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[For Clarke]
Aug. 18th, 2016 12:05 amAs wrapped up as he can get in his own head, Bellamy knows he's no different from any other person around. He has good days and he has bad days, and he's lucky enough to have friends around for both.
The bad days have been outnumbering the good lately; it seems that Bellamy can't go a few days without another nightmare, without the guilt that's seemed to rear its ugly head and lodge itself permanently beneath his ribs. He may not have the word on his back anymore, but he knows its still there and it will never really fade away. It's always been there.
When the good days come around, though, they're exceptionally good. Bellamy can forget his guilt for a while, can indulge himself in the world around him, enjoy the small life he's built here with Clarke and, now, Raven. He wishes every single day that Octavia and anyone else could be here with them, that he could just see their faces once again, but on good days the guilt isn't enough to overwhelm him. It fades into the background.
On good days, there are clear skies and the city and Clarke.
That, too, is a living thing stuck behind his breastbone, marked in a million different ways: their comfort around each other, their routine, the weight they each carry for the lives they've taken and lost and saved. Her back is smooth and unmarked as he runs a light hand over it, but he knows she carries those words within her as much as he does.
The bed creaks as Bellamy shifts enough to lean over and press a kiss on the back of Clarke's neck, and he smiles briefly before giving her a light bite. "You should stay home tomorrow. Call in sick."
The bad days have been outnumbering the good lately; it seems that Bellamy can't go a few days without another nightmare, without the guilt that's seemed to rear its ugly head and lodge itself permanently beneath his ribs. He may not have the word on his back anymore, but he knows its still there and it will never really fade away. It's always been there.
When the good days come around, though, they're exceptionally good. Bellamy can forget his guilt for a while, can indulge himself in the world around him, enjoy the small life he's built here with Clarke and, now, Raven. He wishes every single day that Octavia and anyone else could be here with them, that he could just see their faces once again, but on good days the guilt isn't enough to overwhelm him. It fades into the background.
On good days, there are clear skies and the city and Clarke.
That, too, is a living thing stuck behind his breastbone, marked in a million different ways: their comfort around each other, their routine, the weight they each carry for the lives they've taken and lost and saved. Her back is smooth and unmarked as he runs a light hand over it, but he knows she carries those words within her as much as he does.
The bed creaks as Bellamy shifts enough to lean over and press a kiss on the back of Clarke's neck, and he smiles briefly before giving her a light bite. "You should stay home tomorrow. Call in sick."
