A/N: This is my first "The 100" story, so feedback would be nice.
Disclaimer: I don't own The 100.
After Clarke left, things were semi-okay.
Things at Camp Jaha went smoothly, and everybody pretended they didn't hear Bellamy's bouts of anger late at night.
He would scream, "Damnit" over and over, going out into the forest and punching the trees and the ground.
Morning would come, and nobody would question his bloody knuckles.
Not even Octavia dared talk about Bellamy's antics.
Because they all knew why.
He would never admit that he missed Clarke. That he loved her.
He didn't have to.
Everybody knew.
When Clarke finally came back, looking like she was a different person, Bellamy continued his screaming rants in the forest.
One night, they stopped short, and Bellamy and Clarke walked around Jaha with their hands intertwined.
Bellamy's scream riots happened ocasionally, but they were calmed.
Bellamy was the storm, and Clarke had tamed the storm.
A/N: I hope you liked it! There will be a slightly detached sequel later!
PEACE!