Bellamy is alone. It's dark. His eyes have stayed shut since the food was given and he finished the meal. If he tried to speak his voice would be hoarse, but there's no one else to talk to anyways. He shifts, grunting as he leans against the wall, hands behind his back.

His wrist's are bleeding, the restraints dig into his skin. It aches. He tries not to move. All it did was make things worse. He's stuck kneeling, his legs wouldn't stop hurting, but there's nothing he could do that would relieve that ache and not further hurt his wrists.

He doesn't care about the pain as much as he cares about the loneliness. He had an issue with that, okay? That's why he slept around and why he tried to never be alone unless it was for missions. It's not like he had a real reason for it, but he's always been touch starved. Always aching for more. But dating was never his thing in space and sleeping around was easier than trying to open his heart for someone else.

He feels so empty. The lack of touch was getting to him far more than the lack of proper food. Then the injuries he's sustained. He's half sure that if anyone touched him now, he'd melt into them no matter who it was.

He doesn't look up when the door opens. Even if it confused him why the Grounder was returning, he knows better than to expect anything. He doesn't even react when hearing the footsteps approach, but his other senses had heightened when his sight had been blocked out because of the darkness. The footsteps are lighter. They're not the Grounders.

He looks up. His eyes widen at the sight of you. Like an angel in the darkness. The light from the open door hitting you just right. He knows you would've come for him, eventually. "Took you long enough." he instinctively croaks, wincing at the hoarseness and dryness of his voice. He's never been more relieved to see you.