🌻 When The Darkness Comes | The 100

First and Last

Fifteen-year-old Clarke Griffin was running down the hall, she had been so lost in a new drawing that she had lost track of time, and was running late for dinner. Just as she rounded a corner she had bumped into someone. They had landed on top of her and she was crushed under them, her notepad falling to the floor, and her only piece of chalk, breaking as it hit the floor. She slowly opened her eyes to look at the person on top of her. She gasped at the sight of him. He was handsome for one thing, his skin was a darker tone, and his hair was messy. But the thing that was the most breathtaking about him was his fierce brown eyes. They were the type of eyes that people wrote songs about. Clarke had the sudden thought about drawing him, especially those eyes. She watched his lips move but didn't hear the sounds coming out. Then he was pulling himself up, and avoiding her gaze.

"I'm incredibly sorry." He spoke, reaching his hand out to help her up, she slowly took it.

"No. It's okay. It was my fault, I was running, and not watching where I was going." She said, taking his hand.

Their eyes met again and Clarke remembered her thought of drawing them, and then she remembered her art supplies and quickly looked to the ground. She gasped.

"Oh no!" She knelt, picking up the chalk. "No! No! This was my last piece!" She cried.

"I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I can find you a new one."

"Ms. Griffin!" A guard bellowed from the end of the hall.

Clarke rolled her eyes and mocked him. To say the man in front of her was confused, was an understatement.

"Commander Shumway," Clarke said after picking up her things and turning to him, putting on a fake smile. "How can I...?"

"Your parents are panicking. Everyone is worried something happened to you." He interrupted her.

"I was just on my way home," Clarke replied.

"Who's this?" Shumway asked pointing to the man standing behind Clarke.

"This is, my friend," Clarke answered.

"He got a name?

Clarke turned to the man behind her and gave him an encouraging smile.

"Bellamy. Blake... Bellamy Blake, sir." The man spoke.

"Bellamy Blake," Clarke repeated, then turned back to Commander Shumway, to see him using a pad, to look up the boy.

"You. Clarke Griffin, are friends with a twenty-one-year-old, nobody from the lower class?" Shumway asked.

"Well, I know him. So, now he's not a nobody." Clarke stated.

"You're fifteen Ms. Griffin, how do you think your parents will feel about you hanging around a twenty-one-year-old?"

"Well, most of my friends are adults. Mainly because people are scared of talking to be in fear that they will be attacked or something because my mom's on the council." She replied.

Which in all honesty was true. The only real friend she had her age was Wells, and he was the Chancellor's son, so Clarke couldn't do risky things with her friends like the other could.

"Follow me, now. I have to get you back to your parents." Shumway demanded.

"I'll see you later, Bellamy Blake." She smiled at him.