Clarke entered the bedroom of her abandoned quarters, gazing a moment over the lovingly collected contents. Shortly after Praimfaya, she had ventured up to the house to scavenge for remains. Although most of it had been destroyed, she had been able to kit the bunker out quite comfortably.
She sighed to herself as she ran her hand across the slightly crumpled bedlinen, her fingers trailing a line across the fluffy cushions, the silkiness of the sheets feeling somewhat alien to her at that moment.
The room remained as she had left it. Clothes carefully hung in the closet, a towel resting on a nearby radiator, an empty glass beside the bed.
She hadn't had the strength to return to the bunker unless for vital supplies, as if returning to it would have somehow forced her back into the same state of mind.
But now here she was, feeling just as she had expected, as if the world was about tumble down around her.
Clarke shook her head, grabbing the towel from the the radiator before stepping into the bathroom. Her hands gripped the tap, turning it to its hottest setting, before peeling off her soiled clothes and stepping into the steaming water.
She remained there for over an hour, enjoying the feeling of the hot water bearing down on her soft skin. It felt like it was somehow cleansing her of all that was engulfing her, as if the water beads were soaking up the grief, sorrow and anguish, before dropping down into the drain and disappearing forever.
She felt a pang of sadness as she lifted the lever up to shut off the water before grabbing a silk robe from the back of the door. She slipped her arms in to the perfectly tailored, slightly shorter than she would like garment.
Although, she couldn't deny it, the silk running against her cool skin felt amazing in comparison to the heavily weathered clothes that she usually wore.
She tied it lightly around her waist as she stood in front of the mirror and stared at the woman looking back at her.
Her blonde hair twirled slightly as it dried, her large blue eyes still slightly bloodshot from the lack of rest, an angry bruise at the top of her thigh a painful reminder that everything wasn't as perfect as she wished. She tugged at her robe, pulling it down as far as it would go in an attempt to cover it. It didn't.
"Get it together Clarke. You're not alone anymore....... it's different now" she said quietly to her reflection as a tear to rolled down her cheek.
"You're not alone Clarke"
As the voice broke from behind her, Clarke turned in shock, her eyes trying to adjust to the dim light in the bedroom beside her.
"Bellamy?! Urgh, you scared me."
Clarke sighed heavily in relief. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to make out his form.
He stood at the edge of the room, his back turned, his fingers flipping through pages of a book on the dressing table.
"You left kinda quickly, I came to see if you were ok"
Clarke smiled slightly, relaxing a little at the intrusion. She shut the light off behind her and made her way through the door as she ran a towel through her hair.
"I knocked, but when you didn't answer........."
Bellamy continued, his eyes still focused on the book in front of him.
"It's ok, I'm fine....." Clarke added quickly as she turned to the wall, returning the towel to the radiator.
"I heard you talking to yourself.... I"
Bellamy paused as he turned, his eyes falling squarely onto Clarke. They widened slightly as he eyed her up. Her long legs glistened in the dim light, her small waist contrasting perfectly with the roundness of her ass, the silk robe falling unapologetically to the tops of her thighs.
He swallowed, feeling his entire body harden at the sight of her. He contemplated apologising and offering to leave.
YOU ARE READING
To Elysia - The 100 season 5 - A bellarke story
Fanfiction** Warning, Mature content ** Bellamy had fought back regret, grief and depression for 6 years over the death of Clarke. For 6 years he had battled, with little hope that she had survived Praimfaya. That is, until he heard her voice coming through o...
