bellamy blake (whoweneedtobe) wrote in areaic, @ 2015-12-01 18:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !tread/log, bellamy blake, clarke griffin |
who: Bellamy and Clarke
what: Having a talk.
when: After this conversation.
where: Their house
rating: TBD
Nearly a month. Probably one of the longest months of his life. The days seemed to crawl by at a glacial pace. It rivaled even the endless, grief-filled days between his mother's execution and his descent to Earth. At least during that year, Bellamy lost time... zoned out in his own depression and solitude. Here, he couldn't find that dazed reprieve. If he slept, he had nightmares. If he went for a walk, there was nothing to get lost in. Just sensory overload of a time decades and decades before he was ever born. He spent most of his time outside of the home he'd been assigned - it was part of the reason he chose to take classes at the college. It was a distraction. This five bedroom house was cavernous in its silence and emptiness. Bellamy took the biggest bedroom for himself - not that it mattered, because the others all stayed predictably empty, so he could have used whichever one he wanted whenever he wanted.
And it wasn't like he slept much either. He tried, he truly did. But nightmares plagued him. He would watch Dante 's chest blossom red from Clarke's gunshot, watch the older man crumple. He would watch Cage's desperate determination on camera. He could hear Raven's screams of agony, Wick pleading over them. He saw the panic in Clarke's face when she realized Cage wouldn't stop. Monty's quiet, tragic resolution haunted him too. In his dreams, he would watch the Mountain Men force Octavia to her knees alongside Maya, and he would wake up in a cold sweat, still feeling the way Clarke's small hand felt beneath his own as they pulled the lever to murder all those people. And those were just the highlights. So staying in his big empty house had been more depressing and suffocating than anything else, and Bellamy spent a great deal of time on the college campus outside or even in the back corners of the library - keeping away from people.
But now he was here, on the edge of his seat in the living room as he waited for Clarke. Clarke, of all people, was the one to come through from back home. Not Octavia, despite how desperately he wished for his sister. No, it had to be Clarke - the one who left them all behind. The one who looked him in the eye when he told her, "Together," only to promptly abandon him to carry the burden on his own. He hadn't really processed it completely. Bellamy had only managed one bitter comment over the network before Clarke decided they needed to talk face-to-face. Of course she did; after all, she was always so ready to face things head on. Except for when he needed her to, his mind supplied bitterly. But he could be an adult. He could handle this. After all, it wasn't like he didn't understand. He did. It made sense why she left - but that didn't numb the pain of it.
Bellamy sat on the sofa - one of the few pieces of furniture in the sparse, barely-lived in house. He was perched on the edge of his seat, tense, with his hands resting uneasily on his knees. It would've been easier if it were Octavia he was waiting on. But when were things ever easy for any of them?