we all die anyways x bellamy blake/the 100

21 / irenic

the sky seems empty of stars tonight

song
ribs
lorde

—————
Charlie
—————

Ow.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

I'm never drinking again.

I hadn't even opened my eyes, but I knew the consequences of my actions. My head hurt. It was a different kind of headache. Small flashes of light memories drill into my mind. They make no sense. Drinking with Sterling? Giving Bellamy two apples?Hanging upside down? I'm completely and utterly confused.

On a good note, I was warm. Covered in blankets. They smelled good—like spruce and moss. I've never slept so good—up until I woke up, of course. Cautiously, I peek one of my eyes open, finding the ceiling of a tent above me. It was dark out, but I could tell by the artificial light burning into my eyes that there was some lanterns on in this tent.

A tent that wasn't mine.

A tent I told myself I'd never sleep in.

Bellamy's tent.

Shit.

I snap both my eyes open, ignoring the pain that surged through my brain. My hands quickly find the top of the blanket, and I brace myself for whatever I'd find underneath.

No shirt, but a bra and pants. I could notice the faint bruises on my skin from training.

God, please forgive me for my drunken actions.

Pure panic fills my veins as I hurriedly sit up, bunching the blankets against my chest. I didn't even have the ability to think about my hangover.

As if on time, a familiar dark headed boy bursts into the tent.

"Good. You're up." Bellamy says.

His voice hurt my head.

"Hi." Pure embarrassment and fear fills my voice.

"Clarke's looking for you. Something is happening. She'll explain." He pauses, noticing my petrified state. "Are you okay?"

"...Yes?" I look back down at the blanket. "Um-"

How was I supposed to ask this?

He raises his eyebrows at me.

"By any chance, did we happen to..." I cringe.

Realization strikes his face.

"No, we didn't. Although you did offer it quite a couple times." Bellamy answers firmly.

I bring the blanket to my face and groan. I was still relieved, yet embarrassed that drunk-me was a whore.

"Okay." I say, voice muffled by the fabric. "Good to know."

I take my face out of the blanket and look up. His eyebrows furrow and the corners of his eyes crease. An emotion I couldn't even identify takes over his face.

"Do you really think I would've taken advantage of you? I wouldn't fuck- hell, I wouldn't touch you without consent."