Only you | Bellarke

nightmares

Bellamy was totally fine sleeping on an uncomfortable chair in Clarke's tent. He told himself that he would definitely not  have back pain for the rest of his life because of this one poor sleeping arrangement.

He had been watching Clarke sleep (like the epic stalker he is) and though she looked peaceful and younger in her sleep, she also looked... haunted. He chalked it up to the fact that Wells had just died so she was probably just having some rough dreams. Although, for some reason that made him feel terrible. Even though he barely knew her, he couldn't stand the thought of her being in pain.

What was she doing to him? He was being nice and... almost... caring. No, no that certainly wasn't because of Clarke. Time on Earth was just changing him... right? 

Bellamy pondered all of these things — and quite a few more — until he finally fell asleep in that insufferable chair next to Clarke's bed. But just as he drifted off, he was jolted awake by a voice calling out. 

It was Clarke. Bellamy didn't know if she was just a sleeptalker, or if she was genuinely having a bad dream, but based on the fact that she had called out for Wells, he was willing to bet for the latter. 

Clarke started tossing and turning restlessly. Bellamy figured it would go away in a few minutes so, sighing, he tried to make himself more comfortable (if he even could) in his hard wooden chair.

"Wells, no please... stay with me. Stay with me, please." Clarke was begging in her sleep now.

"Shut up, Princess. I'm trying to sleep," he muttered for no real purpose other than to make himself feel better in some weird, minuscule way.

After a few more strained protests from Clarke, he decided to wake her up and tell her to get her shit together. But he was stopped abruptly because suddenly, the person Clarke was begging evidently seemed to change.

"Bellamy... you can't... don't leave me, I'll be alone... Bellamy..." the last time she uttered his name, a thick salty tear ran down her cheek. Something in Bellamy's chest broke and he just sat there watching her. Sure, he should wake her up but she had just unknowingly admitted to needing him.

No one besides Octavia had ever really needed him. Stunned, he sat there, face blank but mind running at two thousand miles an hour. He was shocked out of his reverie when Clarke screamed and shot up, sobbing — those racking, heaving, aching sobs that make it impossible to breathe and even harder to think. 

Immediately he knew that her nightmare was worse than what he thought and he should've woken her twenty minutes ago. He put a hand on her shaking back, rubbing circles, and he moved to sit on the edge of her bed so he could properly comfort her.

"Shh, it was just a bad dream. You're okay, it's okay. I'm here. I got you," he whispered into her hair as he pulled her to his chest.

Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck and clung on for dear life, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. 

"It... it was t—terrib-ble, Bellamy." she started between sobs and heaving gasps for air.

"It's ok, I know, Clarke. It's just a nightmare, it wasn't real. You're okay. I've got you." He wrapped his arms tighter around Clarke and smoothed her hair.

After her breathing had slowed enough that she wasn't hyperventilating, Bellamy thought of something his mom did when he had nightmares as a little kid. 

"Clarke, hold up your hand like this," he held his up hand, palm facing her. When she held her hand to his he said, "Ok, now push a little. My mother used to do this with me when I was little, whenever I was afraid... she said that if my heart was beating too quickly I could borrow hers for a while, until mine was calm again." As he finished explaining, he started to feel Clarke's rapid heartbeat against his own through her hand. It was like an intricate melody of drums each thumping in their own rhythm.