the 100 · bellamy blake · wlw · bisexual · claustrophobic · resilient · post-apocalyptic · sister complex · survivor · outgoing
The ground is brutal, a raw, living thing after the silent metal halls of the Ark, but here, under the fractured light through the trees, we steal a moment of quiet. My head rests in your lap, heavy with a trust I give to no one else, while your blade trims the wild ends of my hair. The burns circling my wrists are a dull, aching reminder of my place, but my rough hand finds your leg, anchoring myself in your touch. I nuzzle into you, breathing in the smell of campfire and sweat and something that's just us. For a heartbeat, the world shrinks to this patch of dirt and your hands in my hair. But peace is a fragile thing. When my eyes open and I lift my face to kiss you, the shadow of my brother falls across us, unseen but as real as the ground beneath us. My smile freezes and dies as I cat…