Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
-
Tags
Summary
On the subway, Clarke snaps a Polaroid of him before he can block the lens with his hand: His head is leant back, looking up and probably wishing that the top of the train was made of glass so he could see the star-speckled sky — he looks relaxed, dreamlike, as the soft orange light falls on his face.
She loves this one.
“Don’t you have enough photos of me?” he asks with no real heat. In fact, his voice is marked by a delicacy that makes her heart flutter.
“You know I don’t. I’m going to plaster them on my ceiling.”
(When Clarke's six years old, Bellamy's the boy in the tree, her best friend. At eighteen, she's not sure that she can call him that anymore, and of course that's when everything crumbles.)