#wolfscldier

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. - Julius Caesar ( William Shakespeare ) // written by tot. // @osleyaa

First - They were young, still children with dreams as stars that floated amongst the stars with them. Children who ran down the corridors, wide-eyed and laughing. So full of life and happiness. Nothing sad could touch them in a ways it did with the adults. Stuffed animals were considered best friends, people were always friendly, always joking about their ideas as children who only saw the universe as a storyboard, something that would grow with their imagination as time ticked on. They were in a corridor, alone. A soccer ball, tattered but full of air sat between them. Bellamy had been kicking it against a wall with ease and playfulness. His body was full of energy, his small limbs needing a way to exert the pent up energy of being stuck in their flat all day, watching a baby who wasn't suppose to be born. Aurora was home, promises made that Octavia would be okay and taken care of, believing was so easy at such a young age that he didn't think twice about the faux words of a woman that was meant to be their mother. A breath, and the young boy is all smiles, laughter like the sound of music from the concerts he'd sneak in to watch the clips of with the others who could afford the tickets. Hale stood in front of him. His eyes as bright as the stars and they were so young, so innocent. All it took was a few spoken, playful words, a nudge of a single shoulder and Bellamy leans in to peck the other on his lips, a kiss that was so innocent, no would've questioned it and even back then, his heart had already knew the truth, he was just too young to understand what it meant.

Second - Octavia's a toddler now and they're teenagers. Life isn't young and innocent anymore. It's full of guilt and pain. Things are shifting now and it's not the same bright eyed world he once saw as a child. The universe isn't just a drawing board but a story book and not all the chapters are happy. There's a pain in his chest, an ache, one that he can't describe because he's never felt it before but he's read it in the books the library has. He comes and goes from there. Constantly checking out new books, sneaking them out of the room and taking them home to read to his sister who wasn't suppose to exist. He likes to read her books about history because it's his favorite subject but he knows hers is a mixture so he brings her books of Princesses and Kings. He reads her mythology stories about the Gods and Goddesses of all across the world, there isn't one group he focuses on, even if his favorite is a mix of Roman and Greek. He takes home movies on their projection screen and shows her the things that people, over a hundred years ago, would watch for entertainment and he loved to watch how her features lit up with the characters would be happy and do things that saved their friends. He'd save the sports games for his own time when he needed to be alone in the library. He'd been seeing people in their beds, in the hidden nooks of corridors but there was always one person he'd come back to. Hale. Fingers shake, limbs feel heavy as if gravity had been kicked up higher than normal and his mind overworks a million miles a minute but he's alone with Hale in a room and he's confessing a secret that he's never told anyone. He's explaining how he has a sister. How he shares rations every day to keep her fed. How he saves her and why he skips out on classes because he needs to keep her safe. When words leave his lips and Hale's reply comes, Bellamy doesn't wait, he leans in, hands cup the other's cheek and he kisses him. It's long, it's full of passion and a mixture of tears upon star spattered cheeks and when it ends, he's left breathless, gasping for the air his lungs desperately need.

Third - The ground was something so unexpected. A whole new world that took words from his tired lips. That had showed him things he never would've ever knew existed. Earth Skills had been meant to prepare them for this moment but in reality, nothing had set them up for what they faced. Death had been so quick. Guilt piled upon itself and the weight of the world had almost become unbearable. It weighed down so heavily that his knees shook every day. He made mistakes that would never leave him. Nightmares stuck in his mind long after he'd wake up in cold sweat, gasping and pleading for air and light in a darkness he couldn't snuff out. Bones felt tired and skin felt tattered and torn. His heart would give anything to be that little boy that got lost on the Ark without care or concern. The universe was not just a story book, but a novel, bent and frayed with corners of pages torn as markers in chapters that held a significance in life. Heart lays heavy and on the verge of broken in a cage he had built out of steel for protection. Armor is worn like a second skin to keep himself safe and he'd rather these kids see him as an enemy meant to lead than a friend willing to hold their hand in times of hardship. Though, that never lasted and he couldn't keep the emotions in check. Life had never really been kind, even if it had given him the one thing that made him soft, that wasn't his sister. Time had passed and the others joined them on Earth's unforgiving floor. Blood dried to features, stars that lined his cheeks weren't nearly as visible as all the other times their lips met but this time, the kiss was thankful, pleading, almost spilling every little secret that Bellamy kept hidden under lock and key. *I love you.* spills in the kiss upon unspoken words. *Please stay* words that have been spoke in a form of love but without the eight letters attached to them. Hale was more than just someone he returned to in bed. Hale had every piece of his fragile heart. Every piece of the soul that was only shone behind hazelnut eyes. Every part of the universe they saw as kids out the large bay windows of a metal home they thought they'd never leave.

Fourth - Months have passed and they're finding survivors of other fallen stations. Farm station has shown the most promise and he's glad that there are survivors. It's nice to watch Monty be reunited with his mother but it's hard to hear about the death of the other's father. Desperation is starting to settle in over camp. Those who have taken charge don't quite understand the ground the way the original delinquents do and no matter how many explanations have been given, they just won't listen. Frustration lies in bones and anger out wins when he's left alone. Knuckles bloody more often than not due to a wall or a trunk of a tree. Hale's there. Hale's the reason he hasn't lost himself completely. The guilt is becoming too much and his mind won't turn off anymore. Stolen moments help more than he'll ever be able to say but there's something there and a man whose willing to use manipulation to get when he wants, what he needs to make people listen and follow him. Pike is the wedge that comes in and bases itself at Bellamy's feet. Telling him what he wants to hear, not what he needs to hear. Manipulating his mind. Believing that he's truly responsible for all the blood that's been shed, the people he couldn't save. He's lost himself this time and he's not sure if he can come back. With time, things change. His heart has always stayed with Hale, even when the bed was empty. Even when there were nights that sleep never came. Death was at their doorstep. The lone survivor from the Mountain was hellbent on his revenge for his people's lives and spoken words of I love you, Hale Ashwood finally fall from his lips as if it might be the last chance they'll ever get to see each other. To know how his heart felt and how in the end, it'll always be Hale. It's always been Hale. There's never been anyone else. There will never be anyone else. When cuffs are released and lungs are full again, calloused palms cup lover's cheeks and he's kissing him. Emotion, love, passion, ever feeling pours into the action. It's slow, it's beautiful and the world isn't a factor anymore. No one else exists but them in that moment and there's another whisper. I love you breathes against lips and his kissing him again. It takes, what feels like ages for the others, for him to finally pull himself away long enough for them to stand.

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Aurora's flowing brunette strands cascaded down her back like a waterfall. She looked beautiful, even in the reset light of their home. Her smile was dashed in red lips and her eyes surrounded with black liner. His mother radiated what Octavia was given and he could see it in both of them. He stood at her doorway, his gaze upon her sculpted features. She looked tired. She was leaving for the night. She was always gone for the night. He couldn't remember the last time she had stayed at home and ate dinner with them as a family. Hell, he couldn't even remeber the last time she had stayed a full day in the house aside from making sure he was still alive and his sister hadn't broke anything that she'd have to pay for. That and to change her clothes for the next night out that would pass into morning. When he was a kid, he used to stay up into the long, early hours of the coming morning, worrying with guilt and concern if his mother would be home in time for breakfast. In the beginning, he hated that he was the one that had to tuck Octavia in when she was a child, asking for the mother that he almost wished they never had. He wonders how their life would've been if they had just been alone? Would Octavia had turned out differently? Neither one of them had a father and when the day grew to night, and Octavia asked questions, Bellamy was left scrambling for the right words to explain to her that they were alone. That even though they had a mother, they really only had each other. The only family that ever mattered were them. Then fate decided to be cruel. It always was.

His expression sombers. There's a bloom of heat that starts to crack inside his chest. He tries so hard to be strong. He tries so desperately to hold it all together but then he days where it's almost impossible to remind himself that he's not Atlas and he doesn't have to carry the weight of the world alone. He's not alone. He hasn't been for a long time but his body shakes and he feels the track of tears as the start the decent down his star spattered cheeks. His breath is gargled as he tries to stop the sob from escaping, his shoulders shaking in it's wake. The picture smiled at him. It gave a light that the sun couldn't but he didn't know this version of his own mother. He had never seen her like this. Even when he was an only child. He had always been alone. She left him. The only son she wanted and she left him. She would've rather had her fun than be the parent she was suppose to be. The first few years that he couldn't remember, he wonders if they were good. He wonders if she loved him then because he didn't feel that for as long as he could remember. Why would a mother love her son but then leave him alone? Why would she abuse his sister and want nothing to do with her when she made her boy happy? Was he a monster to start with or had he grown in that? Was he born with blood already on his hands? Had he been the cause of his father leaving or was that her entirely? Did she blame him for this world and the way it treated her? He was just a boy. How was he suppose to know better? How was he suppose to do anything? He was a helpless boy who should've tried harder.

The tightness in his chest grows larger, spreading through is body and the sobs come in waves now. He lets the picture fall to the floor. It's staring at him. Silently judging the son he had became. The man that was sitting on the bed, his facade breaking at it's seams. He was the monster he saw in the mirror. He let her die. He let her bleed out in his arms years ago today. He was fifteen. He couldn't do anything. He wasn't strong enough to help her. He was scared. God, was he scared. The gun had gone with it's owner. The blood ran a river of crimson under the knees of his jeans where he collapsed on the dark alleyway streets. Her breath was choked in her own blood that gave a careful line from her lips. Her eyes, they had once been so bright, now looked at him with a fading light. He reached for her, his hands lifting her to his arms. He should've saved her. He should've done /something/ to stop the bleeding but he just sat there. Holding her as she slowly died. Her final words weren't nice. A gargled angry, /do something, please./ and he knew he should. He had his phone. He could've called for help but there was no guarntee she'd survive. Nothing to save her and as the light drained from her features, he thought of his sister. He promised to protect her and he couldn't. He couldn't keep her safe from their mother and the only way he could was to let her go. And so he laid her back upon the concrete, her weak fingers grasping at the neck of his shirt, grasping for whatever hope he was suppose to give her. Whatever reassuarce was suppose to leave his lips to tell her that she was okay but there was nothing and there never would be. In his mind, her death would save Octavia from every wrong thing she ever did to her. In his mind, he was keeping the promise he made her birth. If he had to let Aurora die, then he would, but he knew, God did he know, that this was and would always be his fault.

He hadn't heard the door open, even as his body moved from the edge of the bed, he slid down it's side, collaposing to the floor. His knees are pulled to his chest and he's breaking. He doesn't break. His training has taught him to bottle this. To keep it all down inside of him and not let it see the light of day. This was a weakness in anyone's eyes but he couldn't stop the sobs as they shook his shoulders, the tears coming in waves. He feels like he can't breath and shakes his head, his tousled hair tossing around his head. He doesn't care who's going to hear him. Who walked through that door. He just wants to cry and scream out loud to the void. "It's my fault." He starts, his words are as broken as he must look on the outside. A broken boy who wants nothing more than to curl up and let death wrap him in it's darkness. He was nothing like who his mother probably wanted him to be. At least, the mother in his mind. "She died because of me." He chokes out, his arms wrapping tighter around his legs, his fingers curling, forming fists, the anger bubbling. He's mad at the world. Mad at the date, but he's mostly mad at himself for not trying hard enough to save her. To try and stop it from happening. For letting her die in his arms. What kind of son was he to let his own mother perish in his grasp? "I'm...a monster."

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