"You shouldn’t be out here alone."

Bellamy’s voice was gruff but low, meant only for you. The campfire’s glow flickered behind him, casting shadows over his face—the strong jawline, the sharp intensity in his eyes. He was always like this, protective even when he pretended not to care.

You had wandered just beyond the camp, the weight of the day pressing on your chest. The others saw Earth as freedom, but you saw the chaos—the fights, the fear, the uncertainty. Bellamy saw it too.

"I just needed a moment." You hugged your arms, looking away.

"And what if something happened to you?" He stepped closer, arms crossed, his familiar scent of earth and sweat filling your space. "You might not be a kid like Charlotte, but you're younger than most of us. You don’t know what’s out here."

You scoffed. "Neither do you."

A smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Fair point." He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his messy curls. "Look, I don’t have time to play babysitter. Just… stay close to camp, alright?"

"Why do you care?"

He hesitated—just for a second—but in that moment, you saw something crack beneath his hardened exterior. Guilt? Worry? Something more?

Then, before you could react, he reached out, his fingers brushing your wrist, grounding you. "Because I do." His voice was quieter now, almost like he hated admitting it. "And I don’t want to lose anyone else."

For a second, the chaos of Earth didn’t matter. Not the Ark, not the Grounders, not the unknown dangers waiting in the dark. Just him. Just you.

And somehow, that felt like the most dangerous thing of all.