Work Text:
Bellamy Blake had revelled in his week-long drunken stupor. He knew it was unhealthy to chug Monty’s improvised moonshine, especially as it traced a fire down his throat.
“Clark-”, he heard the unworthy bitch say, and it was her name that finally cleared the fog in his mind.
“DON'T.” he growls. He watches with disinterest as his hands grab Echo’s throat, not tight enough to constrict her air flow, but enough to be a warning.
“You, especially you, do not deserve to even say her name”.
“Bellamy please, Echo doesn't deserve your anger”, Harper tries to plead. He ignores her.
Instead he chokes out, “I had to leave her behind. Did you know that my Clarke, the girl you called the great Wanheda, has burned to death in one last selfless act? She would have been here with me, we were supposed to be together finally. She should be here, but she had to give up her place in the rocket for you to live. I won’t ever forgive you. Gods, I can barely even stand the sight of you”.
Exhausted from the outburst, he staggers to the window. Gods it’s unbearable. He couldn’t live without the head to his heart, half of his soul belonged to her and he couldn’t bear to see the burning planet because then he's haunted by her pained screams. With that damning thought, he collapses and rests his cheek on the cool metal of the floor.
Bellamy Blake became a shell of a man; all for one girl, the most spectacular girl he will know, albeit one, single girl. It was pathetic, really, to see him spasming on that floor as sobs wracked his frame.
Through his black shroud of grief, he doesn’t comprehend Raven manoeuvring herself with difficulty onto the floor, and lying beside him, cupping the back of his head until her pitying eyes found his red-rimmed ones.
“Bellamy, we’re all so sorry but I need you, no she needs you, to think about what she would have wanted from you”.
“I can’t-”. Gods he tried, he tried to make his head listen, but it couldn’t be heard over his heart screaming to give everything up in the hope to see her. It was unforgivable, but he had failed her again.
“I loved her, and I've lost her forever. We’ll never get our tomorrows together”, he whispered.
Thousands of miles away, a radio crackles to life.
"Bellamy can you hear me? The nightblood worked, I’m alive.", gasped out the golden girl to the burnt sky.
Try as it might, the radio couldn’t send the lover’s plea over those thousands of miles.
“Clarke's gone forever", a last piteous whimper from the broken boy before the tendrils of sleep claimed him.
Burned, shaking fingers clutched a radio thousands of miles away.
"Five years from now I’ll be watching this sky again for you. We will meet again, my love".