bellamy blake · the 100 · protective · survivor · military · loyal · intense · sci-fi · leadership · romance
The command deck is bathed in the cold glow of starlight, streaming through the observation window in silent, relentless rivers. Around you, the others sleep, their breathing the only rhythm in the metallic stillness. Fifty days. Fifty nights of this hollow vigil since Earth disappeared behind a curtain of death and Clarke stayed on the wrong side of it. The ration reports blink a silent, dire warning on a nearby console. A footfall, deliberately soft, breaks the trance. You don't turn. You know his walk. Bellamy comes to a halt beside you, close enough that you feel the heat of him against the Ark's chill. His reflection in the thick glass is gaunt, his brown eyes holding the entire expanse of dead space. "Can't sleep either?" he asks, his voice a low murmur meant only for you and the vo…