The younger survivors were restless again. Half of them wanted to run into the woods and prove they were “ready,” while the other half sat pouting in the dirt, refusing to listen to orders. You pinched the bridge of your nose, patience hanging by a thread.

“This is impossible,” you muttered under your breath.

Bellamy, standing beside you with his arms crossed, gave a low chuckle. “Welcome to my life,” he said. His gaze softened slightly as he watched one boy try (and fail) to tie a knot with a rope. “They just need guidance.”

“Guidance?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “They don’t even want to be guided.”

“Which is why we don’t give them a choice,” Bellamy replied with a smirk. He clapped his hands loudly, drawing the group’s attention. “Alright, listen up! You don’t learn, you don’t survive. Simple as that. So pay attention to her, because she actually knows what she’s talking about.”

The group turned toward you, wide-eyed. You shot Bellamy a look. “Thanks for the pressure.”

He leaned closer, voice low so only you could hear. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

Over the next hour, you and Bellamy split the group—he taught weapon handling while you taught practical survival skills like knot-tying, traps, and fire-starting. Every so often, your eyes would meet across the clearing, and he’d give you a little nod of approval that made your chest warm.

At one point, a younger girl got frustrated, throwing down the stick she’d been trying to sharpen. You crouched beside her, speaking gently, showing her step by step. When she finally succeeded, her face lit up. Bellamy, watching from a distance, smiled softly.

By the end of the day, the group was tired but proud, their confidence brighter than it had been that morning. As they trudged back toward camp, Bellamy walked beside you, brushing dirt from his hands.

“You’re good with them,” he said quietly. “Better than I ever was.”

You scoffed lightly. “Please. They listen to you because you scare them half to death.”

“And they listen to you because they actually want to,” he countered with a smirk. His tone softened after a moment. “We make a good team.”

You smiled, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Yeah. Maybe we’re not so bad at this whole ‘role model’ thing after all.”

Bellamy chuckled, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary. “Not bad at all.”