Bellamy Blake Imagines

Home At Last XXXIV

Bellamy's back ached as he shifted the heavy bundles of wood from one shoulder to the other. The hot sun beat into his olive skin with a ferocious intensity, drawing sweat from his pours and making his hands slip on the rough rope that secured the kindling.

"Hey Blake," someone called, "it's time to head back."

He nodded and begun trudging his way back to camp. A fire of excitement lit itself in the pit of his stomach. You were coming back today. You'd been out on a five day hunting and scouting trip, but today you were finally coming back and Bellamy felt as though he was slowly waking up from a long sleep. Every day you'd been gone had felt like twenty to the boy and he itched to see you again and hold you close.

Specifically speaking, the two of you weren't a couple, you were simply good friends, but Bellamy didn't feel that way. If he was honest, he'd never felt that way. Bellamy Blake had been in love with you for years. He would've told you, honest to God he would've, but the thought of losing you was too awful to even contemplate and, if friendship is what you wanted, he would give that to you.

The gates of Camp Jaha promised Bellamy safety and rest and, most importantly, you as he placed the collected firewood by the smokehouse.

John Murphy cast Bellamy a glance, he'd been fidgety and distracted all day, as though his mind was on another planet and could guess why.

"The hunting party due back today?" He called to the dark haired boy.

Bellamy tore his eyes away from the gate and nodded, "They should be back any minute now."

"Just fucking tell her." Murphy sighed, "I mean for Christ's sake Blake, you're best friends. Don't you think that keeping something like this from her is the same as lying?"

Murphy chuckled at the confused and terrified look on Bellamy Blake's face.

"Oh come on man, everyone knows you like her. You practically skinned that kid Riles for getting too close to her when we first landed, and even then they'd just held hands."

Bellamy swallowed, "Does she-do you think that she-?"

"No," Murphy answered, "I don't think she does, surprisingly."

Bellamy sighed, relief pouring from his skin like sweat. Just then, the horn that meant people approaching the gate rang through the morning air. Bellamy's breath caught in his throat as his head whipped around and his eyes fixed on the gate, all thoughts of John Murphy gone now. The figures were too small for Bellamy to make out initially, but when your hair caught the sunlight, Bellamy heard himself whimper. There you were. The sticks he had been holding clattered noisily to the ground and he strode forcefully towards you. In an ideal world, he would pull you against him and just hold you for as long as you'd let him, but your storm cloud face held him back.

"Y/N!" He called, running to you.

For a moment you smiled at your best friend, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your nose in his shoulder, sighing happily.