"How is she?" Bellamy asks his sister, standing with her outside her roommates door. The girl shakes her head, the hall light flickering with every clap of thunder. "I dunno. She hasn't said much since dinner." Bellamy nods, but as he reaches for the cold metal handle that he has turned millions of times, Octavia grabs his left arm. "Bell... When she came out for dinner..." She trails off, and the tears pooling in her eyes makes Bellamy nervous and frightened. "O, what is it? What happened?"
"She was wearing sleeves again Bell. She was wearing sleeves." Bellamy feels his body go limp, but he does not fall. He gathers his sister into his arms, and let's her sob into his shoulder. "I-I thought she-thought she wou-would never wear sleeves ag-again." Octavia gasps, but Bellamy has no words. His face is slack, and he refuses to let tears shed. After a few minutes, the two pull apart, and the older Blake offers the younger a sad, pained smile. "Go to sleep. I'll take care of her." Nodding, the brunette turns, making her way to the end of the hall, and slips behind the brightly coloured door before closing it. Turning in front if him, Bellamy notes the missing paintings and pictures of various events before pushing the scratched wood open. The room inside is dark, and not just because of the absence of the sun. The curtains are pulled tight across the window, not letting even lightening brighten up the small space. Dark paint has been thrown on the walls, and the room seems to be destroyed. The only source of light is from the hallway, and a column of comfort snakes it's way along the darkness, illuminating all the way to the bed at the far wall, under the windows. Bellamy walks into the room, with each step moving closer to the figure lying almost peacefully in the sheets. When he reaches her, he sits on the edge of her bed, and studies her face. Blonde hair covers most of it, but he slowly and delicately moves the golden locks, and he feels his heart shatter. This girl, the one who had always been so strong and brave and fearless, now had dark bruises along her jawline, and cuts and scrapes mix in with her complexion. The minimal amount of light brightens up her face, and makes the injuries that much more gruesome. Her face is also red and blotchy, but what really catches his attention is her arms, the left under her head, and the right lying next to face. They are covered with a think, black sweater, and a part of Bellamy doesn't want to believe that his brave princess has gone back to wearing sleeves. His wish that it is all a dream is burned and buried when he slides down the dark material. "Oh Clarke..." Bellamy leans his head down, placing his forehead gingerly to hers. "...Bell?" A sleepy voice mutters from under him, and he lifts his head, looking into pale blue eye. When she registers that her sleeve is down, and sees the look in his eyes, she breaks down in a fresh fit of tears, curling up in his lap. Most would have frozen, but Bellamy gladly accepts her in his arms, and lets her cry into his jacket. "I-I'm so-sorry."
"Hey, princess, this isn't your fault."
"But I- I promised- no- no more sle-sleeves!" Her words come out as a desperate scream, but this only makes the young man's grip around her grow tighter. "Shhh. We can talk about that in the morning. For now, rest." He gently lifts her back into her bed, and turns towards the door when a breathy, cracking voice makes him stop. "Please don't leave me." Within a minute, Bellamy sheds his jacket and shoes, sliding in behind the girl that meant more to him than she knew. As her breathing slows and the gasping sobs stop, Bellamy shakes his head. "Never." The two soon fall asleep, Bellamy with his arms wrapped tightly around a petite waist, Clark with her arms around his as they doze off into a peaceful night. It didn't matter what would happen in the morning, because whatever happened, Bellamy would always be there to protect his princess.
