Clarke helped him to sit on the bed and Bellamy did his best not to wince as his body settled into the new position. Jaw clenched tightly, the way the muscle in his cheek jumped gave away just how difficult it was to accomplish that feat. He sighed unevenly and, with a bit of effort, managed to toe off Lovejoy's boots without having to bend over. He would throw them away tomorrow. He'd walk barefoot around this place before he'd put them on again. While part of him wanted to peel off the clothing he wore and toss it in a pile to burn, Bellamy figured it best to keep the clothes on for the night. He would just try not to think about it too much.
"Laying down might be good," he agreed with her. Bellamy wasn't sure sleep would actually be a worthwhile objective, but he was exhausted. He shifted onto the bed, though when he leaned backward to lie down, his mind abruptly flashed to the sensation of hanging upside down, blood ebbing from his body. Bellamy swallowed back a gasp, though his eyes widened and his breathing picked up for a moment. He fought it back and forced himself to lie down - maybe the reaction could be brushed off to discomfort at another change in position. Even if he wasn't taking the medical poking and prodding into consideration, he knew he had marks from the tasers on his abdomen, bruises from the metal collar at his neck, and even more bruises from his fight with Lovejoy. But getting his ass kicked was hardly anything new to Bellamy these days. After all, he'd had his ass kicked to death the last time he was in Storybrooke.
He laid back, forcing down the feeling of vertigo that washed over him. She mentioned going back to her room and he was surprised at the panic that tumbled down his spine at the notion. Bellamy shot a hand out, reaching to take gentle hold of her wrist. He opened his mouth to admit to being afraid to be alone, but closed it again before he could voice the words. Bellamy's pride wouldn't let him say it, even if it was plainly written on his face. Fear was a demon, after all, and he was supposed to fight it. Fear was weakness. He didn't like looking weak, but if there was anyone he could trust with a little vulnerability, it was Clarke.
"Stay," he requested quietly, doing his best to shift so there was plenty of room for her. They didn't even have to touch if she didn't want to. "I don't really feel like being alone," Bellamy admitted. If just the act of laying down hit him with a reminder of being in Mount Weather, what demons were waiting for him in sleep? Maybe if Clarke were here... maybe her presence could keep them away.