( without meaning to summon them from the rift of memories, jasper’s words come back to him. because at the end of the day, at the end of the world, nobody gives a damn about your reasons because they areyourreasons. well, acid rain doesn’t linger overhead in angry clouds, threatening to end them right there on the deck. bellamy can sincerely relate to the sentiment, realizing that the only person the clarification matters to is clarke. he already knows that he can’t control clarke, can’t stop her from making alliances with suspicious people, and more than that, bellamy doesn’t want to. he puts his trust in the weatherproof idea that she’s done whatever she’s needed to do to survive. mizuki is one of those things.
she’s cultivating the friendship for a reason unseen; maybe she sees another side of him, perhaps the situation in which the two of them were pushed together had been more favorable, clarke more receptive than he had been. whatever the case, he looks at her head-on, forcing himself to look at clarke when he wants to turn away.
an exposed set of nerves puts him into a particular agony, the kind that whispers to him that he will get these people killed, when push comes to shove. there's also a sinking, slithering emotion buried beneath the guilt that's jagged and elusive, something white-hot that bellamy pointedly ignores because it's idiotic and selfish. he wants to stamp it out beneath his shoe. what was clarke supposed to do, wait? he may have called her a princess a handful of times, but she's not a maiden in a tower window.
i've heard that before. we don't need him. i'm here now.
he forces all of those self-serving thoughts back behind the bars of his ribcage with fists tucked under his crossed arms. )
Okay. I trust you. ( he will trust that clarke believes they need mizuki to leave this prison, he will not give that trust away freely by extension. ) When I said it didn't matter, I meant that he's important to you for reasons I won't understand. You don't need to tell me why. I'm not judging you, but he pissed me off. He wouldn't be the first.
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she’s cultivating the friendship for a reason unseen; maybe she sees another side of him, perhaps the situation in which the two of them were pushed together had been more favorable, clarke more receptive than he had been. whatever the case, he looks at her head-on, forcing himself to look at clarke when he wants to turn away.
an exposed set of nerves puts him into a particular agony, the kind that whispers to him that he will get these people killed, when push comes to shove. there's also a sinking, slithering emotion buried beneath the guilt that's jagged and elusive, something white-hot that bellamy pointedly ignores because it's idiotic and selfish. he wants to stamp it out beneath his shoe. what was clarke supposed to do, wait? he may have called her a princess a handful of times, but she's not a maiden in a tower window.
i've heard that before.
we don't need him.
i'm here now.
he forces all of those self-serving thoughts back behind the bars of his ribcage with fists tucked under his crossed arms. )
Okay. I trust you. ( he will trust that clarke believes they need mizuki to leave this prison, he will not give that trust away freely by extension. ) When I said it didn't matter, I meant that he's important to you for reasons I won't understand. You don't need to tell me why. I'm not judging you, but he pissed me off. He wouldn't be the first.