Unspoken

[Deleted]

They’d never talked about what had happened, and it was easier to forget what it felt like to be consumed by him than to dwell on the ghost of his touch. It was best to forget what it was like to steal his breath and drink desperation straight from his mouth, else she’d find herself yearning for it again. What had transpired shouldn’t give birth to such a sentiment, for it was menial and forgettable. It had simply been two adults in need of release, a fleeting moment of weakness where they’d forgotten the precarious balance that came from living in isolation with five other people. Neither of them could forget their shared past—even if in that moment they’d chucked it aside to blindly pursue lust.

It’d been nearly two years since they’d met in the showers that night. Everyone else had already sequestered themselves in their rooms for the sleep cycle, all of them showered and exhausted from another long day of work. Those first few months on the Ark had been tough. Adjusting to their new life knowing they’d have five years of it to look forward to. Somehow it made it harder to adapt. There was the added pressure that if things didn’t settle quite right, then whatever built upon it would be rocky at best.

It was why they’d never brought it up. The past was too recent, and with everything going on, neither of them would have been able to air it all out. Not that Echo hadn’t tried to warm him up to her, but it was a two-way road Bellamy had permanently closed. While he made her feel like a valuable member of the group and never shied away from conversation, he kept her sufficiently at arm’s length to remind her that she would never be his friend. If she had no hope of getting through to him, then there would be no chance of them ever doing that again. And they wouldn't; she had far too much self-respect to do that again. Not that he’d shown any inclination towards it anyway. In fact, for the longest time she thought he looked at her with mild disgust. Perhaps she was just projecting, for whatever she’d thought was there turned out to be nothing.

Lukewarm. That’s what he was. While the others warmed up to her, asked about life on Earth, and grew curious about her past, Bellamy never sought anything like that from her. In return, she didn’t ask him either, learning about him through the words of others. The way they spoke about him told her far more than any of them might think they were saying. Echo wasn’t a child however, desperate for attention. Those she’d admired had always kept her at arm’s length; at least Bellamy had the decency not to be a hypocrite about it.

Tilting her head back and raking her hand through her hair, Echo yawned. She promptly spat the water out, the taste of a reminder of their main source of food. (It was something Monty and Harper had discussed with Raven over dinner earlier, wanting to find a way to better the filtering system).

Waiting to shower last meant she remained awake the longest, and rare were the occasions she didn’t wish herself a horse, capable of sleeping standing up, under the steady stream of hot water. A steady, but limited, supply of hot water. Still, the grounder considered it a luxury, one she’d never had before. The water trickled down her body and soothed her muscles, a pleasant way to end her day. She also found that showering before bed facilitated sleep, which for the better part of their first year had been evasive. Since, she had managed to find a decent few hours every night, though that came from training hours on end, exhausting herself and others alike.

Soap rinsed from her hair and skin dry from the stuttered puff of hot air—an oversized dryer within the wall, Echo dressed in the lightest pair of pants she’d found. They had been cut for men and fit ill around her hips, but they were long enough to cover her ankles. Once she’d finished dressing, she rinsed her underclothes and draped them across her arm. There was an adjacent room they used to hang their wet clothes, a place where the ventilation system concentrated all the hot air. Raven had said something about cooling and fans, but Echo needn’t know how it worked.

Once she’d hung her clothes, she returned to the showers for the leather bracelet she’d brought with her. It was a fashionable cut, thick and softy worn to a light tan. There was no meaning attached to it; but amongst the blacks and greys she now wore, there was something about a brown bracelet that reminded her of the soil.

Threading the laces together at her wrist, Echo made for the door, barefoot and dreading the short walk across the cold, metal floor before reaching her bed down the hall. As she pulled the door open, Bellamy seemingly materialised before her. Startled, she stepped backwards, glancing at the change of clothes in his hand.

“Sorry, I thought everyone had gone,” she said, biting back a shaky inhale. The warm, humid air from the shower room gushed out, allowing the cold, crisp hallway air to wash over her. Cold and out of place, Echo made her intentions clear as she stepped back towards the threshold, “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

Bellamy Blake