Chapter Text
It had been a week since the rest of those from the sky and Madi had arrived at Wonkru’s base camp in the midst of a perilous desert that knew no mercy.
Bellamy had tried his best to keep busy as Blodreina strategized the best way to move in on Diyoza’s unit without the total execution of their people, in hopes that maintaining a low profile would delay his sister’s inevitable confrontation about his relations with Echo.
However, in the midst of his own misery and contemplation, a recognizable ache worked at his heart, tearing and bashing the muscle layered thick with scars.
He missed her, nearly too much for him to convince himself it was justifiable this time. With everything going on within the camp, Clarke had been a sort of rarity as of late, only showing her face when gathering her and Madi’s rations before hiding away in the comfort of her own tent. She went out of her way as to not cross paths with the others or Bellamy, when caught, deflecting all efforts to start a conversation with short, concise responses. Even dressing herself in the garments of Wonkru to avert attention. And damnit if Bellamy didn’t miss her soft eyes and fragile words.
He was walking back to his tent when he caught sight of Clarke, returning to her own makeshift home.
After a moment of debating, Bellamy cursed, rushing after the fierce blonde, ducking his head under the folds of the tent.
“Hey,” he breathed making his presence known.
Clarke’s back was to him, her shoulders just barely jumping at the unexpected company.
“Who would have thought that the great Clarke Griffin scared so easy?” he joked, eager to get a reaction out of her, whether it be a laugh, a grin, an eye roll, anything.
Clarke turned to the familiar figure, still silent, a forced smile faintly tugging at the corner of her mouth.
The smirk fell from Bellamy’s face, his frustration evident as he stepped closer to Clarke, raising a hand in defeat.
“So that’s it, huh? It’s been a week since everybody got back and you’ve hardly said a sentence to me. Did I do something to upset you or have you just got better things to do than entertain the thought of being around me, because it seems to me that you’ve been avoidin-“
“Bellamy, please,” Clarke sighs, unable to meet his gaze.
He breaks the space between them, gently caressing her chin with his hand, redirecting her eyes to his.
“Then what is it? We were fine one minute, getting along, talking, and the next, you won’t even look at me.” he cries.
Clarke’s stare falls to his pursed lips, remaining their a beat too long, before she pulls away, turning her back to his and pressing the heels of her palms into the hollows of her eyes until stars appeared.
Those stars, the same ones that carried the thoughts she dare not speak to another living soul through the night sky, intertwining to form the very constellations that were Bellamy Blake.
For so many nights she dreamt that with each tear shed, Bellamy was waiting for her, cupping his hands to catch each and every unshared kiss, touch, and breath.
For so many nights she longed for, yearned, begged that he would make his way back to her. Earnestly pleading that he would scribe his feelings into the network of every root, vine, and stream. That somehow, somewhere, and in some way he would kiss her good morning with each day that passed by, and farewell with every chapters close.
For so many nights she imagined he was watching over her, far up in the sky, sending his love through the tender sunrises, newly bloomed flower buds, sweet rain showers, and intricate lullabies sung through the birds.
And yet, he wasn’t. Six years. He had six years to process her supposed death, to cope, to heal, to move on. For Clarke to think he would have done otherwise, would have been foolish, selfish even.
Clarke’s breath hitched, tears welling up in her eyes, daring to let the dam fall that stood for so long.
“I radioed you. Every single day. For 2,199 days. Not Raven or Monty, Harper, Emori, Echo, or Murphy. But you. That’s how I survived.” she whispered.
She fled past him, her shoulder just barely bumping into his, leaving him numb and frozen to his place.
Confusion broke across his brow, an army of emotions leaving his mind a battleground, unshielded and bruised.
“2,199 days.” Bellamy croaked, to no one but himself and the shattered constellations, pouring down from above.