Her back was to him as he walked through the door. That was probably best, so she couldnât see the way his hands trembled. For six years, heâd thought she was dead; that sheâd died, in pain and alone, because he hadnât waited for her. Part of him had never forgiven himself for that; for leaving her behind.
âClarke,â he croaked, his voice near to breaking. As she turned, a stream of light from the crack in the door fell across her face, and his breath hitched. Sitting down on the bench beside her, the pair embraced, and Bellamyâs heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest from the raw emotion he experienced as she wrapped her arms around him. They held each other like that for a few minutes before Bellamy reluctantly pulled back, bringing his hand up to her face, to cup her cheek. âI canât believe youâre alive,â he murmured, a deep crease appearing between his dark eyebrows. âI thoughtâŠâ His rich, chocolatey eyes searched her silvery-blue ones, momentarily lost for words.
âI know,â she replied, understandingly. âIâd almost given up hope of you coming backâŠI called you every day on the radio, but when I didnât hear anything backâŠâ she trailed off, her voice light and breathy. He tilted his head forward, resting his forehead against hers. Her eyes were wet with tears, and as her eyelids fluttered closed at his touch, a lone teardrop dripped from her lashes and trickled down her cheek. He brushed it softly away with his thumb, lingering on the soft, porcelain skin of her cheekbone. âIâm sorry,â he breathed, his thumb still grazing her cheek. âItâs my faultâŠitâs all my fau-â
âDonâtâŠâ she interrupted, pressing her fingers against his lips. âDonât blame yourself. Iâm okayâŠâ she reassured him, with a weak smile. His lips tingled, like an electric current was running directly from her fingertips through to his lips, and their intense closeness was making his brain foggy. His heart pounded heavily as he involuntarily glanced down at her lips; they were parted slightly, and there was such vulnerability in her eyes that he just couldnât stop himself. He leaned in, removing her hand from his mouth and, without thinking about the consequences, pressed his lips lightly against hers. A soft moan escaped her lips, and his stomach dropped as she began to kiss him back. His hands stroked her face, tangling themselves in her golden hair, pulling her closer; deepening the kiss. A dull, incessant buzzing in the back of his brain, told him that he shouldnât be doing this; that he was with Echo now, but Echo was becoming just that â an echo of the past. It had always been Clarke; even though he was only just realising it. Octavia knew it, Abby knew it, hell, even Murphy knew it! Clarke was everything to him, and they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle; the head, and the heart.