He felt like he'd lived a dozen different lives by now. Life on the Ark with his mother and Octavia. Life on the Ark without them. Life on the ground before Charlotte. Life on the ground with Clarke as leaders. Life after the grounder battle. Life in Storybrooke. Life in Mount Weather. And now, again, life in Storybrooke. How many chances did one person get? What could he have done to deserve so many chances? All he did was hurt people. All he did was leave things damaged. And yet here he was. He died and was resurrected. He was tortured, strung up for dead, and he came out alive. He had his sister, safe and sound. And somehow, he managed to have the girl standing before him.
It was confusing though. Clarke wasn't the same back home. She wasn't this person standing in front of him right now. She was colder. More distant. After all, she told him not to go to Mount Weather, only to turn around and tell him it would be worth the cost of his life. Bellamy hadn't had any time to feel bitter about it, though. And she was right - it was worth the risk. And it worked out. Was it worth the damage he felt his relationship with Octavia would suffer? Bellamy wasn't thinking that far ahead for now. For now, he just wanted to relish the fact he was alive. He was out of Mount Weather and he was with Clarke. Octavia and Lincoln would be a topic to handle later. He just wanted this moment. He could be okay right now.
Clarke mentioned while he was gone, only to brush it aside. He offered a faint smile, hands moving to frame her face, thumbs brushing across her cheeks. It was an uncharacteristically gentle and affectionate move from him. But this was a second (third? fourth?) chance and keeping his distance from Clarke seemed pointless. At least for now. Bellamy knew what guilt and pain did to a person and those demons were going to haunt him sooner rather than later, but they hadn't taken hold just yet and he didn't want to waste the fact that, for once, he was too relieved to let them sweep him away. "I'll always come back," he vowed, slipping his hands down to rest on her shoulders before letting them drop back down to his sides.
What they were working on, what they had been building, what was etched into every single inch of him - he hadn't wanted to name it for what it was. Because it would be a vulnerability. It would be a weakness. He could see it in the fires that raged within him over Octavia. But when all he wanted was to hold on to Clarke and never let go, how could he call it anything else? The words built up, came to the very edge. I love you. That was what he wanted to confess. Because he did. Because how could he not? But he couldn't say it. Because if he said it, that was asking her to say it back. And even if his head was above the water right now, he knew he didn't deserve that from her.
So instead, he just offered a small smile. "Never thought I'd miss you so damn much," he managed a confession of a smaller scale, since they'd already established the fact. "I just talked to you but... who knew if I'd ever see you again." As he spoke, Bellamy could feel the last dregs of his adrenaline leaving him, and he reached out to steady himself on her shoulder. "Now that I got you up..." he drawled before shuffling uneasily toward the bed, "I think I need to sit down."