Bellarke Oneshots and Prompts

5.

Based on the prompt:
Imagine your OTP before they're dating, only crushing on each other. Person A accidentally runs into a flagpole while talking to Person B and their nose starts bleeding. They use this as an excuse to spend time together.

She was a freshman. Probably eighteen years old. He was a junior, and doing his best to keep up good grades while working two jobs to support himself and his younger sister.
They were in the same biology class: one where she excelled, and his grades were dismal. It was his worst subject. He liked dissections, though.
He'd been crushing on her for months, if you could call it that. He'd been with at least four other girls since he met her, but she was constantly on his mind.
They'd had a couple conversations about homework, exchanged a few snarky comments on the way to class, and shared notes a couple times. Nothing serious, nothing to indicate that they were anything more than classmates. Acquaintances, if you will. And they weren't.
But Clarke had been eyeing this strange dark-haired boy for months, always too afraid to say anything that wasn't related to their biology work. Today would be the day.
When class ended, Bellamy was the first one out of the room, as always. Clarke got the idea that he wasn't really one for crowded places, and preferred to be outside. She stood to follow quickly, throwing her bag over her shoulder carelessly. She had to practically jog to catch up with him, his long legs taking steps twice as big as hers.
"Hey! Bellamy!" she called when she got close enough. His head turned, and he stopped to wait for her, a light smile on his face.
"What's up, Clarke?" he asked, looking down at her as she fell into step with him.
Oh. She was supposed to have something to say.
"Um...I wasn't really paying attention today in class. Is there any way I could get your notes?" she asked shyly. The corner of Bellamy's mouth turned up as he tried not to grin. That was a flat out lie. Every time he'd glanced over at her, which was quite often, she'd been totally engrossed in their professor's speech.
"Sure. Here, let me get them for you," he began, swinging his own backpack to his side so he could unzip it and rifle through in search of his biology notebook.
"Thanks. I appreciate it. Hey, before finals maybe we can grab coffee and study some night--" She broke off as she slammed into a flag pole, taking a step back in surprise. Bellamy jumped at the impact, dropping his backpack on the ground.
"Are you okay, Clarke? Look at me," he ordered, sounding worried. Clarke turned to look at him, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment and a hand covering her nose and mouth. He gently pulled her hand away and grimaced.
"Ouch," he muttered sympathetically. "You really hit that one." Clarke glared, but shook her head.
"Oh my god, I'm such a klutz," she mumbled, looking at the blood on her hand. Bellamy was already kneeling down, looking through his backpack. He pulled out a small pack of Kleenex and handed a few tissues to her as he swung his pack back on.
"Come on. I'll take you back to your dorm," he offered as she took the tissue and held it to her still-bleeding nose.
"That's really not necessary, I can--"
"I'm taking you back to your dorm," Bellamy repeated firmly, taking her arm and beginning to walk, more slowly than before. Clarke huffed, and Bellamy bit back a smile.
"You know, you can get my attention without breaking your nose. I'm not that thickheaded," he told her with a smirk. Clarke blushed and smacked his arm, and he laughed. "By, say....going to study for finals with me." His smiled widened as she rolled her eyes.
"Sure, Bellamy. I'll try that approach next time."
"I'll check up on you tonight."
"No."
"I will."
"No!"
"See you tonight, Griffin."