The 100 Imagines

Bellamy- 20

Requested by: @BeautifulMax2001

I sit on the cot I share with my boyfriend, Bellamy, a notebook in my lap. On the page I'm working on is the start of the tree Octavia showed me the other night. I'm working on the glowing butterflies, but I can't really focus because I have my boyfriend on my mind.

Usually I see Bellamy all day, we don't really spend that much time apart, but, lately, he's been spending more time with Clarke than with me.

I can't complain. I know he's the co-leader of the camp with her and I know they have to spend time together to not run the camp into the ground, but I can't help but feel a little jealous.

At the thought of him, he pokes his head into our tent. "I thought you might be in here," he says. He walks all the way in and starts undressing.

I close my notebook and put it up, snuggling down in the thin blanket we share, watching as he strips. He throws his shirt off, his muscles contracting and releasing, and slips his jeans off, putting on a pair of shorts.

"How was your day," I ask.

He sends me a sly smile as I take my glasses off and lay them on the makeshift end table, walking over to me to give me a quick kiss that left me wanting more.

"It was okay. Clarke won't stop talking about building the fence up. I told her many times that we need guns to protect ourselves, but she doesn't like the idea of slaughtering people. Although I've told her many times that we wouldn't be slaughtering them, but protecting ourselves." I scoot over and allow him to crawl into bed next to me. He lays on his back, his head towards the top of the tent, and I cuddle into his side, laying my head on his heart. "Sometimes she can be so stubborn."

"Yeah," I agree, although I don't really talk to Clarke at all.

The more I lay there the more my mind thinks of Bellamy leaving me for Clarke. It would make sense, they seem like they're perfect for each other. He deserves someone like her anyway. Her blonde hair is always perfect, where mine is a curly mess. Her blue eyes are always bright, and mine need glasses to even be able to see anything.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," I mutter, turning away from Bellamy. He moves the arm that was thrown around my shoulders and I face the side of the tent.

"Alright. Goodnight," he says, sleep laced in his tone.

"Night."

As Bellamy starts to softly snore, I allow the tears I was holding back to fall silently down my cheeks.

______

The next morning I wake up a little too fast for my liking. My head is pounding from crying myself to sleep last night and in my head is a moving picture of my dream.

Clarke and Bellamy, kissing, hugging, being a couple, and me standing at the side all alone.

I get up, careful to not wake Bellamy, whose sleeping with his head facing my side of the bed. I attempt the climb over him, but he stirs and I mentally groan. I probably look like a mess, and I curse myself not putting on my glasses before I tried to do something that involved using my sight.

"Max," he croaks, his voice heavy from sleep. He reaches forward and lays his hand on my stomach. "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," I say. I feel terrible for lying because that's definitely not where I'm going, but I push it down.

He removes his hand, sitting up, and I step onto the ground. His dark curls fan his face and I want to drag my hands through them, but I don't move a muscle.