Bellamy was a rolling stone. He was ready to leave camp. He slept around, forming no attachments. He acted like an asshole so no one would miss him. But occasionally he slowed. He fell into a rut. The moss starts to grow and he pushes himself on. Every time he was able to do it, but this time he wasn't. Maybe he was ok with that.
Clarke was the rut he fell into. The moss that grew up and around him. He tried to break free from her grasp but he was pulled back. Her smile, her touch, her love.
When she was swept say he found that he missed the moss. He missed it's warmth. It's comfort. It's love.
When she came back she enveloped him in her warmth. He never wanted to let go. He momentarily forgot that he should keep moving. That he can't grow attached.
Maybe he was a rolling stone. But like Newton said, "Objects in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by an external force." Clarke was that force. She always has been, always will be. So maybe this rolling stone can take a rest. Maybe he doesn't mind.
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Bellarke One Shots
FanfictionNo particular rhyme or reason. Some are slightly A/U but not in the future our in a different dimension.
