THE 100 IMAGINES

[BB] When They're Gone.

Bellamy stood there, silently, with his arms crossed over his chest and with his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe, just watching. The look on his face said one thing: disappointment, and you couldn't exactly blame him for it. Clarke had left you a few minutes ago, after cleaning the wound on your forehead and the gash on your left arm—which required twelve stitches and a small speech about how she didn't want to see you like that again. You were trying your best to ignore him, but he was blocking the light coming in from the hallway, casting his shadow on the ground in front of you, which your eyes had been glued to the moment you had sat down. He shifted, pushing his weight away from the doorframe, but continued standing in the same place. As he did, you were finally able to draw your eyes away from the shadow and to the small purple and white, handmade, bracelet in your hand, slowly turning it with a delicate touch.

"If you're going to say something, then say it. Don't just stand there watching me," you spoke up, causing him to sigh at the sound of your monotone voice.

"I'm worried about you," he said for the umpteenth time.

"Well, don't be, there's no reason for you to be worried," you replied, despite knowing that he wasn't going to listen to you.

Bellamy uncrossed his arms and walked in the room, crouching down in front of you. "You know that's not an option for me." He smiled softly at you, tilting his head ever so slightly as he continued to look at your face, even when you weren't looking back at him.

"I know," you whispered back, still staring at the bracelet, continuing to turn it slowly, which caught his attention and made him look from your face to your hands.

"What's that?" He asked, finally getting to see what it was that you had been holding the entire time.

"It was hers."

"'Hers'?" He furrowed his eyebrows and looked back up to your face.

"She was just a kid."

"Who?"

"My sister."

With those two words, it all suddenly seemed to make sense to him. He breathed in and hung his head, realising what sparked the sudden shift in your behaviour. Bellamy looked back up at you, sparing a glance at the bracelet before his eyes scanned your face and at the empty, emotionless look that you held. "I'm sorry," he spoke in a low, yet comforting, tone, offering his condolences.

"Yeah, so am I."

"It wasn't your fault."

"You don't know that, Bell."

"You didn't kill your sister."

"You don't understand..."

Bellamy placed his warm hands over yours, stopping you from messing around with the bracelet. "Then help me to understand so I can help you, please." He moved his hands to gently rub your arms, trying to give you some comfort, wanting to help you in any way that he could, without being able to bring your sister back.

"My sister died in my arms," you admitted quietly, "I held her even after her body went cold... I held her." There was a burning in your eyes from unshed tears. "She died in my arms that there was nothing I could do to save her, even when she begged and pleaded with me." You could feel your bottom lip quiver as her voice began to echo in your head. "She was so scared, and she just kept saying that she didn't want to die, that she didn't want to go. She wasn't ready." Bellamy closed his eyes at the sound of your voice breaking constantly, at how your words were getting caught in your throat, causing you to choke them out. "She begged me not to let her leave, but I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't keep her alive when that was all that she wanted." A few tears finally rolled down your cheeks, but you couldn't be bothered to wipe them away, there would be no point, especially as more tears just kept rolling down. "She's gone, and this is all I have left," you finished, playing with the bracelet again.

"What happened?" He asked quietly, worried that if he had spoken any louder, that you would somehow break.

"She was sick, she had been for a long time, but for some reason, she started getting worse. I thought, being on the ground, with fresh air, that it would have helped, but it didn't. Abby couldn't do anything, she said that, whatever it was, it progressed too far and too fast, all she could do was make her comfortable... but nothing ever did."

Bellamy watched as your whole body seemed to shake with painful, hard-to-breathe sobs, your eyes were squeezed shut, and tears still rolled down your cheeks. He quickly moved to sit beside you, pulling your head towards him as his arms cradled you towards his chest, his hands clutching the fabric of your jacket. His chest felt tight as you continued to cry, he felt helpless.

With a sniff, you continued to explain, "It happened when she was in bed. She had been coughing non-stop, she had a fever, she had been throwing up before, there had been blood. I held her, I brushed her hair out of her face, I wiped her tears, I cleaned the vomit from the side of her mouth, I told her that I wasn't going to leave her. But that wasn't enough. She didn't want to die, she wasn't ready. Then she started to shake, she said she felt cold, her breathing got shallow, her body started to get limp, she couldn't even hold her head up, she couldn't move. It happened so fast. One minute she was awake, and then the next, she wouldn't open her eyes, she had no pulse."

"It wasn't your fault, there was nothing you could do."

"It hurts so much."

"I know, but you don't have to deal with this alone, you know that." He rested his cheek on top of your head. "Just talk to someone, don't bottle it up. If you need someone, then I'm here. You can't keep getting yourself into dangerous situations, you might feel like you have nothing left, or that you've failed, but it's not healthy. You wouldn't let me deal with this kind of pain like that, would you?"

"No."

"No, so I'm not going to let you do it either. I'm here for you, okay? I've got you."