Beatrix Blake and John Murphy share an intricate history of bitter resentment, as the lines between love and hate blur, they grapple with shared histories, betrayal, and the unpredictability of their feelings.
SLOW BURN enemies to lovers.
The 100.
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It was late, Raven and Beatrix sat, huddled together in a secluded corner past the barriers, hidden by the shadows of the surrounding trees. They had managed to slip away unnoticed, determined to enjoy a private moment to smoke weed without anyone else in the camp catching on.
Beatrix carefully pulled out a small bag of weed from her pocket, her fingers trembling. Raven, rolled a joint, the familiar scent filling the air. It had been a long, long time since Beatrix had last had the luxury of a joint.
"B, you sure this is a good idea?" Raven asked, glancing around. "What if Finn wakes up?"
"It'll just mean that you'd be calm enough to deal with his shit," Beatrix spoke, her voice laced with a bitter edge as she held the joint between her fingers. "Pass the lighter."
"I didn't bring one." Raven replied.
"What?" Beatrix exclaimed, frustration tainting her tone. "babe how are we supposed to smoke it?"
"Well I figured you'd just have a makeshift fire?" Raven stated the obvious, "do you realise how many lighters I would have to bring down for all of the weed I've got? Improvise."
"You think I have those skills? I just get other people to do that shit. Hold up, I'll sneak back into camp and light it." She whispered, "just one minute." She left Raven alone, sneaking into the camp which seemed fairly empty.
As she made her way to the familiar fire pit, she was alone, no one could see her crouching low. In her hand, she held her joint, the tip glowing red as she inhaled deeply. The feeling of the smoke in her lungs was familiar, comforting.
"Beatrix." Bellamy's voice was laced with disappointment and anger. Startled, Beatrix jumped and spun around to face him. Her eyes widened, realising she had been caught. The joint slipped from her fingers, extinguishing itself in the dirt.
"Bellamy," she stammered, her voice shook, guilt written all over her face. "I can explain."
Bellamy's jaw tightened as he looked at his sister. The memories of their mother's death and the pain it had caused resurfaced. "Okay, go on then explain."
Truth be told, she actually didn't have an actual explanation, "I just, I needed it." Beatrix looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "I just needed a break, okay? I can't handle all of this."
Bellamy's frustration and anger took over. "You think this is how you deal with it? By making the same mistakes that got Mom killed?"
Beatrix winced, her eyes welling up with tears. "No, Bellamy, I just..."
"You really don't care about anyone else but yourself, do you?" He spat, his face hardened.
"Easy for you to say Bellamy. You're a self centred, egotistical cunt that only truly cares about yourself."
