Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
OCT 27, 2149 DAY FORTY FIVE ON THE GROUND
I GET TO LOVE YOU ━━━ RUELLE
" one look at you, my whole life falls in line. "
DAKOTA STOOD THERE, STILL FROZEN IN HER PLACE; THE SOLES OF HER SHOES GLUED TO THE FLOOR. All she did was stare, still as stone; the great jaws of shock having captured her completely.
Maya faltered, knitting her brows as she observed the incredibly peculiar look on her friend's suddenly pale face; confused eyes traveling from her, to the unconscious stranger, then back to her. It didn't take her long to grasp onto the situation. It was obvious she had a connection to this person.
"Who is he?" she quietly asked, not wasting any time with fruitless questions.
Dakota half-way gestured to the man before pulling her hand away again, not knowing where to put it or what to do with it. She pointed shakily at him in disbelief that he was actually here, her brain stuttering as she let out a soft rasp; lips moving numbly as she failed to find the words to explain.
Maya studied her insane level of shock for a moment longer before her eyes went round, awe transforming her face when she realized who it was— who on earth was having this kind of affect on the girl. It was likely the boy she could never shut up about; the one she talked about as if he made the sun and the moon rise and set.
"Bellamy?" she whispered, the sound of the name rolling eagerly off her tongue causing Dakota to snap out of her stupor.
"Get him down." the urgent words tumbled breathily from the Thompson girl's lips, barely catching any volume. She was unable to tear her gaze away from Bellamy long enough to even look her comrade in the eyes as she was speaking to her. "Get him down, now!"
Maya flinched as her tone wavered, the two making a b-line to the man. Dakota's steps slowed as she rounded to face the front of his pendulous body, heart thudding in fear of finding him injured; his muscular arms hanging down past his head. With a gulp, she braved the possibility and took the final step, now standing before him.
He wasn't hurt. There were no bruises or cuts on his pretty little face. He was perfect— just as she'd left him. Every freckle still flawlessly graced his tan skin in all the places she had come to memorize, and she was sure if he opened his eyes right then and there, they'd be that same golden brown that always made her melt.
It was Bellamy. Her Bellamy, right before her in the flesh. Not in Fox's drawings, not in a yearning dream, not in the aching absence between her empty arms— here.
