we all die anyways x bellamy blake/the 100

5 / petrichor

how can emptiness
feel so heavy

song
lay me down
sam smith

——————
Bellamy
——————

I watch as Octavia walks out into the forest, bumping her shoulder into Charlie's. The blonde was slightly shorter than O, yet showed more maturity within the day than I've ever witnessed within a teenager. Other than me, of course.

"Bellamy! Where do you want to bury the bodies." A male voice speaks from behind me. I turn and look at Murphy, raising my eyebrows. A group of boys behind him set the said bodies down roughly. I almost cringe at the lack of care, but I don't show my discomfort.

"Didn't we just have a conversation about the privileged doing the hard work?" I question, looking to Wells in the distance, who's eyes were trained on the forest. 

"Chancellor! Get over here." John shouts, gaining Wells attention. He walks over, limping along the way.

"What?" He questions, eyes darting from me, to the boys behind me, then to the deceased on the ground.

"If you think you're so special, why don't you bury the bodies?" Murphy challenges. Wells considers this, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, somebody is gonna have to do it anyways." He  says after a moment, looking to me, shooting daggers.

"Then you better get to burying." John sneers, giving me a smirk. The group of boy disperse, talking among themselves. Wells deliberately tries to push into my shoulder, obviously pissed, but I catch his upper arm in my hand, squeezing tightly.

"The boy—" I look down to the bloody body below us. "His name was Josh. Make sure you mark his grave." I let go of my grip, and meet his eye. He nods slightly, his face mixed with emotion. I stalk away, not willing myself to look back.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Charlie's words on the drop-ship got me thinking. My original plan was to run away with Octavia, but who said I couldn't lead these dimwits? Surviving was going to be hard if it was just O and I. And she sure as hell would resist leaving the drop-ship the entire time.

We had lost communication to The Ark on the way down, and the wristbands were the only thing that kept the Council confident that The 100 were alive. I start to formulate a plan. A plan that will make sure that Octavia stayed safe and well fed while I wouldn't get executed for shooting Jaha.

It was simple, really.

Get hormonal, delinquent teenagers who have resentment for The Ark's leadership to take off their wristbands.

No wristbands equals no Ark coming down to Earth.

"You spelt 'die' wrong, geniuses." I overhear to the left of me. I had been leaning on the drop-ship, watching as people ran around, not a care in the world. I turn the corner to see Mbege and Murphy laughing as Wells stalks away, dirt covering his hands. A pile of logs and sticks had been thrown onto the ground, so I figure he was clearing the area for the graves. Above the wood, was something carved into the metal wall of the drop-ship.

'First son, First to dye'

How the fuck do you spell 'die' wrong? Maybe convincing these fuckers to take their wristbands off was going to be even easier than I expected.