A/N: I don't own The 100 or it's characters. Enjoy :)
Oh yeah, sorry about the grammar last chapter. It was originally in third person pov but then I switched it to first and I guess I didn't see that paragraph or two. Just ignore it please.
Bellamy's pov:
I felt a nudge at my shoulder, someone trying to wake me up out of my sleeping state. I opened my eyes to see Clarke sitting up in the hospital bed, still pale from the night before.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" I asked in a soft voice. She smiled, "Better."
"How long have you been awake?" I questioned with concern. She looked tired, exhausted actually. "You should get some sleep."
"I just slept, like, three hours. I don't need sleep. Y'know sometimes I think you worry too much."
"Well, yeah you almost died Clarke," I responded. She took my hand in hers again, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I was worried."
"I'm okay, Bell," she smiled once more. That same smile that I love to see. The smile that lights up the room and makes my stomach flutter. She looked down at her hands that sat in her lap. "When do you think Praimfaya will be over? A few day, maybe weeks at most, right?"
"I don't know," I answered honestly. The corners of her mouth turned up into an exhausted smile. "I hope we can get outside soon, we're going to run out of food. We have, what? A week of foodand water left, which means a shit ton of rationing."
She smirked. "Oh yeah? Like we haven't had to do that on the Ark. We got this Bellamy," her mouth turned up in confidence.
"Let's get you out of bed," I held out my hand for her to take it, and she did so gracefully. I pulled her off of the white mattress, realized that we both still had our rubber suits on. "Oh, uh sorry that I let you fall asleep in this. I didn't want to touch you without your permission." My cheeks heated up.
"Thank you," she said sincerely with a half smile and a small blush as well.
"Of course," I responded playfully. Her eyes twinkled and she started unzipping the suit, revealing a worn long sleeve shirt and dark jeans. I zipped off my suit too, as if just remembering that I had it on. What is going on with me?
Clarke's knees wobbled once again and she grabbed onto my arm to steady herself. I managed to glance down at her hand that hand a tight hold onto my elbow and sent shivers up my spine. I begged for her to let go so she couldn't feel me shaking. Shaking from her cold fingertips. Shaking with relief that I wasn't alone down here. Shaking with fear that she'd get hurt and it'd be all my fault.
I ushered her down the stairs to where the boxes of packaged food sat, collecting dust. I sat her down gently on the nearest chair, making sure I didn't go far enough so that I couldn't see her. I rifled through the boxes, finding a bag of dried nuts. I tossed the pack to Clarke without looking, knowing she would catch it.
I then ran up the stairs to find the canteens that held all of the water. The only water we had left. God, I hope this thing doesn't last long. We need to get outside. I rushed down the stairs to get the water to Clarke, where she sat eating the peanuts.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
She shrugged, "Good."
"Only good? What's wrong," she had that worried look on her face. Something was up.
"It's nothing," she put off. I gave her a 'tell me' look. "Come on Clarke, what's up? I know when you're sad."
"Do you think they're okay? What if we didn't align the satellite in time? What if they didn't make it?" Anxiety etched across her face. I shushed her as as she wrapped her arms around my waist and nuzzled her head into my chest.
"Oh Clarke," pity from my heart reached my voice as I felt my shirt, wet from her tears and I squeezed her tighter. "Please don't cry, I don't like when you're sad." I placed my hand on the back of her head, comforting her.
"Do you want to go lay down?" She nodded her head, and I put an arm around her, as she buried her head into my shoulder. I opened the door to the only bedroom that had a single bed and dresser. I laid Clarke down, and stood back up.
"Do you want me to lay down too?" I scratched the back of my neck from the embarrassing question. She nodded her head. "Okay," I said awkwardly but slid onto the mattress nonetheless. I sat against the headboard and Clarke laid her head in my lap, clearly comfortable.
"I'm sure Octavia is okay," her voice was still wobbly.
"Oh yeah," I said confident, "she's definitely fine." But honestly, I don't know if she could run all those people and not get power hungry. My mind wandered as I played with Clarke's hair. Is this what best friends do? I don't think so, I mean of course I would do anything for her. But I don't mind, as long as Clarke's happy, I'll be fine.
I fiddled with her braids that ran down her head. I remember when when Octavia was little and she made me do her hair.
"Bellamy," six year old Octavia called. It was amazing how long and thick a six year old's hair could be. She ran into my room with her brush and hair ties. "Can you do my hair?"
"Not now, O," I mumbled, but then looked at her big puppy eyes and gave in. Our mother taught me how to braid Octavia's hair when I was around ten, because she was never around to do it herself.
"Come here," I patted on my bed for her to sit. Once she was settled, I started brushing her hair and pulling pieces together into the braid.
"When do you think mommy will be home?" Our mother wasn't home that much, and when she was, she was mad. All the time. She was probably off with some man, leaving me to take care of Octavia.
"I don't know, O. Soon," but I knew that Octavia would be in bed and asleep hours before she was home. I braided Octavia's soft hair while telling her the story of Augustus, the first emperor of the Roman Empire and his sister Octavia.
When I was done with her hair, she turned around and looked at me, with wonder in her eyes. "Was I named after Octavia?"
"Sure was," I smiled sadly, remembering that I was the one who named her that and not even her own mother.
"I wish mommy was home more," Octavia said, pouting. Me too.
"Well that's what you got me for," I started tickling her, uncontrollable laughter coming from her. She giggled as she rolled around, trying to get away.
Octavia picked up her brush, leaving Bellamy's room, calling out a 'thank you' before she disappeared back into the living room, immersed in the TV.
"Bellamy," Clarke called, how long has she been calling me?
"Oh yeah. Uh, sorry. I, uh, zoned out. What were you saying?" Clarke turned her head slightly to look at me.
"What are you doing?" Her eyes flashed to the side of her head, referring to her hair. I looked to my fingers that had undone her smaller braids and started winding her hair into a thicker one, I think Octavia used to called it a French braid.
"Oh, sorry. Octavia used to make me braid her hair, and now I can do it without thinking about," I chuckled, thinking back at young Octavia, she was so innocent. Even when we first got to the ground, she's just so different now.
Clarke smiled, her eyes glittering. She sat up as she twisted the braid around her fingertips. "It's going to get boring in this place, real quick," she said a bit of sass in her voice. "Not much we can do down here except sleep and eat. And hang out, I guess."
"I know, I can't wait to get outside, see the sun again."
"Yeah, I don't think I could imagine you without a tan," Clarke joked, mischief in her eyes. I gasped, putting my palm over my chest in a teasing manner.
"Excuse me?" She grinned, lighting up my insides with warmth, butterflies fluttering in my stomach, making me grin myself.
"You did a good job," she complimented as she felt the braid that weaved down her head. "My mom always used to do them on me." She stared off into the distance before snapping back to reality.
"Thank you, Bellamy. For everything," Clarke's mouth quirked up into a small smile.
"No problem, Princess." I looked into her beautiful, blue eyes, God, I could get lost in them. And I did, we stared at each other for what seemed like forever. She didn't seem to mind. Finally, I cleared my throat and looked away, a little upset that I broke eye contact.
"I, um. I'm going to check the cameras to see what it's like, out there," I made up some stupid excuse to get out of here. She looked a little hurt, but honestly, if I stayed in that room I might've ended up kissing her
A/N: Oooooooh damnnn ;)
I actually really enjoyed writing Bellamy's flashback. I know their mom wasn't home too much, based on the show, but I hope I did good on the flashback.
Thanks for reading!