THE 100 IMAGINES

[BB] Wanting Nothing More.

     He had always been that way... secretive, closed off, guarded, but there was a way around his old behaviour he fell so comfortably back in when the time arose.

Bellamy wasn't one for many public displays, that included showing how stressed and overwhelmed he had become, even after the destructive events had been resolved and put in the past where they belonged. There wasn't a time, for as long as you had known him, where he had been cornered so far into the darkness by his own demons, and allowed himself to stay there without fighting back, without showing or proving that they didn't control him the way they did to most, then the time right now. It hurt, to know that he wasn't getting nearly enough sleep as he should have. His movements had become slower, less accurate as the fatigue and weight of—what seemed to be—the world pulled him down to the ground, stronger than the force of gravity. It showed when he trained with others. He allowed himself to be taken down, to be beaten, to be forced back into that corner of his mind where he was plagued by wrong decisions and bad choices. It was all you could see when you stood in the corner of the room, wincing at every thud his body caused when he hit the mat, closing your eyes at every groan that left his bloodied lips, and squeezing your fists together until your nails pierced the skin of your palm every single time his breathing became laboured and his eyes—god his eyes—every time that they stared up at the person beating him down with the silent hope that the next blow to his body would be the last one he endured.

Bellamy wasn't very good at hiding the fact that he was tired, and he was so damn tired. He would yawn constantly, even when he was on guard—a job that required you to be alert and on your best game. But, no one said anything or questioned him about it. They left him alone. Which was something he was probably quite happy about, he did like to keep to himself a lot. Unsurprisingly, his tense nature still hung around like a lingering smell of smoke, long after someone had quit smoking. Of course, you did try your best to coerce him to take a break, even if it was just for a minute. He never stopped.

A thought, that often occurred to you, was whether or not he just wanted things to end, for good. It was one that you weren't going to voice publicly, or privately to him, even if you were one of the closest people he had left to stick around for.

Before everything had happened, you helped work with Abby, often catching glimpses of Clarke as she worked alongside her too. The days were mostly filled with people of the Ark coming in for check-ups, rarely anything drastic. But one day, the one day you planned to take off, Bellamy had come in with another guard who looked like he was about to pass out. Abby took him away with Jackson while you stayed behind to talk to the cadet, in a hope to find out what was wrong. Something must have sparked, because he soon began to trust you, after several visits, of course, he didn't trust you right off the bat, that wasn't the way he worked. It came to the point where he trusted you enough to keep his secret—Octavia—which you did. Bellamy stopped showing up after a while, although you never knew why. You weren't around long enough to find out when the Ark discovered that you had been smuggling medication for Octavia that Bellamy nor Aurora could get for themselves. When you ended up on Earth—somehow believing that Abby had something to do with the fact you weren't floated—and saw Bellamy again, it was like nothing had changed between the two of you, it was as if no time had come between you at all.

The only thing that Bellamy allowed himself to openly worry about was his sister, Octavia. Granted she could look after herself, pretty damn well as a matter of fact, but he never quite grew out of the protective big brother from the Ark. That was just one of the reasons why your heart grew fonder of him every day.

When you had found Bellamy, he was getting ready to go on guard duty, but you quickly hooked your arm through his and steered him away—sending a small nod to Bryan up on the tower, who looked relieved and waved you off as Harper climbed up instead. A light chuckle dropped from his lips. "Can I help you?" He asked, tilting his head at you and you smiled sheepishly.