#karly605

Bellamy has his hands behind his hand, away from the figure lying on him. He swallows as an image of Clarke passes his mind—his body jolts. His mind is getting heavier now and his stomach is twisting in nerves. He shakes his head to rid of her, but her picture keeps coming back. Oh no. Bellamy is not someone who thinks about someone else while another girl is in his bed.

He needs air.

_______________________

The next morning, Bellamy walks over to his sister laughing at something Jasper and Monty said. Finn is there with Raven and Miller and Monroe…and Clarke. They say their hello’s but nothing extends after that. He’s getting that queasy feeling in his stomach again.

Octavia smiles and tells Bellamy about Monty’s failed attempt on cutting open a deer. She’s making these huge hand gestures and faces, and neither one stops themselves from laughing out loud. Bellamy shares the humour and tells Octavia that if Blake’s are made to be hunters so can everyone else. Obviously, his sister insults him on being a bravo man. This earns him a giggle from Clarke.

He looks at her—she’s looking at him, just long enough to let him know she was having fun, like he always said she needed to be. Bellamy frowns and parts his mouth open, wanting to say something, but the thicken sound of his heartstrings pulling halts him. No, this isn’t love; it’s ridiculous.

He looks away.

All in that moment, Bellamy hears it: the slice of air; the piercing sound of a sharp whistle flowing past them. Bellamy’s world crumbles. The screams that echo his eardrums go mute. His eyes are glaring at the offending arrow that has made its way straight into Octavia’s heart.

He can’t feel anything; he doesn’t know what is being said to him or said to her. All he can see is Octavia staring at him with blood dripping out of her mouth. He catches her as she falls. That one touch sends his mind into complete and utter panic.

Bellamy can hear himself scream at her, to will her in staying alive. Her skin is still warm but just barely, which is weird because her cheeks were flushed seconds ago. He’s pressing her against his chest, rocking her back and forth. What is happening? This cannot be happening…his mind is everywhere!

It’s only when he looks up at Clarke his mind goes numb and his heart rips into shreds. She’s gone.______________________

Bellamy doesn’t leave his tent for days. Whenever someone enters he either lashes out of ignores them. The tears are dried, and his stomach is doing summersaults while being stabbed constantly. He can see her laughter before it smothers to an emotionless expression. He can see the day where he held her in his arms for the first time. He sees it all, but he doesn’t cry.

No, he doesn’t cry alone.

Bellamy hears her before he sees her enter his tent. There’s a stirring in his gut, but the affect is dull and pointless. He’s in too much pain to think about her and why he’s feeling this way.

Clarke sits beside him and automatically takes his hand. It’s like throwing a cold, ice bucket of water of his head, because he’s squeezing her hand tightly and his eyes are getting misty. He was wrong; the tears never left him.

He breaks down in front of her, sobbing with a passionate cry that no person alive can ever wish to hear. Clarke remains steady and holds his hand as tight as he wishes. Bellamy feels her other hand pulling him down to her lap where the tears are immediately soaking through the fabric. Neither one says anything while she fingers his hair in a soothing motion.

Time ticks like death is on their heels.

Hours go by.

Silence haunts them into oblivion.

Clarke has not gone anywhere….yet.

“Stay.”

She’s rubbing his knuckles and fiddling with his hair when he says this. When she hears him crock out his demand, she stills. She attempts to separate their hands—Bellamy whimpers a little (he never whimpers) and clasps their hands together again.

Clarke gently sighs as she slips off her shoes. Bellamy gets the point straight away. With their hands entwined together, they make do with the efforts of removing anything not required for bed. Once Bellamy and Clarke are under the sheets, Clarke takes her time with the blanket, making sure it smothers Bellamy in its heat.

They say nothing in the silence of Bellamy’s empty, dead tent. They hold hands as they face each other. Clarke moves to kiss Bellamy’s white knuckles, her own tears slipping from her face. He follows suit in silence.

Clarke scoots over. Bellamy is breathing in her scent. His throat is dry and his stomach is doing that crazy flip shit. He swears in his head a million times over as he thinks about Octavia and what she would probably say if he had told her.

It’s ridiculous at how responsive her voice sounds in his head.

_________________________

He’s with someone tonight; holding his hand. She’s a pretty blonde with dirty hair and a tear stained face. Her hands are soft but so is her heart. And Bellamy mourns his sister like orphans outside his tent. He has no blood family left; they have been taken from his hands.