we all die anyways x bellamy blake/the 100

24 / torpe

all the pretty stars shine for you,
my love

song
work song
hozier

——————
Charlie
——————

I rub my eyes and sit up, wondering how the hell I slept in the busy Drop-ship. I had been curled up right above Bellamy's head—he was still sleeping. My sword digs into the cot below me, but it wasn't too uncomfortable. Coughs ring out throughout the enclosed area, and I notice Clarke was now milling around the room, helping kids get water.

I check Bellamy's pulse, even though I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest. I still needed to know. He stirs from my touch, glancing around as he sits up, right next to me.

"How do you feel?" I ask softly, furrowing my eyebrows in concern.

"Like shit."

I chuckle at his response. "You look like shit."

Somehow though, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.

I slide the strap of my sword off of my body and hold it in my hands, just staring at it.

"What's wrong?" Bellamy murmurs.

I suck my cheeks in. "If the bomb doesn't work—if they don't succeed..."

I trail off, shaking my head.

"You don't want to have to use it, do you?" He inquires, voice low.

"No." I say. "I'm not sure I can handle anymore guilt."

He's silent for a couple seconds. Then, he cautiously brings his hand out and sets it right above my knee. I watch his hand, mostly noticing the veins and tendons moving with every slight movement.

It wasn't much, but it helped more than words ever could.

John comes up to Bellamy, cup in hand. "Here,"

With his opposite hand, he pushes the water back from Murphy's extended arm. "Get the hell away from us."

"Bellamy, you're sick, okay? I'm just trying to help. John says.

More blood runs from Bellamy's nose. John was quick to grab a rag, but instead Bellamy chooses to wipe his nose with his jacket sleeve, sniffing the rest up. I scrunch my nose at the act. Gross.

"When I get better, if you're still here—" He starts.

"I'll take that water, Johnny." I interrupt, setting my sword on my lap. "Thank you."

Bellamy tightens the grip on my knee as I take a sip of the water.

With John now gone, I pass him the same water. He makes sure to glance around—obviously checking for Murphy—before taking a few drinks.

I give Bellamy a pointed look. "Better?"

His hand drops from my knee as he brings it to hold the cup with two hands. "Why do you trust him?"

I sigh. "I like to see the good in people."

His expression turns somewhat sour. "Are you sure it isn't because you hooked up?"