. Knowing that she can’t, however, causes her to find another way to thank him for everything.

He’d given her The Iliad on the last day before she had to turn her project in, assuring her that she needed it more than him at that point, but now she’s ready to return it after having placed a new sticky note on the front cover.

Would you like to go out some time?

- C

When she hands it to him, and he reads it, Bellamy radiates, deciding to act like an adorable dork by writing his response below her message instead of telling her.

Some time like now? I’m off. Coffee? ;)

There’s the winking smiley again, although this time, Clarke’s not at all confused by the meaning of it…

#bellarke fanfiction #bffnet #a: selflessbellamy #bffwritingteam #wt: josefine #title: baby we're an artistic coincidence #oneshots #modern au #librarian!bellamy #writer!bellamy #artist!clarke #meet cute #strangers to friends to lovers #fluff #prompts

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